ALL OR NOTHING.
(Copyright.)
—By the Author of "A Bitter Bondage," ''Two Keys," "Stella," "The Unknown Bridegroom," &c.,
A THRILLING ROMANCE, —■ ■ i in imjiiii imi 1
PA TIT 28. With her hands warm from the clasp of his, her heart beating with the memory of that impassioned kiss, liis voice still ringing in her ear, iiow could she doubt ?" '"Mamma," she said, gently, "lam sure he loves me —sure as I am that the sun is shining and the flowers are fair."
There was a faint, sad foreboding at the mother's heart that after events only too sadly justified. Mrs. Ainsleigh arrived, and the whole neighbourhood was charmed ■with her. '"Such an air of distinction," "so thoroughly well bred," "so delightfully aristocratic," "so pretty and refined." There was no end to the praises lavished upon her.
Mrs. Stanley tr«ated bar very much as she would have done a princess of the blood royal 7 and Avalinc Ainsleigh was charmed to be made so much of. It was long since hamage and admiration had been paid to her. Now these good people of Carsbrook knew nothing better than to be patronised by her. Lady Mackin, always keenly alive to what she called the duties of her station, called upon her. "A baronet's daughter, and the Romneys were an old family."—were not to be classed with Carsbrook people. Mrs. Ainsleigh was invited to Creedmoor; Miss Leyton was asked to meet her. During her visit Lady Mackin did not fail to hint to the delighted lady that her son stood high in the good graces of the great heh'ess.
"No doubt," said Lady Mackin, with a very gracious smile, •" you know all the doctor's secrets ! In my opinion no young man who has a position to make ought to hesitate between the charm of a fair face and that of a tine fortune."
In which Avalinc Ainsleigh quite agreed. At heart Lady Mackin, like many other good women, was a thorough match-maker. She had decided ;hat Leonard Ainsleigh should marry Alice ; lovely, bright Mabel was just the wife for Sir Edward Peckham, and she threw the whole of her in;luence in these scales. She left Mrs. Ainsleigh in the happiest state of aiind ; so Leonard found her when ae came home to dinner.
'"Leonard," said his mother, "come :o my dressing-room ; I want to speak to you. Lady Mackin has called upon me, and has invited us both to dine at Creedmoor on Thursday. Who is this heiress, ready ;o smile upon you ?"
Leonard laughed gaily. "Miss Alice Leyton, the banker's laughter, whose chief charm—mind rou.. mother, is in her well-filled >urse."
"Lady Mackin spoke, of her as something quite out of the common ,vay. What is her fortune, Leolard ?"
"I could not tell. One hundred -thousand pounds has just been left ier by an eccentric old aunt, and, of course, she will have all the banter's money some day."
'"And who is the '' very nice face ' aer ladyship spoke of ?" There is no laughter this time. Leonard Ainsleigh turned aside, and the crimson flush rose even to his arow.
"I suppose," he said, in a low, constrained voice, "she means Miss Morton. What gossips all women arc, mother ! How they bore and annoy one !" "Who is Miss Morton?" persisted his mother, quietly. "The loveliest and sweetest girl in England. The daughter of Mrs. Morton, of Beechgrove."
"And who is she?" continued Mrs. Ainsleigh. "I do not know, only that she is one of the most beautiful, dignified, and high-bred women I ever met.
"What was her husband? She is a widow, I presume-?" '"Mrs. Morton has never related her biography to me," he .said, lightly. "We are to dine there on Wednesday, and I hope you'll like them."
■ With the keen instinct of a worldly woman, Mrs. Ainsleigh said to herself that the great misfortune she had always dreaded had overtaken her son at last. He was in love with a pretty, penniless girl.
"I am thankful I came," she thought. "It is not too late. Leonard was always easily influenced. By fair means or foul he must be made to give up this girl. A marriage of this kind would ruin him."
Jf she could but have foreseen the consequences of that interference, if she could but have guessed even ever so dimly at the terrible future, she would have prayed Heaven to strike her dead rather than have been the first, as she was, to set the stone rolling that afterwards crushed so many lives.
Carsbrook was all en fete. Everybody was desirous of showing hospitality to Dr. Ainsleigh's motherDinner parties, picnics, dances, evening parties, were all arranged. Alice Leyton was invited to ailThanks to the hints, the innuendoes., the mysterious allusions of Mrs.. Welford, sweet, bright Mabel was asked to very few. The day came when mother and son went together to dine at Beechgrove, the first festivity of the kind Mrs. Morton had ever attempted. CHAPTER XLVI. Mrs. Ainsleigh's little affectations. her little assumptions, her attemptfat dignity, all withered away in tin-. gracious presence of the beautiful..
gifted woman who received her so cordially. Lady Mackin had not impressed her one-half so nr.ieh. She ! joked in wonder at the dark beauty u" (ha*- passionate face, she watched the luminous smile which played over the perfect lips, yet never deepened.
"If this be the mother." said the dismayed lady, "what is the daughter like ?" When she saw Mabel her heart sank ; for Miss Morton, knowing her lover's mother was there, had made a recherche toilette that suited her delicate loveliness to perfection. A white crepe dress, cut square, showing the fairest neck ever seen and the most perfect arms ; the golden hair brushed back in rippling waves from tiie white brow, and falling into a perfect shower on the shapely shoulders—one beautiful blush rose nestling in it. She looked like some young queen—dainty, high-bred, lovely as a dream. "My poor Leonard," said Mrs. Ainsleigh to herself ; "I shall have hard work to save him."
Mabel's manner was so charming—she had not the stately dignity of Mrs. Morton, hut she was graceful, winning, and full of animation. Her eyes were bright as stars, her sweet lips smiled with pure and perfect bliss ; her beautiful face was full of happiness. Was not Leonard there, and Leonard's mother ? Was not that the beginning of hundreds of days all equally happy ? Snatches of sweet song rippled over her lips as she finished her toilette. He was coming—sun and flowers grew brighter for it. Happiness could go no further. She little dreamed of the forces arrayed against her —Alice's money, Lady Mackin's interest, Mrs. Ainsleigh's influence, Mrs. Welford's scandal, Leonard's own weakness. Her lover was coming—for whole hours he would be near her ; they would talk, laiurh, .sing., and amuse themselves together ; her mother, whom she worshipped —his mother whom he loved, there, too. Sing on, sweet Mabel ; there will be little more music for you ! The dinner at Beechgrove was plain —perfectly well appointed, but plain. "Perfect ladies, both of them," was her mental comment ; "' but no money."
Suddenly, as the dinner proceeded, Mrs. Ainsleigh noted what others lad often seen—Mrs. Morton on her white hands wore no wedding-ring ! She was shocked and startled. What lid it mean ? Living here a retired ife—a grown-up daughter—and no wedding-ring ! Great heavens ! Could it be possible there was any;hing wrong ? Could it be that, after all her hopes, her prayers, her aspirations, her son would marry one who had "no name ?" She nerved herself to do battle for him. He should not be ensnared, drawn in, deceived. She would save him —she must wait her time.
That time came after dinner, when, n the cool, fragrant drawing-room, Mrs. Morton suggested a game of nhist.
The little table was placed in the ;reat bay and the four sat round it. The breath of the roses and jessamine came into them. "This is very pleasant," said Mrs. Ainsleigh. "One must love the county for the sake of the flowers. Have you always lived in the country, Mrs Morton ?'■
"Not always," was the quiet re-
"I knew a Mr. Morton once. He came from Buckingham—a great landed proprietor. Was he related to Kour husband ? I knew him very well."
An idea came to Evelyn Morton :hat she was on her trial. Mrs. Ainsleigh flattered herself that, as a stranger, her questions might seem perfectly natural. "I never saw any of my husband's relations," she replied, with perfect truth. "Morton is not a common name," persisted the visitor. "What country aid your husband come from ? Was he one of the Mortons of Wenderton ? I knew them slightly." She paused for a reply. He was aot even related to them," said Mrs. Morton, in a cold, clear voice. Mabel looked at her mother, and saw rising indignation in the beautiful face. Mrs. Ainsleigh dared not ask more; she contented herself by giving her son a most peculiar look, which was not lost on Mrs. Morton. The game at whist proceeded amicably enough, except that neither Mabel nor Leonard had the smallest iclea of what cards were either dealt or played ; they were in the seventh heaven of delight, Leonard's only shadow being the questions his mother had asked, and the cold, reserved answers they had called forth. Mrs. Ainsleigh clayed with the rings on her linger when her hands were not full of cards. Leonard made some jesting remark about a ring his mother wore to which some strange story was attached. "Rings," said Mrs. Ainsleigh. in her pretty, fantastic way, "are the only articles of jewellery 1 care for. I like a nice white hand with a few good rings upon it. That is ;i very handsome one you have. Miss Morton. Pearls are so suitable to the young." Then her eyes wandered to the ; beautiful hands of Mrs. Morton. She I looked at them steadily, until her i long gaze excited attention : then, I raising her eyes slowly to Mrs. Mor- [ ton's "face, she said, looking straight at her : "''You wear no rings, I see—not even ! a wedding ring '■'" ■ There was an awful silence, lasting '; only two second' : t'> seine of thosi I present it seemed at least an hour. !; "Too painful a reminder oi hap- [ pier times, I suppose ?" she said. But there was an insolent something in the tone that roused Evelyn | Morton's indignation. ij "I took off my wedding-ring twelve 1 years since," she replied ; "and 1 I shall never wear it again."
Her clear, pure eyrs were Si sod iinshrinking/ < : ■ ■ 'a<' ' Her voice v.;;.- ~ -1,i>■;.■.i ;ei 1in;r and yvouiku'u prid'-. Sh'- umlerstood the insult lurkin;: hcnrctlb that curious question. detected tiu (iuuht of her.
Mabel listened it! winder. ioo girlishly simple to lmaer-aae-d why any disgrace should he attached to th« non-weani,? of a -Y<Mding-ring. She only fell that her mother ami Mrs. Ainsleierh were nox en rapport. Lut for Mabel. Mrs. Morton would have resented the in.-uii : for hei daughter's sake she submittal, savin- nothins. p.issiii;; it <.vr as a merely iimiiViaave amark.
Then, when the whist-table wa: sent away, they laid some mask'. Mabel sang. ;in<i Leonard bent oViM her with such love in his face that his mother was alarmed.
"Let me only get him safely iat of the house this once," she said, "and I will see that he never enters it again."
If she had but known that th< two ladies she dreaded so were the Countess Gothwic and Lady Gertrude Noel, how she would have worshipped them ! There would have been no praise lavish eiumgl: for them. "Such beauty, such talent, such grace ; so touching of the dear countess not being able tt wear her wedding-ring !" How the little lady, whose mean soul loved wealth, would have bowed before them, cringed to and nattered them, could she but have known before it was too late !
It was still early when they separated. Mrs. Ainsleigh professed herself unable to endure late hours. Mrs. Morton was only too pleased when she went.
There was no lingering at the garden gate under the drooping laburnums, and such loitering for Mabel and for Leonard there was to be never more.
"That woman is insolent," said Mrs. Morton to Mabel, when their visitors had left them—"insolent and inquisitive." "She is not very nice," said Mabel, with a sigh. "1 tio not think she liked us, mamma "
I "is. Morton's lips quivered with emotion.
"Mabel," she said, "you have always been the sweetest and most docile of children. I have never sought to hide from you that in my life there is a mystery—one, pray (!od, that you may never know, although it brings no shame to me. Tell me, my darling, knowing this—knowing my life holds a secret—do you trust me ?"
The girl caught her mutiitr's hands "Do not talk to me so," she cried, and pressed them to her lips. "If everj act and every word of your life were a mystery now, I should ;steem, honour, and love you with my whole soul." Mabel went to sleep that night with her lover's face before her, her lover's voice in her ear, her hand ivarm with the clasp of his. Mrs. Vlorton went over again the tragedy Df her own life, sure almost that Mabel's fate would be as sad as her own.
"That woman will never let Leolard marry Mabel," she said. " I saw the insolence in her eyes, in her smile ; she sought to stab •me and my daughter there." "Leonard, my dear boy," snid Mrs. Ainsleigh, with some preteiuc of anger, "what possessed you to introduce me to those persons '!" "Lady Mackin visits them. Mi s Morton spent some time at Creed - moor," said Leonard, using the fir - gument always in favour at Carsbrbok.
"People in Lady Mac'iin's position are privileged ; they may do what they will Leonard. The young girl is very well ; really, it is shocking to have to talk "about such things ; but the mother—there is s.-imething wrong about her, I am sure." "How wrong?" asked Leonard. with masculine stupidity ; "she is a glorious woman ; I love to look at her."
"I must speak plainly." said Mrs. Ainsleigh. "'Leonard, that woman has never been married ; I could swear it. The daughter is lovely, fair, has a high-bred face. Thou; is no knowing who her father nv.iy le. He was not that woman's husband Should I hesitate, grow proud and cold, if any one asked me what conn try your dear father came from ? Should J. take oft my wedding-ring ? Rely upon it, Leonard, she lias never worn one*. That is the mystery in her life ; she has no other." '"Do you think so?" said Leonard, dismayed. "I am sure of it. Women can never deceive women, though we may cheat men. She avoids society, because she knows society would iind her out. Ask your own common sense, Leonard, if this be not true ?" He thought of a hundred things—of all the rumours he had heard, of the strange, solitary life led by this woman, so brilliant and beautiful ; of the strange sadness on that passionate face, of the strange avoidance of her husband's name ; of Mabel's utter ignorance of all that eoreerne.-i her father. It must be sc —it must be true.
"I c.ini">t boar to think so, moth', r !"' he erica.
"Villi may (rn.-t my word. <*riiat jzirl has a patrician face, hiiuobred with a noble air that only belongs to blue I; 11), mi. lb'!' father. be lie whom he may. heiones in the elite of { h<> land. 1 lor mot her nnrt have been nice lookin;/. there is no doubt. You understand-! here was no mar riae.r. i am Pure of it. 1 have seen to,, much of the world to be tlo<-t> i ved .'' "P.tit even shouki it be .so. it is no! 'Mabel's fault, mother." "Xo." said Mrs. Ainsleiph. with an inimitable shrue; of the .shoulders ; "iv is not, Mabel'* fault, thoue.li the consequences will, most likely, all fall inmii her." ITo l;c (dull'iuuod.)
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King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 597, 27 August 1913, Page 6
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2,682ALL OR NOTHING. King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 597, 27 August 1913, Page 6
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