Literature.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVI, Issue 167, 19 July 1904, Page 4

Literature.

' - A WIFE WHO WAS ABOVE EEPROACH, (Continued.) - .. But Kate?" murmured Beatrice, looking up with wild eyes Mb « companion's face. ol , pn _ Ho passed liia hand uneasily acioss %-Kate will not betray me-sfoe will not even recognise nie-I ' "How can she help il ? " , ■•■ in Beatrice, never mind, never mind-I-you are all, and the only human being in the ; world for- me now. lam not worthy of you. I surely am not worthy to seek, o. hold any woman's love." "Hush '.-quick, there is my nus-baiid-you are an old friend of mine from childhood. The name ? I f«>'6« 1 He whispered two words in her ear, and Guy Beauregard stood before "'"Guy,"—her voice trembled a little, and her sweet blue eyes were full of unutterable pathos-"Guy-tlus is Berkeley Halpine; Berkeley, this is my husband—Guy Beauregard. Mr Halpine and I arc old friends, dear ; we knew each other when we were children." The two men looked at each other. Halpine did not eveu offer to extend tea hand ; but in a second Guy Beauregard put out his, and threw the - other arm round his wife. Two months had passed. Berkeley Halpine was a constant visitor at tho Beauregards'. It was generally understood that ho was in London endeavouring io obtain a foreign consulate, and that his chances, therefore, were not the most promising. Meantime Society was busying itself with his devotion to Mrs Beauregard, the woman whom men had vainly tried for the five years of her married life to lure or coerce into even the mild semblance of a flirtation. "Gone this time !" exclaimed Colonel ' Templeton, the irresistible. "Pity she hadn't better taste, and taken me instead of that sallow-face .youngling, who looks as though he had been through a course of India and curry !" The Colonel was fifty-one. Beauregard had as yet heard nothing of this. Absorbed in his 1 affairs, he had tried,with a man's best might to bnnish for ever from his mind, the memory of that night, eight weeks ago, at the ball. There were times when it rose before him like a horrible vision of torture j but he crushed it as ho drew in the sweetness of her lips, and listened to the soft words '' of her shy love telling. He was sitting in his library, hard at work one morning, when the door suddenlyopened,'and Miss St. George entered, looking charming in her outdoor - dress.

"Ob,"- ahe exclaimed, smiting into the most convenient chair. "I am glad that I have found someone ! 1 ' have been up in the nursery, and Nelly is out with her maid. Servants are so stupid, and I want—" "I *m sorry you have been put to so much trouble. Miss St. George, I am sure; Beatrice is out." . "Oh, I know she is ; I met her driving down the avenue with Berhcley Halpine. I want to leave a message with you, please. Tell her that Henriette—the dressmaker, you know —will be ready for her this afternoon —at.lour. Don't forget, there's a ■dear boy" !" *■''*'' "I will not." Ho bowed profoundly. ' "Ta-ta ! then. Oh, I nearly forgot —and that Henriette says she cannot find anywhere that peculiar shade of pink that Mr Halpine admires so much for Beatrice's new evening dress. Don't forget! Tu-4a !" "One moment !" He laid his hand jupon her arm, and the touch thrilled .to. tho core of her heart. ''Were those the dressmaker's words ?"• "To be sure ! Oh, hear me, Mr Beauregard, the woman is not to be blamed - t the whole town ig exciting itself aver dear Beatrice's flirtation with her old friend, and every woman thinks you so charming and goodnatured not to object or. act stupidly about jt, Really I, must go. Good__J>ye !" ./ "Good-bye !"■ f He stood like a thing of flesh suddenly transformed into stone. His wife—his true-hearted darling and pride—the jeer and jest of the most frivolous Society in the world—that of London ! No, no —a thousand ■times no ! "Uuy, ileal' !"—her fresh, clear voice—"what's the matter?" "Nothing ; your friend Miss St. George has just been here and left word that the dressmaker waits you at four o'clock, and that Mi' Halpine's favourite pink is not to be bad anywhere." "Oh, I'm sony. Well, never mind. Dear"—sho nestled down on a little hassock at his feetr-"I have a favour to ask of you—l never asked one before, and you will 'grant it, won't you 1" She took her husband's hands and looked up into his face. •'What is it, Beatrice ? Anything on earth that I can in honour do I .will for you !"■ "Well, you know you have influence —power ; you. are a strong man, politically speaking, and I want a political favour—l want this foreign consulate for Berkeley Halpine, Guy. I implore it of you—l beg—l beseech— I entreat. He is worthy and capable —and, dear, you will get it for him? I know you will ?" "But he will leave England, then, Beatrice ; go away from—from here." "Why, of course; that is what he wants to do, Guy." "Child"—he laid his hand upon her

fair young head—"say you love me as you did when you married me !" "No, no, Guy—but so much better, by five years." "Ah, my little one, Ii will do my best for your friend ; it may be some time before its accomplishment, but Guy Beauregard worked faithfully in behalf of the man whom half the world believed he was only working to be rid of. In a few brief weeks the appointment as British Consul would be iflicially bestowed upon Berkeley Halpine. Guy and Beatrice and the little Nelly were at the seaside, stopping at the Avenue Hotel, where also Mias St. George was staying for a few days with her friends, the Blanchards, prior to their departure for abroad. The day for the party to sail had in fact arrived, and when the Britannic steamed out of the. harbour that afternoon she would bear as precfous freight the young woman who, just at this time —9 a.m.—was reading over a letter that had lately been handed her. "That is all right," she soliloquised. "I fancy the Consul in prospect will not realise his fondest hopes. And now to tell my dear Beatrice of her dear Guy's absorbing passion for me. If I am not much mistaken, she will fly with Berkeley Halpine to that haven for elopements—the Continentt" Somewhat late in the morning Kate went down and knocked gently at Beatrice's door. In a moment it was softly opened, not by Mrs Beauregard but by her husband. " Beatrice is asleep, Miss St. George. She was out until two this morning—the Meredith ball—and I have just persuaded her to go and lie down on the couch in her room." "Never mind ; don't disturb her, Mr Beauregand ; I'll come down later. We have so much to do and so little time to do it in, that I ventured thus early " She hesitated an instant; the exquisite room and the soft half-lights through the heavy curtains, the perfumes of flowers, the draperies drawn closely together in the arch leading to the adjoining apartment where Beatrice is, the man whom she adores—worshipped as much as sho might with her ignoble nature. Could she turn away ? No. " I will come in and rest, Mr Beauregard, and wait for Beatrice to wako, if you will allow me ?"- "1 shall be most happy !" (To to* continued.)