FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12927, 19 March 1906, Page 2

FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

(By Bertha M. Clay.) CHAPTER XXXVHL—Continued. With a sudden impulse, Langdale put his hand on his companion's. "Maida," he said. She started, and flushed to her brow; her hand trembled, but she did not take it away; then he threw his arm around her, and drew her close to him, and her pretty head dropped on his breast. " Maida!" "he said, softly, "you do love me?" Maida's generally glib tongue seemed to fail her just- now—she made no answer? but Langdale evidently understood silence as assent; and, gently lifting the face she tried to hide from him. he kissed the sweet lips that trembled like a girl's. " Oh, Gus!" she said, at last, when he would let h&r speak; "you don't know hew happy you have made"me!" " If the happiness you have given to me, Maida, is any gauge, I think I can guesa." She laughed, a soft, low laugh; then started, and tried to draw herself from her lover's arm. " Some one coming," she said; "please let me go." But he held her fast, as he glanced round. "It's only Captain Stewart," he said; "he knows all about it. Esric!" he called, for the discreet Scotchman, catching sight of the two figures, was turning away, "come here!" Stewart approached, and Langdale stretched out his hand. "Esric!" he began; but the other interrupted, laughing, as he clasped the hand closely in his owe. "I understand, Gus, old fellow—yon have won- iv jewel whose worth is above rubies—Mrs Westmore." She put both her hands in his, looking up to him with tearful eyes and flushing cheeks; perhaps there were tears in his own eyes, as he stooped and kissed, with, true reverence and devotion, the hands he held. " You* know Low dear Gus is to me!" he said,- a little huskily. " I always hoped he would succeed in winning you." " Indeed !'•' she said, deeply touched ; "you think too well of me; "but I will try. to be all to him you could wish." "He is more than safe in your hands," said Stewart, smiiiug; " and I will go bail for him." | "So will I," said she, archly. " Ah, you are not a fair judge!" interposed Gus. ] " Yes, she is," said Stewart. " Lcve is; not altogether blind. Now, I'll be off. j You won't be missed. All the others are in .the grounds , somewhere, and Lady Melaune is nodding over a book. • Au revoir." ;A parting' handclasp to each—to Gus a look given Vvnd ' anjswered, in which heart met heart-—and" then Stewart turned away, descended the Adjacent steps, and disappearedi ! »!

But it- was iorig before either of the lotois uttered a : word. Even this happiness was shadowed—especially to Gus—by the thought of the man who* had just left them—left them hand in hand, in a love free and spotless, looking to a sunny future. For him I've was peril, if not*sin; to its future he dared not look. Did Stewart nor feel this, as lie walked on slowly througn tli« gloonii? Glad, ah! how glad, for Gus Langdtile's happiness; yet that happiness must bring heme to him. with the stub of a two-edged sword, his own desolation and Claude's. Oh. the ceaseless dinning of those saddest words of all: "It might -have been!" He had eon>c out seeking Claude; he half feared to meet her now—now that he was tempted, cr dreaded temptation—but in the passion ths: shook him now ho might utter words, as he had done before, that would'• wound her sensitive womanhood. A wcniau who loves as Claude loved shrinks even from the thought of the future that "might have been," vet his need' l was- .s- tsrri'j'e that it quite mastered th ; fear. here was- she ? She had left the others, if she had ever been with them. He turned from the path in which he now was and struck into another, deep among the trees, that led to a roserv but here -there was no sign of Claude.' He passed on to where the trees. principally limes, grew thickly, and then, suddenly', he started his- eyes; unusually keen "in darkness, had. caught sight of something snad-.wv. !ike; a woman's form, sitting on a low usnciu ■ ' He quickened his steps, his ;!eart Uttubbinjr wildly. His light footJali maoe ih>- i'iimd on the mossy tun". He c!(iss- rt:-;v—quite close. It was Claude; She lifted her head, ui before iws name could escape her lips ae haa beside 4 her. ami her p.ssiona-ly in his arms, i; a "i n Jwhispered, quivcringlv : at last! • At-hist! Uh. sweetheart! I needed yen -jn urjch—l have been kokiii" tor you!'

1 was.not —rot from you," she answered, clinging to him. "I am so glad you came. Exnci Have vou been lookin* lor me long?" ° Dot-lcug; but it seemed so to me. He have -never been alone together yet, niy heart, and I shall lose you to morrow. xAow can J let vuu ijo?*" So close he strained her to him, it seemed to stay the veiy beatiug of her heart: his lips clung to hers for minutes; then he loosed her a little. • My love makes me cruel sometimes." darlh^ : '"' Und - er hiS breatL " " Fur S ivc we, I have nothing to forgive," she .said. f, tu , Esric. there is some trouble that maae you say what you did: and I id V!i *now it without that." , .' that S re »- cut of gladness, dea.est, -tenderly caressing the soft curls n her forehead, for she was looking -up to him with earnest, wistful eyes, shining ~s tars hi the gloom. V.-hat made her divhie. at least, .something ot the truth? She did iu.t shrink iioi.i him: but he felt her hold her breath, arct her ;yes droor>ed. •' \Vh-->n I <*ur to ] ,-k f r he I saw u-:s ;:ud Maida ;i. t - :e;r;tce t< gather. flu's called :ne Y„u know w:i.-r it ws iie had to me?" "\es." Then she hid her f.u-e. with' ai'imt a sob. "Oh. S :m .-.» S-'"- —so alad : P-ar ! Xa r.uc ber er «'ej.crve< • . !»-> I; T.oi!(rr!.i!e is s. A::! v •; hi:n. lisric-1"

"He has given me all but my dearest wish, darling—that only you could give me ! Now, you understand " —his voice faltered and broke—" why the very gladness brought so much pain I" "Yes—l—understand!" ! " Oh, that I could, in truth, call vou wife!" He scarcely breathed the last word, with an indescribable tenderness and reverence in the utterance that softened its passion. It was soul speaking tfr soul, with no earthly hope; and in the long minutes of absolute stillness that followed each heart was hushed with a strange sense of peace stealing through all the feverish unrest. CHAPTER XXXIX—"YOU WILL STAY HERE UNTIL YOU YIELD. It took Claude the best part of the morning to read the first letter she received from Stewart after reaching Merton Grange, simply because she read and re-read it until she must have know it by heart. How cruel that she must destroy it—her first love letter. But- she dared not keep it. Ah, there came the stab, keen and deep, for this priceless treasure, this first lo.e letter, was from one who could not be her husband—who had no right to call her his " dearest," his " precious love " ; could not so much be read between the lines—not, perhaps, by what was said, but. what was left unsaid?—no forecasting of the future, nothing of the glorious hopes of betrothal. The time to come seemed to have! no existence for the writer. He poured his heart out to the woman he loved, but he spoke of no day when there might be a closer union between tfieni. " It is so long since I saw you, darling !" he wrote; " and yet barely two days! If I could only be with you I Four days more, .at least, before we meet again! Tell me, when you write, everything—all your thoughts; I want, as it were, to feci every throb of your heart ; would that I could feel it now in truth, close to my ownt' The letter was signed, "Your faithful Esric." Claude kissed the name, with blinding tears. Oh, for the long, long years to come. How could she crush down the cry of her heart: " Must we live out our lifetime with neither hop-cs nor fears?" Maida's voice, calling, startled the girL Had she been so long away? She put the letter quickly into her pocket, and sprang up. "Mrs, Westmore," she called. "I am here,", aad she ran toward the sound of Maida's voice, and soon came to where Mts Westmore stood.

*' I thought ycu might like to g,> for a drive," said the latter, "or a ride—and please call me Maida, if you don't mind." " I would much i-at her. if you'll let me."' said Claude, passing her arm round her shorter companion's shouldets. "Well, I do let you, so don't lex me hear ' Mrs Westmore' again—" "P, r ¥ r ® '' a " began Claude, 10. guishly, but Maida clapped her hand rvcr the pretty lips. "Bo quiet!" said she. " Not .Mrs anvthing. Cou:r and dress." That day passed, and the next, and after tea Maida went to the library to sec the builder again, and her steward; but she and Claude had sat chatting for some :;«ie on the terrace. so it was already growing dusk when Maida left her youna com* panioi;. Claude, after lounging for a few moments. got up. and went down t-' the lawn, across which she sauntered, and plunged into the deeper wooding of thw grounds. Absorbed in her iwn thoughts, she wandered on and on; the deep g)w;ui chimed in with the tone of her miud. Once she started, hearing a slight sc und : but. it might be a squirrel—tliere were many hereabouts, she knew; tramps would not dare to venture inW the grounds, where rhev might at airy monunt come arrtss a gardener; besides, what was these to tempt them? Suddenly the girl was startled in ie;«l earnest. She heard a step behind her. swift and stealthy. She turned sharply, but before she could discern more than the dim outline of a man's form, some »ne sprang quickly from the other side; rv heavy shawl, or cloak, was flung over Iter bead, effectually stifling any crv. and strong arms surrounded her. pinioning hers. He quiet; theres no use in struggling." said a voice that, even in the ot her terror, gave her a kind of reiki! frr it Chris Davenant's; but the other man. He had not spoken, but there was no need: she knew it was Basil T«'!cmache. did not struggle, it was useless: and she had no power to crv out; vet her serses never left her. Claude sensed that rare quality, presence of mind, .md it did ni<t fail her, even in this jcrnble crisis; indeed, the veiv .strength of the emergency kept her faculties the nitre keenly alert. iin:s carried ii-.r carefully enough, and sae knew she must have been verv near t.ie end of the grounds, bv the .short time that elapsed—hardly a minute -before gaio was opened, aud the lane bevond \t,i< reached.

Claude knew that this gate wa.* a wkket leading to a narrow lane—a thor«uslifa?<» ojiir ;u theory, for scarcely anyone.passed ■'■"''S 't from week's end to week's end. Chris lifted her into a carriage, as shperceived. Was lie going to leave tier with Tollemache? 2vo; ht followed, never losing his hold of her. ToUenmbc mounted the bos. and the carriage d.ovc rapidly away. Davenaot closed bcth windows. ni.<3 pulied the cloak off the girl's She did not utter a -word. She kr.ew Jim* futile it was to attempt to ocape or civ out; hut deadly white, with blazing eye*, sh - dragged herself from her captorV arms. She. saw, by the light in the carriage, that he was disguised, both in face and drc-«. T.'ierc was a Rush on D.ivcni'iit'f f.-«c; ■;>- eves refused to meet Claude's. Villain s the ir.a:j was, !«- was ashamed of ; -• part ho wr.s p'.tvinir. " \ r < i: drove me to it." l.e »av|. in a , '«'* 4 -nsive ;o::e. i icro was. unuttcral)/? j-com in ihe Drove yr.,i to it!" Kite reppaU 2. "What i: yor. gr-i:'c 5" do wish ujc?" lurnc! away his face. >»" m :1! lr.v< to ;uai:v T««jc::u,-«>».♦." he *r<id. "• Uncle _Sndden'.y she was. ai

Lis feet: her bands clutched bis with a convulsive grip ! hat he culd not have lowed without vioknee ? ixr Itvid lip* could hatdly frame tbc words; tiicy came through her teeth iu a hoarse whisper. " Uncle Chris, you are cot going to leave me alone with that man! Yon can't do Jt' Oh, Heaven ! you can't do it! Xo, I won't let go! V<«n daren't leave me with him! You daren't 3" The force of her frightful terror affected him. He was compelled to answer her—to tell her what he had meant Jo keep from her. " Claude, no harm Rh.ill happen to yon, I never meant it. I'm not bad encash for that." .. * But don't leave we wilth him!" gasped Ihe git !. "l*nde Chris, you can't tru>t him !" " Look here, child; y< u'll be quite safe. I tell you; but you'll have to amity TolJe* mache, becaUM! you will be. mi far a# tije world know*, alone in Uae hoiiAC wish him." " But not —nt t really aJoBc!" What fierce strength mortal Agony gave Uk*m: fragile hand*. " Yoa wi!3 be there, too I" " Ye*."' She bowed her face dowa on bi« bands; she wa« quivering ftom head to fool; for the moment she <r.n conscious of nothing but rciief from this overmastering terror. *' But that,"' Chris went on, trying i« loosen her clasp—he wasn't going to b# unnerved by this sort of thing—" thai von't "save your Ckude. Xo one will know I'm ther*!" The girl made £» answer. Swift «j* lightning flashed into her mind tbc thought <f Maida's speedy knowledge of bcr jraeitt"# disappearance. and pmtnpt action'; tbc keen-witted little woman tnigbl *v*n »»*•' pect something of the truth. ■iT« W continued.)