ALL OR NOTHING

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 573, 4 June 1913, Page 6

ALL OR NOTHING

(Copyright.)

A THRILLING ROMANCE —By the Author oJ "A Bitter Bonaage," "Two Keys,' "Stella."." "The Unknown Ilriu •• i>Mn." &c, "Certainly she would ! My.mothci is most sensible. She would say I . wns undeservedly fortunate in winning the loveliest woman in the world for my wife." .Still the wistful eyes were fixed or. his fnee, pleading for the truth they would not find. "If it 1-c so," she. murmured, "I /irn very happy, if not"— — "What would you do then?" he i-sked. "I would not marry you !" she fi.aiu, tears dimming the splendour of h-r eyes, passion and tenderness in hc-F face. "I would never be marrt;d. I v.oikl love you all my life ; hut I would go far away where I : ;;o:ld never see you or hear of you r„-;ai.i. I would not let you spoil youv life for my sake." "You will be the crowning blessing and glory cf my life," he repeated. Yet she was not convinced. "Women glory in self-sacrifice," he said after a time. "Evelyn, you must make a sacrifice for me. You inuft give up the stage." The dark, passionate face paled. "Give up my art !" she cried. "Why ? If it be a noble onewhy ?" "For many reasons," he cried, passionately. "I cannot bear that all these hundreds of eyes should feast on your beauty. I cannot bear that your name sthould be on every lip. You will be mine now, and I shall guard my treasure jealously from all profane eyes. I could not bear to see my wife an impassioned Juliet — a loving Rosahnu. I could not bear it, Evelyn. Do you not love me enough to ma 1 :" the sacrifice ?" " If you ask me for my life," she said, slowly, "I will give -it for you. My art is myself —my identity; how can I be separated from it ?" "It must he so, darling," he whispered, drawing the star-like face to his own. "We are all the world to each other ; let us give up the whole world beside. Let us be married. You give up the stage ; and I will give up home, friends, and everything else for you. We will go away to brighter lands, where the sky is always blue and the sun ever shines. We will Jive out our lives together, loving each other most dearly every day. Oh, Evelyn, my darling—say yes !" "I will say I love you," she" - replied. "Let me leave the rest for a time, Clive. It is your fate and mine—your life and mine—your happiness and mine. I cannot decide so hastily." "Then you do not love me as I love you, Evelyn. I am ready to give up the whole world for you. At one word from you I would give up name, home, friends —nay, even life itself. Do you not care so much for me ?" The dark, passionate face was raised to his own ; there was something so pure, so noble in the expression that he paused abruptly. "Women are different to meu," she said. "Little as I, know of real life, I can see that. A man's love is full of fire and passion—woman's full of self-sacrifice. While you give everything to and for me, I fancy my love best shown by refusing to accept what you might repent giving." "Never !" he cried. "You wrong me, Evelyn. If you will take my life and all it noidß from me., T shall never repent. Have I not told you that I should look upon your love as the crowning honour of my' life ?" Yet she hesitated.. It must have (:een that some foreboding as to the dreary future awaiting he came over her. She listened to the birds—they were all singing merrily ; the butterflies were wooing the rose, busy bees sought honey in the golden hearts of the'lilies, the sweet southern wind v/as waving the trees ; everything around her—the glory of the sun, the fragrance of the flowers—seemed to whisper of love.

"If ever the time came that you did repent," she said, slowly, " it would kill me, Clive, for we can never dissolve the ties that will bind us." "We shall never wish," he interrupted. . "I haye seen quite enough of what is called the world. I have money sufficient for us to live upon, with every luxury at' our command, in those warm southern climes. Let me live for you, Evelyn, and you live for me." ft till she hesitated. "It is such a great step, Clive," she said, pleadingly—"you to give up all the pleasures of London life, your club, the friends you like, and I to give up what is dear to me as my life —the stage. We must not decide hastily, lest we should repent." And though he wooed her with passionate words, with tender caresses, with poetry and romance ; though he made the very sweetness of the summer air and the perfume of the flowers plead for him, still he could win no further concession from ber than that they should take time to consider. It was during &bat happy period, when every day seemed to increase Clive Noel's love for bee, that she stopped to ask herself the question. "Has my soul come to me ?"—and the intensity of her love gave such fire to her acting, gave such fervour, such passionate eagerness to her, that the mighty heart of the people thrilled as it had never done before. And so pure, so stainless was hei reputation that Beople made no re-

mark upon Clive Noel's attentions. Very few knew anything about them. Lord and Lady G-othwic, with thei: eldest son, came to town, but no rumour reached them of Olive's infatuation. During those, her last few months upon the English' stage, people did say and believe that new genius had come to the girl. Her equal had never been seen. She held her audience entranced, breathless, spellbound—people crowded to see her. The Eden Theatre was nightly crowded almost to suffocation. Her triumph extended still further. Royal hands applauded her, and the diamond bracelet that shone on her white, rounded arm was a mark of Royal appreciation for her wonderful genius. She tried him well, but she was vanquished ; nothing could exceed his constancy or his devotion. No matter how she tried his love, it came out victorious, and as it grew deeper, hot jealousy began to mingle with it. His Grace the Duke of Baitenon was one of the warmest admirers the dark-eyed, graceful actress had. He was supposed to be more deeply in love with her than he had ever been before, and this was his' twentythird attachment. He was young, possessed of a large fortune, utterly devoid of principle where his own wishes were concerned. He never hesitated to sacrifice innocence, character, or happiness if they stood hetween him and th« object of his wishes. " A little wild and gay," people said in speaking of him ; but what can you expect ? It is in another world that sins like Ms are called by their right name. He had fallen in love with the dark, passionate face of the young genius they called "Queen of the Stage." He had matle bets about her at his club, and those who flattered and toadied him took them, and waited, with evil curiosity, to see when that bright star,fell. CHAPTER VI. But to their surprise—to the surprise of the duke himself—the star kept its place, cold, bright, and shining, far out of hie reach. The duke's diamonds were returned untouched ; his letters were sent back unopened ; and, wroth with himself, he saw himself forced to withdraw from a pursuit wbicSi he intended to redound to his honour and glory ! Olive Noel' could not bear it ; he could not endure to know that the woman he loved and reverenced was exposed to insults such as these. After that he redoubled his entreaties. He would not Hsten to suggestions of prudence, he would not hear one single objection. The force of his love mastered her ; she could not refuse a prayer that was put before her in a hundred different shapes every day. She consented at Last. One morning there was a quiet wedding in the church of St. Paneras. Evelyn Romaine, one of the loveliest women and one of the brightest geniuse* who ever trod the English stage, became the Honourable Mrs. Noel.

Mr. Clipperden was indignant and bewildered when a note.from Evelyn Romaine informed him that she did not intend to renew the engagement that had just ended, aod that she had appeared for the last time on the stage. "What the British public will say when it knows that I cannot think," he cried. "Miss Romaine must be mad ! She had made a name, and she was making a fortune. What has ahe given it all up for 1" He was bitterly disappointed. To bring such a glorious career to an untimely end was beyond his comprehension. He looked around on the world of actresses. Who could he jver get to replace her ? No one. Remembering the dark, passionate beauty of her face, the fire of her words, her unstudied grace, the music of her voice, he said to himself she Jould have no successor. He was right; she never had. . Nor was the public less annoyed than Mr. Clipperden. Evelyn Romaine had left the stage, and left it for ever. Where was she ? Where had she gone ? No one knew. No scandalous stories were whispered of her. It was proof positive of her stainless life that no one whispered any gossiping tales ■ about her. She had aot gone off with any one. There had been no elopement, no scandal. Miss Romaine had left the stage. Her glorious face and her gloribus voice would thrill tfeem no more. No one seemed to notice that about this time the Honourable CMve Noel disappeared also. He had always been erratic in his movements. No one remembered him to have stayed long at the same ©lace. He had disappeared, leaviac at his club the vague address, ** Poste Restante, Paris." Even to Lord Gothwic . he had given no explanation of the reason why he intended leaving England. A few days before his wadding he went over to Gothwic Towers and told his parents he had grown tired of England, and intended going abroad for some years. "Not to live an idle life, Clive ?" said Lord Gothwic, "I hope. You are young still—only twenty-seven. Why give up all hope of making a name for yourself ?" "YoHnger sons have no chance to make a name," he replied, "and work does not suit me—never did. I prefer the dolce far niente. I am going to luxuriate in warm climes, father ; there is nothing for me to do here." "I bad different hopes for you, Olive," said the «*rl. "Why not go iato Parliament ? Why not do something, at least, to benefit your country and benefit yourself ?" "George will carry on the family honours, sir ; be will sit in the House of Peers. I would just as soon go into a bear-garden as" "My dear Clive," interrupted Lady Gothwic, "there is no need to irritate your father " The earl's face had grown dark. He had but these two sgms—Georga

wlio was to succecU liim, and Olive, 1 .. jm in his'heart the Lord of Goth- •.. c loved best. "Yours is a useless, wasted life, Olive, after all !" be said,, sadly. "If you were a great waiter, a great painter, or anything else, I sbowJd l:e content. As it is" "As it is," he interrupted, "I am nothing. I am really sorry that I have no celebrity of any kind. I suppose, father, vny allowance will te continued '?" "I believe," said Lord Gothwic, looking sadly at the handsome, dehenair face, "that the greatest kindness to you would be to discontinue it altogether." The Honourable Olive shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "In i hat case I should be reduce;! to the unpleasant necessity of workin;,'' he said, indifferently. "Vour father is only jesting," said senile Lady Gothwic. "There is no kar, Olive, and you know it." "Let mo see, sir," said ; the young man, looking in his father's face. "Vovv income from the Gothwic estates it: thirty thousand per annum ; from the Hartsdale property you have twenty thousand more, besides ■ a neat little income from the mines. If from all that fou can spare me one paltry thousand per annum I an:, <;f course, grateful ; if not, I must v;or';.'' "I wuuld spare you five thousand, (■live," said the earl, "if you would spend it properly. What do you do i.csidr.s gambling, racing, and running into debt ?" "I am going to' alter," said his son, eagerly. "J have sold my hunters and shall never touch a card again. Mot that I have been so xc-ry bad. You are hard opon me, father—you are, indeed." The carl's face relaxed. "It niijy be so, Olive—God grant it—but I had such great hopes for you. You were so clever when a lit Lie lad. It is hard to find they ha', e ali ended in nothing. It is hard after picturing you to myself tin orator—a statesman, to find that y.aiir care is to enjoy yourself by l:...s:si::>r a uselo.s?. enervated life in \vh t you call brighter climes." Then it was that the true nature of Olive Noel appeared above the aai'fae-.' ; the blithe, debonair expression died from iris face, and there came into it an angry frown. "I have had preaching enough," he said. "I am a man now, to choose my path in life for myself, not a boy to be scolded and taunted." "It is enough." said Lord Gothwic. "I have but few words to say to you. Time after time I have paid your debts, as I have promised to do again. I have forgiven you an idle youth, a purposeless life ; but there is one thing I will never pardonthat is any dishonour brought upon my name by any low intrigue or marriage. I would never forgive it —miud you well my words. Offend me in that respect and I will stop your allowance and leave your name out of my will. You force m 6 t« speak plainly, Clive." The dark frown still lingered an the handsome Saxon face.

"What do you call a low marriage, sir ?" he asked, sullenly. " Lord Caynham married a sugar-baker's daughter the other day who had. a hundred thousand pounds for her fortune. Would that be considered low ?" "You know well enough what I mean," said his father. "Marry in your own rank. Marry some lady—well born, well bred—one your mother need not be ashamed too call her daughter, that is all." " Perhaps such a one would not consent to share the hick of the black sheep of the'family," he' said, laughingly. " Make my allowance fifteen hundred instead of a thousand, father, and theu, as good boys say, I will reform. Kid gloves have gone up ana cigars are getting dearer." "If you would but drop that light tone, Olive, in speaking to your father," whispered Lady Gothwic as the earl turned aside in search of some papers. "I cannot help it, mother. Continual preaching wears away my patience. My head is lighter than my heart." " You are uot in any fresh trouble?" asked his mother, anxiously. "Not exactly ; my trouble is one that Adam endured before me." "I never understood you, Ciive," said Lady Gothwic, sadly- " I have .never uaderstood myself since early days, when I cried for a bat and ball. I fancy there is a great deal of good in me out of which something might be made, and I know there is & great des* of harm." But as usual GM*e Noel secured his aim. He left Gothwic Towers with his debts all paid, his allowance increased to fifteen hundred per an n inn, with a promist from his in-■lul-'cnt mother that if he asked ber for more money he should not asfc in vain. Lord Gothwic spohe truly wfcen he said that his soa's useless, idle life was a bitter disappointment to him. As a child Olive had been remarkable for his keen, versatile talent. His father had sketched oat for him a magnificent career, but as he grew the talent seemed to lie dormant und useless. He had no perseverance. The true ring of the metal was not there. "Unstable as water, thau shalt not excel," were words that applied to him •in sad truth. He was gay, debonair, good-humoured, courgaeous, yet he was utteriv deficient in true nobility of sonl. His frank, open, handsome face, the sheen of hie bonnie hair, the lignt in his clear eyes might have touched any girl's heart ; but his character dhl not carry out the-promise of bis iaee. (To be Continued.)