Selina's Love Story.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8220, 25 August 1906, Page 2

Selina's Love Story.

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued.

The old servants bad gone, the dogs had Rone. Dorothy missod Selina every aour,'-' and, though she waß too ignorant to grasp the full meaning of all that passed, yet Bhe was sharp enough to feel that there was a little coldness in the attitude of hef leaders. Of courßO. Mrs S'leheater was not expected to call. Dorothy devoutly hoped she should never see her again, hut there were a great many other people scattered ahout— people with whom Selina had teen very, intimate, and who were more or less important, who failed to oall upon the newly married couple. ' The words that Dr. Foster had laughingly said to George Durnalone had summed up, in a sense, the biiuation. - The iipiuhbo'itliood was a i tt.e surprised—indeed, a little scandalized that George Durnatone brought this young wife back to the Gate House so very soon after their marriage. In ordinary circumstanoea his might not beeu considered seriously, circumstances were not ordinary. The marriage was considered a mistake, and, it Sir Geoige had done a wise and tactful thing, he would have remained abroad lor a period of some monhta' to let exoitemont and curiosity simmer down. It takes time, naturally, for things to be forgotten iL the country, here one's neighbour s business ib the one subjeot of conversation. Still, a six months honeymoon would have put matters quite straight, and life wo " lc * been perhaps a very difflerent matter for Lady Durnalone. But the man's obstinate pride determined differently, and, with a lack, of consideration which vaguely communicated itself to Dorothy, he returned home and immediately set about organizing their life as he intended that it should be lived. In this matter too, he showed a lack of worldliness which was really extraordinary. • He should surely have ' remembered the early\ education of this girl he had married. He ought surely to have known that uhe was not fit to face suoh a difiiuult position unaided by t Berne*. clever woman of the world. He made the mistake, however, that many men have made him, of blindly supposing that he would suffice for ail.s<i Indeed, he intended to suffice for all. He was doomed to be bitterly [disappointed. Just at the time when poor Michael was passing through suoh b hard and sad mental struggle, Dorothy Durnstone was awakening to the truth of what she had done. And ono night she startled her husband by suddenly bursting into Naturally, he was greatly alarmed, and entreated her to tell him what was distressing her. Dorothy sobbed for a little while in a sort of hopeless fashion; [at last she found voice. 'I am so lonely,' she said. George Durnstone had been kneeling beside her; he got up suddenly, 'Lonely i' he said, and hia tone was incredulous. 'You have me, darliug.' 'YeB, I know,' said Dorothj; 'but you are not always with me, and I feel so strange—the house seems so big, and you—l don't know you very well,' she finished, breaking into a fresh flood of tears. The man stood and looked at her with consternation, and something like anger creeping over him. It was, of course, ridioulous of him to be angry, yet it was typical of his nature that he should sharply resent these words. 'You do not know me,' he repeated; 'what are you saying, Dorothy?' His tone was so Bevere that the girl was frightened. Her tears came with fresh force, jr When she could speak she sobbed out the first wish that had come to her. 'I want Selina,' she said. George Durnstone's brow grew dark aa night. ****•' 'You are behaving like a foolish child,' he said, culdly; and turning, he walked out of the room. Dorothy sobbed on undisturbed for a long time, then she crept , up to her room and nervously began to prepare for bod. She was very nervous.' She felt that she had said too much, and yet she had not been attle to resist speaking the truth. As she remembered her husband's stern look and stern words, there came back to her mind tne remembrance of that night when he had spoken so cruelly to Selina. The girl's heart sank. Hhe begau to yearn for some of those gentle, loving influences that had been about her over since she could recollect anything. Even at the convent she had been treated like a loved child, and her quick friendship with feline had filled the void that might otherwise have been caused by her separation from her mother. While she tast crouching in her dressing gown, nervously dreading the coming interview with her husband, the door opened and George Durnstone appeared. He carried a large paokefc in his hand, that was covered with sealing wax and stomps. He had the air of one who wished to appease a naughty child. 'Look,' he said; 'these have just come. They are your jewels, Dorothy. I have had tbim cleaned and some of them reset. They wanted it badly, for they have been lying at the bank for ruany years. I thought you would line to open them yourself.' The girl took the packet with listless hands. Jhle looked to see the flush of

By Kffie Adelaide Rowlands. Author of "An Inherited Feud," i( Brave Barbara « A Splendid Heart," " Temptation of Mary Barr "The Interloperetc., etc.

delight oorae over her pretty fane; but he looked in vain. It was true that Dorcthy loved jewels, and all that made life brilliant and beautiful; but there was something deeper calling in her heart at this moment, something the most precious jewels in the world would not give her. She opened the various cases, and she said appropriate words uf appreciation, but there waa something lacking in her voice, something that George Durnstone had expeoted to bear. He stood by with a frown on his face, and his Hps compressed. 'Don't you care auout these, ! Dorotftyy' he — Lady Durnstone bit her trembling lip. She answered nim almost peevishly. 'Yes, of course 1 care,' she said; 4 but'—the tears began to flow again—'l—£ can't J t i. wear these everyday. They won't—they won't take the dullress away.' >*' The man watching her passed through a moment like anguish. Something of the truth came to him at that moment, something of the wisdom that Mary Lascombe had tried to put into him. Ifc was a terrible moment to a man li kef George Durnstone. A man who, all hia life, had been sufficient for himself, who had known no law but his own. He had never"been 1 an emotional man, nor one prone |to flights of imagination; but as he stood there looking down at his weeping wife, a creature that he loved with a passion that was immeasurable, who made the world to him, for whom he bad sunK the very meaning of pride itself, he seemed to taste the bitterness of punishment. He seemed to look into the future and see hia own harshness recoiled on his own bead. He found it difficult to speak for a few moments, but words came at last. •What—what is it you that want, Dorothy ?' he asked. < He tried to make his voice gentle; there was no anger in his heart for her now, only a terrible disappointment, and a pity that was for himself as well aa for her. , fcM'.'u.--. And Dorothy answered: '1 don't want to stay here alone. 1 want someone to be with me- I want Selina baok!' George Durnstone winced. It was on hia lips to say somethioc cold and angry, but he curbed himself, s He had imagined that he, had loved her when he had married her, but in truth it was a mingling of feelings that had urged him to make her hia wife, and l of these feelings passion had been the most prominent. Now he was awakening to another feeling, to the feeling of real, of deep love. And with that awaken ing there oame to him a foreboding that love would never bring him joylove for him would be set in sorrow. It was this love, that was so strong yet so unconscious, that prompted him to answer her now in a oalm and gentle manner. 'Very well,' he said, 'you shall write to Selina to.morrow. 1 Dorothy got up. PHer eyes danced even through the tears. fo'Ob, thank you, darling 1' she said. 'You are good! You can't think how 1 have missed Selina. You see, I—l feel so lost here without her. And then,' said Dorothy, putting on rather an important manner, 'you know, George dear, this is Selina's home. She ought to be with us. It does not seem right that she should live with a stranger lite Miss Lascombe, and talk about earning her bread. I can't let people imagine that it is because of me that she has turned away from her home. Yoa must see that.' George Durnstone took her in his arms and kissed her. 'Have it your own way, my dearest,' he said;. 'Write to Selina at once—to-night of you will—and I will write, too.' Lady Durnstone nestled in her husband's arms, and gave a sigh of content. 'When Selina comes,' she said, 'it will be all so different. We shall have such fun.' She turned up her face to kiss him, and she wondered as he gave her the embrace why his lips should feel so cold, and why he should shiver as she lay in bis arms. (To be Continued.)