ALL OR NOTHING.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 590, 2 August 1913, Page 6

ALL OR NOTHING.

A THRILLING ROMANCE,

(C opyiigli t..)

—By the Author of—"A Bitter Bondage," "Two Keys," "Stella."' "The Unknown Brit!'groom," &c., PART 21. "'Yes. that is quite a different matter. I think it would he very injurious to him and to her. My view :J the matter is this : She is a most lovely girl, and, for the sake, of* her 'air young face, she will he sure to marry well. Sir Ulric Ray nor, of Castle Ray nor , admires her very much. He quite pressed for an introduction. She, being so lovely, aught to marry some one like him, rich and titled. She would make an excellent mistress of Castle Raynor. To throw away such a girl upon a mere country doctor would he, to say the least of it, absurd." This view of Mr.?::: completely astounded Mrs. Weiiord. She did not know the value r -' a lovely face in the world where Deauty is so highly prized. "Then," continued her ladyship, "'it is pretty much the same for l)r. Ainsleigh. "If he marries a lovely girl like Miss Morton, poor and without connection, he will remain a :ountry doctor until the end of his life. But if he has the sense to see what is l est for him, and marries a i_>irl like Alice Leyton, with plenty of money, he will have a brilliant prospect." "Yes," Mrs. Welford was sure of that.

"I know no young man," continued her ladyship, warming with her subject, "who could do better for himself than Dr. Ainsleigh. If he married Miss Leyton and went to London, with her larg" fortune, properly managed, he woti';: get into society. Rich, hardson-.e, and clever-, he would t-oon win his v. Ko would be Sir Leonard .Ainsleigh in a few years, with the worlii at his feet. I, for my part, if thai, happened, should certainly give him the benetit of my large Load an connection, and make him welcome at Hampton House." This was the very thing Mrs. Welford wished to learn. Sho entered with enthusiasm into licr lahyship's \icws. CHAPTER XXXV. "The very thing !" she cried. "The very thing I have always said ! And .Miss Leyton, who is remarkably sensible, has, I am sure, some similar notion." Lady Mackin smiled very benignantly. , "I am always pleased with anything that tends i;o the benefit of Carshrook or its people," she said ; "and 1 hat would,'! am sure. I like M:s:i Morton. - admire and esteem liei, and should like to see her fill a proper position. The same with Dr. Ainsleigh. But, of course, if anything so absurd as their marriage took place, I should feel annoyed. People cannot live upon nothing. In that case," concluded her ladyship, with an air of great propriety, " 1 should, of course, never invite either of them to Creedmoor again." "It is really delightful to talk to your ladyship," cried Mrs. Welford. "I always say there are no ideas sc clear, so distinct, so complete as yours. I see the whole case_ quite clearly now."

Leonard had heard just as much as he could bear. He muttered something about a "parcel of old women," and turned away. Neither of the laaies noticed him. One was too deeply occupied in patronizing, the other in receiving patronage, to heed a slight rustle in the grass. He hurried away, but the pleasure of the fete was destroyed for him. "Oil, Mabel, Mabel !" he said. "If I had never seen you, I might have been what people call comfortable with Alice and her fortune. As it is now" The sun and the flowers awoke better ideas in him.

"There must he a higher life than this," he said to himself, " where people think only of money and position ; there must.be something better worth living for. Mabel has found the secret, and I am groping in the dark."

"Dr. Ainsleigh," said a lively, girlish 'voice r.car him, "you do not deserve to come to a fete at Creedmoor. Why are you there alone ? You should be dancing, or"

"Or flirting, JVliss Elderly," interrupted 'Leonard. "I am very remiss."

"I think Carnbrnok may be proud," she •continued. "T have just heard that all the gentlemen here who are considered judges agree in saying that Miss Morton is the most beautiful girl in England. Is not that a feather in Carsbrook's cap ? I should not be surprised if something comes of it." " What is likely to come ?" he asked.

"he was anxious to punish him fer having used the word "flirtation." "Sir Edward Peckham admires her, and they say he is one of the best matches in England. How I should like to ::c a grand wedding in the old church, and Miss Morton to be :ny Lady Peckham of Castle Point !" Watching him keenly, she saw his face flush with annoyance. "it s:rves him right," she said to herself. "He yfaoold not have spoken though I wanted to flirt with him." Leonard turned away. His heart was wroth with jealous anger.

'"Neither one nor the other shall have you, my darling," he said to himself. "I will woo you, win yon, and make you my own." He could not rr.st. another minuti away from her. He went over the lawn, over the grounds, into ai' the

tents, ana at last he saw her, the centre of a group of gentlemen who were paying homage to her as though she had been l, queen.

He saw her lovely young face brighten as he drew near. The gentlemen did not make way for hint ; he was an intruder, but Mabel tinned to him, with her gentle. bright smile, and spoke to him. They were obliged then to Ttrt him pass, and he took up his station by her side. "Oh, the magic, of youth and beauty !" thought. Leonard to himself, and lie saw Sir Edward Peckham, Major Peyton. Captain homax, all striving to win a look, a smile, or a word from the willu 1 voting beauty, who only looked and smiled and spoke when she chose. They were alone at last, and the hour of departure bad come. 'Mabel," said Leonard, half-lier-cely, "those men will drive me mad, buzzing round you like bees round a flower. I thought they would never go."

He took her hand in his, holding it fast with a passionate clasp. Nolle were there to see. I-Ie bent down and kissed the lovely, blushing face with a passion that knew no words.

'"What nonsense they talked to you !" he said, jealously. "It did not matter," she replied ; and a king would 'have given his kingdom for the smile that came on her lips. "I did not hear them ; I only heard you." "My darling !" he said, kissing her sweet face again. "You are here, Mabel, my dear," said Mrs. Stanley. "The carriage is ready. We will say 'Good-bye' to dear Lady Mackin. Ah, that is Dr. Ainsleigh with you. That is right,"

It was well that the fragrant gloaming had set in, and Mabel's face could not be seen. Those beautiful blushes would have betrayed her.

They bade "Good evening" to Lady Mackin, and then there was a drive, in the soft evening light, home. Mrs. Stanley ' tried hard to keep awake, but could not. Leonard and Mabel sat side by side. "If ever any living man was in trouble, I am," said Leonard Ainsleigh that night "I love a girl with all my soul whom it will ruin me to marry, and the girl I dislike evidently wants to marry me. How will it end ?" CHAPTER XXXVI. '"How will it end ?" asked Leonard Ainsleigh of himself, not once, but a hundred times. Other people began to ask the same question. Lookerson could not avoid seeing that he seemed to hesitate between the two girls—or, rather, between the beauty of Mabel Morton and the money of Alice Leyton. He knew it himself — he knew that every good feeling of his heart, every higher and purer aspiration of his nature clung round Mabel ; he knew that he loved with a love that he could never give to another, and he asked himself the question, "Could he give up all hope of advancement, and marry her ?" That was the question which haunted him, which kept him waking at night and thinking all day. How would it end ? Would love "be lord of all," and be content to give up all for Mabel's sake, or would worldly interest win and make a grave for this same sweet love ?

Day by day the puzzle grew greater. The summer was so long. s*o bright, and so sweet to him ; it was all new life. He had been in London, where the mignonette in the squares and the birds in the trees are almost the only signs of summer ; this lovely life, these dewy, fragrant gloamings, the bright, clear mornings, the solemn, starlit nights, the profusion of flowers, the broad shade of tall trees, were all new zo nim. And ir some vague way air this lavisliness of beauty and perfume and song seemed to be of his love for Mabel. She seemed to be queen ol it all.

When he lingered by night in the summer woods, listening to the sweet song of the nightingale, thf soft evening light # closing around him, the flowers all going to sleep, the birds seeking their nests, it wat Mabel's face that rose before him—never Alice's. It was Mabel he longed to have by his side —Aiice would have bored him. Every good thought every fair or pure impulse, led him to her. But those words of Lady Mackin's were uevei absent from his mind. He was of a nature to be deeply' impressed by them. He had been taught to love and revere suth things—to iovc money and honour, to hold money and position as first and best. There never was a harder struggle in a seliish's man's min.l than in his. Well might b*' is!; himself—well mie-ht friends and neighbours ask—"How will it enc 7" He could not tell how it was, but be seemed to become more deeply implicated every day of his life witl both girls. Mabel received his attentions with a gentle, blushing, modest grace all her own. Alice, of

different temperament, sought, wliat he did not seem inclined to give. One evening—a bright, warm, evening in August —he was summoned tc attend a patient in the little village of Alrston. He went in the afternoon, when the sun was warm and sultry. He had to remain for two or three hours in a small, close, illsmelling room with a peevish, nervous patient. He was tired, warm, and uncomfortable. When at length he was released, he determined to go home by way of the woods : there he could rest tinder the shade of the trees. He did so, wondering to himself il this dull kind oi «ork was to go on for ever. He had no taste [or poverty ; small, dirty houses, and poor patients were intolerable to him ; lu had no capacity for them. Then, at he sat resting under the shade of a large blackthorn tree, in whose branches singing birds had built their nests, ht- thought to himself that il he did what in his heart he longer to do—married Mabel—this, and no-

thing brighter or better, would ever he his lot. Would lie ever be brave enough to endure it ? Was jr. 1 rue that, "love graced anil Iw'aut itied eviTyUiitur ? He pictured himself living m sra-.UI house, working all his life amongst such people as he had been with today, expenses increasing, and his iacome never quite keeping pace with them. Jinw would hi 1 like it. ? How long Would love last In such a state of things ? Many may think, from the fact that he was capable of such cool argument:. that he had no real love for Mabel. lie loved her as deeply and as dearly as lie could love any woman. I lis heart was with her; the teaching and training of biswhole lifetime against her. While these thoughts were busy within him, he saw through the trees the glimmer of a white dress. Could it be Mabel ? She always wore white. At the bare idea down fell all his resolutions ; prudence, common sense, worldly interest, were all scattered to the winds. He sprang from his seat ; he forgot that he was tired and warm ; he only remembered the fairest face on earth was near him, the sweet lips that he had kissed and had so made all his own. One look down the broad woodland glade. Yes, it was Mabel. The sunshine grew brighter, the flowers: sweeter ; a new, brighter light seemed to fall from heaven on everything around.

"Miss Morton," he cried, " what kind fairy has sent you here ?"

Mabel looked up at him in astonishment. She had been thinking of him intently, so that it seemed as though her thoughts were suddenly embodied.

Any man might have been proud of the blush and smile that greeted him. Such delight, such innocent happiness on the fair, sweet face ; such light in the dark, bright eyes. "If a fairy had suddenly sprung from the heart of one of those wild roses," he said, "and had asked me what on earth I wished for most, 1 should have said for you. May I ask you where you are going ?" "I am finishing a very pretty drawing," she said —"a nosegay of sweet, old-fashioned flowers —and I want some pretty fern leaves for it."

" You are come to look for them, then ?" he said, and his voice was full of the music of happiness. "Yes," she replied ; "mamma is busy at her desk, and I thought I would come, while the sun was warm, to look for them. I never dreamed of meeting you."

"I have been to such a tiresome patient," he said, "and never dreamed of seeing you. Fate has been kind. -Let us snatch one hour from life, Mabel. You will not be angcy with me for calling you by that name ? It is the sweetest ever given to a woman. Let us take this one hour ; never mind the fern leaves. See the sun is shining on us ; hark, how the birds are singing ! Does not every flower hold up its head as though to greet its queen ?"

She shrank, half-trembling, from him ; the fire his words seemed tc alarm her.

" Just one hour," he pleaded, "away from the world —away from all- care and trouble—away from all dark thoughts and. anxious fears. Let us try to fancy this hour will never end."

She tried to smile, but her heart was beating with a happiness that was so great as to be pain. Rome men would give the mediocri happiness of a lifetime for such ai hour as this.

He made a pretty throne for her on the fallen trunk of an old tree and sat at her feet. The sun smiled upon them, fair flowers hToome. around them. He took her littU hands in his, and kissed them with passion that knew no words. Lilt holds such hours for some—others never know them.

Then it would have seemed most natural for Leonard Ainsleigh tc have told the beautiful dark-eyed girl that he loved her better than his life, and prayed her to marry him. But he did not—his love was strong, the force of his world h training stronger still. He told Itei that she was fairer than all other women —that the sheen of golden haii was brighter than the sunshine ti him, and the sound of her voice wa.-

sweeter than any other music m: earth. Mabel listened with groopin.L: eyes that never met his ; with 'net heart beating so fast it scenic,i t< her he must hear it. All the mu.-i< the poetry, the romance of life seem ed in that hour to conic true. Tin

memory of it never quite died aw;, y even when the last act of the tra gedy had taken place.

ItjStruck her at last, with a sharp sense of wonder rotd of pain. Why did he not say he loved he: ? lie talked to her of her beauty, of the tranquil loveliness around ihem. o the sunlit skies, ihe bloomim- douer.of poetry and love, yet iie never said. "I love \ou. Mabel. Will you he my wife ?" Mali-kneeling, halfsitting there at her feet, h old in:: her hand in Lis, pouring out a pas sioiiatc Torrent of words, Leonard said to himself that he was in Paradise. What did he reck of the serpent among the llower.-. ? lie was looking in Mabel's face, lisveniimto her voice—everything- vise forgot tea. "'1 shall never forget yen. Mabel, as you look now," said l.e-mara. "The ::; inli- -1 i < is falling tiu'nudi the green leaves, ~nd makes a hat" around you. tour face j, : fair a:that of a pictured sain: : some grand old lines of Wo.liner's conn, into my mind as I look at. you." " Tell me. what, tney are,'' she said. " 'What, time she walks beneath tin flowering may. '() lady, with the sunlit hair, Stay ami drink the odorous air. The incense that we bear : Thy beauty, lady, we would eve! share. For nea.r to thee our sv.vft mvs miaht ! 111 i !a<e.' (To be Continued;