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THE MILLIONAIRES.

By FRANK/FRAN KFORT MOORE, Author of "I Forbid the Banns," "The Jessamy Bride," "Fanny's First No vel," etc. ~

CHAPTER VI

But lie would rather not. And then this man of 31, who had always spent with a light heart whatever money lie found m his pock >t —whatever money he could raise—this man whose forefathers—back, according to some annalists, to the days of* Julius Caesar; according to others, to the days of Noah—had fought and spent money and wasted their substance, and the substance of their friends, in riotous living; who had /ridden horses over stone walls—and had run their heads up against others; who had conspired against legitimate and illegitimate monarchs; who hald at one time occupied the highest position in their own island, and had been outlawed a year or two afterwards—this man, the descendant of these men, sat down to calculate the chances of being able to marry a woman who was not absolutely repulsive, and who would be content to pay a considerable sum of money for the privilege of having the title of Viscountess in the Peerage of Ireland. . He got disgusted with himself before he hald gone far with the calculation. It was contrary to the grain of the Ballyseedys to make a caleution on any subject, least of all upon the subject of their matrimonial alliances. If they had calculated a little before contracting some of them their descendant would not have been compelled to do so now. But he had to make up for their deficiencies, and he was conscious of some- selfdegradation as he reviewed the whole* question of bettering himself by marrying a girl with some amount of wealth.

He had niaide up his mind that he would think no more- of* the matter; and to do him justice he had banished from his mind all thoughts of the wealthy women whom he believed—and ho was certainly guilty of no self-conceit in believing—could easily be persuaded to marry him. He came to the conclusion that he would rather work for money than bring one of those women into the castle, where the Ballysee'dys had rioted for hundreds of years, more or less; and when he confessed even to himself willingness to work in order' to avert -such an incident, he was" going far; the Ballyseedys hated work. But in spite of the conclusion at which he now arrived, he could not forget that he had come from" Nice when he heard that the Mertouns were at their villa- at Villef ranche; and here he. was sitting on the ground not a hundred yards from the villa., wondering what deduction he should draw from the words which Valencia had said to him during the few minutes they had been walking together in tiie garden. A girl such as she does not all at once give expression to her distrust of her own. heart and its promptings, in the matter of loving and being loved. To be sure he had put to her a question that might be considered by some persons a leading one. "Are you in love with any one, or is any one in love with ~ you?" That was the question which he had put to her, on assuming the attitude of the confidant; -and after giving the matter soma consideration he felt that he had been sufficiently direct

jMjga SERIAL STORY |*ll

in tlie terms of his inquiry. Had she been equally direct in her reply ?

•He .found it necessary to ponder upon this point for a considerable time. He recollected the serious way in which she hald spoken. The expression of her distrust of her heart came from her heart. There was the tremulousness of passion in her outburst. He felt that there had been i n her, words something of the despair of the child who has been deserted by its nurse and finds itself alone iii the midst of a crowd without a hand to guide-it—the cry of a child awaking from a pleasant dream in the middle of a dark night was her utterance of those words:

"My heart, which I trusted, made a fool of me twice. Will it do it again . . . God knows." . Was it likely that she would give that cry of despair if her heart had not been making some suggestions to her with regard to a particular man? He thought that -was; very unlikely. He- did not know much about a woman's heart—only enough to allow of his putting m a casual word when the turn of conversation on the verandah had given him a chance, about the fathomless depths of an ocean; but lie knew enough to make him assured that, a woman's heart is. such a thorough master- of its own business^—its business being to deceive—that it knows when to speak and when to be silent. He knew that it does not waste words w f hen there is no reason for it to make suggestion—that it does not begin to speak until the man appears., Who was" the. man whose coming had caused Valencia's heart to whisper things to her, and had inferentially forced her to confess to him, Patricius her hitter distrust of that heart of hers and its promptings ? That was one question into which hi s consideration of all the previous questions resolved* ijtself. Could he have a doubt on this point while he recollected the serious tone in which Angela had said: "Beware of George Drummond!"

It was about George Drummond that Valencia's heart had been speaking to her. It was her heart's promptings regjarding George Di J ummond that she had so greatly mistrusted. He wondered if it would be safe to say that when a girl such as Valencia—if any other girl such as she were in existence in the world—mistrusts what her" heart tells her regarding a particular man, it is a sign ..that she loves the man. He had his doubts on this point; but he had no doubts regarding t! but he had no doubts regarding the advisability of his " postponing his proposal to Valencia that they should love each other, not a s a brother and sister love, not even as a confidant and a confessant love, but as lovers love.

And curiously enough, he experienced a little shock of pleasure at this reflection; for as- he got upon his feet, throwing away, the end of his cigar, and putting his hands in his pockets, there came before his eyes out of the blue depths of the Vesper sky, overhanging, the blue expanse of the Mediterranean, a beautiful memory with large, pathetic eyes and a mouth that somehow made one think of the Star of Love winch' astronomers call Venus,, j . "I wish to -God she were here now,"

he. said, as that sweet memory mocked him.- "What the mischief are all the beauties of this place Avhen she is away—away! Oh, hang, it all! I'm the most beggar that ever lived!"(To be continued.) ,

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS19300307.2.6

Bibliographic details

Thames Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 17833, 7 March 1930, Page 3

Word Count
1,170

THE MILLIONAIRES. Thames Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 17833, 7 March 1930, Page 3

THE MILLIONAIRES. Thames Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 17833, 7 March 1930, Page 3

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