A WIFE FOR A DAY.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 42, 18 February 1905, Page 11

A WIFE FOR A DAY.

By EMMA G. WELDON

(Author of "Love and Diplomacy," "Gencvieve's Triumph," "A strange Bridal," "Friends and Rivals," "Cupid's Dilemma," etc., etc. CHAPTER XII. 808 DEMANDS AN EXPLANATION. "Oh, Bob!" A swift cry of dismay broke from. Enid as Annesleigh stooped quickly to pick up the ring and its detached stone. "How could I be so clumsy? Bob, if I were superstitious " "Well, sweetheart, and if you were superstitious, which I am sure you are not?" ho asked. "Oh, I .was going to say something so foolish! I was going to say that if I we.c superstitious I should think that this was an omen," He latighed to reassure her, and patted her cheek gently. All the colour had suddenly faded from it. "Oh, omens are quite out of date!" he cried. "It's only a trifling accident that can easily be made right." He took her hand in his, and slipped the damaged ring on the slender white finger. "Now, confess. Don't you feel every bit as much engaged to what your cook would call your 'young man' as though that absurd diamond hadn't danced out of its setting ?" he asked, looking down into her eyes. "Yes, dear; of course I do. And superstitions are so foolish, aren't they? Only —only I wish somehow it hadn't happened, Bob—to-day!" she whispered. "Enid, after lunch —you haven't asked mc to stay, so I invite myself—you and I will ride over to town, and the jeweller shall fasten the diamond in its place again," he said. "Or, no—we won't ride; we'll walk over the hills. We couldn't

talk so much if we rode, and we have so ! many weeks of lost time to make up, and ourselves to talk of, and our future. It would be absurd to ride, wouldn't it?" She gave a little laugh. "Quite absurd!" she assented. "And I want to hear all about youx new worK, Bob." "Yes; such a wonderful piece of luck,' coming when it three days a<»o, Enid! Did 1 tell you—no; I don't believe I did—that it is to act as manager to that big place that adjoins my old home? So. when we are married, wo shall live there. I expect, after Edgemere Towers, it will seem absurdly tiny to you—like one of those bird cages where a bull-finch has to perch with his beak protruding through the bars on one side and an inch of his tail on the other. "You'll get little more than a peep at town during the season, I can tell you. \ou are going; to marry a poor man, you. know, Enid." Hβ laughed gayly. "And, do you know. I don't mind one'little bit that I shall have to work hard for a living. 1 am only sorry to think that some day you'll be 'shocking' rich, and giving yourself I don't know what airs!" But a thoughtful look had stolen into Enid's eyes. "And I shouldn't mind, Bob, if I were never to be a rich woman. I think I should be glad if, in some way, this house and the money were to pass from mo. When you take mc to your home—oh, I know I shall feel as though I never wanted to see Edgeinere Towers again! , It only reminds mc of my lonely childhood," she said, in a low. intense voice. "My ' father might have loved mc had he lived, but I scarcely remember him. And my mother . Oh, Bob! love ma jvery, very much because of those long years that knew so little of the laughter to which childhood has a right!" she whispered, hiding her face against his rough tweed coat. He put his arm about her in a pitying caress. "Dear, believe I want, above everything, to make you happy," he said. Yet for a moment he felt a sudden selfi reproach. If only he could have given back an answering love as deep as hers! Annesleigh thrust aside the thought, with a little, impatient frown. At least, he could make her happy: and fer himself he was content enough. He was to j maxry Enid, and he would not have had it otherwise. Where was a more admirable mistress for his home than Enid, who would move with the dignity of a queen among the old familiar surroundings that ho loved ? He could look for- ( ward to a tranquil, well-wearing happiness from his marriage with her. Yes, he was content enough. "A walk over the hills will be lovely. We'll start directly after lunch," Enid said, presently. "We are lunching early to-day, as mother is driving out. Will you come and see mother now?" as she rose. ''And, Bob." she added, as ithey crossed the room, "I told mother nothing of—of all this, so you will be spared any explanations." They found Mrs Cartaret alone. She greeted Amieslcigh with the coldness of manner that was habitual to her as she shook hands with him. Her face was handsome, but the mouth, was too hard, and the grey eyes too unsympathetic, for it to be an attractive one. Mrs Deane. Annesleigh's housekeeper, gossiped sometimes, as old, privileged servants will, had told him that a disappointment had soured Mrs Cartaret and. changed her into the frigid woman she was. That before her marriage with Oliver Cartar-et she jfad been over head and ears iv love with his brother Gordon, who, being the younger son, was as poor as a church mouse, and would have nothing to say to Oliver, for all his -wealth, who was mad to niake her his wife. Whether Gordon Cartaret treated her badly and jilted her, or whether he had never given "her any reason for supposing he ever intended to marry her—both versions were current at the tune —at any rate, Gordon married some one else, and the passionate woman who lov-ed him never forgave him. Ultimately she married his brother Oliver, and became the envied mistress of Edgeme.re Towers; but—if gossip-loving Mrs Deane was to be believed —she never spoke to Gordon Cartaret again. Gordon subsequently fell under a cloud. Annesleigh only knew the vaguest outline of that story: but, whatever the cloud was, lie had to leave the East, and disappeared from the world that had known him. The old story recurred in Bob Annesleigh's mind now as he shook hands with Mrs Cartaret. He wondered if it were because she had married a man she did not love that this.cold, unsympathetic woman had withheld a mother's love from her daughter. "I hope you arc feeling better for your stay abroad, Mrs Cartaret," he said. She was not looking well, he noticed. There were haggard lines on her face, and the features sepmed sharp, as if from some mental trouble. "Thank yew, 1 did feel better -while I was away; but now that I have come back—l think Edgemere Towers cannot suit mc. I never feel very well when I am at home." She might have told him that the shadow—was it of a memory?~that always seemed to oppress her spirits in Edgemere Towers had again fallen over her with her home coming. "You -will stay and have lunch with' us, of course, Robert?" said Mrs Cartaret. Annesleigh could not remember having been called Robert by anyone except Mrs Cartaret.. "Are you staying in the Berkshires long? You see, Enid seldom tells mc anything.." she added, glancing across at' her daughter. "Yes; for good, this time. A friend of mine has bought a big place here, and I'm going to try my hand at managing it for him. Archie Rushmore it is. You've heard mc mention him often, I suppose. By the way, that reminds mc —he tells mc that he met you once."' Mrs Cartaret's cold face remained perfectly indifferent as she said: "I may have met him, of course j but I quite forget the occasion." "Oh, it wasn*t lately," said Annesleigh; "over twenty years ago, in fact— at a hotel in California, in some out-tf-thc-way place where you -were travelling with a friend. *' "In California!" The ice of Mrs Cartaret's indifference had melted at last. There was a swift, startled note in her voice, as she echoed his words, that surprised. Annesleigh. Her cold, passionless face had grown alive, like a mask miraculously quickening to life, with a quick spasm of some strong emotion that she could not hide; her eyes seemed to search bis face questioningly. Was it fear that had suddenly crept into them? - But almost immediately Mrs Cartaret's inflexible will asserted itself. "I was in California a little more than twenty years ago.. Enid was born in California," the mistress of Edgemere Towers said, in her usual calm, even tones. "But I am afraid I quite forget having met your friend. One meets so many people." Enid and Annesleigh did not stay long with Mrs Cartaret. Bob was conscious of a feeling of relief when they

had passed out into the hall' again. Contact with Mrs Cartaret always had a depressing effect on him. Poor, little; unloved Enid! What a prison this house,, with it 3 chill atmosphere of indifference, must have been to her childish years! What wonder that this lack of love and sympathy had hardened Enid till he himself had come to believe thftt her nature was too cold to be capable of any deep affection, he told himself, as he and she.passed up the broad stairs together. And how utterly mistaken, he had been! "You know your old room, Bob." Enid said to him, as they paused in th>e corridor at the top of the first flight, of tie winding stairs. "I shall look for you in the garden when I come downstairs. I suppose you'll want to smoke, before lunch; but don't expect to see mc for quite hall' an hour." He had g-one a pace or two from her when she called him back. She faced him with shining eyes. Quickly she put up her hands, and drew his facedown to the level of hers and kissed him. "Because you have made mc so happy to-day!" she whispered. Then she turned and ran to her room. Anneleigh stood watching the graceful figure in the grey gown disappear. He would be very good and tender to her always when they were married; nothing but happiness should come into her life through him, he told himself, in a sudden intense pity. He went to his room to plunge his face and hands in a basin of refreshingly cold water, and Within live minutes was downstairs again. He strolled across the peaceful lawn, bounded by tall elms, to the rose garden, where the summer and the sunlight had kissed the buds into blossom. The sound of a light, hurried footstep on the gravel path behind him made him turn. Instinctively he knew before he looked around that it was the girl whom Enid had addressed as Miss Allan. ■ Hβ stood waiting for her under the shadow of the trees. "I beg your pardon, Mr Aimesleigh,," she said, in a nervously hurried voice, "but I wanted to thank youfor your—: your silence just now." "I kept silent, of course," he said, gravely, "because I wanted to hear your explanation." He paused. .His words were a question. / '"You mean before you tell your friends that I am here under—under false pretences?" she said, quickly. "I have no right to criticise your actions, of course," he said, hesitatingly > he hated having to say this to a woman; "but I owo a duty to my friends, and— forgive me—l find you Itere, living* in their house, you whom I know to be a married woman, calling yourself Miss Allan." "You know the name that I tore for a day—that is mine by law," she said, in a low voice. "Do you wonder that I should shrink from calling myself by that?" "Your maiden namo was Allan?" he asked. She did not answer for a moment or two; then she looked at him almost defiantly. "My maiden name was not Alhin," she said. "I wish," he said, slowly, "that you had acknowledged our acquaintanceship in Miss Cartaret's presence just now. It would have seemed more honest, and —and you know, of course, that I am engaged to marry Miss Cartaret." "I did not know," she said, ''until I saw you in the room I did not even dream that you. knew the Gartarets. I have been at Edgemere Towers little more -than a day. You may be sure I should never have come if I had thought that I should meet anyone who could connect mc -with my past life. And yet my deception was innocent enough." "Look here," he said, bluntly, "I don't like this secrecy. I must speak plainly. My position as the friend of these people, the fact of my engagement to Miss Cartaret, gives mc the right to ask it. Why have you ooine to this house under a name that is not even your maiden name?" "What other motive could I have had in taking this post than the necessity of earning a living?" she asked, quickly. "You say, why did I not admit our chance acquaintanceship before Miss Cartaret? Do you ask, too,, why I did not tell her the circumstances of our former meeting?" Her mouth had hardened. She paused, but he did not speak. Ho saw his own side of the question clearly enough —that ho had tacitly acquiesced in a deception upon his friends at the hands of a woman of whom he knew practically nothing; yet he was' not blind to her side of the question. She went on suddenly: "Mr Annesleigh, when we met last I told you that my past life was buried, that I wanted to thrust it behind mo, and forget it—start a new life. ' Was it so wrong of mc to take a name by which no one could identify the woman of that old, unhappy life?" He stood looking at her intently, but he did not speak. "Under that new name," she went on, quickly—"the name to which, as you have reminded mc, I have no right, I obtained this engagement. I came here, never dreaming that any whisper could arise out of the past. Now, on the very threshold of ray new life, I meet vou _you who were so kind to mc before. and who are so pitiless now. Well, I am in your hands. You have only to say one word to your friends, and the road leading away* from all the old misery and suffering is closed to- mc. You have only to speak one word, and I am turned out into the world as an impostor!" , . She spoke quietly, without emphasis, but he could feel the restrained passion behind the words; its intensity showed itself in her eyes, in the laboured heaving of her breast. Only one word! But should he speak it? She was a woman who had suffered. Why should he make her suffer more? Sl.e had come here under false pretences; yet the deception might be— doubtless' was— umoeent enough. The necessity to earn her living, she said, had driven her to stck some, employment; the expedient of an assumed name was not in itself a crime. It was not hard to understand that there would be many reasons why she should seek to sink her identity with the woman who for a day had been George Ames' wife. Although all traces of his tragic fate had, almost certainly, perished in the fire that had destroyed the old house, yet Ames' disappearance would naturally cause comment among those who had known him. Perhaps Gregory would try to look him up; or Elliott, inspired by his infatuation for the pretty but vindictive sopbrette, who longed to revenge herself upon Anneneigh because of his breaking away from the bonds with which she wouM have bound him. (To be Continued on Monday.)