For Honor's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 7941, 16 January 1906, Page 2

For Honor's Sake.

CHAPTER Vlll.—Continued. Then came one of those sin/ill wars ■which are always vibrating over the Indian Peninsula, and Captain Stewart, greatly to some people's surpirse, and to society's regret, volunteered to go out. For, after all. this was only a sort of guerilla warfare, where there was no glory to be got. A few handfula of iguorant heathens to fight. Pah! Brother officers remonstrated, but in vain. Stewart went out, and for six months remained in India fighting the natives and seeking death; but death passed him by, as it often passes those who court it. He bore a charmed life. He wa ß not even wounded. His splendid constitution ■was proof, a3 it had always been, against everything that a bad ciitnate —.the climate here was espeoiallly bad—oould do. Other men wore laid low by malaria, ague—what not. They all passed him by, as if they knew he would open bis arms to them* and were determined, for some inscrutable reason, to spare him. He never spared himself; he exposed his life with an utter recklessness that sometimes made his brother officers say to him, half in jest, half in earnest: "One would think, Stewart, that yon wanted to be shot 1" This was but a year after the illstarred marriage, and Pauline bad long ago dropped oven the pretence of having ever loved her husband. With brutal frankness, the roselipped woman told her husband o«e day: "I never loved you; I meant, from the firut hour you entered my house, to win you, if I could, and I succeeded. You deeply grateful. Bah! L nover nursed you, that sort of thing isn't in my line. 1 played on your gratitude—your fantastic sense of honour, and—l am your wife. You oau't undo that, though we are, practioally, strangers to each other; that is best so; we have nothing in common." She had so spoken within a month of their marriage day; but, even thus early, the speech was no revelation. He knew, even before he married her, that such love as she had once professed was a sham. In a dozen ways, during the misnamed honeymoon, she bad shown him the coarseness of her nature, sensitive as a woman's, such knowledge was an actual horror. She was porfectly aware of this, though he made no overt sign, and she had a curious delight in torturing him. He had been proof against her attractions, to surrender at dis-1 cretion to some other woman. Well then, let him suffer—suffer to the uttermost—draw perpetual contrasts between the wife to whom he was tied, and the girl he would, if he could, put in his wife's nlaoe. Perhaps it was'women like Pauline Arnold that gave rise to the ancient tradition of some human beings who were possessed of a demon; but they at least, gave unconscious warning by casting no shadow. Pauline gave no warning. She looked, pnd could talk, when she chose, like an angel. In six months the little war was over, and Eerie Stewart came home. His wife was out at a ball the night lie arrived. He met her the next day, a little before luncheon, and she held out her hand to him, scanning him with a half-quizzical smile. "As handsome as ever," was her remark, as he took her hand for a second, and dropped it, "and not a bit changed, only a little more bronzed, perhaps. So you've come back safe and sound?' 1 Of course be knew what those last words and the smile meant—-"You went out hoping to be shot, and you didn't succeed." He turned away, without a word, and took up a book. Pauline added, after a pause: "Lady Meldune is coming in to luncheon, to-day, and two or three others. One is a Mrs Westmere; she as introduced d;o me two months ago. Do you know her?" "Yes," Stewart looked up from his book to answer. Nothing could obliterate his flue courtesy; he was never rude to his wife, "i have met her twice." "I don't like her," said Pauline shortly. "Why not?" asked her husband. "Ob, she's pretty, and lively, and all that—but I aon'tilike her. Did you see Major Lanedale in India?" Stewart half smiled. "No," he said; "he was hundreds of miles from where 1 was.'' Pualine's geography was, like most other things worth knowing, hazy. "Ah, I didn't know," she said, indifferently. "I am going to Lady Allister's ball to-night, Esric. You'll come with me—it will look better." "It will do if I escort you home," said ho, quietly. Pauline knew by experience that her husband's "1 will" or "I will not" was final. She delighted in a quarrel, and had quarrelled with her first husband; but Captain Stewart was of another metal; he never stooped to a war of words, and quickly made Pauline understand the .worse than futility of opposing his will when once he expressed it. So now she pouted, and observed sulkily: "You might do as I wish for once in a way; but it dou't matter." To which Stewart made no repiy hut read in silence, until the visitors were announced, and he was overwhelmed with delighted greetings. He was a universal favourite, everyone was glad to see him except the woman who bore bis name. "Detestable, heartless doll!" thought Maida; "though there is a lot more mischief in her than was ■ever in wax and sawdust, ( the very sight of her irritates me."/ CHAPTER IX. A MAN'S TEMPTATION. After luuobeon the callers wont away, all save Lady Me/dune and

By Bertha Sff. Clay. Author of " Wife in Name Only," i( Wedded and Parted," "Dora Thome," "A Queen Among Women," " A True Magdalene," etc., etc.,

Mrs Westmore, who had uome together. Captaiu Stewart asked them not to be iu a hurry when they rose to go. and Pauline sec ouded the request, chiefly because she wanted to show Lady Meldune a new gown, which -was a "dream"; 80 she.carried chat lady off to her dressing room fur the inspection, and pretty Maida was left in the drawing room to the care of her host. "I shall expect you to tell me all the news," said he. placing her iu a low chair by the hie—thougb it was lateApriJ, it as quite chilly enough to make a tiro a necessity—and leaning against tne mantel. "One gets very little homo news in India, you kuow." "Of course, poor fellow! How you must have pined iu that barbarous place for something in the way of life? Well, there isn't much stirring at present, as the season has scaroely commenced. By the way, Captain Stewart, I hope you will find your way to Lexbain Gardens now." "Be sure I shall be only too delighted. I haven't forgotten our waltz, you know, at the ambassa dor'* ball." "Really? or are you only making a pretty speech? You soldiers are not to be trusted. But I haven't forgotten it. You waltz just perfectly. I shall be obliged to bespeak a waltz for tbe next ball where wo may meet." "You need not," said Stewart, laughing. "I am quite ready to anticipate you, and make the one, two, if you will be so good to me." "So good to myself!" cried Maida. "Of course I will! It's a bargain! Shall you be at Lady McAlister's this evening?" "Only to escort my wife home. I have a good deal to dV he explained; and it was, so far, true, that he did not choose to put off what he might have done another time, bad he been so minded. "Surely," he added, "you, who report says, know most things, must have some news?" She could not guess how fiercely his beart was throbbing as he went on, without a pause, without a change of tone or feature: "Any fresh arrivals, for instance? or any expected?" How be had held his breath for the answer, and braved every power of his being to be armed at all points for ' whatever that uuswer might be. "Oh yes!" exolaimed Maida., "there are some new people come about a fortnight ago from abroad— Rome or Florenoe. I think—-at least, one of ttbem isn't new. Did you ever meet a Mr Davenant?" For a moment Captain Stewart's heart seemed to cease beating, prepared though he was by what had gone before for the name that con eluded Maida's speech. Davenant here in London—that surely meant also Claude! "Davenant?" he repeated, as if trying to recall the owner of the aame—"Chris Davenant?" "Yes." "I knew him slightly.in London; [ met him in Paris nearly two years ago." "Was his ward with him then, Olaude Verner? What an odd Christian name for a modern girl? They say she is such a beautiful creature." Stewart had instinctively changed his position a little when Maida began to speak of the Davenanfo, so chat his back was to the light; and now if there was a slight change in his face she could not phserve it. The mere sound of Claude's name made every nerve thrill—and she was still unmarried. Bat selfcontrol had grown, especially during these two years, to be the habit of the man's life, so that he replied with just the tone and manner in which one speaks of any passing acquaintance: , "Yes, she had not long been with them. 1 met them at the theatre one evening, and spent another evening at their house; that was all I saw of them before 1 left Paris. Miss Verner was certainly a most beautiful girl, and a very charming one." "Ab, well, I believe you; you are a connoisseur ," said Maida; "but Basil Tollemache was raving about her to me yesterday—if raving is the right word to apply to his outpourings " "Tollemaobe," interrupted Stewart; the blood shot through his veins like a swift, fierce flame—"forgive me—■Tollemache, l of East Danford?" "The same—you know him?" "For a hunting country squire," said Stewart, through his teeth. Maida only thought be knew more of Tollemache tnan he chose to say; 1 men are slow to run each other down. She could not guess all the jealousy that ripped his heart like an iron hand. "Yes? And he is delighted with Miss Verner?" (To be Continued).