CHAPTER XXXV. (Continued.)

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 363, 27 April 1889, Page 5

CHAPTER XXXV. (Continued.)

Now, more keenly than ab any previous period of her existence, Dulcie realised with hungry need the want of a mother'ssupport. If only different means had been employed, she thought that she herself might have proved less stiff-necked ; but Mrs Shepperton, instead of bringing kindness and reason to bear upon the question, had — ever since the discussion in the drawingroom—adopted the irritating and depressing plan of never addressing her unless absolutely obliged. In fact, by every available means, Dulcie was made to feel that she was already regarded as an alien and an outcast. • Such behaviour wounded her to the quick, and tilled her with a sense of illusage. What had she done to be treated in this manner ? Nothing— except refuse to marry a man she disliked and prove false to one she loved. She could only long with intense anxiety for Bob's return. Then she determined to write to him, and seizing pen and paper began :—: — 'Bob, darling, come to me at once, I want to see you immediately, for the most dreadful things have happened since you left. Some bank in which it appears all our fortune was invested has stopped payment, and we are left completely ruined without a penny in the world. Mamma says only one way exists of saving the family from downright starvation, and that is I must marry Mr Denver. Bob, dearest, I am perfectly distracted, for it is impossible to comply with her wishes. 1 cannot do it, and she has said such cruel, cruel things, which Tiave made me so miserable that I hardly know what lam saying or doing. Pray come back as soon as ever you can. else I really believe I shall go out of my mind. As it is, I feel quite ill. Good-bye, darling.— Yours ever, Dulcie.' When this letter was finished, she read it over carefully several times, and then took up her pen and deliberately struck it through the two last words but one. 1 Yours ever ?' After all, she thought, with a swift pang, what right had she to term herself so ! What right to raise false hopes, when deep in her innermost being lurked a terrible conviction that it might — nay, probably would — be yours never ? Why should she worry Bob prematurely ? He was beset with business, and had already more than sufficient to occupy his mind ; patters of importance might detain him in town, and he might not be in a position to leave at a minute's notice. What good would her letter do 1 What object would it serve ? None, save to render him miserable before the time. That was a poor love which thought only of itself. If this terrible sacrifice were indeed imperative, it was surely kinder to inflict as little pain upon Bob as possible, to spare him all the agony of doubt and hopelessness that she had already experienced. " And, so thinking, a great flood of tears rose to her eyes. 'Oh !' she exclaimed, passionately, ' I cannot prove false to my own heart. Bob is more to me than mother, sisters, and relations put together. I would part with them all rather than lose him.' As she spoke a sudden yearning came over her, a yearning to hear his voice, to see his face, and feel his strong arms folded round her. Trembling from head to foot, she leant back in her chair and closed her eyes. How strangely they ached and throbbed ? What brilliant shooting fires seemed to quiver and dance before them ! Her brain felt in a whirl, everything dizzy and misty. She sat there quiet, never stirring hand or foot, unheedful of the passage of time, and as she did so, by slow degrees, a curious revulsion of feeling too place. She thought of her mother and Ethel, of their petty, greedy, grasping natures, incapable of any lofty aspirations ; she thought of their material, self-seeking disposition, and the example they presented, and a sudden horror — a fear almost painful in intensity— fell upon her, lest, in listening to the dictates of her own heart she too might descend to their level, and become like them, selfish, mean, narrow-minded. Her mother had accused her of egotism. Was it possible there was truth in the accusation ? Was it possible that she did think more of herself than oi others, and in so doing had never learnt to curb her personal pleasure? Was it possible — and the thought made hershudder involuntarily — that even the very love she believed so innocentand so pure was nothing after all but a species of .unconscious selfishness? What did George Eliot teach in one of her grandest and noblest works ? Did phe not say how men ' still own (hat life to be the highest which is a conscious voluntary sacrifice ?' And her life might be given for others, nay, more than her life, her peace, her happiness, her moral tranquillity. She too might be blessed if only she would consent to sacrifice herself. But was it only herself ? Was it not Bob also, and had she the right to bring sorrow upon him, even in order to save her own people ? 'Oh ! good God !' she prayed aloud, clasping her hands together with a supplicating gesture of despair, * come to my assistance, and teach me to do what is kright.' Then, with a hasty mistrust of her : former decision, she tore the letter into a hundred little tiny fragments, and threw them far and wide. She would remain absolutely quiescent and wait. Wait ? • Even she herself was not aware of the clutching hope contained in that word, or how implicitly she trusted in its power to ward off the evil day.