For Honour's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8106, 28 March 1906, Page 2

For Honour's Sake.

By Bertha UK. Clay. Author of " Wife in Name Only," " Wedded and Parted," "Dora Thome," " A Queen Among Women," " A True Magdalene," etc., etc.,

CHAPTER LV.—Continued.

She read with surprise, anger and some alarm. Was it in connection with this arrest that her husband wauted to sDeak to her, or was it about a separation. "It is that already," she muttered. "He is hardly ever hero; and always imperious! I've a great raiud to tell him 1 can't see him—l'm going out —or simply refuse." But she dared do uoither. She bad to content herself with the infinitely small satisfaction of keeping Mac-lan waiting twenty minutes before she sent down the written message that she would see her husband at nine o'clock in the evening. Mac lan looked at the on the envelope, and said to himself, grimly: "xMaybe its the last time you'll US6 the crest, ma'am." The same thought struck Stewart with a curious thrill when he took the little, scented missive from Mac-lan and cried to crush down that other inevitable thought which made ail his pulses throb—of one who Bhould have the right that, in truth, had never been Pauline's. As he walked through Pall Mall to the house whioh might one day be a home, the newsboys wore shoutiDß out the news of the day's arrest. In a few days, the man thought, with a sharp pan i, the world would havo another sensation to talk of; he must buy freedom at some cost to his sensitive pride; Bnd many would judge him harshly for failing to do what seemed , the only DOSRible thing for a mau to do. How should they know? Still, there is mevitablo bitterness to a proud man, who bears a stainless record, when his compeera judge him to have failed on a point of honour. "Mrß Stewart is in the drawing room, air," said the footman who opened the door to him. "Thanks!" aud Stewart went straight up and opened the drawing room door. Pauline, attired in a rich tea gown was sitting by the Are, with a book on ber knee; she looked up with elaborate carelessness as Stewart came in. "Good-evening," she said with a half sneer.

CHAPTER LVI. Stewart advanced to fcbe fireplace, and paused, resting his arm on the mantel; and Pauline, looking at him more attentively, though she did ao covertly, saw that he was perfectly odourless, and something in his face gave her a strange thrill of dread. What was he going to say to her? Well, she would give him no assistance. She looked d>wn at her book again, and the foolish inaoleuce reminded him, by the very stub it gave him, that he was wau'i ; compunction upon her. "Please put that book atiSe, ' • line," he said, quietly, "and attend to me." The request was a coiuaruud. hesitated a moment, then tossed the book on the floor. "Very well," she said, "only don't detain me. The book is interesting, and I very much doubt if you will prove ao." "I am afraid," he said, "that you will find what A have to say more interesting than your book, though in a different way." "Indeed!" But tho affected indifference could not hide from Stewart's keen perception the latent fear. "Do you recall," he went on, not heeding the interjection, "my finding by chance, and restoring to you, a photograph of your husband, Richard Arnold?" "sTes." A confused idea of some ■pending exposure of her husbancPs shamefal life shot thiough her brain; sbb had no conception of the truth. "What then?" "The face," Stewart said, "owing to certain peculiarities, impressed itself on my memory. Last night I was sent for to The Ferns. The man who has been Jiving with the Davenants for some mouths, Arthur Fanoourt, was dying, and wished to see me. He had something to tell me." He paused, hirf eyes drooped, he almost held his breath. He was a man, and a Stewart, too —and the Stewarts b&d ever special, too often fatal, tenderness for women'. Pauline, wondering, but not seriously alarmed, asked: "Do you moan that this man had something to tell you about my husband?" One swift look he gave her, and his eyes drooped again, his lips paled, he spoke with an effort. "Pauline! the man was your husband himself—Richard Arnold!" She sprang to her feet with a sharp cry.

"Von dare not saj it! He is dnacl! Tbia ia some wretched miatake, or a vile plot!" "It h neither one nor the other," said Stewart, unmoved by bar most hysterical vehemence. "I recognizor! the face the instant I saw it." "Is that all your proof?" interrupted Pauline, with a harsh laugh. "It ia at least part of my proof. Sit down and listen to me." She obeyed him as a frightened child might have done. She looked Jovelier than ever in her animal terror, but it hardly moved him. "Pancourt told me," he said, "that you, like others, believed him dead—in this, at least/ you are blameless. Be took advantage, lor bis own reasons, of the mistake which counted him among those killed in a railway accident, and took care that the repbrt should reach you. The >, magistrate who took his dying depositions recognised him at onoe; eo did alaoithe doctor who was Bent for. This man has in his possession letters from Richard Arnold and the signature is preoisely the same as the signature to the deposition. Far-

ther, to identify him 1 sent separ ately for Mrs Westmere and Major Laugdalo, who both knew Richard Arnold well. They were asked to go into the room no hint being given a a to the reason and each instantly recognized Arnold. Among his papers which he gave into my charge are two photographs of him and this will be compared with tne likenesses now in my possession. Are there any proofs waiting? Pauline had listened without interruption simply because she was too stunned by the successive blows of tbo overwhelming proofs to utter word or ory-her fane had grown livid and drawn; it looked almost old; her blue eyes stared wildly before her. Whatever she had dreaded it was nothing like this. "Id is not true-it can't be truet' she struggled to say, but the words would not come yet. In her innermost heart she knew Stewart was equally inoapable of concocting a plot or of accepting insufficient evidence; but, to do her justice, she did not realize that what she had heard was tiue—it was too terrible. (To be Continued). •