CHAPTER XXVI.- (Continued.)

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 143, 27 February 1886, Page 6

CHAPTER XXVI. - (Continued.)

Her eyes were brilliant ; her lips wore wreathed with smiles ; there was a peachlike bloom on her fair check, and a charm and grace in her bvery gesture that held that observer at the end of the verandah spell-bound. Mr Hosmer arose and advanced to meet them as they drew near, expressing his pleasure at the unexpected meeting. Audrey and Rich' saluted him cordially, introducing Annie, and they all stood chatting socially for several minutes. All at once Mr Hosmer, addressing Audrey, said: *• I have an old friend here to whom I would like to introduce you, if you are agreeable." All unsuspicious of what was coming, Audrey eignified her willingness to make a new acquaintance, and leading her directly forward to his former companion, Mr Hosmersaid: *' Miss Waldomar, allow me to present to you my old and valued friend, Mr Richard flalstead." "Audrey experienced a violent internal shock as that name fell upon her ears. A sudden mist seemed to obscure her sight ; her heart almost ceased its beating, and an icy chill ran rapidly over her, for she knew that she stood face to face with the father ot her early lover — face to faco with the mm who had ruthlessly ruined her life, and deprived her of the highest earthly joy a woman can know. But she recovered herselt almost instantly. Possibly, she thought, ho might not recognise in her the girl whom his son had loved, and she would not allow him to diecover it by betraying any undue emotion ; sho would never show how the sound of the name which s c had so dearly loved in the past hid power to stir her soil, even now, to its very depths. So she bowed before him with graceful self-possession — she could not offer him the hand which he had one© spurned for his son— acknowledging the introduction, and then dropped into an easy chat with him about the attractions of the placo they wero both visiting, and the current events of the day. Richard Halslead had been no less moved than she at being so unexpectedly presented to her, and he was far from feeling at ease in her presence, for every moment only served to prove to him, more and more, what a noble woman she was ; and he stood there before her, feeling condemned and remorseful for having ever dared to interfere between her destiny and that of his son. It wa« true, he had had his way — had accomplished his purpose in uniting him to the daughter of his early friend, and thus a large fortune had been added to the already plethoric Hal«tead coffers ; but what of other conditions and results? Ida Montrose had been an invalid from the very outset. She had never been able to endure either the duties or the pleasures which other wives assumed and enjoyed. Her home was left to the care of servants, who had no interest for the comfort of the household beyond securing their wages and a shelter for themselves. Darkness and silence reigned all over the stately mansion, for the mistress must not be disturbed by either noi^e or the glare of the sun. There were no pattering feet, no prattling voices to make music about the place, and only He who knoweth all things knew how bitter a disappointment this had been to both husband and wife. So the sl-om of sickness hung constantly over the home of Arthur Halstead, and his life had been a far different one from -what he pictured, when, in those sweet old day?, he had fon.lly believed that Audrey Waldemar would be his v. ife. Ida was always gentle and patient. She loved her husband devotedly, but she had not been long in discovering that his heart was not her*-, and her secret grieving over this had helped to undermine her delicate constitution. They bad always maintained, outwardly, the semblance of conjugal affection ; but there had been a barrier between them from the beginning that nothing could overthrow. All tin? Richard Halstead knew, and long ago ho had begun to realise that he had made an irreparable mistake, and to regretfully wish that he had left all match making alone And nW, as he stood and talked with the woman his son had loved, marked her exceeding lovelines?, the glow and energy of perfect health about her, the charm and graciou=ne= a of her manner, he groaned within himself over b.'s meddlesome folly, and almost regretted that hi? tongue and hand had not been paralysed before he had uttered those arbitrary commands to his son, or written that heaitless, deceitful letter to Dudley Waldemar. As for Audrey, her thoughts were busy also. She was wondering if Aithur was prospering; Ma&ho happy? did the wife who had been forced upon him prove a suitable helpmate and companion ? was his homo a pleasant place, and did sweet children gather around his hearth, and watch his going and coming ? All thi- she would have been glad to know --she longed to ask. But no trace of it was visible in her face, no ?ign of it appeared in her calm, unruflled manner She looked into Richard JJalstead's face frankly and kkdly ; &he talked with him pleasantly and graciously, for she had for given him, lon^i ago, for his share in her unhappine&s ; as long ago. a^< when she bad " laid down her arms," and pra3'ed to be patient, and to be forgiven for her wild rebellion a^ain'-t her bard fate. A little later, however, when they had Eeparated, and Rich and Annie had strolled out into the grounds, she etole away to her room, where &ho relieved her bmdened heart in a fit of quiet weeping— a little ehower to bedew the grave where her dead hopes were resting. Then ehe recovered her usual calm, and was her own sweet self once more, and after a time ehe descended to the parlours and mingled with the company, all unconscious that, from a distant corner, a pair of sad grey eyes were v. i&tfully watching her, and a remorseful hcait was regretting, all too late, the sorrow and wrong to which selfishness and an iron will had doomed two loving hearts— -two promising lives.