For Honour's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 7956, 3 February 1906, Page 2

For Honour's Sake.

CHAPTER XlX—Continued. ' Was Stewart; conscious of sometime?, during the dance, boldina liis oompanion closer to him than t;eed be? Was 9he consdous tbat ho did so? She could feel how fast and heavily bis bear!; throbbed, but nor own throbbed, ton; and tho soft colour now and then Hushed her cheek: but ti.at w:)S rho exercise, perhaus; or was it the bewildering happiness tbat was flooding: all bur being?—the sous" of unspoken unity between her soul and Esric Stewart's? She gave that unity no name: there was no thought or feeling that could bo denned; she was iu that golden haze again, and tho music far off through the mist; faces and forms swept by like visions in a •dream; only this was real—Emi'Jc Stewart held her within his arms—that bia hand clasped hers. He did not speak, but his very silence was ■eloquent. Alas! for him. bia only safety just now was in silence. Tit" intoxication of those moments had almost mastered him, be could only think -of the words that quivered on bis tongue, for they'must, not bo uttered. Was she vaguely sensible of all that was in bis heart? He felt, aa he held her to him, tbat inward trembling of which she was hardly conscious; but there was no shrinking, no fear. She did not doubt him, then; or was he only hopiug for that he so badly longed for? And as she read, or half read, the seoret of bia heart, her own gave in response deepest sympathy—grief for all the pain he suffered—but uoi The dance was paused. Claude was drawings her breath quick and low; she bad become rather white. Stewart bent down to her, his dark eyes searching her face anxiously; a pang of remorse shot to his heart; he was to blame for be had startled her. He spoke softly, tondeny: "You.are tired; it was my fault —you ought to have rested sooner. Come and rest now."' But, Claude, rallying, shook"; her head, and half smiled. |"oh, no," she said, "not your fault. I scarcely seemed to know I was tired, or I wonld have asked you to stop." <i "Well, you must rest now. Here is a chair." He placed her one. "Can I fetch you anything." "Ob, no thanks. 1 am all right, now, indeed I am Captain Stewart, you deserve your reputation a 9 a dancer; and you just make one float." "iTou forget," said he, smiling, as he seated himself by her side, "your own co-operation. You are so graceful, and such a perfect dancer." "A thousand thanks for the compliment, Captain Stewart; and now give me that in Gaelic." "Well, you know," said be, "1 am not 'Captain Stewart' at all at home, but just Locbmohr." "Yes, I know; then 1 should say " He gave her the words and Claude repeated them after him exactly. f! "What a treat to bear such gutterals," he said; "and, you know, you will spoil me if you give me my own Highland name so prettily." "How do you mean?' a&ked Caude, glancing m his face, but dropping her eyes a little before his. "Don't you understand," he said, softly, "1 shall want you to call me Loobmobr, as you would do in the Highlands." Claude's heart almost ceased to beat for a moment. Instinctively she read the underlying meaning; he wanted ber to call him by some less formal title—a title too that was dear to him, as such are ever to a Highland chief. Just tbat pause; then the girl answered, smiling, "I couldn't call you so in England very well, could I?" "Not in general perhaps. I did not mean that; but at other times, as now. Will you?" How cou!d Claude deny him though, in a sense, she shrank from the kind of understanding that this distinction established them? When they were together, he was to be "Locbmohr,' but before the world she would call him "Captain Stewart." Still, why should she refuse? She did not even think of doing so: his wish must be Jaw with her, and his voice had a music that hushed all warning voice within ber. "If you like," she said, quietly; her 3U''e instinct made her treat the request overtly, aa of small consequence one way or the other. "Thanks, so much," said Stewart, earnestly. His voice shook, but bo mastered himself, and added, in a •changed tone, yet no effort could suppress tho pathos in it, in the very words, tbat filled the girl's heart with a passion of pain for him: "Tou don't know how sweet it is to mo to bear my own name that belongs to the bills—my home. It is so good uf you to humour me." Home! He had none here; only among the "■% hills. No thought of homo wa=) linked with bia wife. Claude turned aside her face. "I am happy to ploase you," she said, gently, but her lips quivered. "1 am sure you are. I believe," he added, lest his words should seem too personal to himself, "that you are always happy in pleasing anyone." Claude looked up with a flash of laughter in ber eyes, taking up the cue with the quickness of versatility of her Celtic nature. "lhat is gone of your pretty speeohes," said she. "I think you bad bettor take mo to Mrs Davenant; I see her yonder." Stewart rose at once—i-orhaps he had already usurped to much of Claude's society—and led her across to Mrs Daveuant, who, at the minute, wa3 sitting alone. He stood by, chatting for a few minutes, principally with the elder lady, and then went away to look for Maida Wostmore, who was bis partner iu the next dance. Aa this wa3 the last dance before

By BerOsa M. Clay. Author of •'* Wife in Name Only," il Wedded and Varied," "Dora Thome,"' "A Otieen' Aniona Women," "' J. True May dale ne,'' etc., etc.,

simper, ho took Maida down, Claude falling to the Marquis, whoso attentions to the new belle were generally observed and commented upon, and Mrs Daveuant's hopes rose high. Stewart's second waltz was the first after supper; but this time he did not detain his partner, but took her at once to her chaperon, who said they should not remain much longer; and Stewart, bending down, said, in" a low tone: "1 can bear that with equanimity, for we are going almost directly." Claude laughed; hut she knew it was not merely a grdJant speech to a beautiful woman. Stewart turned vo Mis Davonant. "1 had best say good-bye now," he asid, "lest I miss you presently." Julia shook hands; thanking him for his "kindness." They had spent a meet delightful evening. Mrs Millington bad asked Claude to a musical soiree later on. "I am much pleased to hear it," Stewart said, "for her sake and mine." Ho hold out his hand to Claude "Uood-night," he said. What a subtle change there was in his v.iice the iastant bespoke to her! "1 shall see you soon again." Only a moment he held her hand, but how close was the clasp! What waves of feeling the touch sent through all her being? Then he turned away, and Claude was glad enough to leave after this; glad, in one sense, too, to b« alone, and yet a sudden dread of solitude bad oome ovor her, a dread of the silence and darkness tbat must force ber to moet her own heart, face to face. Captain Stewart and his wife drove back to Charlton House Terrace in silence. That wa9 nothing new, but each felt that the tension now between them was greater than ever, and the woman knew full well how easily her own hind might break that tension to her own undoing. How could she gain her ends yet keep her place? Pauline was not a woman to give up the world for revenge; not even to see Claude Verner dead at her feet, would she be hurled from her high place to bite the dust. (To be Continued).