ALL OR NOTHING.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 575, 11 June 1913, Page 6

ALL OR NOTHING.

fCopvright.)

A THRILLING ROMANCE, + By the Author at 'A Bitter Bondage,"! "Two Keys," "Stella," "Tiie Unknown Bridegroom," &c., T'AltT 6. "Plenty of news here," he said. ' E have a letter from Gothwic Towers, from my father, and one from my brother. What has pos- ; sscd him to write ? Sit down, Ivclyn. I shall want to read these i ttcrs before we go on the lake. Where is little Gertrude ?" ' I left her at home this morning, r am nervous, Olive, when she is in '.'.3 boat." He did not even hear the reply. She, watching his face lovingly, int ntly, as other people do their mirror. saw what she had never seen i (fore —a dark, angry frown. She had not known until then that he c.,uld look so cross. Her dark eyes c.nened wide in wonder. "This is a pleasant kind of thing," he said, angrily- " I do believe that I am the most unfortunate fellow in all the wide world." She laid her hand caressingly on his shoulder. "What has gone wrong, Clive ? What is the matter ?" He shook himself free from her touch with a hurried impatience new to him, and crumpled the letter up in his hand. "Nothing you can help. Never mind-it," he said. "Yet, stay ! On second thoughts, you may read it. Woman's wit is keener than man's. Perhaps you will see your way of (.he wood. I do not." ■ He straightened the pages and gave the letter to her. She saw at the top of the sheet the crest of the Noels, then she knew the note was from Olive's father. She read, with »* toroud, indignant iush on her darK, beautiful face, ivith a scornful quiver on her lovely !!ps "My dear Clive" —so ran the epistle —"I have long puzzied myself as to your motive for leaving England, ?.nd burying yourself, while still in the very pride of your youth, in nbseure, unknown spot. I know the motive now. I am still ignorant as to who is the companion of your light. One rumour has reached me jf a disgraceful intrigue ; another of a secret marriage. Which is true I inow not. I only hope, for the sake of your family and your future, that you have not committed ;he greatest of all imprudences—a aasty, unequal marriage. If so, :rom the moment I know the truth 'or certain, you are no son of mine, f shall withdraw your allowance, ind you must go your own way. The crime of an unequal or disgrace? :ul marriage I will never pardon. If t be, as I hope, an error into which rou have fallen, I will help you once riore, on conditio* that' you return :o England, and immediately comnence the career I have worked out or you. I heard the intelligence ;rom one of the young Hallecks, who las been at Florence and in Spain, tie tells me you are living at a small town called Carbace. I propose starting immediately with your brother George, and shall find out ;he truth for myself in the course jf a very few days. I forbear all •emonstrances, having long since :ound it all in vain. From your unlappy father, " Gothwic." What does this mean, Clive ?" she said, looking at him. "It means, my dear that the Philstines are down upon us, with a . T engeance," he said. "I do not see ny way out of tto mess yet. Do rou ?" "Write and say you are married," she replied, quickly.. "Nothing can oe easier. Tell them you have married Evelyn Romaine, agginst whom nan; woman, nor child never uttered an unjurious word." He laughed lightly,' although the iark frown still lingered on "his face. "What an unsophisticated darling you are !" he said. " That is just what I dare not do. You see what my father threatens?" Her dark face seemed to glow with fire. ''Have you deceived me, Clive ?" she cried. "Would your father' in iced and in truth disinherit and disown you because you have married me ?" ' "That he would ! He is a regular Spartan. I saar. Evelyn, • is there no way out of tu scrape ? Think for me." "You have deceived me," she said, sadly. "You told me that no harm to you could follow our marriage, cr you know, Clive, I should never have been your wife." "It is no use raking up old stories c r reproaching each other," he said, mocdily. "I loved you so madly, Evelyn, I would have said anything to win you. Men in love do not kesp to the truth, you know." "I do not know," she replied, with sudden passion. "I knew nothing of the kind. I thought men calling themselves gentlemen never stooped either to lies or deceit." "You have much to learn if you believed that," he said. "All is fair either in love or war. Now, instead of disputing, help me to think what we can do. If my father should find out about the m&rfiage, I should be what is commowy called ' up a tree.' Think of something to save us." "I decline to be saved," she said, proudly. "Lord Gothwic knows yot are living here with some lady. He must be told that lady is your wife. No evasion of the truth is possible." " Then we must starve !" he said, briefly. "No need for that, Olive," she cried. "I can e.O back my old

life. I can go cm tke atage." "Never !" he said. "No woman hearing our name ever trod the stage, or ever shall ! You are v. ifo, arul I would sooner die than let you stand behind the footlights while men gazed at your beauty and discussed it in detail. Never name such a thing to me again !" "Our notions of honour differ," she said. "I set no shame or disgrace in earning money by one of the noblest professions, but I see dishonour and disgrace in deceiving a father who,- though he may be strict, is a good father." " You do not understand. How should you ? As you told me once, all your men and women are stage heroes and heroines. You know nothing of real life. You do not even seem to comprehend my difficulty." The dark, earnest eyes, that had so often thrilled hundreds of hearts with their gaze, looked intently into his own. "Olive," she said, gravely, " is it possible that you repent the marriage on which you seemed to have set your whole heart ?" "Who said anything of repenting?" he cried. " That is the way with women ; it is all sentiment —sentiment and nonsense ! I said nothing about repenting. I asked y«u to help me out of the difficulty." "Let me understand it first," she said. And the wistful expression of her face made him shrink uneasily from her. " Are you afraid of telling Lord Gothwic that you married me ?" He winced at the plain, honest question. "That is such a very unpleasant way of looking at the matter, Evelyn. Let us say, rather, that I did not like telling him." "Because you are ashamed of me," she said, proudly, "Now, Evelyn, no heroics. Yon will use such disagreeable Say, rather, that my father has a prejudice against what used to be your profession—a prejudice that he would never forget." "Why did you not say so four years ago, Clive ■' 'she cried, " when I begged of you to let me know the truth ?" "I was afraid of losing you, my beauty," he replied ; and both the tone and words jarred painfully upon her. "Think it over, Evelyn. They will not be here for two or three days, at least, and we must decide upon something before they come." "Let me see your father, and tell him the truth, Clive," she plead«d. "I am sure he would forgive us. I would ask him so earnestly that he could not help it." "You must do 'nothing of the kind, Evelyn," said the Hon. Clive Noel. "We cannot fling away fifteen hundred a year as though it were so much dirt. You are too quixotic. There, let the matter reet lor a fewhours ; thinking tries one so this warm weather. Evelyn, send me out a glass of sparkling Moselle. I shall stop in the shade here and read my papers." She turned away to go down towards the house, an expression of pained wonder in her face. Suddenly v she went up to him, and clasped her arms round his neck, a proud woman no longer —only a loving wife. " Olive," she whispered—and the sweet voice had a pleading totae no man could resist—"Olive, say you are not sorry—that you do not repent having married me. Oh, my darling, say just that one word !" He kissed the passionate face, and tor one half-moment thought the world well lost for k>v«. " You know I do not repent, Evelyn," he said bending Ms handsome head down to her. "I am Dnly troubled and put about. I should not be mortal man if I repented, having won such love as pours." She walked slowly to the heum. Something had gone from the sunshine and the flowers that was never to come back to her. Standing near the orange trees that morning she bad believed her husband to be the greatest of heroes, the greatest of men ; she had believed herself to be the happiest woman on whom the sun shone. Now she was shivering as though with mortal cold. Suddenly some of the gorgeous attributes she had given to her idol had fallen oi. She had caught a glimpse of him as he was —only a momentary glimpse, it is true, yet she was ■tartled and frightened. Had he really laughed at honour and truth, deeming them of little worth ; had he really deceived . her, telling her that which was false for the sake of winning her ; or had she mistaken his manner, giving more meaning than he intended to his words ? Was this the beginning of trouble ? Had their beautiful, happy life really come to an end, or would the cloud blow over ? Little Gertrude lay sleeping on one of the pretty couches ; Evelyn went up to her, and knelt down by her side. She kissed the lovely sleeping face. "We will trust papa, will we not, darling ?" she murmured. "We will trust him and love him for ever and ever. Even when we do not understand we will trust." "Yet, despite her few loving words, Clive Noel's beautiful young wife went about that sunny morning with what seemed a weight of- lead on her heart. 1162. CHAPTER IX. The discussion between Olive Noel and his wife was not renewed. Once or twice she a£ked him if he had thought of any plan, if he had come to any decision, and with characteristic weakness and moral cowardice he had evaded the question. "I begin to think preparing beforehand and all that kind of thing is nonsense, Evelyn," he said at last "Inspirations come in moments ol danger. If my father and brother really reach the chateau I have nc doubt that something or other will j

turn up, even at the last," "Weak and wavering," Those •.vords rang in Clive Noel's ears, although he would not admit their truth. The only difference for impending event made to Mr. Noel was that he smoked more choice ma nilas, and drank more than usual ol his golden-hued Madeira. One, two days passed since the re ceipt of the letter, and no news came of Lord Gothwie or his son. " The storm may pass over Evelyn," said her husband ; "and i! it does, we will leave this desolat* place and live in »ome Large city There is far more chance of a quiei life for us there than here." If by a quiet life he meant that he could go out as much as he likcil leaving Evelyn at home, he was right. "Then you are tired of Carbace ?" said Evelyn. And the words sounded to her like a death-knell. How long was it since he hat gloried in their secluded home, dc daring every other presence thai hers distasteful —declaring that she made Chateau Perison a paradise, and he wanted no other ? How long was it since ? She was not tired. She would have lived here for ever with hei husband and her child, the graud scenery lying lil«a an open book before them. Some old lines she hail heard once ran in her head all day One foot on land and one on shoreTo one thing constant never. Could it be that h«r hero, the man she believed to be a king amongst men, had even the least touch of inconstancy. in his nature ? Had he wearied of her ? Did he long for fairer faces —for something new ? And was he tired of her earnest, faithful love ? Then she drove away such thoughts as so many acts of treason against her husband. A change was coming over her. She had been very safe and secure in her firm conviction of his unaltered love. He had worshinoed her so entirely, he had lavished such a wealth of tenderness upon her, that it would have seemed easier to disbelieve in the shining of the sun than to doubt him. But now she began to feel a jealous longing for his loving words. She counted each one, she analysed ;ach expression, she watched every look that came from his eyes, trying to find out whether he loved her as he had done a year ago. One morning—it was warm, but not sultry—in his lordly fashion, Clive Noel had expressed a wish to have luncheon out on the terrace. There was no foreboding in her heart as she ran hastily to dress herself, anxious to please him ; no warning of what the day was to bring forth. She only saw that Clive was unusually pleased. "Bring Gertie out with you, Evelyn," he said And, nodding assent, a glow of pleasure on her Beautiful face, she *ent to give orders to the servants. On the terrace, under the shade of i large purple vine, a small table was placed. How well and faithfully bis wife had studied his tastes ! There was sparkling Moselle, goWenUued Madeira, dishes of purple grapes And ripe, juicy peaches, golden apri;ots, and bread white as snow, with pats of golden butter m green leaves, all arranged with artistic skill ; .lowers, newly gathered, decorated the table. Evelyn looked at it with veen, critical eyes. She never left :ier husband's comforts to the servants ; they were always superin:ended ' by herself. "Even a king would be pleased," she said to herself, with a smile. Then she stooped to gather some sprays of orange blossom ;he liked to see them in her dark hair. She nixed them with some green myrtle .eaves. How well in the sad after years she remembered every detail of that lay ! How warm and bright was the sunshine —how most fair and fragrant the flowers ! She stood for some minutes in her own room, wondering how she could best please nim by her dress. Then she took a ;lcar, delicate white muslin, richly irimmed with white lace, smiling to aerself as she remembered the gorgeous costumes she had worn as Portia and Juliet, the regal robes she had so proudly carried as .vlarie Stuart. She brushed back the shining masses of waving hair, so alack, so fine, so supple and abuniant ; then in the massive coils she twined the sprays of orange blossoms—all for. him—Heavea help her ! —all for him. She made a littic bouquet of orange flowers a»d myrtle, which she piaced in the bodiM of her dress. Then she smiled again at the beautiful face and figure re fleeted in her glass. "If he tninks me fair," she said tc herself, "I care not what others think. I would always he fair tc him —my love, with ail his tastes—my true, noble love !" Then she found little Gertrude Clive Noel uttered a little cry o: delight when his wile and child ap peared. "Why, Evelyn, yea look lovely ! What with the bright morning, tta< golden vines, the blooming flowers and your face to look upon, I begir to fancy myself in Aecadia." "Then you are not tired of the Chateau and of me ?" she said, a ligh* almost of rapture shining in ho face, while her white arms drew hit handsome head down to her. "Tired ? No. What a fancifu child you are, Evelyn ! I feel verj happy to-day. I do not think >*nj harm will come of that letter. Fer haps it is the s lias bine—perhaps i> is you." (To be Ceotiaued.)