"Two Fair Daughters,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 22 August 1929, Page 7

"Two Fair Daughters,”

Published by Special Arrangement.

(Copyright).

CIIA PTE R IV'. —Cont inued. "I believe you do,” he told he ;nd his voice had changed, “I believe you really do understand not only what I strive for but what I tight against. And if I could always be with you—the best of me would have a fair chance, I believe that, too. ” It was an odd confession, perhaps, to be made in a .London drawing-room but no self-offering followed it. Simply for lack of time, Brent was on the verge of words that would have changed both his life and Violet’s when his hostess, all unknowing, came up to them. “Oh, Mr Brent, I want to introduce you to Professor Lyle,’ 3 she said. “He is just back from Persia and has read your book with interest. I’m sure you would like to know him. Do come!” “I shall be delighted,” said Brent —but he did not exactly look it. Violet sat on alone, quite happy. She had no doubt whatever as to what Brent had been going to say, no girl of ordinary intuition could have had. What did it matter that they had 'been disturbed? The happy moment would come again.

Would it? Sometimes the happy moment never comes again. Brent went home in an oddly divided state of mind. Was he glad or sorry that he was still free? Truly he did not know.

CHAPTER V. ■lt was a week later, six o ’clock in the evening and growing dark, for October in its robes of gold and russet was a week old. Vivi sat upon the stile she had sat upon in weariness and woe at the entire emptiness of existence the day she had called “Ploughboy!” across the sunny field. But this evening upon Vivi’s face was neither weariness nor woe. Existence was no longer empty. Soon came the sound for which she was waiting, the sound of a horse’s hoofs. Halliford’s comings and goings were pretty well-known to her by this time. :She waited until' he was close upon her, and then called softly from the shadow of the high tangled hedge. But what she called this time, so softly, and so sweet, was “Roger!” He sprang down and showed a transfigured face in the twilight. Neither did he stand tongue-tied and motionless, even as it were a beast before her.' He came up frankly and offered his hand. She had given him good reason by this time to believe it not unwelcome. Vivi gave him no time to speak. “Roger,” she said, pathetically, “I believe I have sprained my ankle. It hurts. I don’t know how I shall walk home.”

Halliford’s face lengthened with anxiety, . “Shall I fetch Dr. Allett?” he asked, “and a trap? I won’t be many minutes. Then I could drive you home —if you w'ould let me.” , p .

‘‘OJx, ]io, it isn’t bad enough for that,” which was very true. “But 1 think I could ride Prince if you would put me up. You could take me across the fields and through the wood. Then there is only the park. Will you?” For a moment lie did not speak. Vivi glanced -at him eurious’y—had he failed to appreciate her privilage?—and saw the truth, that his privilege had overwhelmed him. She smiled a little and laid a light hand on his shoulder by way of encouragement. He turned a rapt face upwards. “Come,” he said, softly.

He carried her across the grassy margin of the lane, and lifted her to the saddle. Prince, standing like a lamb, and never priest carried holy relic with more reverence and awe. He unlocked the field' gate with a fat little key he carried, and led Prince, stepping carefully and slow as though conscious of his dainty burden, through. One hand was on Prince’s bridle, the other about Vivi’s waist that he might hold her steady in her slippery seat. He only spoke once as they went through the little wood, where the pheasants rocketted from the boughs above their heads, the rabbits rustled and scurried in the underbrush, and the face above him, smiling, unforbidding, made a radiance in the dusk for the man pacing at her side. “Why can’t one bargain away the years of one’s life that are worth nothing for the moments that matter?” ,

Yivi did not answer. Xo answer occurred to her. Where the evening lightened on the edge of the wood he put his strong hands to her waist and set her lightly on the path before him.

“Good-night,” she said, softly. She did not look up for in her eyes, she knew, gleamed that unworthy scorn

for the man who is too noble'to take advantage of his opportunities that is so essentially feminine. She did not hear his answer if he made one, and the next moment was running across the park with certainly very little trace of a sprained ankle. “If he had kissed me I shouldn’t have been angry, not very,” she told herself, with a little breathless laugh. “I wonder he didn’t.” She glanced back, surprised, curious, half-contempuous. He stood where she had left him, his hand on Prince’s neck, his forehead pressed hard against the creaking saddle, his life seeming to go out of him in long slow throbs of pure emotion, an emotion he could bear the less that for the first time the dread sweetness Of hope ran through him. “She means it,” he told himself. “ She never would, she never could mislead me so if —!” He broke off, his thoughts incoher-

Halliford moved uneasily

(To be Continued)

BY STELLA M. DURING. Author of “The Temptation of Carleton Earle,” “Love’s Privilege,” “The End of the rtainbow,” “Through the Fire,” “In Search of Herself,” “Between the Devil and the Deep Sea,” (tc., etc.-

“Why do you care so much?” she whispered. “You knew I was going away! ’ ’

“Yes, but —I suppose I didn’t rightly understand —what it would mean. And now, to know that to-morrow you will be a hundred and fifty miles away, among men that don’t look as I 100k — or speak as I speak, men that have the right if—if they think you care about them, to ask” —a little spasm ran over his face —“to marry them!” “Yes, but I shan’t want to marry them!’’—with a little laugh that was music indeed to his ear. “And I never can make you •understand that it is just because you are so different from all the others that —that I like to be with you. No one ever talked to me before as you talk, or —or looked at me as you look. It is—just that!” It was, indeed, just that. For once Vivi was giving an accurate presentment of herself. Its extreme novelty had been to her the great charm of her last few weeks’ entertainment. The reverence with which Halliford received her lightest.word, her faintest wish, the astonished interest with which he regarded, undisguisedlv, the little ordinary adjuncts of her dress, her unintentional revelation of her occupations and amusements, daily wearinesses, all of them, to Vivi, had been delightful in its unexpectedness. . The very awkwardness of the phrases in which his worship had found expression had had its own charm. But now, alack and alas, the awkwardness remained whilst the novelty faded, the position was losing its piquancy and developing unforeseen and undesirable possibilities. Vivi was rejoiced to remember that, the morrow would see her a hundred and fifty miles away. The reflection that in the end she would inevitably return had not as yet occurred to her. But she would leave him what comfort she could.

“You needn’t be afraid,” she whispered softly. “I’m only nineteen and I’m not going to marry anyone yet, not for years and years.” His' clasp tightened involuntarily though he gasped at his own temerity. He had never dared actual caresses before. To hold her hand a moment, to kiss a flower she had worn, a twig she had brushed, to tell her, with white lips and burning eyes, that her presence meant and her absence cost him, so far he had dared, no further. But to-day Vivi’s whole aspect breathed permission. It was her way of softening the blow she meant to deal him. He bent over her till his lips touched her hair. “If I’d been a rich man,” lie whispered hoarsely, “if I’d had money like you ’vo a right tO' expect, would you — would you—” Vivi moved, almost irritably. Why is content so conspicuously absent from masculine virtues? “Oh, Roger! What is the use of talking about it—when, you know Father would never dream of such a thing! ”

“But I don’t know, He has been very nice to me, always, and I'think, I really believe, if he thought you cared— ])o you-care? Would you—if I was rich?”

“But you aren’t. And he would never listen however rich you were.” “But would you?” Vivi drew herself from his arm, trembling a little.

“I must go,” she said quickly. Then, with a bewildering glance and in a quick whisper, “You may say good-bye properly —if you like.” The little wood turned dark before Roger’s eyes. Did she mean it? She did. The very curve of the soft and rosy lips was a kiss in embryo. The amazing privilege, that unbelievable permission, was his. He bent and took full advantage of it.

cut in a well nigh unendurable rush of joy. lie raised his face, a sweet solemnity upon it. “God make me worth it,” he said. On the eve of her departure for London Vivi met him again, for the last of many times. Among the glories of the dying year they two, man and maiden, played out once again the old, old romance, that 'lias its touch of comedy and its vein of tragedy for us all. To-day the tragedy was uppermost, at least for the man. The sweet autumn idyll was over—and its end was bitterness. Not that he recognised it for the end, though he was forced toacknowledge the bitterness. It lay darkly in his blue eyes, it hardened his mouth, it trembled in his voice and thrilled in his touch, for the days when Vivi had been a goddess, aloof and unapproachable, were over. Vivi was no' less a godddess, but his goddess recognised her shrine in his heart, and found her temple in his arms. They were thrown about her now as they stood amid the fairy rain and golden beech-leaves, shyly, tentatively, still they were there. They had stood silent and long, so silent and so long that a little red squirrel who had lied at their approach had crept back again and was boldly adding to his winter store of beech-mast. By and by Vivi looked up, and in her eyes lay that quiet Curiosity that might be found in the eyes of the scientist who successfully prosecutes an interesting experiment in vivisection.