LOVE IS ALL.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 329, 10 July 1914, Page 6

LOVE IS ALL.

f All Rights Reserved')

A SHORT STORY.

By WINIFRED GRAHAM

Author of “Tho Zionists,” “Love Story of a .Mormon,” “Angels, and Devils, and Man,” “World Without End,” &c.

PART r U. Llewellyn moved away, a solitary form, carrying- beneath those soaked oliskins a heart of bitterness. Kate followed with light feet, catching him' up under the dim rays of a grimy lamp-post. “By your leave, kind gentleman!” she cried, dropping a curtesy, and touching his sleeve. “May 1.-crave a moment of your leisure?” • There was something' melodious in the sing-song voice, despite the disguise, which involiuStavily riveted his attention. The shawled figure had a picturesque appearance, the black gipsy locks and stained skin being in absolute unison with the character. “What do you want?” asked Llewellyn, a trifle suspiciously, for strange young women with roguish eyes in no way appealed to Kate Rees's lover. “I am passing through Llantir,” she said, “and am working my way by telling fortunes to those who can afford to hear my wisdom. The sinkers earn a goodly wage,. On two pounds a week, a shilling to a soothsayer might be spared. I do not ask to see your hand !—nothing commonplace, so please you. I am a sand diviner and clairvoyant. In a former incarnation I lived by the desert, and the sand holds pictures for my brain. In it I could see your fate.”

Days of monotonous labor wevo palling upon Llewellyn. A new element to lighten the ghastly sameness of Llantor | came as a refreshing change, and j though he was no believer in black magic, ho laughingly bade the girl read his destiny. f She drew from tlie canvas nag on her arm a small tin tray and a bottle of silver sand. This she scattered on,the surface of the tray till a smooth white square glistened under the faint lamplight. “You notice nothing but sand,” she said, bending over the tray which she held in two trembling hands. “For me it contains moving pictures of your life and environment. I will tell you what I see directly the vision comes.” The man' listened with a slight smile of sarcasm to the gipsy whose words he accepted as the veriest humbug. At last she spoke: “You are not what you seem,” she said, in a voice of astonishment. “To the outward world you appear a good and harmless fellow, but at heart you are a murderer. You are slowing killing someone now.” The words of supreme assurance surpiised her listener, and riveted Ids attention. “I am'afraid you are seeing wrong for once,” he answered, goodnaturedly. “Whom do yow diink I am slowly doing to death?” “Hush! Not so many words!” she .whispered. “Your victim comes up in the sand.” There was a pause, in which he could hear the diviner’s quick breathing, and see the swaying of her lithe form. “It is a woman,” she continued, ®with hair dressed high off the fore-head-dark hair, tinged with grey. The eyebrows .are pencilled artificially, the face is pale, haughty, and severe. You are not a murderer in the ordinary sense of the word, yet your conduct is driving this lady to madness, or the grave. She seeks you far and wide, but her star is unfortunate. She is surrounded with vast wealth —her rooms are those of a palace. Servants run hither and thither at her bidding, but the one she pines for holds aloof. She must, I think, be your mother, judging by the, age; her passion could not spring from the love or pining of romance. She sways like a bent feed, on the verge of mental breakdown. That is where your murderous instinct works. You refuse to return, and, unless your mind is changed, they lower her into the family vault. No human judge can condemn you to be hung by the ‘neck until you he dead, but her blood will cry from the 1 ground to a higher Authority.”. J Llewellyn, recognising the accurate description of his mother, felt suddenly uneasy. He knew inquiries had been instituted at Llantor, and that the men, who had lihtle love for the colliery proprietor, gladly kept the son’s secret. “Do you see anyone else appear?” he inquired, “in connection with this woman?” “Yes,” answered the Welsh voice; “her husband is by her side, wringing his hands in despair because his gold has failed to procure his wife’s desire. There is a brown dog that lies at her door and howlshe also knows there is trouble afoot, and nines for the young sire who has deserted the home.” As she spoke the gipsy suddenly let the tray fall with a crash to the ground, scattering the white sand on the foul mud. Covering her face with her hands, sho shrank away from him, her shoulders convulsed as if with shuddered repulsion, i “Do not give me yonis. money,” she cried—“it will bring ill-luck. I could take neither gold nor silver from a would-be murderer!” , “Nonsense!” he said, in a tone of reproof. “What you have tsld me is very extraordinary—queer enough to make me investigate its truth. Come, you have more sand in your bottle—can you see a young woman who is closely connected with my life?” Ho 'drew nearer, hut she beat him off with frantic hands, and, shaking

her head violently, stamped her foot on the rain-sodden earth. “I’ll prophesy no morel” she cried. “No other woman counts save the one you are killing by your desertion. I pass away from Llantor—l may gather no profit here. Truly it is named ‘Hell’s Gate,’ and is walked by devils.” She snatched up the fallen tray, and, bo' din" - ifc n.qrn ins t her face as if to avert the evil influence of a murderer’s eye, fled before him like a shadow, drifting into the darkness. The haunting WQjds haS taken a glim bold upon Llewellyn’s brain. “I had better go back and find out if there is anything wrong,” he thought, thoroughly startled at the gipsy’s behaviour, and refusal to accept payment. “If mother were ill, I would never forgive myself. Perhaps I have been cruel and inconsiderate to her.” That night, as the clock struch eleven, a motor sped up the Castle avenue, and a loud ringing at the bell brought a startled father into the lofty hall, while a brown dog barked joyously, on the steps. Always on the lookout for news of his son, the sound raised sudden hope in the heart of the sorrowing man. Llewellyn strode in with' knit brows and anxious eyes. “Ts my mother ill?” he asked, not daring to hold out his hand to one who might not welcome him. “Yes,” replied Lord Llantor, laying his trembling fingers on Llewellyn’s shoulder. “I had the best nerve specialist from London down to-day, and he said nothing but your return could give her hack her sleep. I may have treated you harshly, my boy, but Heaven knows I 'have been fully punished. Yes, you can see her at once. They say joy never; kills.” The "young man ran up the broad staircase two steps at a time, and burst into the room, where a hospital nurse ! was applying a cold compress to Lady Llantor’s forehead. The bandage fell from her brow, as she flung herself with a cry of rapture into Llewellyn’s arms. The nurse crept out tactfully. “There will be no need for my services any longer here,” she thought. “The cure has come.’’ I'iio following day Llewellyn, who I had learnt that Kate and his mother were already friends, went joyfully to {the doctor’s house to ask how soon their engagement might be made I public. The busy man was out on his ' rounds, but Kate received the caller | with a welcome smile in the little draw-ing-room, where all their love-making had taken place. Graphically, Llewellyn described to her his weird meeting the previous day with ' a dark-haired sibyl at Llantor., He did not repeat the gipsy’s cruel denunciation of himself, hut merely told lvow she described his mother’s illness,' ' bidding his instant return. ' Kate listened with deep interest. Sho would have asked him more of this strange woman, but he had much to relate of future plans. His father had promised to give them an estate in Monmouthshire, and a house in town. That night ‘she was ' to receive some' presents of heirlooms, and he eagerly pressed her to name her favorite stone for the engagement-ring. Suddenly the lover realised that ICato’s mind was not, absorbed by this radiant prospect. She was laughing softly to herself at some thoughts * j which brought the dimples to her 1 cheeks. He looked at her puzzled. “I know,” he said, “how little you care for worldly gifts. Like myself, you - realise that Love is all.” “Love and goodness,” she answered, i softly, “with no murderous instincts. Hush! your victim comes up in the • sand. Not so many words 1” (As a i volley of questions rushed to his lips.) ■ “I think you owe me a shilling, but - instead you, may kiss me, my deal? ■ Murderer!” . s (The End.)