A Tardy Wooing.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8154, 2 June 1906, Page 2

A Tardy Wooing.

By Charles W. Hathaway. Author of " Marjorie's Sweetheart,*" "A Long Martt/r- - h'ash V0w," '..," Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," etc., etc.

CHATPEE XXXVL—Continued.

But if she did play the physician it was by leaving him alone, aud letting him glido into the quiot, pleußant home life she was herself enjoying. He slept nt tho village inn, but ho breakfasted at the cottage Mrs Pembury routed; he read his paper aud smoked his cigar While tho children received their simple lessons from Wyuuiothe most patient, tho moat earnest of teaoheis; and thon lie strolled with tho littlo party to tho sands, or drovo with them to some charm ng bit of sylvan scenery, whoro they discussed tho contents of the luncheon basket they carried with them, returning homo when the ohildren began to show sigus of fatigue, aud spending tho evening in reading and conversing, or initating Wynnie into the mysteries of tho chessboard. Weeks wont by and Mrs Pembury bejuu talking of rflluniiuv. to her home iu the suburbs of I '•txlbn; but the weather was unusually fine, aud hor little girls wero deriving such benefit from their stay that she lingered for their sakoa. From Eustaco Loyland sho had learned that Oyrilln Dartison bad gone abroad; she folt therefore, very few scruples respecting the close companionship into which Harold and Wynnio vroro thrown. Yet it troubled her, too, for she saw that the young giri was deeply in lovo with hor bridegroom, and lifo would lose its zest to her when Harold fulfilled his oft-mootod determination of purchasing a yacht, and visiting the lovely islands of the South Pacific. What if he went away suddenly without knowing that ho left a bride behind him? Mrs Pembury felt that it had devolved on her to acquaint him with this fact, jot sho shrank from her task, boiug vory doubtful as to the results. Ho was changed man of late; often sitting for an hour at a timo without speaking, and, never unsociable, evidently preferring to be allowed to lean back in his chair silent aud apparently abstracted. Sometimes ehe fancied that, while he sat three shading his eyea with his hand, ho was watching Wynnie; but then ho rarely adresaed her, or, if he did, it was with such grave and distant respect that she felt QOUO of the embarressmeut in his present that ehe would have experieuoed had lo been less reserved, or oa she would have said, loss indifferent. But while Mrs Pembury sat at her desk one morning, debating how to relate to bim the strange tale she had heard, Harold laid aside the paper ho had been scanning, and went down to the shore where the children had proceeded hm. The wind blew so boisterously that they had soou grown tired of building sand castles, and wore sitting under a sheltering rock, nestled beside Wynnie, who was singing—she had the sweetest of untutored voioes—the simple songa they were never tired of listening to. It was not=till they rushed away to watch the struggles of a sea gull a. flaberbpy hod captured that Wynnie digCoT§?pd. My Qutram's proximity, #<*? C?lsUr rose a little, but she permitted no other sigu to esoaye her of the exquisite delight that pervaded her whole beiug when he was near. The bands that began to ply her knitting needles may have trembled a little, but that was all. Had she not sohooled herself loug since to be aa outwardly calm as if he were a stranger? He was the first to speak. "In my cousin 'Eustace's letter this morning he sent me a bit of news that may interest you, Miss Moyle," he observed, aa he eneoonoed himself in tho snug corner bosido her which one of the children had vacated. "That man, Chris Kenuett is dead." Wynnie shuddered and looked awed. "You are very much afraid of him, I think," her companion went on. "Where did you first know him?" "At Dover,' she replied. "Yes, I always felt u Horror of Chris Keunett." "Tell me all you know concerning him. No, tell me instead the story of that lost ring of mine Uyrilla Dartison once saw in your possession." Wynnie gasped for breath. The moment sho had longed for, yet dreaded, nad come at last, and all disguise must bo thrown aside. Yet how would he receive the tale for which bo asked? Should she see bim shrink from her with loathing, and hear him coldly insist upon his right to set aside marriage to which he had never been a oonsentug party? She was betraying euch violeut agitation that he took her hands in his, saying, gently: "Do you fear me that you look so pale and troubled? Ab, Wynnie, you have no cause to do so. sjCome what may, you may trust me to be always your sincerest friend. Do I not owe my* life to you—Chris Ken nott avowed, just before he died, that he meant to have killed me that night he stole upon me In the garden, and would have done so but for your interposition." She shuddered, but the warm olasp tightened on her hand to give .her courage, and three was a tenderer tone in the voice that asked: "Was that the first time you had interfered on my behalf? Ab, be frank with me and tell me all. There should be no secrets between you and me." Thus enoouraged, though still with averted face and in faltering accents, she related how she had first seen bim outside Marbys' with the treacherous Kennott awaiting the opportunity to strike the blow he meditatod. \Sbe touched but lightly

/ upon tier ow'u attendance upon bim when he lay in the garret to which he had been carried; but that siguifiod little, for, as she went on, Harold's long dormant reoolleotiona awoke and supplied the details. He set his teeth on his lip when eho explained how she was forced to take the place of toe missing Becca, and married to the but halfconsoioua lover of (jyrilla Dartison. For a moment she could not continue, aud then she hurried over the rest, thinking it enough to say that she had evaded Keunett and conveyed her heirless ohnrge to London, to place him under the care of the doator whoso name he had himself mentioned in her hearing. But Harold was not satisfied. "You tell me nothing respecting yourself." "It would make my story too long," she answered, hastily. "Here is your ring, Mr Outrani, and the marriage certificate. Perhaps I ought to have made you aware nf those *;hi"gß sooner, but I aid not know till very lately that you would be obliged to have recourse to the law before you 6ould marry anyone else." Still, Harold insisted on questioning her, not' did be cease till he had elicited all he sought to know. If ho bad felt any doubts of tho purity and integrity of too young girl, they vanished as he listened. She had been reared in poverty and misery, and exposed to many tempjtaionß, but there was not a though in her heart she need conceal. Again she proffered him the ring. He accepted it, but only to slip it on her finger. "My little Wyuuie, I cannot take tho ring unloss you give me my bride with it. Unconsciously to myself, I have worsniped your image ever since your sweet faoo beni over mo full of compassion'for my sufferings. Honour bound me to Uyrilla, but it was you I was learning to love. Not unless you bid me will I ever take steps to dissolve our union." "Do you mean this?" she faltered. "If you knew who lam " "I know what you ore—an angel!" and she was clasped in a fond embrace. "And do no t imagine tha*. J. arc talking hasty or at random. I had hoard much of what you are now tolling me fiom Chris Kenuett, and came hero to—can you not guess whac I came for?—to wou my long-unkuowu wife I" "And Misa Dartison?" "Is on the point of marriage with a French viscomte she met at Brussels. Need we lot a thought of her mar our happiness?, I love you dearly, truly; and I think that you—shall I whisper the rest, my newly found treasure?" "It is like a dream? i" she fal tered. "Say, rather; it is the awakening from a long and painful dream; it has* been a tardy wooing, but Ub the awakening to what it shall be my joy and delight to make a blissful reality!" Mrs Pembury's little 'daughters were very muob dissatisfied when they found that Unole Harold was about to rob them of Wynnie, but the promise that they should soou see her again at Outram Towers soon reconciled them to their loss. At the ohuroh near Dover they were quietly married, the only witnesses to the ceremeony beiug Linda aud Eustace, who contrived, during their return to town, to come to au understanding and plan a marriage for themselves. Ere this took place Harold and his bride sailed away to that land of continual summer in which their honeymoon was to be spent; but they are already expected back, Outram Towors will have a queen and mistress at last; not the ambitious and imperious beauty,who is a miserable, discontented woman, fretting and chafing at the bonds that link her to an elderly tyrant, but the gracious, grateful warmharted, little lady, clinging to the arm of an adoring husband, who thinks none of her sex so fair or so good as his sweet young wife. THE END.