For Honour's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8104, 26 March 1906, Page 2

For Honour's Sake.

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

CHAPTER LlV.—Continued. "Heaven help me!" he cried; bhe had no will for the effort, had she possessed the strength; nay, she clung to him—she could not do else for lie made her whole being yield to his; and so olose bo held her she scarcely seomed to tremble in his arms, so close the pressure of bis lips on hers, that their quivering was stilled. Was it, perhaps, something in her ©yes that could not meet his, whioh startled him, warned him? Ue lifted bis bead, and made her give him one j fleeting glance—'in the tenderness of his downward look there was still that consciousness of possfssiou. j ".uearest " be snld, uader bis breath, "you ace not afraid of nie? , No, I understand; my passion frigbt- j ened you. 1 could not help it—l was mad. But you did not doubt me, darling?" "Ob, Esric! No, no I" "My own love—ay! my own—all my ovn now! How snail I tell you? j While you are here—on my heart —1 can only bold you to 'iio, find draw your soul into rniue through your lips. Once morel" Again his kiss was on tho trembling mouth; then ho tried to loose her a little, but drew her close agnm ■with a passionate movement. "I cannot!" he said. "Ob! sweetheart, does no thought came to you what change it is that has beon wrought iu our lives? —this passion of mine that startled you—why was •it? You felt the clmuge—l knew that you did—felt that I claimed you; and yet you did not doubt my honour!" Claude was clinging to him convulsively. "Esric!" she hardly whispered, "yes, yes! that 1 was why—oh! tell me what it is—what has happen d?" He pressed her bead against his heart. His voice quivered,' faltered : "The man—who sent for me tonight—he said—it was life and death —it was more than that—a thousand times more—to you and me. Can you divine—what he had—to tell me?" The girl lifted her eyes to her lover's face, with an almost wild look that strange arrested gaze when some swift impression halts as it were, and dare not think what the heart feels. Stewart's lips were trembling, his «yea drooped before that look of hers; his next words were only whispered : "He was Pauline's husband Richard Arnold!" "Esric!" CHAPTER LV. BEFORE THE BLOW FELL. Stewart folded Claude, quivering from head to foot, to bis breast; he did not utter a word; he hardly seemed to breathe. Her breath rose and fell in heavy throbs; it was no need; her heart was speaking to his: she was living through some such momenta as lie bad lately known; but. presenty, she lifted ber bead a little, and drew her face down to his. "Esric, can it be true? Can it be true?" 1 "Dearest. J, too, doubted—doubted the evidence of my own senses—though I knew him the instant I saw bim; the doctor, the magistrate, both reoognized bim. Gibson identified his signature. Why too,'should a man lie in his dying confession;? To-day, later, £ shall bring Gus and Maida to see him; they knew him well. It ia true, quite true, darling I 1 am free to love you, to claim you; there is no peril now—no terror of the time to come. Oh, Heaven! It Is madness! 1 have suffered and now the light, tbis dazzling light!" He bowed bis head on ber breast! It was more of the old, clinging clasp now. "You saved me, sweetheart," he whispered,, "braving more than death for my sake; my love, my saint" He raised himself, and his lips pressed hers again with all the passion of a lover, the reverence of a worshipper. * He told her presently, when botij were calmer, more of the details of that strange interview; and how Arnold had deceived his wife as well as others. In tbis, at least, Pauline was guiltless: yet, oould barest justice urgo on Esrio Stewart to make to ber the reparation that might seem to be ber due? Law and moral justice set him free, and, indeed, the law gave, and refused to forge anew, the bonds that had been broken. Benson now came to summon Stewart to the death-chamber, to see all that was as it should be.

Arnold looked even more like his photograph than be had looked in life; death, in its first hours, endows with n fictitious youth. Stewart paid the woman who bad assited, and, locking the door of the room, put the key in his pocket. Then Benson went to prepare some breakfast, and Stewart returned to Claude.

"I will take you back to Lexham Gardens," he said, when they bad both bad some coffee, "and presently bring Maida here; and I can wire to Langdale to meet me at The Ferns. Afterward, when I have looked through bis papers and seen the letters Dr Gibson is to bring, I must speak to Pauline." Maida was not up when Claude and Stewart reached Lexham Gardens, but Claude went up to her, and merely toid her that Arthur Fanoourt was dead, and that Stewart was below and wished to see her.

"I mast not tell you anything, Maida." abe said; "only, will you come down as soon as you can?" Full of wonder and curiosity, Maida rose and hastily dressed, bat when she saw Stewart, he gave no explanation beyond this—that be wanted Maida to accompany hi in and Claude to The Ferns, and that Ma-jor-Langdale would meet him tbexe.

That all this liad something to do with Fanoourt, Maida could divine but she was far from remotely guessing at the truth. Just when they reaohed the bouse Maida was aut a little startled at the request Stewart preferred: "Maida," he said, "will you go with Benson tho sorvant into Fancourt's room? I havo my own reasons for neither Claude nor I accompanying you." "Yes I will go," she said wondering more and more. "1 am not afraid to look on death." "Thanks Maida dear." He rang for JJenson an.l gave her the key of tho room and Maida went out with the servant. Claude sat still in the drawing room; Stewart walked up nd down; not a word was spoken between them. Five minutes—or was it ton?— 1 passed; then Maida entered abruptly, her face deadly white, her eyes looking strange and soared. - Stewart was at her side in a minute, and placed her gently in a chair. She clutched his hand convulsively. "Was that why he sent for you?" she gasped. "Stewart, it is Richard Arnold." (To be Continued).