ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9040, 5 March 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN MASTERS. Author of " Nina's Repentance," " Clyda's Love Dream," " Her Soldier Lover," " For Love of Marjorie," " The Mystery of Wooderoft," etc.

CHAPTER 11. Continued. "Tell me, Stella," he said, at last, "has Jack hlerrington dared " He looked at her questioningly.

A woman weeping in a silent room. Full of white flowers that moved and made no sound." "A delightful picture— symbolical of what? Written, by a woman, it may have a dozen meanings. Perhaps you can tell me why you are crouching here and sobbing? You haven't been crying? I say that you have, and for that red-faced, brutal Englishman ! I have been following you, and his life hasn't been worth a moment's purchase once —twice- thrice ! Then I delayed until I had heard the truth from your own lips - as though I did not know!" His manner became frenzied, despairing. "Stella, say that you have only been playing a part. —say that the embraces of that man meant nothing, and you love me still!"

"Oh, no: not a word, but a woman can tell i Ih' has he-.-rd things, and believes. You won't let him come between us, Charlie?" she cried passionately.

There was no mistaking her terror. The worst part i'f her past life moved before her like a panorama, and something about this man was very dear to her just then. Emancipation was almost within reach and her future assured. "Not if Jack Berrington wore a thousandfold my friend." lie held her in his arms and comforted her, but the words came through close-shut teeth. "Stella, why should we not be married at once? I can go back to England to-morrow, and get a special license. Can you join me in London -say in a week's time? How can you get rid of your house here?" "Oh, very .easily," she breathed. "It is let to me furnished, by the month, and the owner is an obliging man, if the rent is paid. Yes- yes, I can meet you in London within three days. And, Charlie, I will be a good wife to you—it good mother to your daughter. lam not so young, you see; lam thirty-two years old. I think that I have a nature overflowing with affection, but I have never had an opportunity to open my heart one I love until now." •'Poor Stella! We are none of us perfect. As I have already said, nothing shall come between us." He spoke with lierco impetuosity. "You have been married before, and so have I; you have gambled a little, and so have I. You have done it from necessity, and I for amusement, and I am the worse of the two— if there be any sin in winning and losing monev at cards."

"I have never loved you, Henri Vipont," she scoffed. "One Frenchman was sufficient for me. My tears were for the Englishman, whom I intend to marry."

Vipont reeled as though he had been struck a violent blow in the face. With one hand he clutched at the table for support, with the other he reached to his hip pocket, and the woman heard the click of a revolver.

"To-night then, sees the end of the story, Stella. A man's insane folly and a woman's unparalleled treachery. For love of you I have committed crime upon crime; I have sighed for your smile —I have trembled at your displeasure; but now that I realize that I have been your tool — your dupe —my love has turned to the most venemous hatred. I will kill you as surely as you are sitting there, ancl I will have proofs of your utter vileness sent to the man you would marry. 1 will place them in the hands of the other Englishman. He will know how to use them ! He, at least, has not succumbed to your devilish wiles."

"The great ones of the world indulge \n the pastime, Charlie," she said hysterically. "Princess and prelates, and why should not we? Come —I am nervous; I feel that there is some presence here—-some hateful enemy." They had been resting . in the shadovV of the cliffs, a dozen yards above the shining beach, ensconced in a furzy hollow, overhung with bushy trees. The sea was curling lazily on the shore, and in every wave was mirrored the glowing moon. The night air was soft and sweet, and vibrant with music.

His eyes glittered redly along the polished barrel of the revolver, one nervous finger coiling itself around the trigger. He saw the woman's smiling face, he heard her seductive tones, and hesitated. All at once there was a sharp report, and it was Henri Viporit who staggered and fell. At the same instant the countess sprang to her feet with the swiftness of a tiger-cat and darted from the room.

CHAPTER 111

Eastwood placed one arm protectingly around the woman's slender waist. The future was decided, ; ir ;d nothing could alter it. Within a few days he could take the countess to the Priory, his wife. A letter to his daughter would be sufficient and then- —

JACK BERRINGTON'S ADVICE. Forty-eight hours later Mr Charles Eastwood was wrestling with a tangle of words in the writing-room of the Hotel Cecil, London. He had been thus occupied for upward of an hour, and the result was a pile of crumpled paper. Once again he essayed to conquer his task and wrote: 1 "My Dear Miriam: I have had a very delightful holiday at Biarritz, and it was a lucky chance which took me there. The scenery is magnificent, the shops are equal to the best in London, and you hear every language under the sun. For boating, bathing, riding and driving, there is no finer place in the world. "I have a great surprise for you, my darling daughter. lam sorry to say that Mr Berrington and I have had a violent quarrdl, and. we have not spoken since. Where js he now, I haven't the faintest notion, and shall certainly not acknowledge the fellow again in any circumstances. Now I will tell you what the quarrel was about' " Ho dipped his pen into the ink half a dczen times, and stared from the wir.daw. Then he gazed at the pile of crumpled paper before him, and vvond;:eci how he could burn it. If torn into infinitesimal scraps and scattered to the four wind" of heaven, or dropped into the Thames Somebody entered the room, and he twisted his head round. It was Jack Berrington. His face flamed witi* wrath. (To be continued.)

They descended a zigzag pathway to thG foot of the cliffs, and a singing girl with a cithara in her hand, ap<proached them. She made obeisance, and Eastwood put a golden coin into her brown palm. "Here, you gipsy wench," he said; "that's for luck 1"

"And much the lady and you will want it, sir," she answered. "Shall Zilla play something?" "No," Eastwood said harshly. His eyes were fixed upon a burly form strolling along the beach, and he knew that it wps that of Jack berrington. The' singing-girl made a little mock bow and turned away.

"Perhaps a rich Englishman will love Zilla some day!" she laughed. A short silence fell upon Eastwood and the countess. They walked slowly homeward, and one hand rested lightly on his arm. Through her electric fingers he felt that her heart was leaping wildly. "It must be good night and goodby now, Charlie," she whispered, at last.

\ For one week, Stella," he fattoi'«d., "Not an hour longer. I go direct to the Hotel Cecil, in Leudon, and will wait for you there.'' The minutes passed and still shfe clung to him.

"You will believe no ill of me, Charlie?" she V/htpsered, "That is impossible, Stella. No one wi'li ever breathe a word of censure to me; I would no'it listen. No one could do so without lyj'rtg." "Go - go," she said at last.- Her eyes were misty with tears;hei' Voice was vibrant. "One short week and I ■shall be in London with you, Charlie.' -Remember my love, if anything should happen—it would kill me." One passionate embrace, and she' fled to her own home, while Eastwood watched until the white-robed figure had vanished from his sight.

While he was watching' thus, the slender form of a man emerged from cne shadows behind the rountess' villa and passed within. Once he looked back, unci the face was ghastiy. A3 one whose right was undisputed he stalked into an tmlighteri yecep-tion-room. For a little while he stood still, until his eyes were accustomed to the darkness; then he groped his way into the window, and, drawing up the Venetian blinds, let in a ilouc! of moonlight. The w.ives of the Atlantic were singing and flashing along the shore and in the rocky bays. The laughter of men and women floated upward, snatches and the twanging of guitars. The man moved away with fierce impatience, and the imprecation upon his lips changed to scornful laughter. "fo you were here all the while, Stella. I wonder that I didn't see the shimmer of your white 1 dress. Whv did you remain silent?"

"I hoped that you would go without discovering me, Henri Vipont." He hent over her, his eyes ablaze. "Henri Vipont!" ho mimicked; adding, with a sneer: "'Spirit of twilight, in the golden glootn Ol dreamland dim I sought for you and found