FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12926, 17 March 1906, Page 2

FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

(By Bertha M. Clay.)

CHAPTER XXXYUl.—Continued. "I could find ib in me," said Chris to his wife, when Fancourt ihad gone to his room," to anticipate the brandy bottle." "Chris, no!" fihe started to her feet; " no ruin could be worse than that!" He smiled, in ghastly fashion. " I have no* Jove for the thing," he said; "but I tell you, I have not muoli faith in this scheme; it is about as desperate a thing as a man could well do; and, by Heaven, I wouldn't stand in Tollemacshe's ehoes for something! I know it will mean for us, in another way, social extinction; and if it were not for the money from la belle Pauline, I wouldn't do the job." " But the disgrace to me!" she cried. "Bah ! Do you suppose Stewart wouldn't take care 7 to make London too hot for us, in any case? And in America such things as you have done are not thought so much of. But they count against a woman here. Now, I must write to Tollemache; and, if we fail, well, there's nothing for it but a moonlight flitting, and Claude must look to herself. Stewart would take, care of her, maybe," he added, with a half savage laugh, as lie turned to the door. Basil Tollemache did not fail to. make his appearance at The Ferns the following morning; and in Davenant's study an admirable quartette put their heads together and concocted the "plan" of campaign. Tollemache, his brutal nature fired by opposition and jealousy, was ready to brave even Captain Stewart's vengeance to get hold of Claude; and, after all, he said, what could the Scotchman do? He—Tollemache; —would go abroad at once, and when he returned even Stewart could not shoot him in. cold blood. " Very well," said Davenant, at the close of the " conference," " wait in town, Tollemache, until you hpar from me again, in case of any change of plan on Mrs Westmore's part. If all goes smoothly, I'll see you this evening." But the plans remained unchanged. Mnida, Claude, L-angdale, and Stewart | came up to town together. Claude only came to The Ferns to leave some dresses that she would not require for a quiet visit, and take other things she would need, and went on, with Mrs Westmore, by an evening train. Major- Langdale escorting them part" of the way, he having to fulfil an engagement at a friend's house. Stewart ihad a three days 'visit in Devon-J shire, and after that he was not quite sure of his movements. " They expect me in Berkshire, at the Seftons," he said to and Langdale, on the way from Colston; "but I left iti open. But you are aware, Gus, they always know at my Pall Mell chambers where I am, and anything sent there is forwarded at. once." The day following the departure of Maida and Claude for Merton Grange, Basil Tollemache left London. To one or two friends he said, vaguely, that he was going to " shoot in Scotland," but there was co oE-e in town now to miss a man, and Tollemache was at no time a prominent figure in the London world. Three days later a letter came to Chris Daves rait; the postmark was that of a very small town in Yorkshire. Chris drew a long br:ath as be read it, and showed the letter to his wife. " Take down the address," he said; and when she had done so, he burned the letter. An hour later he was on his way northward. But li; took his ticket for Lincoln ; and the pereon who, later, went on to the little town of Daffdel, in Yorkshirt, would not have answered to any description of Chris Davenant.

CHAPTER XXXIX--" YOU WILL STAY HERE UNTIL YOU YIELD." Mertoii Grange was an old-fashioned, red brick house, dating from tlie previous ceutury. Its position was very secluded; the nearest dwelling was nearly a mile distant, and the house itself, surrounded by thickly wooded gardens, was not visible from thi read which passed the gates. The property had been left to Maida' by her late husband, and as she seldom stayed at the grange, things had rather " gone .to pieces. ' Repairs were . needed, not only in the iV.ouse itself, but to the cottages of two or three tenants on the small estate- — there v.'eu about half a dozen tenants altogether—and Maida decided .to look into matter-s iierseif, ■ and put them thoroughly en train before the winder. . She could not have entertaineed many guests, even if she had desired to do so, or. could spare tie necessary time, for isome of the guest chamber. 1 . v,ere needing repairs and renovations, and the grange was by no means extensive. So .Maida asked Claude dowr f ; the giri had no other engagement, and would probably prefer Mertoii Grange to The Ferns at this season of the year. She would be a good deal left to herself, but there were plenty of books, a good piano, the grounds and the country,; !if she toc-k the dogs wit!:' her, there was no need to vara Claude against long walks by herself in the open country; the giii was city-bred, and. had a wholesome fear of solitary expeditions 'in the wilds. If she found Metton dull, poor child, was only becausfr any place must be dull where Captain Stewart was not. She greatly preferred this to a houseful of guests, where she must be on the perpetual strain of assuming what she did not fefel. In Maida's presence'she 'must : wear..'tlie mask, but she was often alone, and then she was under no such restraint. She wrote to Stewart- 1 the day following her arrival at the grange, and wan able to post the letter, for she drove Maida into a village some sir miles off. He next morning's post brought her a letter from him—not, of course, a reply to hers, which he could not yet have received. It came by the first post, and Claude did net know the. writing of the address, but p»t the letter aside to be read presently, v iih the hope that it might be from him ; lis weuM not. address it in his usual writins. :iud the necessity for' this concealment gave the girl a kind of pang. Afier. breakfast.' Maida had a builder i-'" -ee. and Claude went out- into a secluded p irt of J lie proniids, and opened the letter. A'i. ye=-.! within was the dear han-.l'-rvi^ivq-: w.il-.i r'ne-nk r.vul wilril" t'>"7;;bincr hwivf sits- pressed irii-e letter again 33c".again to ber lips. ' '

>" My darling!" she whispered, " oh, my darling!" It took Claude the best part of 4ha morning to. read tlat letter, simply because she read and re-retd it until she must have known it~by hean. , What passion, what devotion in every line! How cruel that she must destroy it—her first love letter! But she dared n»t keep it! Ah. there came the stab, leen and deep, for -this priceless treasure, this first love letter, was from a man who could not be her lawful "Yes, Esric. Sometimes I might not be able, because I must post the letters myself." "And you wil let me write to you, sweetheart? Net every day—that would not do, because Jlaida knows you have no one to write to jou so often." "Oh, Esric, yes. You need say will I 1 let' you write/ " My. treasure!" He pressed his lips on hers. " I wish," he added, after a moment's pause, "you were not going, darling." CHAPTER XXXFIII.—THE "PLAN OF CAMPAIGN." " Esric," Claude said, looking up, " have you any presentiment of evil? I will not go if it troubles you." "Presentiment? No. I think it is only that I cannot bear to have you out of my sight. Ah, no! I would not stop you from going; I would far rather you were with Maida than at The Ferns. Love makes one fearful of one" knows not what. It will not be many days, after all, before we meet again." "No. not many days," Claude repeated. Was it only the being parted from this man that made her heartsick, or was there in her heart, as in his, a * boding fear' too vague to be grappled with, as to what this parting might mean for them? "Isn't it very late," she added, anxiously, after a while. "They will miss us." But her lover held her fast. "It is not so late, sweetheart, and they will not miss us. You must stay with me a little longer, darling. To-morrow I shall have to say good-bye to you like an ordinary friend." j Claude was nothing loath to remain, and she let Stewart keep her by his side as ioag as he would. But he was careful for her; and when he»thought it time that they should letnrn to the house, he rose, j " I wish," he said, with a quick-drawn breath, " I could put b!»ck the time, mi A live that hour over again. But lam not going to let you hurry back, darling." | And he certainly didn't. Lovers are, by sheer instinct, past-masters in the art of sauntering. Esric kept Claud* within his arm as they walked slowly—how slowly!—through the rosery, and along the dark, shadowed path beyond, and before they emerged upon the open ground he stopped, and folded her to his heart, and kissed her many times,. but said never a word; and then, still silent, she released her, drew her hand on his arm, and went on. Bat when they entered the drawing room no one was there except Lady Meldune, deep in a cap, and when, a few minutes later, the rest came in, they did not know whether Captain Stewart had ever left the room. But Major Langdaie and Maida Westmore were missed, ana smiles and looks j>assed round. Ah, well, it mattered nothing to them; to link their names together co-aid mean no shame to either: their love could look the world in the face, and fear no slander. Alas! for man »nd woman whose love cannot be fearless; it may be without sin, but it must be also without peace; and it cannot be without peril.

That very night, while Captain Stcwai; and Claude sat together under the lina trees, the climax came for Chris Davenant. That day Art ha r Fancourt had been unusually sober, and this disquieted Davenant not a little. When an habitual drunkard is sober, he mean's mischief; such an abnormal condition betokens an cjuirous activity oLjinind. Nevertheless, both Davenant and his -syife were not a littie startled by the abrupt. unheralded. entrance of Fancouit into the drawing-room, where they were sitting together. Chris reading, Julia doing some farcy wcrk—more because moving her ringers was some relief to the resdessness of liar m:nd than for any better itason, if fancy work needs a. better reason. Davenaut started round in his chair, dropping his book; Julia looked up, astonished. Fancourt!" exclaimed the former. '" Yes, Fancour;." He closed th» door, and advanced a few steps into the room. "You'd best close that window. Chris; I want to have a serious talk with you." He looked dangerous, and he was sober ; so it was not bravado; he knew what he was about. " Coma into my study," said Davenant, rising, " if you want to talk over any business." " You know wiat I've come about," said the other, with a sneer. " Xo; I'll say what I have to say here. I v.'isii Mrs—er—Mrs Darenaat—to hear . .Julia, dared not resent this insult. Chris :turned, to the window, liis ruddy face growing dull ana. leaden. .Fancourt was on the clearly, ana nii»t , be obeyed. It wai a warm night, jud to, si: with closed wudovrs was not agreeable, but there was sty-help fori it. - • Fancourt: seated-himself, and when Chr:.* came back to lis chair, looked from hiui baib again, scrutinLsiagly. Look here,' he said, "I'm a diunkard nsd a bad fellovr afl round, bnt I'm not a fool; and I doc't intend to be made one. You two bare,been thinking to humbug hk\ but you woa't. Now, I've just come to te!l you this; I nran't- that money, and I nuMii to ha v. it! It's your business to make the gill obey you; if fair means taif, you'll hare to try foul. Anyiitnr, I gi"e you a week front to-day. * If tho money isn't in my hands by "then—vou'd best pack up your trunks and off. for I'll t-.ike care t-i-> world kno-.vs all about the Rev. Hubert ICyrle's wife. That's plain speaking !* " Plain enough." said Chris, quietly: " i>;:t we are in yr.ur power, ;i:\i so must do our best: 'jut to promise rttcrcss is impossible. Theie's no way cf nsakirg Clnude obedient, escept force, r.v.d that nnv fail!" " Then yo;: ir."st the consequence:. W here is the sf.v' n v "At Cojstcn Wi!*. She cm> Jomorrow. i'-e.s in the Mrs Westinore U» burton Gtaage, in Yotk-

shire." Chris bent forward. "There will be eo guests at Merlon," be went on. " We may, therefore, be able to get Claude into our power." " I understand. But wouldn't she hold out still?" " Not under the circumstances," said Davenant, significantly. " She couldn't. Oh. T have been turning this scheme OYer in my mind for some little time. Don't misunderstand me, Fancourt; I'won't permit :iny real harm to come to her. I'm | no saint, but I'm not- bad enough for that; and I don't trust Tollemachc; but she's not to know she's safe. If she did, she might, hold out to the day of judgment. Remember, we should have Captain Stewart to contend with. He'll move heaven and earth to find her." y - "Of course,*-' said Fancourt; " but it Tron't be much good his folding her when she's Tollemache's wife." " Not to Tollemache," said Chris. "'Stewart is the kind of man to deal summary justice in such a case." "I don't care," said Fancourt. "if I have the money aU right. Well," be rose as he spoke, " send for ToHcmache, and! let's get. this business settled." j " I'll write to him to call to-morrow I mprning. Claude can't be up until the j evening." " Very well. Good-night." And Fancourt went to bis room; and, to indemnify himself for a day of sobriety, drank himself into a stupor. (To be continued.) i