"The Woman Who Doubted,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 47, Issue 14449, 25 July 1921, Page 7

" The Woman Who D oubted,"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL AESANGEMENT.

BRILLIANT LOVE STOEY BY A POPULAE NOVELIST.

By ARTHUR APPLIN, Autlior of "Miss Bampton’s Husband,” “The Chorus Girl,” “The Prodigal Father,” “The Immediate Jewel/' etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.),

threw up her head and her eyes danced. “Ah, revenge is sweet. And you?” Stanhope laughed. It was different laughter to that of Elise- do Vcrc. “Yes, I have had my revenge. And you are -right, Madame; revenge is sweet indeed. ”

| CHAPTER NX.—Continued. ■ At last the Sister-Superior held up I her hand as if to command attention. I ‘‘Go across to the hostel at once; tell r Sister Olive we have brought in a r stranger who has met with a serious i accident, and prepare .a bed for him im~ P mediately. Then return here. ” J The girl bowed her head. For an iuI slant longer her eyes lingered as if unI able to leave Stanhope's face. Then, turning, she hurried on her errand. I The Sister-Superior waited until she I had left the room; then she drew Stanhope a little distance off. I ‘‘You two have met before?” ! ‘‘Yes, she is my sweetheart," he said : simply, using, as one does in. moments 1 of great stress of mind, the simplest language. ■She smiled, still the same gentle, beautiful, understanding smile. “She has only been with us a. few days — barely a fortnight. I brought her here.” “You ” Stanhope’s face clouded for a moment. “I found her in our church, before the altar of Our Lady of Sorrows, in London. Her heart was broken; in her sorrow she turned to me. Love had crucified her, so I understood. And she begged to be allowed to follow mo here, so that the love which the man of her heart rejected might be given to the poor, the suffering, the sinful. Arc you the man who played with and rejected her love There was no trace of bitterness, no suggestion of accusation in the question. oi 21 the way the Sister put it. Her eyes, fixed on Stanhope’s eyes, looking right down into life soul and reading it like an open book, did not Rise their kindly light. “I am tiio man,’ he replied. He waited, wondering what the Sister would say. Slowly she turned her head and looked across the road towards Paul Forsyth. Some intuition, perhaps, told lier that the key to the mystery lay there. For she knew there■jvas some mystery. The man who faced her had never been guilty of betraying or deceiving any woman Of that she was certain. Verity, returned. A vacant bed was ready in the Convent hostel. Lifting up Forsyth, they carried him . away. 'Stanhope was left alone. Crossing the room, he stepped through, the open window and stood on the gravel path, looking away over the garden to the mountains which stretched peacefully to the far horizon. The air was sweet ivitli the scent of flowers. . And the great silence, unbroken again now, filled his soul with, its peace. He stood there, leaning against the convent wall, letting the joy filter through his heart the that th woman lie had loved an dlos't was safe. He had seen her as one sometimes sees a loved one in a dream. He still felt as if he were moving through, a dream himself. But gradually realisation came, and he was filled with gratitude. He looked up at the sky, now "olden with stars, and his lips moved as he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. It seemed to matter so little what Verity thought or what she believed of him. Slie was safe, safe here in those grey walls of - peace, surrounded by the love of good women, giving the love- (which. ho had hoped was his) to the poor, the sick and the fallen. How long ho stood there in the ■ rrfitlierin" darkness he did not know. He eventually became conscious that lie was not alone; someone was, standing 'by his side. He turned with half-open-ed arms, thinking for a moment that Ve.ritv had com e to him. It was the Sister-Superior. Perhaps she read his thought, for she smiled. I have brought you some bread and milk, and some cheese. When you have eaten and feel refreshed, perhaps you would like‘to sec your friend before you leave? We can send one of our peasant boys to conduct you safely across the mountains, in case you don t know the path.” » Stanhope started. The thought of leaving had not occurred to him. He followed the Sister back into the room, and sat at the head of the long oak table, and commenced the frugal meal she had brought him. She stood by the side of his chair, waiting on him. No word was spoken until he had finished, then he rose. see Sister Verity before I go?” The woman laid her hand on Ins shoulder. “My son, she came to us willingly; she came because- she felt the world had no further attractions for her, no further use for her bhe wanted to dedicate her love and her life —here! I think I can read character, I seldom make mistakes, and I know you are a good man. But, I do not know whether you would make fomter Verity happy, whether you are capable of giving her the love she desires Women, when they love, my son, ask all. There are some who cannot be satisfied •With a little. Sister Verity is one of those. You might make her happy lot a little while, and then —would it- not be kinder to leave her here?” Stanhope shook his head, but he hesitated before replying. “I want her, he said quietly, “and I think she wants mb. I believo wc were meant for onei another” “Yet slip ran away from you, the sister said gently. Stanhope looked through the open window out into the night. “Shall I tell you why? She doesn’t know, and she mustn’t know yet; though, if the man whose life you have helped to sav 0 lives, the truth must come out.” The Sister drew forward a chair. “Tell me, my son. And have no fear. What you tell me will be locked for over in my breast with all the secrets of many other souls that lie buried there.” s

And Mark Stanhope told her everythin';'. When he had finished she took ■his two hands and held them tightly. ‘ ‘ We must give her hack to you, our little Sister Verity. I do not know yet that she is worthy of a love like yours, bint T have seen enough of her soul to know that one day she will he worthy.” It was midnight before Stanhope reached Monte Carlo. The Casino was disgorging its convd of gamblers as he passed On his way to the hotel he wrote out a telegram to Felicite Oarrant, asking her to start for the South by the next train. As he passed into the hotel gardens disc do Vere overtook him. Laughing, she took his arm. “Well, mon ami, I have had my revenge. It was your friend who gave it to me; for when he left his seat, ruined, T took it. And I won! I went on winning until I broke the bank. Tomorrow I go back to Paris.” Sbo

The Frenchwoman frowned. “He’s dead, then, your friend?” “No,” Stanhope replied, under his breath. “He’s going to live. For love conquers all things. Love is the greatest revenge of all.” Madame Elise do Verc held out her band as '.hey readied the vestibule of the hotel. “Well, good-bye, monsieur. I suppose it 's true when, they say all Englishmen are mad. But I’m glad I met you, for if I hadn’t I might not have broken the bank, eh?” Stanhope watched the lift ascend, and he sighed. Then, crossing the vestibule lie sat down at- a bureau, and commenced to write a letter to Colonel Travers. CHAPTE RXXI. It was from Paul Forsyth’s lips that Verity Travers eventually learnt the truth, or as nuieli of it as lie knew. It urns enough, at any rate. Enough for her to know that she had doubted a devout and faithful lover She had not recognised Forsyth; they had only met once or twice many years ago, when he had wooed her sister secretly. But he knew her; perhaps her likeness to Feli-eit-e helped him. Verity was overwhelmed with sliannc. At the "first test love gave her she had failed lier lover, utterly and entirely. Instead of rejoicing that all was well, she decided she could never look him in the face again. Her first thought was that now, of course, Mark hated and despised her. It was the Sister-Superior who eventually pointed out that she had not vet learnt her lesson, that even now

she did not love Stanhope worthily, or she would have known that nothing she had done, nothing she could do, would alter the great love which he bore for her. Forsyth had not spared Verity nor himself for the matter of that. He owned that he was a rotter and had behaved vilely to Felicite. In those hours when Verity watched alone by his bedside, she learnt more from him of life ilhan she had ever known before. And Forsyth, learnt a great deal from her, too; more than he would have liked to •confess. The good sisters never guessed the strange confidences that passed •between them, for Forsyth seldom spoke to his other nurses, and they believed his condition was far more dangerous than it really was. Not that he feigned weakness; he was just bored, worn out and tired. Stanhope had cheated him of the only way out of

‘his difficulties; lie bore him no resent;nent } but he knew there was no escape. In his own words, he would have to face the mu's e.

(To be continued.)