Selina's Love Story.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8198, 31 July 1906, Page 2

Selina's Love Story.

CHAPTER ll.—Continued

'I think we will hurry up the tea,' she said. She had rather an abrupt way of talking, thnt waa certainly not polite, but her eyes had h delightful habit of twinkling, and her mouth showed plenty of will. She glanced at herself in the mirror glow, and eet her bonnet straight. 'I have a new moid, and she is an as?. She left my umbrella in the cab, and one of my trunus at Charing Cross, and 1 sent her back to collect both, so I cannot make any change in my attire till she and the trunk arrive.' Dorothy Barnldine just glaucod at her. •You look very nioe, she said. She had the trost unusual voice, so clear, so well pitched. The voice, and her eyes and her hands—rather long, tapering handß with veiy pointed finger tips—particularly attracted Miss Luscornne. 'Surely you tnuct have some Italian blood in your veins, child,' she said, in her straightforward way. 'That dusky hair and while skin and those soft, black eje=i can only belong to the South. 1 can picture Juliet as having been very like you.' Miss Haialdine coloured faintly, and smiled. 'Lota of people think I am either Spanish cr Kalian, but I believe lam genuine English. I ana very like my mother, only now her black hair has turned white. Selina has a picture of my mother somewhere. I will show it to you.' She wandered round the room half listlessly, wholly grace!ully. Her movements, her lovely head, the lines of her body, indeed the entire personality, fascinated Mary Lasoombe, 'What is so beautiful, after all, as a beautiful human being?' she asked herself. Selina ran in while Miss Barald ine was still searohing. 'Your mother's portrait? Oh! don't you remember George stole it. It is on his writing table in his den. He said it was such a beautiful face, he liked to look at it. 1 She went across to the window. 'Still pouring! I should like to hear our new gardener's remaiks on the weather. Anne says he swears like a trooper, and Anne ought to know. Polly did you ring for tea? Go and get the picture, Dorothy darling, if you want to. You know your way to George's room,' Selina added, ooming back to the fire. 'I suppose it , is rather upudo down, for I hear the vy workmen have been puttng in fihe new grate at last.' When Miws Baraldine had gone, Selina looked at her godmother. 'lsn't she sweet? ehe.asked. 'Very," agreed Miss Lascombe; then she asked: 'Who is she?' Selina described how she and Dorothy had become friends when she had attended some classes at a convent in the neighbourhood little more than a year ago, but Miss Lasoombe wanted more information, and then Selina became impatient. How painfully British you are, Polly,' she said, 'just like Michael's mother 7 ! She is never satisfied unless she knows all there is to know about everybody. lam very rude to Michael about his mother,' laughed Selina, 'it does me good; it does not hurt her. But you know she is awfully aggiavating, Polly. She would like people to go through life with tablets let into their backs describing accurately the kind of bones their respective ancestors had sprung from.' 'I wonder what sort of animal mine would come from?' observed Miss Lasunmbe. Then she explained her Beeming ourio=ity. 'You see, my dear, iittle Selina, it is so startling to find you with a girl friend. You have never been fond of girls till now, you know; su, really, 1 must ask some questions.' Selina smiled. Her irritation never lasted more than two minutes together. If anything upset her, it had to fizz cut and then the empire was peace once more. 'There isn't much to tell you about Dorothy.i Her mother Is a widow, and Durotby is her only child. I don't know what her father was, and 1 don't care. Her mother is the handsomest woman you can conceive, Polly, and I have met her uncle, Sir "Somebody Something." He came once to the convent; rather a nice, old man, the sort of old man you affect. Here comes the tea at last.' Selinß sprank to her feet. 'And the dogs —dear old things—they're a bit sulky with me because George wouldn't let me take them this morning. They upset the hounds, he said, so tLoy must all have extra cake in consequence.' Selina paused ; '.hen she knelt down suddenly by Mary Lasoombe's side. 'Polly,' phe said, and her eyea were wee. 'Something wonderful is going to happen. George ' She got no further. The older woman took her hands. 'Dear, little sonl,' she said, tendrely, 'so it has come at last,' She pressed ber lips to Selina's brow. 'And do you care very much dearie?' she asked. 'I want him to be happy; and, oh, Polly, she is worthy of him! She is just the girl I should have chosen. They have not told me anything, but I believe, indeed, 1 am sure, they understand one another. Polly, say you are glad.' 'lf you are glad, little gir), I am, Mary Lasoombe said. Nevertheless, she felt as if she had had a little shock. Somehow, the mere thought of Geo-ge Durnstone marrying was bo startling. He was so settled in his paths—such a retiring man, so ocn-' firmed in bachelor habits, and then, what would be Selina's future? She knew that the girl was making a gallant effort to take this vast change in her life naturally. It was of Selina that Mary Lascombe thought only ut this moment. j

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. Author of "An Inherited Feud," "Brave Barbara," " A Splendid Heart," "Temptation of Mary Barr," "The Interloper," etc., etc.

The door opened, and Dorothy Baraldine came back. 'Sir George is home, he ia calling for you. Selina!' hse said, softly, hurriedly. Instantly Selina was on her feet. 'Home! Oh, I am glad! I thought ho would stay out there for hours and hours, and get soaked through.' She ran out of the room as she spoke, and Miss Lasoombe Bffiiled at Dorothy Baraldine. 'Will you give mesomesuagr?'sbe asked. 'lt is no use expecting attention now that George has come home!' 'lt is very wonderful; I mean the way she loves him,' Dorothy said, in ber soft voice. 'Yes.' Miss Lasoombe sirjped her tea. 'And natural, too, in a she added, after a little pause; 'you see, George has been mother and father to Selina. She waa onlv six when her father died, and her mother, poor soul, had already been dead four years. Oh, 1 do not quarrei with the oiiild for loving her brother, I do, for adoring him. No man can sand adoration for long together; it spoils the best of them, and Selina has Bimply ruined George.' Dorothy Baraldine's delicate face flushed, but she made no answer. A little later she rose and remarked she must write a letter. 'I write to my mother every day,' ahe explained. Rising, she moved away rather hurried'.y, and, as she went, her necklace of green stoces caught with a jerk on a hightackd chair, and snapped. 'Oh! what a pity!' exclaimed Miss Lafcombe, as the girl closed her hands over the falling beads.. 'I have been admiring the chain all the time: the colour is so exquisite.' 'I can easily restriug it,' said Dorothy. She had gathered up her white skirt quiokly to catch the beads as they fell. 'I am very fond of this neoklaoe,' she added. 'My oncle gave it to me for a present last Christmas. He brougb it from the East. He has been a great traveller. Perhaps you may know hie name, Sir Henry Dunworthy?' As these wordH passed her lips, the door opened, and Sir George Durnstone looked in. '1 am not fit to come near you,' he said; but he advanced into the room all the same, and went forward to grip Mary Lasoombe's hand warmly. 'You are always welcome, Polly,' he said, 'hut never more so than nowl' • Mary Lasoombe murmured some thing, but as she drew her hand away from his it seemed to her as if she were meeting this man for the Arts time. He seemed years younger, and there was a handsome look of happiness, an expression that she had never seen written on his face in all tne years that she had known him till now; a glow in his eyes; the general air of one who finds life wholly beautiful. There had been times when Miss Lascombe had found herself regarding Selina's brother with something like a sensation of dislike. While fully recognising his many good qualities, she bad called him an egotist; his very calm acceptance of Selina's worship ha I argued to the older woman a suggestion of indifference. As long as he lived the life that pleased him it mattered very little to him what kind of existence the girl had; at least this was the way in which Miss Lascombe had learned to regard the state of affairs at tbe Gate House. Now the dominant feeling that she had at her heart was, strange to say, one of regret and even pity; and as Sir George turned, and, holding out his hand, drew Dorothy Baraldine forward, that feeling deepened. 'Polly,' he said, 'I have great news for you. I am the happiest man in the worlsJ. This is Dorothy. You must learn to love her. She is going to bo my wife as soon as I oan get her.' As he finished, be bent and drew the shy, blushing ghl into his arms. Almost immediately, however, hereleased her. 'I am wet through,' he oried lightly. 'I must go and have a thorouKh change. Polly, you shall give the story of all my evil deeds to this unsuspecting little person. No one knows them so well. All the same, 1 feel I shall be in safe hands,' Sir George added, with a laugh, as he went out of the room. There was a moment's silence. The girl stood with her gown gathered in her handa to guard the broken nceklace. The flush lingered on ber cheeks. She looked very sad, very pr«tty, very lovable, and yet the heart of the older woman had contracted, with a feeling that was strongly akin to pain; she felt hemmed about by a barrier as it were, that shut her from all possibility of sympathy with this young oreature. (To be Continued.)