Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3059, 2 December 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

By EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS. ( Author of Selina.'j Love Story "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara," "A Splendid Heart," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXV.—Continued. ; "An impertinent fellow," was her maid's irate observation. ?s her eyes, too, discerned the red-faced youi:g man. j But Isobel only smiled, and gave ; one glance out of her demure eyes ere ; the door had closed upon har, and hid ; her dainty figure from his sight. She : was, however, nothing if not prac-' tical, and it must not ne supposed Miss Marston would have condescended so much to an utter stranger had not the occasion been profitable. : Her ears, no less quick than her eyes, Viad caught a few words ad dressed to the youth at the station by his servant, and, at the magic title . of "your lordship," Isobei's inherent , snobishness rose eagerly to the sur- : face. She had no objection to any one's admiration, but, when, that ; admiration came from a young peer, ! then it was unusually pleasant and satisfactory in her sight. CHAPTER XXVL LADY HUNGERFQRD'S INDIGNATION. A week later Colonel Leicester had taken his niece Mary back to Thrapstone, proved by indubitable facts to be the widow of Hugh Ballaston, ;fnd a free woman. Laurie received the news from George Cartwright, who seemed to write to Miss Hungerford with strange frequency for a man so busy as he was, and her heart leaped with joy. Now, at last, she eaw a prospect o£ happiness opening out betore her dear brother, and a lifp of love and sympathy almost too beautiful to be human. . But at the very moment of this dawning joy came troußle trouble this time in the shape of Lady Hungerford; and all sorts of disagreeableness suddenly rose upon the fair sky of Paul's futui*e. "I am worried to death," Laurie wrote, in her free fashion, back to Doctor Cartwright. after another week had gone. "Just fancy, Aunt Anne has suddenly come on the scene. It is impossible to conveyto a stranger all that means; but fortunately—or perhaps I should say unfortunately for you —you know Aunt Anne, so you can understand a little of what is happening when I teil you—.she has ranged herself on Isobel Marston's side, ar.d is launching the most odious and horrible accusations against Paul, are quite right Isobel is clever, and so unscrupulous! 1 long to shake her. I know it is very unwomanly of me, for, lam so strong, I should shake her to pieces; but you know how eager I am to see Paul happy, and now —now when things shape that way, just to have more clouds—more trouble! Doctor Cartwright, please write back exactly what you think on the matter."

pained at the circumstances which had brought about that freedom. She could only hope, however, that his sound common serse would not permit any further quixotic consideration for one who had proved herself so utterly unworthy to stand in the way of his future happiness The name of Mary was not e.en mentioned between them, either on that homeward .•journey or during the week that followed. Paul had intended to go to London, , but his mother seemed strangely I delicate and ill, and, to give her pleasure, he sacrificed his own feelings, and remained constantly by her side. It was, ?.s has been said, through Doctor Cartwright, that news reached them of Mary's journey to Liverpool, and of the ultimate success of the search undertaken by her uncle end herself. From Mary herself no word was written, though Colonel Leicester had not failed, while his usual courtesy to send a kind and thoughtful letter to Sir Paul Hungerford, in which he briefly informed the young man that, sad as it was for him to have to make the acknowledgment, he held Sir Paul perfectly justified in break.ing the engagement with his niece Isobel; exonerating him in every way from any blame. Paul had replied to this letter briefly but gratefully; his heartbeat quickly, and with a certain natural excitement as he wrote; hope, without which no life is worth living, was burning almost feverishly within him, an uncertain and indefinite hope, formless, vague, misty -never theless hope. It was true, as Laurie had guessed, that Paul shrank even from the memory of that most painful episode by the lake side; he had never wilfully hurt any living creature in his life, and, though most surely he had no good reason either to like or respect Isobel, it hurt him none the less to know that he must have caused her bitter pain, as he had undoubtedly caused her deep humiliation. This feeling was the outcome of that gentle, that tender side of Paul's nature; but there was another side, and from that source came the undoubted knowledge which was in itself, a satisfaction that, painful as his action had been to himself and to Isobel, it was" the only course open to him to take. Chivalry, and delicate regard for one who had been so strangely forgetful ' of her modesty and pride, had carried Paul, as we have seen, far along the ; road of a mistaken sense of honour; Ihe had never cared for Isobel, he J had never pretended to have aught ! but the most ordinary and convenj tional feelings toward the girl whom his aunt had thrown so persistently iat his head, and who had proved , herself so apt a pupil of Lady Hungert'ora's tuition; in fact, except for the right of the dance at the Massingham,s, Paul, lost in his maze of miserable, hopeless thought, had- not even remembered that Isobel existed; tbat is to say, he, of course, realised she was present occasionally; but she, in common with the rest of the world, except his mother and Laurie, had merely passed to and fro in his life as indefinite and far away, so to speak, as the phantom figures that flits in and out of a dream. (To be continued).

Gecirge Cartwnght's answer was characteristic.

"I think, for the moment, nothing," he wrote, "only we must be prepared on all f ides, and be surprised at nothing. Misa Isobel is more than clever, and she ha 3 not gone voluntarily into disgrace without gome very good reason for so doing. Strange as it may seem to you, however, I don't fear her so much in the question of upsetting our scheme of happinpss, as .1 do the one for whom we are both working. Do not expect success too soon, Miss Laurie. I have gauged Mary Ballapton very closely, and I am afraid your brother will find fresh sorrow dealt out to him this time by the gentle, loving hand of the woman fie adores. Of course I may be mistaken, but " But Laurie knew he was not, for already tiie same fear /had dawned in her heart. Though she was free from all that had held her, though she loved Paul passionately, devotedly, though she knew Paul loved her, Mary's present attitude could not be misconstrued. She meant to stand aloof, and to let Paul tread his lonely pathway, through life unswestened, unshared by her needful company. Laurie felt very unhappy, almost resentful, as she thought of this. She had every [patience, every sympathy with Mary, but she loved her brother dearly; she yearned for his happiness, anfl, as she looked on his worn, troubled face, Laurie felt tempted to carry her threat into purpose, and to rush up to London to shake the life out of Isobel; for Isobel was certainly to blame for all this —and her mischiaf was spreading and spreading. It must be stopped, Laurie determinedi but how? —how? That was the most pressing question of the moment.

#*¥*** Lady Hungerford's attack was quite a surprise to Paul and to Laurie; as a matter of fact, their aunt's very existence had passed out of their mind for the time; the events that had occurred at Thrapstona Court had been full of such painful excitement that neither of them could think of anything else; certainly they did not think of Lady Hungerford. They had exchanged absolutely no words*on the-subject of lsobel, but Laurie had fathomed pretty correctly all ha- brother had felt on the matter; they had returned to Birchdale, and their mother's house, almost in silence. All the hopes and fear 3 that crowded Paul's heart were fully expressed to his sister in that most eloquent silence; it was impossible for Laurie to feel anything but pleasure in the fact of Paul's freedom, though she, who had such an intimnti prquaintance with his fcird 1 chivalrous nature, could not lail tc y: sure that he was deeply