ALL OR NOTHING

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 586, 19 July 1913, Page 6

ALL OR NOTHING

(Co|.v:-:ghi..)

A THRILLING ROMANCE; +■ By the Author of "A liiitcr Bondage," "Two Keys/' "Stella," "The Unknown Bridegroom," &c, PART 17. She made no resistance this time. The next moment Mrs. Elderly came up to him. "Dr. Ainsleigh..," she said, " Miss Leyton is going. Are you—have you" Then she paused, not knowing how to ask the question. "Am I to have the pleasure ol escorting! her, Mrs. Elderly?" he said. "No, I regret to say. Mr. Ayrton looks as though he wanted something to do. Send him, Mrs. Elderly. And the good-natured hostess, fully understanding why he wished to remain where he was, went away. Home through the dewy, fragrant meadows, through ihe silent lanes, where the tall tree* stood like sweet blossoms under their feet at every tread. He talked to her of the moon that was shining overhead, of the flowers that blossomed around them, of everything most fair and beautiful ; he held her little hands in a tight, passionate clasp ; he looked into her Lovely young face, and swore to himself that she was fairer than any other living woman ; he bent low to listen when she spoke, he told her the voice of the cushat dove was not so sweet as hers. When they reached the little gate where the drooping laburnums stood he opened it and she passed in, then turned to wish him good night. Ah, me ! those sammer nights —for what are they to blame ! The sweet, fragrant silence seemed to enfold them ; the breath of the lilies rose like a mist and gathered around them. '/Good night," said Leonard's eltfar voice. "X shall never forget this day while I live ! Will the sun ever shine on such another ?'" "Good night," she replied, raising her flower-like face to him. Then Leonard forgot everything but its wondrous loveliness. He bent down and kissed —as lovers kiss—the sweet, tremulous, fragrant mouth. She broke from him with a little cry. "You are not angry ?" he said. "I ought to lie—yes, Dr. Ainsleigh, I am," she said, but so gently, so blushingly, with such a happy light on her face, that he repeated the offence and so lost all hope of pardon. He had lingered through long hours of that sunny day at her side ; he had danced with her. taken her home, kissed her lips, "mrc ne had not said he loved her. '.' ;—— .... '

CHAPTER XVIII,

Mabel stood a few minutes before entering the house. Her,face was flushed \yith that half-divine light ol love that makes oen plain women beautiful. She felt that until that had died away— until the intoxication of happiness had left her—she could not meet even tke' mother she worshipped so ardently. ■ One look round at the moonlit trees and the dewy flowers, one more at the solemn sky-, where the stars were shining, and the intense happiness that stirred her heart grew hushed and still. Then she went into , the house —into Mrs. Morton's roomwhere her mother sat waiting for her. "There is no need to ask if you have enjoyed yourself, Birdie," said Mrs. Morton. " What a bright face —what shining ?yes !" She went up to her mother, and sat down on the little stool at hei feet ; she laid her head on her mother's knee, arid the golden hail fell like a veil over her. She was almost too happy for words. It was as though a golden light had falleD from heaven and dazzled her. "Mamma," she said, after a few minutes, "I think in all the wide world no one ever has had such a beautiful day. The sun never shone so brightly, the flowers were nevei so fair, and th'e hay in the meadow was so sweet. We had a dance on the lawn, and the music seemed tc die away in the very hearts of the flowers. We have been so very happy. One such day ,is worth the whole oi a dull, pleasureless life." Mrs .Morton , bent her beautiful face over the golden head. "Mabel," she said, "I wonder il you have as much capacity for suffering as you have for enjoyment ? I think no one enjoys anything more than you. I wonder if you have the same keen susceptibility to pain ?" "Must every life have pain ?" asked the young girl, wistfully. " You have had none, mamma ; at least, I never heard you speak of any. . You live among books and flowers, and all beautiful things. Your life always seems to me a long, sweet poem." The dark, passionate face of Evelyn Morton grew sad. "A time will come, Mabel," she said, "when you will, know that books, however grand—flowers, however fair and beauty, however striking, do not, cannot till a woman's heart ; nor love of friends, nor love of children. Oh, Mabel, a heart is very larg«, and takes much to fill it !" Mabel looked up in her mother's face, but she did not perceive the shadow there. "A great sorrow will do it,," 1 she continued —"a sorrow that vrords cannot express and do not touch ; that will fill every human heart to the exclusion of everything else." "Mamma," cried the girl,, nestlin.s her fair face closer to her mother, "you love me—- '•-ve me!" "And am Mafrel." said

Mrs. Morton, gently, kissing tin young face. "Now tell mo about the party. Who brought you homo 'i With whom did you dauce ?" "Dr. Ainsleigh," she said, slowly . and the two words dropped from her lips gently, as rippling notes from the tuneful throat of a singing bird. "And you have been altogether happy—without one drawback —without one thing to mar the day ?" "Happiness seems a commonplace word, mamma," was the reply. "Then go to sleep and dream of it, Mabel. God send you pleasure without pain for ever. Good night, my darling." When Mabel had gone away Mrs. Morton went to the favourite window. It was so easy to speak ol dreams and of sleep to others ; it was so hard to win them for herself. Usually her day's work tired her ; she would write until the passionate genius was exhausted, and sleep came because the tired brain could do no more. But to-day it had not been so. She had been writing a love story,, sweet and sad as the music sung by the surges of the sea She had written until, unconsciously, some of the old love, the old passion, had found its way into her pen. Old memories grew upon her; old music sounded in her cars—a face that was to her what no other face would ever be was before her eyes. The grand calm she had maintained so long was broken. As .she stood watching the silvery moonlight, her beautiful face quivered with pain. "I will write of sorrow," she said, "of heroism, of endurance, but never more of love." She had to do 'hard battle with herself. There were times when thatserene calm was difficult to maintain. Then, as now, she would remain when all others were sleeping, fighting her battle in the darkness and silence of night ; for hers was a sorrow no human aid could lessen, no human help make bearable. "It will not be so with Mabel," she said. "There are brighter days for her than ever fell to my share ; and yet I was so happy for that short time." The stars began to fade and the first pearly tints to glitter in the sky before Evelyn Morton, had fought with her sorrow and laid it low. Nor did Mabel sleep ; but it was happiness that kept her awake. No sad memories, no ever-abiding sorrow ; there was no tierce battle for her to fight ; but there was with her through the night a sense of music and of fragrance, of dew and of flowers, of moonlight and whispering winds, of the strong hands that had held her own, of the dark, handsome face, and eloquent eyes that had told her so sweet a story, and of the kiss, the first she had ever received, which seemed yet to lie warm upon her lips. She could not sleep for happy dreams of Leonard Ainsleigh and the fair summer night. The morning sun was welcome to Mabel. She rose quickly and went down into the garden. She longed to see again the spot where she had stood with Leonard. She pushed aside the golden laburnums, and looked, as she did so, with her fair young face and bright eyes, the very ideal of a summer morning. Then she gathered a large roses with a hundred leaves, and she pulled them softly asunder, murmuring to herself, as she did so, tue old-fashioned legend, "He loves me, he loves me not ;" and to Mabel's distress, no matter how many roses she gathered, the last leaf always fell with those words, "He loves me not !" She flung the flowers away impatiently. A little bird was sitting on a blackthorn tree close to where she stood. "Little bird,' cried Mabel, "tell me, does he love me ?" And the bird poured forth a torrejit of musical notes, yet they did not seem to be very joyful ones. "I wish," thought the young girl, "that I knew more of the world and its ways. I could answer the question better then." "Does he love me ?" The summer wind seemed to repeat the qnestion as it rustled amongst the trees. Why was she anxious over it ? Because once, some two years since, when Hettie Travers, who was one of her friends, told Mabel the story of her love, the young girl had asked her : "But how did you first know that he loved you, Hettie ?" "Because he kissed me and told mc so," was the prompt reply. Mabel had remembered it ; and now that the same sun was, beginning tc shine for her, the words came homt to her with double force. Leonard had kissed her, but he said nothing of loving her. He had not "kissed her and said so." Therefore was Mabel puzzled as to what the kiss without the declaration of love meant.. Did he love her ? She thought, over all the happy hours, she had spent with him, their long- walks, hie words, his looks. Ah, yes, they could have but one meaning. He loved her, and in the time to come would tell her so. What then ? Ah, then to the young girl standing in the morning sunshine there came a beautiful picture, touched with the light of Heaven, of a long, happy life, like a sweet poem, spent with him amongst sunshine and flowers, trees and fields —a happy home, all brightness, honour, and pence as a portion ; and her eyes; grew dim as she fancied two graves under the daisies, where she, perhaps would sleep side by side with him : and then a long eternity in thai most fair land, where the gates art of jasper and the walls of pearl. A fitting dream for a summer'* morning. Mabel went into breakCast, the question answered satis factorily as far as she was concerned. There sat Mrs. Morton, calm ant serene, as though the storm of lasl night had ne.vvv been. She held ; large envelope in her hand, ami Mabel fancied she saw a coronet or

the sc\l. Mrs. Morton looicea lovingly :it the fair, fresh lace, and oright, smiling eyes. '"You are up early, Mabel," she said. "Can you guess what I have in my hands ?" " Something agreeable, I hope, mamma : I cannot guess, though." "' What would give you great pleasure—the greatest pleasure you can imagine, Mabel 'i" Time was when she would have an-< swered immediately, for the answer would have been easy enough. Now it was different. Her face grew ;rirason—her sweet, frank eyes drooped. She knew that the greatest pleasure life held for her was a tete-a-tete with Leonard Ainsleigh ; hut it was not probable that the envelope with the coronet on the seal contained any intimation of such a pleasant arrangement. "'The greatest pleasure, mamma," she said, hesitatingly. "'A picnic, I think ; that is, if you are speaking of amusements." "It is better than that. Mackin has written to me herself. Knowing my distate to society, she does not urge me to accept her invitation, but she prays me to allow you to go to the fete. It is to be on the ISth of Juiy. What do you say, Mabel ?" '"Let me go, mamma ?" cried the girl, her whole soul shining in her large dark eyes. "Let me go ; it will be a glimpse of paradise for mc." "I will think of it. Who is going ? I know that Lady Mackin invites most of the Carsbrook people." "Alice is going, and Dr. Ainsleigh. r know they went last year. I heard Alice say that there was no one at the Creedmoor Hall fete better dressed than she herself." Mrs. Morton smiled at the mention of those two names. How easily read Mabel's secret was ! Of all Lady Mackin's invited guests last year, she selected ttiese two. "'Mrs. Stanley said the other day, mamma, that if I went she would chaperon me ; and she would like it better than going alone." "Then I must say yes, Mabel," said Mrs. Morton, unable to resist the pleading of that beautiful face ; "and I must do my best to invent a pretty dress for you. I will answer Lady Mackin's note, and you can send a line to ' Mrs. Stanley, telling her that you are going." The rest of that day Mrs. Morton amused herself by watching the brightness of that happy young face. Only once she paused, and asked herself if she were doing right to allow Mabel to go where she must be sure to meet the handsome young doctor. Even as she asked herself the question, she smiled at her fears. Of course, Leonard Ainsleigh admired her beautiful, bright Mabel—what else should being him constantly into her society. In the bright days coming he would say so. Then, when Mabel was married and happy, she would have accomplished her object in life. No fear rested upon her, or marred the bright thoughts occupied with Mabel's love and Mabel's fur ture.

CHAPTER XXIX

''lf everybody's life is as hard as mine, the sooner all the world is dead the better. Miss Alice Leyton's laay's-maid was indulging in a most bitter tirade against her mistress. For many days before a grand party the maid's place was no sineenre. Miss Leyton was ambitious ; she wished to be considered the best-dressed young lady in that part of the county ; she wished to be celebrated for her good taste ; she wished to be quoted as one who led the fashions. The great drawback to her ambition was that she was utterly deVoid of caste ; while Phoebe, her maid, had what is called "an eye for colours," and an innate sense of what was fitting and nice. Phoebe had a lively recollection of the torture she suffered before the Creedmore fete of last summer, when her young mistress tried every colour, and every style before deciding on what was most suitable. This year there was a double motive for exertion. Lady Mackin had extended her invitations ; besides the Carsbrook people, many of the aristocracy from the neighbouring county were to be present ; above ali, Leonard Ainsleigh was invited. "I do hope," said Miss Leyton to her confidential friend, Mrs. Wei ford, •"that Lady Mackin will not think of inviting Mabel Morton ; a" girl mother shuns all society ought not to be received at Creedmoor." '''Lady Mackin will have more sense, my dear," was the soothing reply. "Remember, she has sons of her own, and a face like Mabel's is dangerous." "'You think her so very beautiful, then ?" cried Alice, quickly. "Men, my dear, are apt to admire those brilliant tints in a young girl's face," said Mrs. Welford. "1 myself like what is called an interesting face far better than a merely prettyone. But men are weak—young men especially. "I do not find them so weak when I am concerned," said Alice, spitefully. "But I certainly do hope tVat Mabel will not be invited to Creedmoor. I should fancy that would decide Dr. Ainslcigh. Without the Mackin interest, a doctor would not have much chance in Carsbrook." But a few days afterwards, to her intense chagrin, Miss Leyton heard that Mabel was going—goimr. too. with Mrs. .Stanley, so that Dr. Ainsleigh would be obliged to act as her cavalier. Tears of mortification came into Alice's eyes. She went to JMrs. Welford for comfort. (To be Continued).