A GIRL TO LOVE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9082, 6 May 1908, Page 2

A GIRL TO LOVE.

By BERTHA M. CLAY. Author of " Thrown on the World," " Her Mother's Sin," Beyond Parcb.V "Th 3 Lost LJ:ly of HiLbn," " Dora Thorne, " " An Ideal Love," etc.

CHAPTER XIII.-Continued. Victor had resumed his seat and dropped into an easy and indolent attitude. He f .e\t remarkably happy. While Isla played dreamy music on the piano, he listened to a little oi Mrs Craig's life story. It was a pathetic story, too, but only one among thoasands of others. Ifala a father had sDeculated and mortgaged —and mortgaged and speculated, until his worldly goods \had vanished into thin air. No one suspected thai John Craig was a poor man. Through it all he kept a smiling face, with the canker worm at his vitals. .What must his aiguish have been—striving, hoping, despairing? And when he was dead the censorious world delivered judgment, contemptuously pitied the sorrowing wife and child, and passed by on the other side. The church clock was striking the hour of ten when Victor wished the Craigs good night. "A holiday 10-morrow. he said. "We will start early and make a full day of it, if the weather keeps fine. And he prayed that it would be fine! "We can talk business, too, Mrs Craig. I will be here between ten and eleven, with an automobile. It is so hard to breathe in this sulphurladen air. Goodnight!" He pressed Isla Craig's hand, and his heart leaped within him. He caught the soft light in her limpid eyes, and they were beaming full upon him! Then he went down the silent street, dreaming happy dreams.

CHAPTER' XIV.

JOHN RUTHERFORD'S CONFESSION. Pelham was faced with his new problem, and he was not afraid. It was the problem of love. Ic had descended upon him, as swift as thought, and his sensations were as delightful as they were surprising. He had at last developed his antitype, as a great poet has described the mystery of love; he had met with an understanding clearly capable of estimating his own; an imagination which could enter into and seize upon the subtle and delicate' peculiarities which he had cherished and unfolded in secret; with a frame whose nerves, like the choijds of two exquisite lyres strung to the accompaniment of one delightful voice, vibrated with the vibrations of his own. The problem dissolved, it was love! He saw new beauties in the pjrple skies, and he believed that he Jiad only just begun to live. He walked on air, like a man very near to heaven, and wondered why the wells of his naturally affectionace nature should have yielded so little of 10-e until now. He paused at his qwn door, and while searching for his latch-key Tom Kennedy barred his way. The man's eyes were wild and bloodshot, and his face was not good to look upon. "I tpld you that I had written to her," he said menacingly,, "and she hasn't answered me. . I know why. I've been watching you, and I'll be even with the pair of you. She has been playing fast and loose with me, , and yon are a traitorous friend." "You've been drinking again, Kennedy, therefore it is useless to attempt to rafute anything that you say." His eyes flamed angrily. "Still, I advisa you to be careful." "I have been drinking, and I will drink until I am mad, and when I am mad- ——" He swung round, and hurried along the street. Once he looked back and shook his clenched fist. "And when I am mad," he shouted, "you sh-.1l both rue it!" Victor felt rather uneasy, not for himself, but for Isla Craig. He went to hia room stealthily. He w,anted to remain undisturbed, for that night, at least, and John Rutherford had a trick of dropping in just before bedtime for a smoke and a talk. The first thing to attract his attention was a letter lying upon fie tabla. Miss Kennedy had placed it in a conspicuous position, andjhe saw at a glance that it was from Nathalie Leighton. His brow puckered, and he pushed it aside rather impatiently. The handwriting, strong, almost masculine, saemad to follow his movements. He laid a newspaper over it, but even through that it obtruded his mental vision.

At length he opened the letter, after having fortified himself with a fragrant cigar, and was pleased to find that it wa3 only a sheet of chatty trivalities. He didn't care to read between the lines. He had a sincere regard for Nathalie Leighton, but what a terrible thing it would have been for both, had he spoken ■ the worda that had once trembled on his lips J, How was he getting on with hiH character studies, and was he coming soon to Pendinas? Jasper Trenwith had only visitwl Pendinas otize in t\vo weeks, but he was remarkably nice and amiable. "Not lu.ned in yet?" a voice said ur the keyhole.

"Come in, Rutherford." Nathalie Leighton's letter was forgotten. "But it is ten minutes past; midnight!" John Rutherford said, 'pushing open the door. "I've had a s.veater to-day, with my sermon. Nut an ounce of inspiration. Wet towels a.d toffee no help, so I'm going back upon an old one, and hope thut my flock will be charitable.'" Ha laughed dismally. "I hate to have to do it."

" vVhere's the wrong? Come in and sit down. Surely you know that few clergymen preach their own sermons all the year round? One exchanges with anuiher, to the advantage of their parishioners. Even churchgoers like variety."

"B it it's dishonest," said Rutherford, "suppose a man should annex (me of your stories, and put his name Lo it?"

"on, it is being done every day. It' a man ones a good thing ic id promptly dissected by the vampires, and served up in other forms. Well, I navd bpeut a most enjoyable evening." A fainc Hush stole into Victor's face, and his eyes softened. "And 1 have something to say to you, tlat will i ot keep." Ha liesitaiea, and the curate nodded encouragingly. Craig will have to resign. There are several reasons. The air here is ruining her health, and her mother's, too. Then is Kennedy. The man is wholly mad, and raves of revenge. Mere wind, ot course, but women are easily terrified." He stopped abruptly, and waited for J"hn Rutherford-to speak. "I am grieved more than 1 can express, Grant. But the Craigs are so poor, and situations are very few and far between, I wish we —you and I—could do something for them. Not in the way of charity," he added hastily. "They are gentlewomen and very proud." ; Victor regarded him in silence for a full five minutes, then he said gently, his deep voice vibrating: "I have my scheme ready, Rutherford, and Mrs Craig has given her assent to a very minor part of it." "Then my advice will count for nothing." The curate's face was very pale, and, springing up, he took two turns across the floor. "It will be a bitter blow for me, Grant. I understand from the very look in your eyes. I guessed what would follow, but not so soon." He resumed his seat, and hid his face tn his hands. "Grant, I was in love with Isla Craig once—not so long since—but she never knew it. I was only the curate to her—her friend — everybody's friend And now my life shall be dedicated to the church. Tell me everything, Grant. I believe that I am glad."

Victor crossed over to his friend, J and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "I am so sorry, old chap." j "It's all right now, Grant. It is hard to lose so much of the sunshine of. one's life, and I wasn't expecting it yet. The confession I have made to yuii mu3t be kept sacred. Now tell me all." He looked up with brightening ejes. "Mrs Craig and her daughter are being poisoned by the filthy air, and filthy lodgingf. One born in :t never feels the worse for it. The system is part and parcel of if. Bit to those who have always lived in the open country, or by the sea, the dust and smoke mean disease and death. Then there is f the madman, Kennedy, t? be considered; and as I have discovered in Isla Craig my antitype, I hope to have the right to care for her and her mother. We met like old frienJs—lsla and I; we had written letters to ea:h other years ago, so that there is nothing remarkable in this sudden falling into love. I shall ask Miss Craig to marry me within a few weeks' time. And, Rutherford, I am Wfll able to provide for her ai d her mother. I have a pretty little home-nest ready, and a few thousands a year,* independent of my books. I came here among the workers so that I mignt study their inner lives. You know that much, but ycu did not know ti at I was comparatively rich, or that Leslie Grant .was, only my pen-name. My real name is Victor Pelham." . Rutherford gripped Victor's hand, his heart and sou) in his eyes. , "I am glad," he said, "for Miss Craig's sake, and for your own, Grant." His voice shook with emotior. "I know that all things are righted in God's"own time. If I can help you in my small way " "I would come to jou before any other living soul, Rutherford," Victor said, with quiet concentration in his tones. "We are friends until deatih." "And after!" j 7 Ths trouble had passed from John j Rutherford's face, and when h<; left j Pelham's room he looked back once, ' and murmured: "Until death, and after!" (To be continued.)