For Honor's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 7937, 10 January 1906, Page 2

For Honor's Sake.

By Bertfea Iff. Clay. Author of " Wife in Name Only," " Wedded and Parted," "Dora Thome," "A Queen Among Women," " A True Maydalene," etc., etc.,

CHAPTER IV.—Continued. She was but a girl, impassioned, impressionable. What right had he to endanger her peace? Oh, but tonight there was no danger! And if there were, he could not draw back now. He took Claude in to dinner, and, though conversation was, as a rule, general, still they two could talk apart a groat deal, especially -when the two eider gentlemen drifted on some money question, and the two elder ladies on dresses at a recent ball. Then Stewart had an undisturbed Elysium, talking softiy to hia lovely companion, and "drawing her out" with the skill of a man of the world, and the instinct of a nature in sympathy with hor own; divining, therefore, just what points to touch upon to show the nature of her thoughts. They spoke of music, in which both were enthusiasts, and they could compare tioiet. Claude both played and sau>: and Stewart told her he should certainly claim her oomDlaisanoe in both capacities. Ah, how different was this girl from Pauliue Arnold. He could not recall that fauline had ever alluded to music; and, soulless as she had always been to him, once be was freed from the weakness of a sick brain and the glamour of gratitude, she seemed but a pretty automation beside Claude, who was like some flashing gem, full of varying light and glorious tints, and yet ever the deep-abiding glow that marks the genuine stone from its counterfeit. Davenant followed French fashious, and so the gentlemen speedily followed the ladies to the parlour. Claude was at the piano, looking over some music, and Stewart after exchanging a few words with Mrs Davenant and Madame Belfort, crossed to the girl's Bide. I "Are you selecting some pieces I and songs for my delectation?" he asked, leaning on the piano, and looking down on the bended, curly head with a world of suppressed passion in his dark eyes. "No," sbe answered; "1 was searohiug fur that little rhapsody of Delibe's that 1 was speaking of it's really very pretty." "But do you think I am going to be satisfied with one thing and that only a popular melody? Besides the songs." "Don't ask for too much until you have tested the quality," said Claude, with arch gravity. "You see, you are a musician, and might find yourself disappointed." "Oh, f am sure of my ground," replied he, coolly; and, taking up a piece of music, saw that it was inscribed, 'O. D. M. Verner.' "What does the centre initial stand for? he added. "M." I suppose, is Mane." "Yes; aad 'D.' is Dieudonnee. All my people were ardent Legitimists." The tone of her voice, the flash of her ardent eyes, delighted him. True, he was playing with fire; truly he had need to remember that he was not free to find this girl "Most sweet Of all sweet things that gladden God's dear earth." She took her seat at the piano, and played a selection in a style which at once satisfied her listener's criiioal taste. Sbe possessed, besides culture and expression, that initial eharm of an exquisite touoh which no training nan impart, and wish out whioh, indeed, a perfect expression is unattainable. While she played and he listened in delight, Madame Belfort asked of her hostess who the handsome officer was. "He belongs, of course," she said, "to the House of Stewart. But he haa property—eh?" "Very large estates in Scotland and In England," said Mis Davenant; "a most fascinating man, is he not?" , "Ah, yes. And he seems attracted by mademoiselle," said the Frenchwoman. "And sbe would turn any man's head, my dear; but it would be a fine thing for her L ,o turn his." "Indeed it would! And why not? Claude has no money, but she is of gentle birth—of old Irish family, on the father's side; on the mother's of the best blood of Provence. And he does not need money." "Ah, no!—only beauty, and love. Ab, well, I trust he will fulfil your wishes. Mademoiselle is worthy of a coronet." And "Chris" Davenant, talking to Monsieur Belfort in the adjoining room, was saying to nimself: "Good! good! Our fortune is made at a stroke if Monsieur le Captaine carries off Claude." And poor Claude was ho haDpy, and so unconscious of all this scheming. She had been such a short time with the Davenants; by and by, would she not inevitably discover that she was regarded by them in the light of a trump card? And Esrio Stewart, alas! was drinking intoxicating draughts of nectar, letting the inevitable future drift—drift. / "You will sing?" he said, presently. "Don't think me too enoroaobing!" "No," the girl said, simply. "If I can please you, I shall be very happy." She let him choose the song—one of Schubert's—and she saug it deliriously. Her voice, a full contralto, had an extraordinary capacity for expressing pathos; it made the man's heart throb with a vague passionate pain, and for a moment or two after she had ceased he could not speak. Then he sahi, very low: "How shall I thank you? I could listen to you forever; but your voice is heart-breaking!" The girl lookod at him, half startled. A grieved look came into her eyes. "Do you mean " she began, and faltered. "I am so sorry—" "Sorry? For what? Ab, no! There is no reminder of a voice I

have known—l never heard a voico like yours. How is it? Surely—--I'orgire me!—you are 100 youua to have suffered much; but your voice baa the pathos of intense suffering." "Has it?" There was a wistful wonder in her violet eyos. "Yes, I have had trouble, but no very great trouble; but, of course, I shall have." "God forbid!" he interrupted, impulsively. His earnestness touched her deeply; her lips quivered. "But I CHn'not hope to escape," she said, gently. "And do you think," a dreamy luok came over her face, "'that suffering may be, as it were, cast backward on one's inner life, so that it is expiessed in our eyes or our voico—just as they say those who die a violent death sometimeb have the look in their eyes?" How could she know that she was stabbing hira—even by the very intuition of sympathy that made her talk like this to bim? And then the instant thought of how this suffering of which she spoke might come to her through him! He oould hardly master himself to answer her with any calmness; even as it | was, his voice trembled, his lips became white with toe effort of self-command. "i'ou know," ho said, "my Cetlic blood makes me believe in many things as you speak of; but I can't bear to think of them as applying to you. I think, rather, it may be the type of character whioh is yours,— having a great capacity for suffering —thai; gives the tone to your voice I noticed so much." ; Claudo coloured, and turned I aside a little, shrinking from the personal application. "Oh," she said quickly, "I was theorizing from myself, not to myself—generalizing, as it were." "I know—you must forgive me; don't think I misunderstand you; you are the last person to be egotis cal—but naturally looked at it from the more personal point of view." "Yes," the girl said, slowly; she was thinking of what he had said—that she had a "great capacity for suffering" belonging to her "type of character*'—and she did not quite grasp his meaning. Was it that she went half way to meet trouble, as the saying is: or that her passions, being strong, and all the traits of her character on strong lines, she must needs feel, |and, therefore, to some extent, suffer, deeply? Bu.. she did not like to ask for fuller explanation; she shrank in any case, from being the subject of coaversation. Her woman's instinct shrank still more.from posing as an interesting mela-physioal study to a man; so sbe roused herself and added, quickly, in a lighter tone: "I suppose we mustn't get into psychology, must we?-" "It is as you please," he answered smiling, taking, the tone and feeling, perhaps, in a sense relieved; for his conscience warned him that he was on dangerous ground. "Then, will you sing for me once more?" Claude went back to the piano again, and, while she sang Davenant turned to bis guests and wife and suggested a game of wbist. They were all oapital players and enthusiasts, and readily assented, withdrawing into the next room'for the game; so it came to pass that, glancing round presently, Stewart saw that he and Claude Verner were alone. Waß he not tempted enough without this? Was not the blood already fire in his veins, and every nerve vibrating to the pathetic voice —the girl's very presence a spell on his spirits? So easy to woo her now with soft, oaressing words, stealiug her heart from her unawares! ; She. was so fearless with him; she never dreamed that he was, in truth, her lover. She lot him fwe, as a child might have done, that the subtle affinity of sympathy made harmony between them; she did not treat him as a [stranger; she did not feel that he was one. And now she was alone with him, and the demon Opportunity was by his side to tempt bim to words] that should stir her heart with vague emotions, fill her with a tremulous bewilderment—looks that should make her own droop, she knew not why, and the soft colour flicker over her cheefc. Then yet softer in its music the voice that wooed, the silence that said more than words, the band laid lightly on hers, as though involuntarily, the tightening clasp as her hand quivered under his, and she half shrank from, half yielded to him. Ab, was he mad? Was his honour so poor a thing the moment it was confronted by passion that he could, even for a few moments, suffer that feverish vision of happ'ines to all fcut subjugate his will? (To be Continued).