The Story-Teller.

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume X, Issue 931, 1 August 1891, Page 4

The Story-Teller.

A SOCIETY AOTBESS, Pabt 11. (Continued,*) His happmere, however, was' not 1 destined to be of losg duration, and as the season waned, and its fleeting pleosnres came to an end, the fear of parting for carrying out Continental arrangements sent the tager words of love's avowal to bis lips, and hi 9 joy receiver! » summary check m the form' of' a stern ffoar.iian, who by no means saw things m the same rose-coloured tint as did, the; y>)nng couple. Lily Fane, Irs ftiecfe and: ' ward, was too young a* the immature age of eighteen to judge of what was for her own happines?, which was , not. i m her pnardian's opinion, lilfely^ bj enhanced by a onion with £6^l JDarner,, ' Bat your reasons for ihvi3 r - decision, this opinion ?' demanded the youil^ trtan hotly, at the interview wbictif to^jt, p\*di> : m the peaceful seclution of /the^lijbrarj' m Maurice Fane's town house.; t | jiVwag; the tame house where Clarice Ad air jb&) one* reigned as wife aai mistreisj abut, Lord Darner had no knowledge of this fact. His mind had been too confused with love and passion on the ... occasion of Mrs Adair's confession io him for the name of her husband to make any lustting impression, and he had' failed to discover m Mr Fane, Wie uncle of hi? beloved, the Maurice Fame of his friend's past history. But though Clarice was far. from ix'm thoughts at that moment, she was m teneely visible to the mental eye of ' hip companion, who answered quietly, ' Your tastes and habits, and, above aU t# youV associates, are not, Galculatfd L'itp: im>s you a goo lor judicious husband.' '„ ." 'My tastes and habits have been but those of evefv young man ,6f " m.y aye,returned Lonj Darner "firmly. • I have no vices, Mr Fone^~'n|o.iihing, m 'bhorfc, to disqualify me for matrimony. I am of an affectionate nnluie and yery easily led-; my wife could make of me apyt^jingj she pleased. Will you bo so cruel to stay her hand from the good , wpr-k?' 1 4 Her gentle influence would have but little effect against the pernicious charm of Mrs Adair,' replied Mr Fane bitterly. ■ ■ ■/..;., .\ ;■;;'.., ■■• i ' ;:: ' : Lord Darner started, hat real truth wa9 far from- him.; i< Mrs Adair t You wromj the lady. 1 nm honoured by herfriend^hipJ^ndP alfoV none to mention 'her lightly in -nty'pres'ence.' ''''■'•■ v; <i ') /• ' ' 1 The choatn intimate of Mra Adair shall never, with njy .consent,; become the husband of my ward,,' was the j stern rejoin -ler. ' If, at the age of one andtwent). Lily thinks fit to place her Happiness m your ha^ds^she.muat -take,. the consequences upihv'hPr^jU^nitßlrtdl Till then I shall guard her from the consequences ;ofher if oily, ami must beg that no communications i-xist letween Xpvi :twi>. J- AndrjnoJUmoant^lh jhafaW from the niafden, nor entreatie¥ from the young man, could alter his decision. Lord Dunierrj^ tl^fiairdigtobk him^ snlf for^conifort to^p^ -^dair. The mere existence .pjE^tnje guardian w^g news to her, but she hid her surprise and •gitatibn with admirable: skill.] Lord Darner, 'in/' telling his story; omitted that part which related to ! his intimacy with herself,, and only referred to Hastes and habits.' But a suspicion. of the truth flashed instantly across Mrs AiJair'i mind. • And then, too, your friendship with myself,' she said, without a trend b c m her low voice, though her jieart was beating painfully fast. |$f . joqrsej my dear boy, that would be. '.tygjapl o * gainst you. Iv fact ' I hare no 4oubt^that I ; «ras the chief aause of his ire ,-im -Confess j! that ho mentioned me ?' ■ ;■> <"■ The red flush that mantled .his cheeks wa§ sufficient answer. ' V • 1 Yes, yes ; I see it all,' she said quickly. 'Yog wished to spare may feelings ;! bat m troth I am the chief objection. Well, have patitnee, my friend. ' liet me] have time to reflect, and I my sMU gee a ■way out of the difficulty. You will; trust me to act as I think best m the matter?' ' Implioitly,' was the fervent reply. And then at her earnest request he lef,t her. I A thousand emotiens were raging m her breast, a thousand memories tearing •t her heart-strings. ptide and awakened love made her brain whirl ; bat above all was the earnest sincere desire to aid the yosng couple tl their happiness, and aa overwhelming longing once more to see the face and hearthe voice that nowadays lived so persistently m her memory. ;. ; Who so well as herself could plead thb lover's cause, or explain the: true state of affairs between herself and him 7 She would go to Maurice Fane. She woulc) make him listen, and soften his heart bf her eloquence. And then she' would say those words of remorseful penitence that ■he had so often longed to utter, and gain, it might be, his forgiveness for herself and them. But her heart sank at the picture of the blank beyond, the solitary return herae, the life to be lived oat m lonely atonement. Yet though her tears fell, her determination nevejr faltered, and the shades of evening found her with a trembling heart upon tbje threshold of her old home. I A servant, whose face was strange to her, condooted her into the well-known drawing room, and left her to apprise MX Fane of €he fact that < a lady, on urgent Irasiaeai , wished to see htm for a few miputis.* I

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