Love and Adventure

Waipukurau Press, Volume XXII, Issue 222, 8 December 1926, Page 7

Love and Adventure

AN EXCELLENT BRITISH STORY

(By

HORATIO FAIRFAX.)

CHA PT ER X. —Continue d. Ho grew suddenly alert, and looked up with quick jealousy. •' XV ith wliom : 7 ’ he asked. “With my father. I am going to Canada.” ' ,()..’Connoi’ remained, silent. “I did you a great wrong, Mr O'Connor, 7 ’ said Elsinora, timidly, ‘'ami you were generous —more than generous. 1 want before we part —I want you to be generous to me ohce more, —to my friend, Air Alalory.” O’Connor sprang to his feet. “Has he told you, then?’' he asked, excitedly —“told you all that took place between him and me?” “A~es, I asked him questions. 1 found it out.” “I. always thought he was a treacherous rascal, like all the rest of his countrymcn, ’ ’ cried O ’Connor. *’ By God he does not deserve to live, —the man who has ruined me, who has stolen your love from me, whose life I spared on condition he kept out of the country and away from you. I trusted him, though, as a gentleman, and this is the result. And he has not even the manliness to come to me himself to beg'for his life —he sends a woman to do it for him. Aliss Chillington, can you have any respect for such a man?” “He does not know I have come, and he does not wish to neglect his bond,’ 7 said Elsinora, proudly. “He means to go through with it? “’This is why I have come —because I believed you yourself would not wish it, that you would be generous. He will keep your conditions still. I will scud him away at once —to-night. ”If you think his life worth preserving he can keep it. Let him live and enjoy himself,” said O’Connor, scornfully. Then his tone changed. “I am. glad you came; I am glad to lie able to show you that my love for you is true.” Hey cheeks flushed, and tears tilled her eyes. “What were we saying?” cried O'Connor, suddenly, with a look of .fear in his eyes; “to-night, the seventh of September.“Oh, I remember. Aly head gets a little queer sometimes. I suppose you want to marry him; he wants my blessing. What was it we were saying? You are going to send him away to-night. Yes, his life is his own. But, —you will not marry him?” “'lf you think my promise worth anything, Air O’Connor,” she said. with-, emotion, “I promise you that 1 will never sec him again after this evening’, unless —unless tie refuses to accept your generosity. I cannot say; he does not know I have come.” “'Oh,” replied O’Connor, ”1 don’t think he is very likely to refuse. And you say you will send him away at once. I believe you. It is you who are generous now. You are sparing me the torture of fancying him with you as your lover. God knows how' I love you, and this from you is something to remember, better than revenge.” Elsinora could say no more; she gave him her hand and went. O’Connor walked up and down the room in agitation; then he sat down again and listened to the ticking of the clock on the chimney-piece. A curious gleam was in his eyes; a delusion which had once of twice lately taken possession of him recurred now. “Ah.” he thought, ”it is better to have won her love and to have to die for it than to have lived and lost her. He looked at the clock with excitement. “Six o’clock,” he said aloud; “six hours? no, six days and six hours left; and I could be free to live if I chose to ask pardon and premise the Englishman I would give her up. But I’m damned if I will. I’ll (tie like a man. Six days —no, six days and six hours left.” A few moments afterwards he rose, trembling’ violently. “AVltaf the devil’s the matter with me?” he cried. “Good God, I thought for the moment that it was I who had lost and had to die. AVherc’s Ring - ?” * * * CHAPTER XI. THE PROGRESS OF HUAIPHRY’S COAIEDY. Once more the question was put to Dick, whether his love of life or his love of Elsinora wore greater? A year ago when it had arisen he haci proved his faith to her in action,—he had sought death and failed to find it. ‘ Afterwards, with the glow of new-born

4 , .... life about aim' and the gill who inspired his passion remote, the other answer had been given, us Humphry had predicted. The Jove of life comes with the steady pulse, when the passions arc up it is forgotten; and expediency was as powerless to stay Dick now as would be the words of" philosophy to check a charge of cavalry in mgd career. None the more on that account does the soldier desire death; and though Elsinora was dearer to Dick ■ill;.:: life, life was dear. .All the forces of his hature were concentrated in a passion to possess her. Resign her he would not, no matter what the cost; but ro possess her ami life also was his aim. And what of broken promises and honourable obligations? He put the disturbing question aside. Love, he argued, justified everything; it was great enough to make its own laws; the happiness of his life and hors should not lie sacrificed for the sake of observing line points of honour. He allowed liimsclf the excuse that he was a sinful man, not a hero of romance, and he would win his girl and live his life too. if it were possible. And herein was marked the difference between Dick’s love and Elsinora’s. Ho could dissociate it from honour, she could not. Her love was fast bound with all that she held noble and truest in life: a ’wound to truth was a wound to love. The picture of O’Connor, broken in health and heart, haunted her on her way home. She saw herself as the cause of his ruin. The memory of her own unfaith, of Dick s readiness to break his word of honour, his endeavour to induce her to go with him, troubled her. Her nature was loyal and true: she was weary of broken trust. There must, she determined, be no more weakness or failure, else love itself would fail. She resolved that Dick should go at once. Even the sweetness of one more evening together must bo sacrificed. She would be firm, even though he thought Iter cold. She believed that, he would not fail, that lie would understand and trust her, that their love wotur! endure in spite of life-long separation, and that in the eml it would be well. She heard on her return that he was in the library and went at once to him. Some beautiful golden-brown locks were disarranged about her brow. He touched them lovingly. The task of sending him away was terribly hard, the joy of the thought of what life would have been for them if they had been frees filled her. “Dick,” she said, ”1 have seen Air O’Connor; he was generous; he docs not wish, you to die. kou are quite free, but you must go at once. 1 have promised.” “I. don’t want his generosity,” said Dick, angrily,' “unless —unless he made it complete,” he added, in a different tone; “unless you come with me.” She looked pained; ho noticed a tone of coldness in her voice. ‘•Dick, you. do not know what you are saying. lam weary of all this unfaithfulness. He has been honourable and generous. There is only one way left for us. You must go at once — this evening.” “s T ou can bear to live without me?’ “I must, I must, Dick.” “You can lot me go through a miserable lonely life for the sake of keeping faith to a wretched artificial bond. Even if it were a sm to break it, do you not love me enough to be sinful for my sake?” , “No,” she said firmly. “I love you too much, to let you be disnonourablc. If I went with you I should despise myself, and I should not love you as Ido now. Oh, my dearest, don’t think lam saying hard thing, —my heart is ■breaking for love of you,,—but you must be true. XVc shall love each other for ever. Our love will endure through all absence. I shall be yours as truly as if I wore at your side.' ’

(To be continued.’)