THE OTHER MAN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5115, 24 November 1894, Page 1

THE OTHER MAN.

(Woman.)

No donbt what happened wao as much her fault as his. Under the circumstances, she should cot have rested there with her head against Mb shoulder. Still, there it lay— that pretty golden head. He glanced down at the face SK near his own and thought how easy it would be to bend and kiss it. * * * A ' minute later, and he was kissing her passionately. She lay in his arms, dazed and bewildered ; suddenly she wrenched herself free and stood before him. * ".What have I done!" she sobbed. "No! don't touch me; you mustn't. For the moment I quit forgot., I have never told you, but I am engaged tobßTnarried." "Yon engaged 1" ho said inVurpxieed tones. " Why haven't you toltfnie before ? How could I know ?" He looked at her with some curiosity. " Surely/ he added, " you can't care much for the other man." She felt hideoualy ashamed. "It has all been a mistake— a dreadful mistake." She moved away, but before leaving him stood for one moment irresolute. He drew her back to the (seat they had jusb left.

"Tell me all about it," he said gently. "I know it is all a mistake, and we must see if things cannot be set right." There was not much to tell. Her guardians wished her to marry Dick Fothergill, and she had consented ; Bhe had known him all her life, and was very fond of him, but she had begged that the wedding might be delayed a few months in order that she might winter abroad with her aunt, Miss Greatorex.

"Dick wasn't pleased," she said,*' he wanted to marry me at once. And how, lately, I seem quite to have changed; I dread the idea of meeting him again. I hate speaking of him — even to Aunt May. I don't love him, ■ and I can't marry him ; and he has always been so good to me that I dread telling him so. What shall Ido ?" The man watched her face attentively. " What shall I do ?'* she repeated, dully. , . r . ' To the man before her she had betrayed herself as surely as if she had said, "I loveydn." Presently he spoke.

" Better face pain now/ he raid, earnestly, " Better inflict pain, than condemn both yourself and him to life-long misery. If you have changed, your only honest course is to tell him bo. If he is a nice man, and I am sure any man you ever fancied must be nice, surely lie will give you back your freedom." Very gently he soothed her and kissed away her tears. Before she left him he had made her promise to write to Dick Fethergill that very night. Her aunt, she said, would be very sorry, bat that she could not help.

. Long aftar she left him he eat there thinking. She had attracted him from the first. . Merely ' for her Bake, he had followed them to Bellagio where they now were; he had made their acquaintance at 3Hce. She and her aunt travelled alone, tend he, had.Bev^ral.times been of asaißtancp to them; the two ladies had grown insensibly to trußt him, so that for the last four menths he had Been a great deal of Dolly Greatorer. He knew she loved him. It was a pleasure to him to Bee her face light up as he approached ; it was a pleasure to take her oat daily on the lake, and, lazily lying at the bottom of the boat, a pleasure to watoh her and listen to her mtrry speeches. He had never kissed her before to-night; vaguely he wondered why not. He thought he could have done it long ago had he chosen, and reflected oomplaoently on his Belf -control in not yielding sooner. And now he had been carried away by the impulse of the moment, and had certainly gone farther than he intended; but somehow the idea that Dolly and all her little ways belonged to another man, maddened him. He felt almost ready to give up all for her sake. And then he fell to wondering what kind of a man Dick Fothergill was, and whether he was as fond of Dolly as she imagined him to be.

# * # * * He was waiting for her in the garden at the back of the hotel. It was a glorious evening. A band was playing at Cadenabbia and the strains came softly over the water. A nightingale was singing close by in the gardens of the Villa Serbelloni. He looked across the lake. It seemed an enchanted land, one made for happiness, but there was no happiness on his face.

He heard her steps coming up the path and thrust the letter he had been holding crumpled in his hand, into his pocket. He went forward to meet her, and marvelled at the expression of the face. ■ Her eyes shone. She went up to him without pretence. "Arthur," ahe said, and her voice was tremulous with joy, "I have had a letter from Dick. He writes so kindly, and tells me lam free. But he is very unhappy/ she continued in lower tones, "and lam sorry— oh ! so sorry for him j but I can't help being glad too, glad for myself." She raised her eyes shyly to his face. "I am glad too, darling/ he said, and Btooped and kissed her.

" I ora bo glad/ she murmured, " were it not for the memory of poor Diok I should be perfectly happy." A cloud paßeed suddenly over the moon and left them for a moment in darkness. The nightingale ceaaed singing. The night air felt almost cold. She shuddered slightly. A great longing and a wild desire came over the man.

"Tell me again you love me," he asked her, "and promise you will catefor me always, no matter what may happen." " I love you," : she said, almost solemnly, " I shall always love you. Do you think I should be with you here to-night, were you not more to me than any other man living." The strains of the band sounded louder. "Do you hear," she said, "they are playing 'Amour etFrintemps,' our vales, our own valse."

" What should you do if after al)," he asked presently, " I were to prove utterly unworthy of your love P" He felt as if the letter in his pocket were burning him. Should he tell her?

"I am not afraid of that." She slipped her hand into his. There was & short Bilence.

" When may I tell Aunt May," Bhe Whispered, " may I tell her to-morrow ?" "Yeß, dear," he answered, "to-morrow; wait till then."

It was getting late. She rose to go. He kissed her with a vehemence that surprised her. "Good-bye, love," he said, "goodbye. Always remember I loved you." "Why good-bye?" she asked, wondering. "Only till to-morrow 1" "Good night is good-bye." •' Yes j but only till to-morrow." He kisßed her again, and she ran lightly down the path. * * #■ # *

She hardly slept at all that night, bat tossed from side to aide. Towards morning she fell into a heavy sleep. The maid bringing in her breakfast woke her with a sudden start. A note was handed to her j she hastily tore it open. It was dated early that morning. " Before you got this," she read, " I shall have left;. I could not bring myself to tell you laat night, you seemed too happy. I had letters recalling me to England. I dare not see you again, much as I love you; and remember, you have promised to care for me always. "A. F." She remembered hie parting words of

the night before, and understood their full meaning. She sank back on the pillows with a white face.

Miss Greatorex was grieved and somewhat indignant, but she blamed herself bitterly for having allowed bo much intimacy between her niece and Mr French. Since the morning when she had been told briefly of his departure his name had never been mentioned between them, but Dolly had grown strangely quiet, and there was something in her face that had not been there before. Bellagio soon became intolerable to them bothj three weeks later they were at Lucerne. ■

" Mies Greatorex was pleased with their first evening at the "Schweitzsrhofj" they met some old friends, a mother and two daughters, both lively girls, who made it their duty in life to be, welVisformed as to their neighbours' affairs; she was glad when she Baw Dolly carried off between the two sisters, and hoped they would amuse her. They thought her looking pale and ill, and Said so.

" Curious how the lakes seem to disagree with some people, isn't it P Do you. remember how ill Mr French looked, Janie?"

"Yes ! wretched, out of health and spirits, but no doubt he, has reoovered by now, or ought to have, anyway! Yon remember Mr French, don' 6 you, Dolly f Why, of course you do, he told me he had met you again at Bellagio." "When was Mr French hereP" asked Dolly. Her lips were so dry she could hardly speak.

"He left ten days ago. He was waiting here for the Eutlands. To-morrow is the wedding day ; of course you know he is going to marry Sybil Rutland."

"And- a very good thing for him, too," broke in her sister. "Sybil is an only child, you know, and will get all the Rutland money; and then she is quite lovely besides."

" And very charming, too, but wasn't it fanny of him; he didn't seam a bit glad to ccc her again. We all noticed ifc, didn't we,Gwen?"

" Everyone noticed it, I think," answered her sister. "Miiß Rutland is simply devoted to him, but I heard, that her mother waß very vexed with Mr French— something she had heard about another girl, I believe; but Sybil wouldn't hear. a word of it, and the wedding really comes off to-mofrowi"

The girls by her Bide were talking still of the wedding preparations, but Dolly had ceased to listen. Sho eat as if turned to atone; at last she understood! Bhe felfe as if the ahame would kill her. Had Dick felt like this, she wondered* when he got her letter P Oh, poor, poor Dick, who loved her so! Burning tears filled her eyes. Making an excuse, she hastily Bought her room. She hoped her. aunt would not be in their sitting-room, so that she mighb paBS through nnperceived.

The room was dark. As she entered a man's figure rose oat of the gloom and came towards her. Her hs&rt gave a wild throb ; she thought he had returned. The next moment she was sobbing in his arms. "Dick," she cried, bb she clung to him, " Oh ! Dick, Dick ! " For it was Diok who had come ; Dick who was looking down at her with the old lore and longing in his eyes. " I had to . come, dear," he said, " Mißs Greatoxex. wrote and said you were He lifted her on his knee ; ehe buried her face in his Bhoulder.

" Poor little Dolly," he whispered, "poor little woman 1 I know there 10 some trouble, but it makes no difference tome. I will never ask about it ; I promise never to say a word, and you will take me back, won't you, dear, and let me look after you, and keep all trouble away from you for the future."

Very gently he soothed her and kißßed away her tears, just as that other had done, barely a month before. She clung to him, and though it was on his shoulder she cried out all her shame and grief, she knew her heart would ever be with the other man.