FICTION IN BRIEF.

Temuka Leader, Issue 2511, 3 June 1893, Page 4

FICTION IN BRIEF.

FOR HER!

By Mary Angela Dickent

( Gravd-danghtcr of the late Chas. Dickens), Anther of « A Social Success,” “ Margery,” &c. [all rights reserved.] ( Continued.) drawing-room, had spoken scarcely a word of all day. Over all the house a deadly quiet had rested. But now, at half-past eight, the lamps were lighted and the natural darkness which all of us know, and which to all of us comes sometimes as a longed-for friend, had succeeded the unnatural darkness, which we all vaguely dread as the unknown and unnatural is always more or less dreaded. And Miss Gvahame had apparently passed, after the quiet of the day, into a state of strange excitement. She was walking up and down the long drawing-room, up and down, up and down, and her pale cheeks burnt with the crimson flush and her eyes were bright and glittering. The past two months had wrought several slight changes in her appearance. Her face was thinner as though that flush had burnt there often of late and worn the cheeks away with its hot fire. Her eyes looked larger and slightly hollow, as with some long continued strain, and there was a strange never-changing expression of incessant watchfulness and expectation. She was dressed in a long velvet gown, slightly open at the throat—black—always black. At last there came a ring at the front door bell. She did not start at the sound, only she stopped suddenly in her walk and a curious thrill seemed to run through all _ her frame, to leap from her eyes at last in a flash of burning light that seemed for the moment absolutely to transfigure her. Then it died suddenly away, and her face and manner were very still and quiet as she stood there waiting with her watchful eyes fixed on the door, until it was opened by Gallon Leigh. There are some faces—and they belong to men quite as often as to women—on which every passing struggle, mental or physical, every passion, good or evil, leaves its record in lines which no time may ever wear out. Gallon Leigh's was such a face, and the two months that had left those slight traces on Miss Grahame had made such terrible marks on him as many times the number of years should not have done. His dark, clear cut features were worn and haggard, the cheeks hollow, the forehead lined as though with terrible suffering. Round the rather unpleasant mouth—the least refined feature in a face which was too emotional and expressive, too uncontrolled for a man—were deep lines which gave it a strangely drawn expression, and the deep black eyes were sunken and wild with a fierce angry light which he seemed to struggle always to repress. He came into the room very quietly and his face was a little set and white as if he were holding himself together with a great effort. He crossed slowly to where Miss Grahame stood and made a movement as if to take her in his arms, but she moved a step and gave him her hand; a strange spasm seemed to pass across his face, and he waited a moment as if to make sure of his voice, before he said very quietlv, *■ You have had my letter ?” “ Yes,” she answered, coldly and deliberately. ** Shall we sit down ?” She seated herself as she spoke and after an instant’s pause he dropped into a chair near, and putting his head back with a long sigh he closed his eyes. There was no repose on his haggard sensitive face though ; it was full of keen sensation. Miss Grahame did not speak and at last he roused himself and opening his eyes said, " If you knew, if you only knew what these last three days have been to me—what it is to be with you again ! Is it possible that it is only three days since I saw you—since I was here ?” He sat upright, and looked round the room as though a great length of time had passed since he had seen it, and as he did PD, suddenly something seemed to catch his eye; he turned white to the lips, and half rose to his feet with a hoarse inarticulate exclamation. He was looking at the uncovered picture of his dead wife- “ What is the matter ?" asked Miss Grahame. She did follow the direction of his eyes. She had seated herself so that her own face was in shadow, and her watchful eyes were resting on his working, quivering features, with something curiously patient and untiring in their steady look, •• What—why—l have never seen that picture belore.” > "It stands there always,” she answered very low, with a strange thrill in her deep voice. " There is curtain before it as a rule.”

He paused a moment, still staring at the picture, and then said—- '* May I—may I—cover it—now ?” " Why ?” " Because—because—" Beseemed literally to tear his eyes away from it with a fierce effort of will, and turned to Miss Grahams. " It’s this con founded weather I suppose ;it always affects me. It’s so horrible, somehow, it's so—.so awfully unnatural. I'm—l’m not myself. " Lover it yourself then.’’ For a moment he hesitated. Then he rose, and wsSfeiilg across the room stood for a moment looking down in*o the gentle pictured face. 3s he looked s Strange horror crept into his eyes, id be dominated .quite suddenly by a wild, fierce, expression of reckless resolution He pulled the curtain roughly ovei the picture and strode back to Miss Grahame’s side. As she saw his face she stirred a little, and a quite new expression sprung into life in her still face and watchful eyes, an expression of almost sickening, incredulous hope. She had never seen that look on Gallon Leigh's face. ' >•. "You know why I have come here tonight ?’’ he said, and his voipe was as his face —strong and determined, “ I did not ask you.”

“ No, you not did ask me. It is weeks since yon have asked me! Asked me—great heavens! Katherine, there are limits to every man’s endurance, and mine has given out." He waited a moment, a$ if determined not to lose hold on himself, and Mi.ss Grahame sat motionless. Her face was quite white now, but perfectly unmoved. Only her eyes glittering with a burning light, and they neve/ hit his face. ” I thought, when I spoke to you two months ego, that I hkd suffered ail a man sattld suffer. If you had toI3 mo theu that you never love me I shou'f? have killed mysejf-^yos—l should have killeu myself and never hav« known what a hell upon earth a man's life may become." He caught his breath sharply and went on, seeming to lose his self-control a little with the force of his own words. " But now—now. 1 wMI not die. I will not give you up. You have been min/?, you gave me your love, you let me taste happiness, By heaven, I will not let it go !” He made a step or two towards tier and stood right over her, not touching her, but looking down at her with a fierce restrained intensity of passion awful to see. Still she iid not move. Only her strong firm hands were wrung together until hnr rings cut into the white fingers, and her breath was heavy and laboured.

“ What right have you, I say what right have you to raise a man to Heaven and plunge him into hell, to torture him as you have tortured me during these awful weeks ? You led me on—can you deny jt—until my very soul was yours and for three days you will not even see me. Katherine, Katherine, what does it mean ?" As he spoke the last words, she slowly lifted her head, and looked at him for a moment without speaking ; then she said in a low clear voice, 11 It means—that I do not love you.” As if the words had turned him into stone, he stood before her, speechless, motionless, almost breathless. At last he repeated, in {Jo be continued:)