LOVE—THE CONQUEROR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2817, 11 March 1908, Page 90

LOVE— THE CONQUEROR.

By E. G. Harvey.

(For the Witness.) Albert Derrington had lived a life of luxury on his station. Enjoyment had, been the chief aim of his existence. He had scattered pleasure all around him, but in the scattering he had never counted the cost of his plea-sure-giving. He was as uncalculating as' a child, and raised mortgage upon mortgage, until Yarrow was in the hands of the banks. Then when things were at their worst he died. His widow and three daughters were thrown upon the world with nothing but apittance. They moved to the city, and in a small suburban cottage the girls lost the brown flash of health and grew pale and listless. and longed for something to happen that might break the monotony of their existence. The' something happened. Lionel Forde called. His father had been a friend of Albert Derrington's, and the son claimed the same prerogative towards the family. He was graciously received; * his hearty manner and cheery voice were distinctly refreshing, and instantly lifted them from the indifference and discontent which threatened to engulf them into a purer, brighter atmosphere. And the quiet mother, seeing the good understanding t jthat was quickly established between her , girls and their visitor, let her mind go | dreaming and planning. The central figure of those day-dreams took the form of her brown, comely elder daughter —the tall, handsome girl with the rich dark tresses and dreaming amber-brown eyes. Time wotc' on. Lionel oame openly, honestly, as a suitor of Phyllis Derrington. But her heart was sleeping. She knew that the cheery friendliness with which she regarded Lionel Forde was not the passion that makes or mars a woman's life. She kept much to herself, and drifted on in happy carelessness. The mother watched her tensely, half hoping, half dreading the end- of this summer idyl. Her daughter of moods and fancies was toying wit£ life, and the mother grew tremulous with strange fears —fears lest the prosaic, everyday requirements should influence her. j W'ben Phyllis camfc to her and an- • Bounced her engagement to Lionel she knew that lov« had not taken its crowning place in her heart. The strong, tense passions of her nature were lying dormant, untouched by Lionel Forde's simple wooing. And the mother dreaded lest as fiancee or wife those slumbering passions might be* awakened by another force. Three weeks later Lionel brought an old school chum out with him. He came again and again, and he was like no other man 'whom Phyllis had known. His low southern drawl was as music io the earo of the girl from the bush ; his keen intellect was a perpetual mind feast to her. Her woman's heart puked with swift, strange beating, and she hid 'her hot face on her pifllow in the darkness of night and tried to understand her- ' s&lf. 1 Lionel pleaded foi a speedy union, and) the. sisters, eager for bridal finery, added ffchedr entreaties to those of her lover's; j but the mother bade them bide a while — i tide until the cummer roses were at their J best. And Phyllis, with silent lips, acquiesced in her mother's pleading. Her .woman's heart was strained almost beyond enduring. I thrills prepared her wedding garments , with excited eagerness. She issued forth a new woman, with her indolence gone, face apathy —that dangerous apathy that 'hides so much of intensity —changed to a subtle energy. Her nerves strung to the ilighest tension, her whole" being instinct with expectation, she could not analyse or define her feelings," but she felt fchat the future was fraught with something momentous. JThe time of Toses —the crown of summer . —had come. Leslie Derris returned to J the city. As he entered' the little sitting room Phyllis was aware of a strange force thrilling her whole being. SUg knew instinctively that this man loved her. It showed in his dark, handsome face, it , trembled in the depths, of his deep, grave ( eyas. He drew her aside —out on to the ccol rerandah, down into the rose-scented garden. ,He spoke impulsively. "Phyllis, I have come back to woo you —to win you. When I saw you last I was a rich man —a rich man pledged by an ungust j will to marry a distant cousin. She was ' tjbairming, and it was no hardship for me ] to fulfil our grand-uncle's behest —until I met you. Then the chain galled me. I loved you at once, but I could not speak. Engaged to my cousin, I am a rich man, but by-refusing to carry out my uncle's! wishes lam a beggar. I have been home ; I have told Lena that I refuse to sell my manhood for the reading of a will. She • is heart-whole, so it does not concern her rrsonally. I am free, I am poor, and love you, Phyllis. Will you be my wife!" The earth rocked, the sun flashed gold on the river bed, a low, joyous murmur rippled on her lips, and her heart beat yaptucously. Then fche bitter chased the eweet aside —she was bound! "Jfcl no!" she whispered hoarsely. "I may not listen to you; you may not ask. Oh! go away —do go away! You know that I am to be married to Lionel Fordethis month!" "You love tfcat boy?" "Oh! not that tone of contempt. No, I suppose I do not love him, but he loves me. I promised him before I knew myself, and 1 cannot be false to him !" "You cannot? VVuat are you doing? KS-ivin-r him an envoty casket, with the j

i.-»-«i i — ■ — — — — — jewels you prize in another man's keepIng, and still you deem that you are fair f«o him. I will say no more, dear one. Vrod help us both. Good-bye." And he swung away from her. Phyllis 's last days of freedom, miserable as they were, seemed to fly on wings. Her mother was frightened at her icy calm ; her sisters teased her about it, and Lionel was fairly puzzled. She wanted solitude, and chose long country walks alone. The air was heavy with the fragrance from the cool white lilies that starred the river flats, and Phyllis leaned on the old bridge and let her thoughts roam. A step startled her — she turned, and beheld Leslie Derris. He was close to her before he was aware of her presence. Then he paused abruptly. "Phyllis, have you come to me? " His voice was glad with a great gladness. He stretched out his arms to her, and she lifted her hand in protest. "No, no; I did not seek you." "Then Fate has brought you: to me." "I came here to oe- alone — to find peace." "And revel in your anticipated happiness?" He laughed bitterly, and her face went white and drawn. "Leslie, for God's sake help me to play my part loyally. Ere love came into my life I had made my compact, and for the sake of others I must abide by it." "Then God pity you — and Forde. A man wants no mere machine for his wedded wife. Dutiful and loyal and faithful you may be, but without you give him love j-ou are bitterly wronging him." "You are very cruel/ "I am speaking the truth." "Leslie, say good-bye, and let me go." He looked at her with love-devouring eyes. She held out her hand, and turned heT face from him. But he was not to be denied. He caught her /in his arms with a grip of steel. He strained her to him in a fierce embrace, and showered kisses — hot passionate kisses, over her dark hair, on her white brow, until he touched her lips — then they lingered. She shook her bead in protest, butr he was reckless. For one moment she was to be his. That long, sweet kiss almost maddened* her : she grew dreamy with the joy of it. "Surely out of the years ahead of him Lionel Forde will not gTudge us this instant of wild bliss." The words brought her to the realities of her position. With a cry she wrenched herself put of his arms. She sta,ggered, and would ha.ye fallen had she not steadied herself against a straight gum sapling. Leslie held out no hand to aid her. He stood pale and grim, and looked like a man who had come forth from a fierce battle and was still dazed with the excitement of the conflict. A softly-whispered " God bless you," and he was gone. Phyllis held herself together until she reached her room. She threw heraelf upon her bed, and to her came the relief ol unconsciousness. «Her wedding morn, and Phyllis Derrington was in the clasp of fierce brain fever. For two days she hovered between life and death. Tt was pitiful to see her ; heartbreaking to hear her. Lionel would not be denied his right to be near her, and they let him sit beside her in the darkened room. His heart grew cold with fear as he listened^ to bis beloved's utterances. Her voice "was self-accusing ; her words were self -betraying as unconsciously she unlocked her heart and let the wandering thoughts flutter out. "My ring, my ring! It is burning my finger, mother. My wedding Ting, my bondage ring!" she whispered breathlessly. . . "How shall I live such a lie? — and yet I dare, not be false, to him, he is so good. so trustful. . . "Leslie's kiss — that hot, delirious kiss — I shall never forget. . . . " I shall be so good to Lionel — so very good, — and he shall never know." But Lionel knew. He was sitting beside her when this self- accusation fell from her lips. His face whitened, but he gave no other sign of the blow he had received. He went out of the house without a word, but that night he walked for hours instead' of going home to rest. Out of the chaos of thought he must evolve something tangible. As the eastern light diffused the sky he had made his decision. When Lionel next entered the Derrington household Phyllis had passed the crisis. She lay like a white flower on a crushed stem. Lionel left horn© as soon as she was out of danger, and did not return until she was strong enough to sit out on the verandah. Then he came to bid them farewell for a time. Business arrangements compelled him to visit London, and he had to depart without any delay. He brought a basket of roses for Phyllis, and the colour Tuahed to her oheeks in a warm wave as he eat beside heT. Then he whispered that he had learned her secret, and he bade her find her happiness As he held her hand he crushed a new cheque into it—" For wedding finery, he whispered. Then he slipped suddenly away— out into the world— out of her life.