ALL OR NOTHING.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 594, 16 August 1913, Page 6

ALL OR NOTHING.

(Copyright.)

By the Author of "A Bitter Bondage,'' "Two Keys,""Stella." "The Unknown Bridegroom," &c,

PAIIT '2l. "This is the most pleasant spot in Creedmoor Hall," he said. "Do you see those large red and white roses climbing as high as they can, peeping into the room ? Will you sit here, Miss Morton ? You will enjoy two of the most agreeable things in the world then— the sight and the perfume of flowers." Mabel sat down. She would rather have been upon the lawn, where the copper beeches gleamed in the sun and the tall cedars gave out their grand perfume. "I like the study of faces, said Sir Edward ; "the variety is so infinite. You will find every different expression the human face is capable of portraying there, Miss Morton."

"There is onfe great puzzle to me in faces," said Mabel. "They are all formed exactly alike—items, two eyes, two eyebrows, one nose, two lips, yet no two are alike. It is the. most wonderful thing I know." "Some people tell us there is just the same difference between every Made of grass, and every leaf—that uo two resemble each other. Is not that quite as wonderful ?" "Yes," she replied, while Sir Edward opened the large album for her inspection. "It is divided into two parts, as you see," he continued. "The latter half contains the portraits of my friends—l do not classify them." The first large open page was certainly remarkable,; it contained a photograph of the leading musicians of the world —ancient, so far as it had hern found possible by copying from old portraits, and - modern. .Mabel was amused and interested, while Sir Edward showed her in all these faces some points of resemblance, identity, imagination, harmonv.

Then he had all the poets, all the painters, the great writers, the great philosophers, the eminent statesmen; after that came faces classified, as he had said, gay, grave, lovely, and plain.

Mabel was deeply interested. Then came the second part of the hook — the portraits of Sir Edward's friends. There were Sir Henry and Lady Mackin ; Lord Liverston, trying to look as though he did not remember what a great man he was, ■nd fa'ling signally in the attempt ; and many others, whose names were ."arailiar as " household words " to Mabel Morton.

At that moment Lady Mackin rose to open a window near her, and Sir Edward, seeing her make the attempt, went immediately to her assistance. He was absent from Mabel about five minutes. When he returned she seemed neither to see nor hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon a portrait, and there was something of great wonder and pain in their expression. She looked up suddenly.

"Sir Edward," she asked, "if my question may be permitted, whose portrait is this ?" He looked over her shoulder. There was a grand Saxon head, covered with clusters of chestnut hair ; a handsome debonair face —careless, happy, and frank, one would say at the first glance—a face that would strike any one and win its meed of admiration. "That is one of my friends—l may say, one of my most distant relations," replied Sir Edward —" the Earl of Gothwic. He is a handsome man, is he not ?" Her face had grown rather pale ; she repeated the name. "The Earl of Gothwic ! I never heard the title before, but I had a curious fancy about the face." "What was it?" he asked. "The least fancy of yours interests me greatly, Miss Morton." "Promise not to laugh at me. I cannot help thinking that I have seen the face before. Surely those lips have smiled upon me and have spoken to me ! Surely those eyes have looked into my face ! Yet I can never have seen it except in a dream."

"One does see strange things in a dream, yet I cannot understand why you should dream of Lord Gothwic, Miss Morton." "I have not," triie replied, in the same serious, halX-puzzled expression. "I could imagine, though, that I had had two lives, and had known such a face as this ia the first one. Do you understand how intangible my fancy is ?"

He made no reply. He was jealous, even to the fancy she had woven concerning another mau. "Lord Gothwic is not young," he said, after a time. "He must be forty, at least." "Is he married ?" asked Mabel. Nor could she account for the impulse that had led her to ask the question.

"No," lie replied, "and in all human probability never will be. I did hear once —but that is long ago —that he was engaged to Florence Ralston, another friend of mine, whose portrait you may see here." And he turned to the portrait of a beautiful woman, -ffith a noble, highbred face. Mabel looked at the two for some minutes in silence. "I cannot fancy those two people married," she said, after a time. "W 7 hy not ?" asked Sir Edward. "Because her face is very noble and true. You can see honour and nobility on every feature ; and though he is very handsome, still, when you come to look into the face there seems to be something false and untrue in it.'*

Then suddenly remembering she j had been guilty of criticising his ! friend, Mabel blushed crimson. ; " Can you ever forgive me ?" she | said. "I beg your pardon. I have j such an unfortunate habit of saying j what I think." j Sir Edward laughed aloud. '■' Your criticism is perfectly just," i lie said. '"Lor' 1 Gothwic is very popular—very much admitted and sought after—yet. I think most people have the same impression about him —that he, is not quite true." Then Sir Edward dismissed the subject. "Mis-:s Morton," he said, "I wish my own portrait were here, and you would give me your candid opinion of it." "Perhaps I should not pleas: you," she replied, laughingly. "I might nd little to praise and much to : lame." "I would rather have blame from you," he cried, "than praise from any other." But the meaning of the words was hst upon Mabel ; the world held only one face for her—she was no other. "I wish I might ask you," he said, half-jestingly, half-seriously, "whethere you like ir.~ face ?" "I have not looked very earnestly at it," she replied. "Then, pray, look now, Miss Morton ;" and Mabel calmly raised her eyes to the handsome flushed face beside her. Suddenly the girl read something there —something she had not dreamed of —deep, passionate worship for herself. For the first time her eyes drooped before his ; her lovely, flower-like face grew scarlet. She turned hurriedly away. "I am" going on the lawn," she said. He tried to detain her. "Never mind my foolish question," he said. "Miss Morton, will you try to like me ?" But Mabel, with the air of one escaping from danger, hurried on to the lawn, and took refuge between two portly matrons, Sir Edward following her with longing eyes. "What a horrid coquette that girl is !" thought the countess to herself. "She knows exactly the right moment to leave her lover—just when he would give the world to keep her a little longer. ' Sir Edward was on the point of proposing ; I can tell from his agitated face. Now, after this little rebuff he will propose with unreserved settlements, I am sure. What fortune some girls have!" It was all over, with poor Sir Edward's wooing. Mabel had read his secret —plain at last, even to her inexperienced eyes—and her only idea was one of passionate indignation. How dare he love her ? How dare he look at her with such a light in liis eyes, with love shining in them for her, and she iLved Leonard Ainsleigh with all her heart ? It seemed to her little less than saerilegs. Yet he did not know, she said to herself —he did not know that Leonard Ainsleigh had called her his darling, and had kissed her face, not once, but often ; he did not know that in her sweet, simple, childish way she believed that to be the most solemn of all betrothals—a kiss given under the laburnum branches on a summer's night. Sweet, simple Mabel, her knowledge of the world was but small. She had little idea that with many men such a kiss, so given and so taken, was but an idle act of gallantry. To her it seemed almost sacred ; she half-thought it bound Leonard to her for ever. It was all over with Sir Edward — no more rambles in the garden, no more duets, no more sketching lessons in the park. Whenever he came in sight Mabel entrenched herself amongst a bevy of matrons, and if the matrons, pitying the sad face of the young lover, tried to break the guard, Mabel made her escape altogether. He had no opportunity of saying another word to her, and Mabel's visit came to an end.

"A merciful escape," the pretty countess said. "Sir Edward ought to marry a woman of experience, and not a girl who looked as though she believed everything every one said." But Sir Edward was not to be defeated. He determined to go over to Bcechgrove and continue his wooing there. CHAPTER XLII. The twilight of the last day . in July—the month seems to have breathed its last odorous sigh over the earth —the air is faint with the perfume of the magnolias and the breath of roses. The sky is yet crimson with great, rosy clouds that have been taking the sun to rest ; they mingle with clouds of purple and gold, then die away together, leaving the sweetest of all lights—the gloaming—behind them.

Mrs. Morton has left her favourite window, and has gone out to watch t!ifv:o wondrous clouds, to weave a thousand bright fancies concerning them, to make pictures out of words, on which the very light and hue of the clouds shall seem to rest. Mabel has returned home in state, the Creedmoor carriage again rallying desperation as it drove through the streets. She has gone up into her own room, and Evelyn Morton watches the evening sky as

she waits for her. She has walked low :\ to the tall magnolia tree, whose flowers make the air beam with fragrance • a passion-llower grows at its foot., and seems to twine round it. Evelyn Morton sits there, and looks long at the purple passion-flowers. "If ever I wore flowers again." she said to herself, " they should be these."

She gathered one, and gazed wistfully at its emblems. Then down the rose walk came a light footstepthrough the trees she caught a gleam of golden hair ; a sweet, clear, girlish, voice was singing :

" A passionate ballad, martial ami gay.' ' lv.-c'lvn Mm-iini looked up with a uniU' as the girl who was the sunshine and warmth oi her lift" came tear. "Now. mamma, may I .sit by yoii there, ; -.nd icll you ail about I'reedinoor ? 1 wish— l cannot help wish ing—we lived at such a place ; my beautiful mother would make a perfect mistress of such a home as that." The fair young face was laid lovingly on the darker one. "I have seen no one like you, mamma," said Mabel. "Of all the great people at Creedmoor there is not one so beautiful, so gifted, so like a queen ; not one so graceful, so eloquent as you."

"Creedmoor is not the world, Mabel," said Evelyn Morton, remembering who had looked at her with the eyes of the world and had found her wanting. '"lt is one part of it," replied her daughter, decidedly. " I have been very happy, mamma. Has—did Dr. Ainsleigh call upon you while I was away ?"

Under the shadow of the magnolia blossoms Mrs. Morton saw the crimson flush that came with the words.

"No," she replied, "he has not been here. I have seen no one since you went away. Tell me what you have been doing, Mabel, and who you met."

Mabel, leaning her golden head against the trunk of the tree, sketched in graphic words the guests of Lady Mackin. She described the subtle beauty of the Spanish countess, the gallantry of the Frenchman. She described Lord Liverston in terse, eloquent words that made Mrs Morton look up at her in wonder. " Mabel," she said, "you have learned a great deal at Creedmoor. I had ho idea you could sketch characters so well." She noticed that Mabel never once mentioned Sir Edward Peckham — never named him.

"What of Sir Edward Peckham?" she asked at last. "I liked him very much. Does he improve upon acquaintance ?" She saw a perplexed expression pass over the fair young face. "He is very good," said Mabel, hastily. "I did not see much of him the last day. Mamma, he has such a magnificent album ; I must tell you about it." Mabel described the book, and Evelyn Morton smiled at the idea. Suddenly Mabel looked up. "Mamma," she said, "when I was a little child—too young, perhaps, to remember distinctly—did I ever know or see any gentleman called LordLord Gothwic. Yes, that is the name."

There was a shudder, as of death, quickly repressed—a passionate cry leaped to the white lips—a pain that has no name -rent the gentle heart — Mabel's words seemed to die away in the flowers ; then the very air around them grew still and listened.

Evelyn Morton clutched the pas-sion-flower in her hand. Ah, God, that she should hear his name.again, and from Mabel's rips ! That the sound of it did not slay her ! That she could live and know that she had been so basely betrayed ! "'Lord Gothwic," repeated Mabel—"yes, I am sure that is the name. Can I ever have seen him, mamma?" "Why do you ask me ?" and Evelyn Morton's voice lost all its music.

"Because Sir Edward Peckham in this album of his has the portraits of all his friends, and among them is this Lord Gothwic." The name seemed to fall clear and distinct on the summer air, the wind stirred the magnolia blossoms, but Evelyn Morton said no word. "I looked over all the portraits," continued Mabel, "and such a strange fancy came to me over this face." Still no word.

"A fancy that I had seen it before," continued the girl, earnestly, '"that the eyes had looked at me—that the lips had kissed me. So foolish, was it not, mamma? ..And yet the fancy was so strong I could not shake it off." "What was the face like ?" asked Evelyn Morton ; and in her voice was infinite love, infinite sadness, hopeless despair. '"Describe it to me, Mabel."

There was infinite longing in her eyes ; the white lips quivered with pain.

"It was a very handsome face ; a grand head, covered with clusters oi hair ; the face was gay and debonair ; one could almost hear the laugh that would come from his lips. There was something careless, and graceful, and easy, that 1 cannot describe. At first sight it seemed frank —frank and true ; yet when you look into it there is something false and mean."

" Hush !" cried Evelyn Morton, hurriedly. "You must not say so ; never say that again." Mabel looked up in wonder.

" Why, mamma ?" she asked. "1 am only telling you what I think about the portrait." With a desperate effort her mother recovered herself. "You shall never form uncharitable judgments. .Mabel."

"Even of a. picture ?" interrupted the girl, with a smile. She kissed her mother's hand. "1 will not," she said. "1 wiil do anything you tell me. mamma." Then Cue hunger and thirst of long years broke forth ; Ihe stern restraint, the iron discipline she had so rigidly forced upon herself mii.'t give way. She must hear some; king

of him or she must die. "And what, of him —this friend oi Sir Edward's?" she asked. Mabel had been silent for a few minutes ; she had been wondering why Leonard had not ealied at Beech grove. (To be CoMinuiMii;,..