Selina's Love Story.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8203, 6 August 1906, Page 2

Selina's Love Story.

CHAPTER IV.-Oootinued. J •I think I know what you mean, j Polly,' she said; 'you mean that 1 6 ought to put my feeling.in my poo- , Lt; you mean that I ought to stand ( bv Georg* ami say nothing, what ever comes. Polly, I shall never be , able to do that. You culled roe a ( baby just now, and I suppose I have ■ been one, because I have never real j ised that suoh sad things existed in life; but, Polly, though I am able about poor Dorothy, I feel that ( I have been dreadfully unjust to , tbat poor woman who came h-re tonight. How she must have suffered! Her eyes haunt me! Oh! Dorothy's mother has been wioKed—moked ! «I am not here to accuse or detenu said Misa Lascombe. 'I have given pity for many years to Maria Dun worthy, but 1 can gi"o pity to the other woman,.too. Someday, per haps, vou will understand even more than you do now, Selina; and after all' *ent on Miss Lascombe, 'why should we blame ■•■■* woman because she has brought up Her... ohild to believe in her to mere her? ,All these years Dorothy J" been like one of the flowers of the earth, smiled upon and tenderly nurtured. She is, save for her mothers story, fie to marry any man! And then, we are a little bit oH-fas-hioned in our sentiment, you know, Selina,' Miss Lascombe said, dryly. •To the nißJority of people, the fact that Miss Baraldlne will possess a large fortune woold set on one side all possible objeotion to ber. Lven as it is, proud family that you are the Durnstones are very poor; the old house where your ancestors lived is let to strangers, and you are making your home as modestly as though you were some of yon* farmer people. The money that Dorothy Baraldme will bring with her will do much to pnt things back ou their former footing.' Selina held out her hand. Oh, don't, Polly! 'that makes everything so much worse!' Her lips quivered for a minute, then she put ber arms about] Misa Laßcombe. •Good-night,' she said. 'I don't feel that I can talk any more. We mudv wait and see what will happen to-morrow." She turned and walkea out of the room, and Miss Lascombe sat with knitted brows thinking for a long time. She had arrived at no satisfactory conclusion in her thoughts when she finally rose and made her preparations for sleep. ***** Miohael Siloheater and his friend walked away from the Gate House in silence. Mrs Silohester had forgotten to send the carriage for her son and his gnest, but neither man objected to walk. Just before starting Mr Delavai offered Mmhael a cigar, which the young fellow lit, but which noticed be did not smoke. 'I begin to think that I am something of b prophet, Delavai said, after they had gone some little way. •It must be some five or six years ago that I warned tbis ohild's mother that tbere'would he rooksabead in the future. 'lf you don t mind, Delavai, said Michael Silohester, *I would rather not discuss this matter. It may be ridiculous, bnt 1 feel in a sense as though I were to blame for what has happened. Delavai laid his hand for an instant on his friend's shoulder. •You were always too sensitive, he said, 'Don t you know, Miohael, that in life there are certain things which are inevitable?-~certain things which are bound to come, though a man may exercise all his ingenuity to prevent this? Yoa may cease to reproach yourself; it was predestined that Lady Dunwortby and thh girl should come face to face. Your mother was but an unconscious agent in this night's work, and you yourself are, of oourse, absolutely iunoceu t.' Silohester made no reply, and Delavai smoked his cigar, quite content to walk the rest of the way in silence. The rain had ceased, and the air was all the milder. To one who spent so many years living an outdoor existence there was always pleasure in the night [air; indeed, when they reached their destination Mr Delavai declared his intention of remaining out of doors a little longer. 'I never sleep by any chance till dawn,' he said, 'and I have something important which I want to think out. Leave one of the doors open for me.' i#*?w Miohael assented, gripped ghis friend's bunds, and went into the house. Delavai threw open his coat and began to wander, he hardlyknew whure. His wes a strange spirit. Solitude, darkness, silence, and the suggestion of spuce—things which are trying to moat people, terrifying to some—were things that made a kind of joy to him. He loved this moist, moonless night, as he loved to sport, as it were, with the passions and sufferings of human nature. Though he had played his part and assumed a sympathetic role, in reality his dramatic sense had been entirely roused, gratified by a sense of what had passed this night. He haa a sense of contemptuous pity a» he pictured himself the pain and mortificatiou that Miohael Silohester was suffering, and this although in his peculiar way be rather cared for Miohael Silohester, perhaps because he alone knew the real nature of this shy, simple man. There was independence in Miohael Silchester wbch appealed to him. Quickly he had realized that there was the same independence in Selina. Had they lived in other they would have shown themselves possessed of that marvellous courage which carried the martyrs to the stake;the wild, unreasoning jealousy of Lady Euuwortby had often inter-'

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. Author of "An Inherited Feud," '* Brave Barbara," " A Splendid Heart," "Temptation of Mary Barr," *< The Interloper," etc., etc.

ested him. He had worshiped at the shrine of Mrs Baraldine's beauty when he was a mere boy; indeed, he found her beautiful still., though her loyalty to one man, the loyalty of a lifetime annoyed him. Dorothy, as a little child, had pleased his fancy, and to-night she occupied his thoughts very closely. Wandering alone, dreaming, smoking, and happy iu the solitude, Mr Delavai found himself after a time back again in the roadway that lay outside the gardens surrounding the Gate House. He advanced nearer to the house. 'How peaceful it looks,' he said to himself, 'and yet I will -wager that there are four people—for that middle aged woman has her sentiments too—who are at this moment wide awake, and tormenting themselves with questions that nan nut be answered.' Almost unconsciously he made is way to one of tne gates and passed into the gardons. Though be wa>; but an outside actor in Jthe drama 'that had taken pJaoo ibia night, it gave him a sense of satisfaction to take a sort of share in it. The circumstances distinctly out of the common they stirred him with a kind of excitement. When Lady Dunwortby had struck Doro thy, he had felt as he had once when he had witnessed an execution in Japan. He was curious to see how tbines would work out. He was interested in Dorothy, but chiefly, because she was her mother's child. George Duinstone, as a type, would never have interested him in other oiroumstanoes, but at this paitioular"moment the man attraction for him. Selina held a charm for : this strance man which he could not easily define, and which he did not seek to analyze. He shrugged his shoulders as he pictured the kind of atmosphere that would prevail in Mrs Silohesttr's house on the morrow. His sym pathies wore entirely at the Gate House. His cigar was smoked out, and he was thinking of turning to make his way back to the house, when a figure moving in the dimness rivited his attention. Almost instantly he reoognized Selina. She had some dark thing wrapped about her, but he noticed that \ she wore a white garment underneath and he conjectured tbat some great anxiety had driven her out of the bouse. She was coming toward him nervously, agitatedly, and she shrank baok with a cry of alarm aa he advanced and spoke. 'Don't be afraid, Miss Durnstone,' he said; 'it is I, Delavai! I am not roaming about your gardens with intent to rob, but I am a born wanderer, and have been walk-ing and thinking for the last hour or so, hardly conscious of whore I huve been going.' Selina was trembling from head to foot. He put out his hand and gripped her arm. 'ihe light could not have been clear enough for most people to see her, but Delaval's eyes were trained to the shades of night, and he could see her quite cle 'Oh! you—you frightened me!' she said, hoarsely; 'if have you been here long? Have—you seen—Dorothy?' Then, before he ooald speak she went on rapidly. 'I tried to go to sleep, but I could not close my eyes; something shut me away from her. Though she asked me to leave her, at firnt I did not want to, but afterwards I did —dia not want to go to her. It was horrible of me, but I could not help it, and now—l don't know what 1 fear.' Her words were incoherent, she was trembling violently. 'Calm yourself,' said Delavai, Very quietly; 'why do/yon suppose tbat Miss Baraldine is out here?' 'I followed her—that is to say,' continued Selina, 'whon 1 could not rest I got out of bed and went to her room. I found the door ajar; 1 looked in, and saw that she had not been in bed. She was not in the room and I felt convinced that she bad left the house. I never beard her go; she must have gone very, very quietly. The doors were shut but one of the windows of the drawing room was open. Oh! why do I stand here?' broke off Selina. 'She —she ' Her words died away. In such an emergency as this Delavai was just the man to be on the spot. (To be Continued.)