THE ROAD TO LOVE

Otago Witness, Issue 2892, 18 August 1909, Page 71

THE ROAD TO LOVE

"By MADAME ALSANESZ, Author of "Capricious Caroline," " Th« Strongest of All Things," "Susannah and One Other," " Love and Louisa/ "The Way to Win," Etc., Etc.

[CoptbightJ

CHAPTER XXI..

CH a face white even to the lips Ellen dismissed the

maid, and ■went across the hall. She met the butler as- she was going, and on the impulse she asked him if Lord Nbrchester was still in the dining room. "No, miss, his lordship lias gone out into the grounds, I believe ; leastways, he isn't in the dining room." Ellen let herself out of a small door at the inner end of the hall. It was a door which Miriam constantly used, and she felt intuitively that she would have gone out this way Her steps faltered as she hurried along through the summei dusk, all sorts of terrors beset her; but none were so terrible as the suggestion that she innocently and all unwillingly might have added the rast straw to the burden which Miriam already carried. The maid's words had sent an ominous dread through Ellen's heart. From such an unbalanced, reckless, and passionate nature as Miriam's anything might be expected ! And somehow Ellen felt to-night that the tension had been drawn just a little too tightly of late. She had turned involuntarily in the direction of the lake which streched at th» back of the Castle. In the few walks which she had taken with Miriam this had been the direction an which they had always gone; and once she remembered Miriam had said to her, as they had stood on the brink of the lake :

"I hate this place, and yet I mus* come to it. I don't mind the sea, because it moves, but there's something cruel 'about a lake. Don't you think so? It looks co Fmooth, and yet it's so deep — so cold and deep." As she. Tan towards this lake every now and tbeitiEHen paused, and once or twice she called Miriam by name; but all was still: there was only the faint rustle of the leaves overhead as thej 'moved in the night breeze. Ellen pressed on her way 1 , however, and then suddenly she stopped, for she beard someone speaking, and she instantly recognised Miriam's voice. Ellen stood' close by the lake a hundred yards away from the boathouse. And as she paused she saw Miriam, and recognised Norchester in the man beside heT. It was only too evident that Miriam was in one of her mad fits of anger. "What do you want coming aiter me for?" she screamed. "You hate me; you wish I was dead, and you're going to get your wish. I'm tired of being sneered at and laughed at. You want your freedom — well, you shall have it!" "Miriam !" — the word was wrung from NoTchester's lips like a cry of anger, "Miriam, for God's sake listen to me. I ■want you to listen to me. Miriam, be patient. I have something to say to you." "Patient!" said Miriam hoarsely. "I would wait all my life if you could look me in the eyes and tell me that you care for me as you used to do: but you can't — you can't. I'm a fool — I'm a common mad thing, but I'm not blind, Harry I I know — I know " Then she broke into weeping, and flung herself on the ground, sobbing and crying aloud brokenly the agony of her heart.

"I've worshipped you." she said. "I've ©ever cared for anyone in my life but you. They think I tried to catch you. They don't know. I had an awful fight before^ I could' bring myself to marry you. Because I loved you, and I knew it was hound to be bad for you : but you made me do it, Harry, you made me do it. If only you'd been poor, if only I could have done things for you. But it's too late now— too late," she cried wildly. "You've grown, tared o'j. me. I've made you tired. I don't care if your mother turns against me, she and me don't belong to the same world. Butr— but when' \ know that Evelyn despises me, and you— you hate me, I — don't want to live any more."

"Miriam!" Ellen's tears were flowing freely ; she •was quivering with agitation ; to move Irom the spot where she stood was impossible. The sound in the young man's Toioe went through her heart like a knife. "Miriam ! don't lie there ; don't — don't say such terrible things. See, I am here. I—lI — I have followed you just to tell you i»w sorry I am for— everything. Perhaps we made a mistake, but we must try and— -do the best with our lives, dear. ;^e— we belong to one another, remember. And you are wrong. I don't hate you. Miriam. I'm only sorry— very, very sorrTl" , . . He <bewfhe«eeping woman to her feet, and held her in his arms. "I don't want to .hurt you, I want to help you, he said. "I want you to remember that lam your .husband, just as I remember that you are my- "wife. Do not — do not make things harder, Miriam." There was a long silence — a silence in •whidf Ellen could hear her own heart beating in hei ears — then Miriam spoke again x "You want me fr> help you— yes, I will Kelp you, but I know what you mean. You i^ant to be honest and straightforward, Harry j and you -want me to help.

you, because — because if you don't hale me there's somebody else you love, and you mustn't let her know that you love her ! "Ohl" the word rang out like a cry. "I'll not refuse you — I'll help you 1" "Miriam — Miriam I"

Ellen started, and then she rroshed forward blindly ; she felt rather than saw these two figures struggling together, and instantly -she divined the purpose that was in that poor mad brain. Miriam would help her husband by destroying herself. Swift as lightning there flashed to Ellen the remembrance that NorchesteT's arm was toll weak, and that he would be of little use in the struggle. "Help!" she tried to call as she ran towards him, but her throat was contracted, and no sounds left her lips. She staggered, too, for she was exhausted with the fatigue of running and her agitation ; but she reached them' at last, panting, and trembling in every limb, and as Miriam saw her she stooped in her effort to throw aside her husband's hands.

"So you've come," she eaid>, and she laughed wildly. "Well— take him— he'« yours now." Then with one cunning wrench she was free. The next moment she. was in .the water, and the following instant Norchester had plunged in after her.

Like one demented, Ellen screamed again and again, and stood wildly looking round, wondering how she could help andi what she could do, and then to her joy there came an answer to her scream, ancl one of the keepers ran towards her. "Her ladyship — her ladyship has fallen into the -water, and Lord Norchester is trying to save her."

In an instant the keeper had whipped off his coat and was in the water too, and then there followed several moments of horrible doubt and fear — moments of such anguish that the recollection of them never passed^out of Ellen Milner's mind; and then Norchester was standing beside hei and Miriam was lying on the ground.

" Go back and fetch someone: she — she must be carried to the house," he said between his gasps for breath. Mien turned, but then just as she was going she turned back and stretched out her hand. " You — you are not hurt? " she said. The words were wrung from her overcharged heai\t. He gripped her hand, and with an abandonment of which she was hardly conscious Ellen stooped and pressed her lips to • his cold, wet fingers. T^hen she slipped away fronu him, and .like a wild creature sha ran, 'never stopping till 6ne reached the house. Richard Varley arrived early at Wynche Castle the next day. Ellen had sent for him to coraie. He found consternation reigning outside., but calmness within the Castle.

Lady Evelyn gave him the story of what had happened. Her eyes were red, and she looked so white and very unhappy.

" Miriam is dreadfully ill," she said. "Dr Martell fears congestion of both lungs. I — don't know exactly what happened. Harry says her foot slipped, and she fell in, but— — " " Why not believe what Harry tells you," said Varley very quietly And Lady Evelyn said "Yes" obediently. "I was »afraid he was going to .be ill, too/ ©he added, " but he says lie is all right, although, of course, he has to wear his arm in a sling again, he strained it so much trying to swim ; but he will be awfully glad to see you, Dick, and so will Ellen. You know she is going away? This has, upset her — most terribly. Mother has begged her to stay, and I have entreated her, but "he says she must go."

"I should like to see Miss Milner," said Varley in that same quiet way. "I will fetch her," said Lady Evelyn.

Varley paced the length of the familiar library several times. He knew that there had oeen something tragic in the need of his presence when he had received Ellen's telegTam, but this news found him all unprepared. As the door opened and she came in he turned and stretched out both his hands to her.

"You want me?" he said simply. And Ellen said " Yes." Her voice was low, her face very :olourless, her e3'es dark-shadowed, even her prettiness and hei youth seemed blotted out. " Yes — I want you," she said. - " Oh, Mr Varley, I am so unhappy ! This^ — this dreadful thing is all my fault!"

He shook his head,

"No, you are wrdng — it is the working out of what was inevitable." But Ellen's lips trembled. " She lias let such cruel thoughts into her mind. She — she doubt? .me. I don't want her to doubt me. I—lI — 1 want tc make her realise how true I am to her — how true I shall always be." " iou are going away? " Varley said. She bent her head. " Yes — I sliall go to Ireland." " Not immediately? " "I don't care when I go, M i said Ellen wearily. " Only I must leave here. Lady Norchester is so good ; she wants me "to stay with her. Evelyn is grieving because i" muet go. Will you let them understand how — how necessary "t is that I should leave here? " Then she added : "If only — only I could put things right .with Miriam." Richard Varley was silent for ? long time ; then he walked up to her and stood near her.

" Ellen," ' he ' said, "a few days ago I told you that to serve you — to be of come use to' you, was the greatest joy in my existence. I repeat this to you now, for I lo^e you — there . is nothing I would not do to serve you." Ellen looked at him, and some colour stole into her very white cheeks " Tell me jus* exactly how I can help you in this moment," Varley went on quickly. "You want to go away? Yes, I think you are wise, but you are not fit to go to Ireland, neither' is it possible for you to go back to Mrs Chad wick. I

think J can suggest another course. i hay* % certain very dear old relative who Mves at Hampstead to whom I am much attached. She will be delighted 'if you will stay -with her. Then in a few days' time you can make some other plans."Ellen thanked him gently. "I am not wondering about myself," she said. "The world is before me, and I am strong enough to find a path in it. My trouble is Miriam. Oh, Mr Varley, if she should die!"

"Die! Why should she die?" said Varley quickly. "She is young and strong and a vigorous young woman. 1 think Martell must have put wrong ideas into your head. A few minutes' immersion in cold water ought not to produce such serious results."

"If she lives,'-' said Ellen in a broken voice, " I shall not rest till I have seen her — till I have asked her to forgive me for any wrong I have done." Varley put his hand on her shoulder for an instant.

" Come ! come ! " he said, " you must not let yourself suppose impossible things. Instead go and get ready. I will take you away myself. You want to be out of this atmosphere." She obeyed him like a child, but tears were blinding her eyes as she went across tha beautiful old hall .and made her way up the staircase, perhaps for the last- time.

Eliza had already packed her boxes, and was waiting with red eyes to say good-bye to Miss Milner. When she came down to the corridor Ellen was wearing her hat, and she carried af small travelling bag. She paused a moment looking in the direction or Miriam's roonj. Her heart was wrung with anguish as she remembered those road wild words of the night before, as she conjured up onoe again the vision of Miriam's faoe and heard onoe again that outburst of love and sorrow, and as she paused a figure advanced towards her and spoke her name. Ellen trembled and half turned as though to pass on hea way, but Norchester's voice called to her again, gently, pleadingly* And so she paused to let him come nearer.

CHAPTER XXn.

1 have been waiting for you to oome down. I want to speak to you," Norcneste. said. "My — my mother is with Miriam. Will yon come "or one moment to my mother's room?"

Ellen followed him, and as she passed into the charming sitting room, where she had spent jo many pleasant hours ■with the Dowager Lady JS r orch.€ster, she stood by the table with her head bent.

"You are going away?" said Norchester. "Of course, I—l1 — I knew you would go. It is hardily likely you would care to E<tay here now ; but you can't go till I have told you what is in my heart." He caught his breath. "You are blaming yourself for what happened last night. You are making yourself very unhappy because — because you chanced to overhear some foolish, reckless words which that poor creature spoke. I want you to know that you are absolutely blameless, and I want you to realise that just as soon as she is well enough to understand I mean to let my wife know what a good, true friend she loses in you. There is only one person to blame for this miserable busine.ee— I am that person I You were quite righit ; it was cowardly to leave her, cruel not to stay and do my duty. Well, I have made lots of mistakes, bivt now — now, ' pleas© God ! I have done with them, and 1 my place is here and with her. My duty is to remember things which I am afraid I have fongotten ; but though I know you must go away I—lI — I don't want to feel that you have gone out of our lives altogether. I want sometimes to hear from you — I want you to let me write to you sometimes. I want you to — to forgive me."

Eiler could not answer him. Tears were rolling down her face. She had not known till now how cruel r thing love could be !

"Dick is going to look after you, and so I know you will bs in safe hands, and I quite understand that you don't care just at present to be with my mother ; but later on, Ellen, when this will not be so fresh in your mind, it would make me so happy to know that you were staying with my mother and with Evelyn. If you do that," se added with a faint smile, "I shall then realise that you have forgiven me. That — that is all I have to say, except God bless you."

He paused, mad© a movement as though he would have approaclved her, and then with a. great effort he turner 1 and. walked to the window. He heard her move to the door, he heard her pass out, but lie made no sign ; only when the door was closed and he knew she was really gone he turned round, and with a groan he flung himself face downwards on the couch.

Varley accompanied Ellen to his aunt's house.

"You will like Hampptead." he told the girl, as they sped- northwards in a swift motor cab. "Really, the view from my aunt's windows is extraordinary ! One might be mile? in the country. I want you to like her. She is an unusual woman. Her life has been full of sorrow, and yet she is as bright as though everything lay just before her."

Weary at heart and Jbody as ."lie was Ellen could not fail to be attracted and charmed by the delightful little house at "which they alighted, and she was drawn irresistibly to Mrs Leggatt, who stood in the doorway to receive her.

Varley's aunt was old certainly, her hair was white, and' .<=he walked with a ftic-k ; but ,she had the mc.it charming smile and delightful eyes, and the hand held out to EUen was .<-llm and white and beautiful.

"Do y/ni know you are not a .srtran^er to me. Miss Milnei,"' she '-for Dick hao talked to me r.bout you very, very often? lam delighttsi to see 'you. I

hope you are going to stay with me a> ' long time." ! After the grandeur, the space, and the majestic size of Wynche, Mrs Leggatt' s house certainly seemed small ; but no- ] thing could 1 be prettier. Ellen had a charming room allotted to her, and as she pushed open the casement and looked out over the distant heath md the masses j of "beautiful trees she felt . calm and soothed j indeed, when Varley left h«. an hour or co later he took his departure with a sense of great satisfaction. "You have been an angel to do what I wanted," he said to his aunt as he kissed her hand. "But I believe yov will thank me, for I know you love all young things, and this particular young creature needs both love and care. She will soon begin ' to talk of going away " "You may leave her in my hands," j said Mrs Legga-tt with a smile. "I fancy I shall know how to manage her." The fact being that she was grateful to Varley for having given her the chanoe ! of occupying Wseji with/ Ellen. There' had> been days when her life had been full of nesponsibiliti-es " arid duties ; 'nut 1 death had robbed her of all those preciaue to her, and ihe coming of this girl, the ! knowledge that Ellen was really alone in i the world, brought a real sense of happiness to Mrs Leggatt. "J am going to nurse, you," she told j Ellen. "I am going to make you rest, and I am going to make you eat lots of strengthening things. You looked tired out." i So in the days which followed it seemed to Ellen as if she lived in one long tranquil dTeam. The weather was hot, and> they spent their time practically iv the garden. Whenever she wanted to do eoine little thing in the house Ellen found this was forbidden. "You have been put ii> my charge," the old lady said, "and T aon not yet satisfied. You have to be much, much stronger before you will be fit in, my opinion to try and work." She was a delightful companion. She had travelled s great deal. She had read a great deal. In her day she had met meet interesting people. Onoe when she said to Ellen, " I know it must be very dull for you here, bu ; . then dulness is" part of my cure," the girl answered her truthf ully : " I don't think it would ever be possible to be dull with you; and then Ellen added with a faint laugh, " But I am afraid, Mrs Leggatt, you are making me lazy ; I haven* the least inclination to do anything energetic." Every day a lette?. came lo her from Wynclie Castle — a letter written to her by Evelyn. These lettens and an occasional note from Varley kepf he*, informed of Miriam's condition. The serious illness which T)r Martell had apprehended had fortunately not supervened, but there was unusual prostration and weakness, and Evelyn reported a great change in Miriam's manner. "She never gets angry now; bu 1 * sha doesn't seem really to have enough interest in anything to make heT angry. I sit with her very often, and I try to talk to her as much as I am allowed to ; but Miriam never says anything ; she only lies looking out of the window. Sometim.es I don't believe she heaTS what I say. Mother is Gtill here, and will remain, although we ane none of us anxious now about Miriam." In one of her last letters Evelyn wrote: " As roan as she is w>ell enough to travel Harry is going to take Miriam abroad. They wifi. gc to the Austrian Tyrol, as th& mountain air will be co good for her." At the end of this letter Lady Evelyn scribbled : " I forgot to tell you that Miriam asked where you weTe. When I told her that you had gone away she looked at me as if she hardly believed me. People round here are very kind about her illness. I told her this, but 't did not seem to make the leasi impression on her." Now and then Varley dined with Mrs Leggatt. It was evident tha' he was r very great favourite with has aunt, who loved to talk about him to Ellen. On the second occasion he came be gave Ellen new: of her cousin. I '' I a.m sorry "to say that Barneith has thrown up that post I got for him. I am afraid he will never settle to anything in which hard "work is required. Has he written to you? " Ellen said: "No." "Remember," said Varley, "*' that if he .<-liould write or come you will imme- ' diately let me know." " I 'have not forgotten," said Ellen. He *at and looked at her. They were out under the trees just before dinner. She had on the old white frock she had worn so frequently at Wynclie, ams round her soft white throat there was the chain with the lockH holding hei father's portrait, which she always wore. She seemed to have grown taller, and &be certainly was thinner. Their eyes met, and he put his thoughts into words. # | " Are you happier? " he asked in a low voice. She answered him quickly. "Ye?, much happier. Still " " Still? " he echoed. "I am fretting about Miriam," Ellen said. " Evelyn's letters make me a little uneasy." "I don't think you need fret. 1 have every confidence in Harry. We have had one or two interviews, and I think he is going to put his wife's future and his own on a very different footing. He has followed my advice, and got old Cottvidgo out of the village. That >s one good thing." Tliat same nigh' when dinnei was over and Ellen left their alone together the old Iddy to Vorley about her. "I think you can very well understand. Dick, that my heart lias gone out to thi.= eirl," she said. "At the same time. I think we are doing wrong in keeping her here and letting her do nothing. Though it will mean a great Te-gi-et to me, I think the best thing that could happen to Ellen if to find her some employment, something which, will really \

r occupy her and distract her thoughts, and ; I believe I can suggest a way in which this could be managed. You have heard me speak of the Blaydons, some American 1 friends, haven't you"? Well, Joseph Blaydon is over in England just now. His wife is dead, and he is travelling with his only child, r girl to whom he is 1 devoted. She has a governess, but he 1 wants to find some younger person to bo with them as a companion, and it has occurred to me that this night just be the very -post for Ellen." " Does he mear to go bad- fa America?" Varley asked. " That perhaps eventually, but not at present. Now Mr Blaydon's plans are to travel leisurely, to let his girl wander through Italy, and France, and perhaps <3ermany. I" thought I would speak ,to you before broaching tht. subject to Ellen." " Thank you," said Varley. He caught his breath in a" kind »f sigh, then as he S felt the old lady's eyes were fixed upon him he coloured a little. " Perhaps you have guessed," Us said, " how it is with me? '* "My deai Dick," said his aunt, ."why should not this solve all the difficulties in Ellen's future? " But he shook his head". " No, there might have been a. chance a little while ago, but there is none now ; and yet I care for her so much," he said, " that even if she would come to , me with nothing In her heart but friendJ ship I would marry her to-morrow." I To this, however, Mrs Leggatt shook! lier head in her turn. " Such marriages have sometimes a. sad • ending. I don't want your wife to care for anyone but you.'" "But, after all," said Varley with n good attempt at gaiety, " I am very welt as I am. I can't say that my life is empty whilst I am permitted to look after you and while I have Norchester, and Evelyn on my hands." ' Two or three weeks latei Ellen wrote a little letter. It war addiressed to Lord ; Norcbester: *i You asked me to let you have news* now and again, so I am writing to tett, you tha+ lam going abroad. I am , going to travel as companion to a young j American girl. I have met *ier. Slie is very nice, and her father is a de- ) lightful man. There is a governess, so ' I shall not have any hard york to do — J just merely share everything with Miss Blaydon, and make acquaintance with.'! all those places about which I have ' read go much and dreamed moi'«. Mr, Varley gives me the latest news from. | Wynclie. I rejoice with all my heart ' to know that Miriam is getting ' stronger. I look forward to the day; when she will let me sse her. ' She signed this "Sincerely your friend." 1 , But before she let it go to fcha post stos held it for a moment to her heart and' then to her lips. | His answer reached her on the very day] that she was leaving Hampstead. 1 am glad you are going abroad (Nor-v chsstet wrote), irat sorry, in anotheij sense. I had hoped from what Dick told us that you would have arranged/ to stay with his aunt indefinitely ; stilly the travelling will be good for you. I hope you wiJJ be happy, and that you* will sometimes send a word of remem= brance to Wynche. Varley was at the station to Eec rfS? start. As they grasped hands just before leaving, and he asked her if there was anything els© which he could do for, her, Ellen looked at him. She was silenti a moment, and then said : I "Yes j there is something I want you to do. I want you to look after Evelyn." The. man wrinkled his brows. "Evelyn?" he repeated. "What is the matter with her?" , ''The child is fretting," said Ellen. "I | know it by her letters. I think, as Ladyj I Norcbeste-r herself saidt to me, Evelyn wants a fresh groove. Can't you arrange ' this? There must be many of her, rela-, tions who would be glad to have her stay) M'ith them, and who would give her the chance of enjoying herself. Now that' I her mother has settled to remain ati Wynche for sortie time I should like to know that Evelyn' had left there." , Varley laughed. "I begin to think you really dt regard me as a übiquitous person." "Of ciurse I do," Ellen answered him ;" , "but better than that — I know what you , car do, and believe me. it lies in your hands to give Evelyn the happiness she I needs." i The wo-rdfe did not make a. very strong impression at the time, for all was bustle and confusion, and he had to speak conventional words to the people with whom Ellen was about to travel; but wKen the words came back to him when the train was gone ou^ of the station it seemed! to him that they had been spoken byi E'len with a certair significance, and as he thought this there came to him with a rush many recollections of Evelyn's delight at seeing him, and unfeigned joy at his presence. He smiled at himself. "Evelyn is such a child," he said. Nevertheless, as he travelled back Id the office he began -to ponder as to how. soon he could get certain business through so as to allow hin? to go down to Wynclwt at the end of the week. ,(To »c continued.)' Pot continuation of Jfoveiisf see page 77,

The Malta garrison, in general orders, is now forbidden to consume cows' milk, as well as goats' milk, and is warned against - ice cream as productive of typhoid and Mediterranean fever. He'd had bronchitis several times, His doctors ordered "warmer climes/** But then, alas! the man was poor/ Or he'd have gone away before. r 'Do tihis, do that," 'tie easily said, But. poor men have to earn their breaJf.Thanks be, they may become secure 'Gainst coughs and colds by Woods' PepptTi mint Cure*