CHAPTER XXXIV.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6901, 15 September 1900, Page 1

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE BLACfc FART TO COMB. •♦Well," said John Morrow, "I Qwive always been told that silence gives consent, to I conclude, Cristina, you are not averse to marriage with young Isaacs. You won't have to put up with him for ever, you know. Recall tfoe words in the marriage service, ' Till death do us part.' And Monteflore has got to die. What a fortune to win so easily ! It will pick us all up and set ua «n our legs. I should not be surprised if <we retired from business? on the strength of the spoil, and led quiet uneventful lives until the end of our natural existence. So, in the long run you may actually, for once, pride yourself upon doing a good work. Sacrifice this one man, and you will save the world from a desperate set of swindlers. Your share shall be handsome. So much so you may turn saint and marry for love if the fancy takes you. I doubt if the soft •entiment would ever find a place in your Jjeart. Still, women are strange creatures, v and get seized with odd ideas." " You paint rosy future, but the black part is to come first," she replied. ''We must risk our necks, and wallow again* an Clime, before reaping leisure." She ffoudderea, hiding her face in ncr long white hands. " Tut ! tut ! I have no patience with you, Cristina. Why must you always look on the dark side? Are you afraid? Is it pos•ible our Cristina is afraid?"

"Yes. Not afraid of the marriage, or its fatal ending in Australia; but deadly terrified at our mysterious foe here in England. Someone finds out what we do ; our fnofivea and intentions seem to be known to this invisible brain. Well, that person may work to stop my nuptials. I can picture*anyaelf going to church, arrayed for the ceremony, to find the bridegroom has been, drugged or kidnapped. , Perhaps worse might happen. I have heard often enough of a beautiful face marred dn the 'sacred edifice itself, by the throwing of vitriol. I bave not the courage to enter a crowded church, knowing that in all probability this clever spy is plotting my ruin amidst the •ightseers." "You are right, Cristina. It .would be Inviting him to injure us ; holding ourselves np as target* to be shot at. Something quite private must be arranged. It would serve, I think, to warn Monte you fear an enemy. Tell Mm that some jealous man or woman, whom you aire unable to bring to justice, plotted the foul murder of your latfb husband. Hint that ever since this evil influence, has dogged your path' to try and do you harm. Throw yourself upon his protection, and beg him to marry you privately, in your 'own house, with only the necessary witnesses. Let the ceremony take place here, in this very room— if so it please you, for somehow, with its oaken panels, it always gives me more or less the idea of a chapel." . " Yes," gasped Cristina, "if lam married kt all it shall be in the Oak Room— the private apartment sacred to our confidences, the sanctum in which we have plotted and schemed from the first day of our coming to tJompton Hall. This room' seema connected urith my life. It was here I first saw the Only man who could ever stir my pulses and thrill me with emotion— the man whom I afterwards hated, the penniless, helpless creature we turned out of house and home. Yes, I will be married in his mother's favourite abode, under the cold gaze of Lady Ashford's piercing eyes." John Morrow gave a sigh of relief ; he had feared Cristina might stand ouib and absolutely refuse the bargain, " You had better go at) once to Isaacs, tie said, striking while the iron was hot with characteristic promptness. "Ah 1 what money-bags lie behind that willowy youth with the angelic tenor ! He will prove an acquisition, I feel sure, to the celestial choir when we have done with him." Mr Morrow laughed shortly at Ms own grim jest, and conducted Cristina to the door. She left him without another word, tend slowly descended the broad, shallow stairs. As if by intuition Montefiore came out from the smoking-i'oom and caught her hands. " I felt you were near me," he said. " I j&lways know. You cast a ray of sunshine before you, which pierces through every barrier, and reaches my heart." " Barriers are for those who cannot fly," eaid Cristina, lightly; "naturally, they would not exist between you and me." She led the way to the conservatory. He followed joyfully, taking this' as a sign of surrender. He drew two low wicker -chairs fcle.se against each other and prayed her to be seated. "Is it all right?" he asked, looking for Straight in the eyes. • She bent her head. "Do you — do you really love me ?" she asked. ( " How can you doubt it, after all I have " paid and suffered ? Have I not waited patiently, till the suspense crushed my spirits , paid drove me half-distracted ? When I see Your gaze resting on other men, your smites given to them, I fear for my reason. A frenzy seizes me, and I can hardly restrain biyself from snatching you away, holding fcou back, and crying aloud that you shall be mine !» ', "Dear boy, you should have lived in the days when gallants captured frail women's hearts by storm, and carried tfliem off <bodi[y on chargers, without waiting for their Boneent. The enthusiasm) of youth is a little startling to a sedate old widow like myself." . She murmured "old" with such a co'quettdßh glance from under her splendid lashes, that Monte caught her to his heart, jand stammered out poetical phrases, de,Bcribing tihe lady of his affections as eternally young, with " tingling hair " all "warmth and scent." Cristina released herself, and told him .•not to be absurd 1 . Sfo© declared her entire ignorance of what "tingling hair" could ■mean,, and felt nonte the wiser when, he added " outbreaking into fairy sparks," and coupled has wild phantasy with the name of Browning. " I have no time to read poetry," she '.informed Mm,; "modern women need to leuffer terribly from ennui before they go jto the poets in search of consolation. I 'knew a lady who used) to say it was as bad "as going to the dogs morally — only less interesting." "Dearest Cristina," foe answered, "you are trying to make me believe you worldly and unromantic. Don't I know tho store of beauty which lies heaped up in your pure ■whit© soul? Have I not seen all the goodness in you from the very first? Do I need another voice to tell me you are an. • angel, bub the promptings of my ow.n .heart? I have made a study of character, and can read you through, and through. I am never deceived in. my judgment." Cnistina smiled to herself. It always ihatl amused her to hear the proverbial pride ■with which people will tell each other of their acouracy in discerning the mind which

is by the law of Nature locked against them. "It is a great talent," she said, "to probe beneath the surface, to see into the soul. Fortune has favoured you ; I would I had) your gift." ." But you know a good deal," lie replied. " You guessed I could not help loving you, and you let m&— yes, yes, your eyes gave permission from the first moment we met. You are like your namesake, ' Crisfona,' in that beautiful poem of Browning's— and you spell it tl© same way— without an h. What! you have never read those eight verses written of 'Cristina?' I can hardly believe you. The opening lines have been ring-ing in my head! ever since you first glanced across your crowd of guests in my direction." He quoted softly : " She should never have looked at me If «he meant I should not love her! There are plenty of men, you call such, I suppose she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, And yet leave much as she found them: But I'm not so, . and she krfew it When she fixed me, glancing round them.',' "Thank you," oriedl Mrs Leach, with a little tcss of her head, " for accusing me of these base designs. Widows are always supposed to keep their eyes widely opened, seeking whom they may devour. But I have never been taunted before with 'fixing \ anyone with ' intent to kill.' " " How yen misconstrue my words," sighed the love-sick youth. " I meant no such thing." " I wf nder," murmured Cristinft, "if you would, » under pressing circumstances, give up everything for my sake? Supposing you . were called upon to die — for your Cristina." " I would sacrifice my life to win one soft word from your dear lips," he answered fervently. " I deem living as worthless without your presence." "I daresay," continued Cristina, 'you think it morbid and strange of me to have asked such a question, but do you know, I had a reascn. My first 'husband was murdered, and I fear for my second. Some enemy is abroad, tracking my footsteps, striking me in the dark. I dare not go openly to church witih you in order to get married, for fear of assassination. Perhaps it is the price I must pay for this face j you have termed beautiful. Some jealous woman, or perhaps a fanatic, who imagines I am not not of ordinary" human fabric, -and prefers to see me on a pedestal of virtue, unmated .to mere man — alone, like a thing ,of stone ! I will marry you, Monte, quickly, with just the necessary delay for arrangements, if our wedding can be absolutely private. My father agrees with my fears ; he does m-ot regard them as childish fancies. But perhaps you are better apart from me. I tremble to lead you into danger, for— l love you!" She twined her arms about his neck, and leb her soft breath play upon his brow. The delight of her touch intoxicated him. What cared he for peril in the wild delirium of that moment? Had not her voice quivered melodiously, and tears rushed into her eyes as^she murmured those ever-to-be-remember-ed words : " I love you !" Enough that she. had said them ; never again would he let her take back that frank avowal ! She was his now to guard and cherish. No evil could touch them, he told himself, with, the strength of their love to war against the world. " Dearest," he whispered, " fear nothing, either for yourself or for me. The clouds Whioh have overshadowed you in the past shall break, and the sunshine burst through. I feel strong enough to face the deadliest foe ; the powers of evil must .surely sink into insignificance before such love as ours." " But about the wedding, Monte. You won't put me ,to the terror of a public ceremony ; you mil consent to a private " "Cristina! Cristina!" he broke in, "da you think I could deny a single wish of your heart? How little you know me! Name any place — any hour— l am but your slave to do your will." " In the Oak Room, then," she said, and a sharp pain shot through her heart, for she" thought of her first meeting there with Oliver Astoford.