A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9136, 11 July 1908, Page 2

A HEART'S TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER XVl.—Continued

Paul kissed his wife tenderly and hurried away, parting from Dora for the first time with a mind so pre■ occupied that his usual little lovevlikc pang at leaving her was forgotten. He ehosa a fleet-looking hansom; but the horse went too slowly for him, and his eyes roved about him involuntarily as he went. He almost feared to catch a sight of Cecil's tall, pretty figure in the cold, damp streets. Until he had seen the lawyer and learned all there was to learn, his heart would not resume its normal beat.

Left to'herself, Dora paused till she had heard the front door close and the wheels of the cab that bore Paul away roll briskly out of the street, then she went into her pretty white-and-gold parlour, with its silken-shaded electric light and its multitude of dainty appointments, and, standing before the fire, opened Felix's latter. It was brief enough, yet it made Dora's lips contract. She read : "Dear Mrs Darnley: A line of heartiest congratulation and of welcome to your charming new home. May I claim the privilege of an old friend and be permitted to call for a chat and a cup of tea some afternoon this week? 1 look forward with so much pleasure to seeing you again and to renewing my at present very slight acquaintance with band. "Most sincerely yours, FELIX BINGHAM." Dora Darnley read the note three or four times, and the lines of her tightened lips contracted closer as she read. Finally she dropped the letter into the heart of the fire, and then she sat down to think.

Her first idea had been only too true. Felix was not coming lo see her for any idle reason; there was something he intended to make her do for him. But what was this something to be? and at what cost to herself was it to be done? were the questions that now filled her brain with tteady torment.,

CHAPTER XVII

OH, THE AGONY OF IT! The effect of a great menf.nl struggle, of a tremendous upheaval of thought, an awakening of life from the calm monotony of convention to the fierce trouble of grappling with hard, immovable facts, mosc assuredly is one which, with most women, must bo allied with physical weakness, if not temporary prostration. Here and there, however, are a few feminine natures possessing in them an almost masculinity of will and strength, which but for the most untoward circumstances might never be revealed, but which, once having been called into action, remain dominantly to the fore. Cecil Lacklyne's real nature had never been known even to herself in imagination till the moment came when she found herself called upon to face a situation which would have killed the heart of mast women at the outset. How it passed that she remained alone in Helen Brownlow's sick room, and Felix had slunk out of her presence was never afterward quite clear to Cecil. She only remembered that a very passion of horror, of contempt, of utter repugnance, to the man had seized her when, with a cruelty and cowardice .almost incredible, he had dared to silence the feeble, half-dying woman before him with a blow. Not if she lived to a hundred years woulJ time ever have the powe'r to rob that moment of its bitter horror, when the last shred of that curious fascination, that spell that had woven itself about Cecil's overstrained heart and mind these last few weeks was torn from her, and Felix stood revealed by his own hands in all his utter worthlessness. Tne smart and sting of her woman's pride that had begun to question and torment her since thought had begun to play clearly in her brain swelled in that moment into an uncontrollable scorn. Not merely of the creature who had so humiliated her, but of herself for being so humiliated. I What words she had used to him as j she thrust herself between him and the unconscious form of Helen Brown- j low, Cecil had not known, but truly some power had been given her to quell him and to show him that she was mistress of the situation. ■ He had gone from the room, from the house, in the greatest haste. He was shaken by the information the sick woman had thrust upon him, as a giant tree is shaken by a violent storm to its very roots. He found himself trembling in every limb as he hurried down the avenue. The hot fury of his anger melted away quickly, but the sense of disaster Remained; for the truth came to him with sickening conviction that Helen Brownlow had spoken 'no lies, and that Cecil was legally a pauper, just as she way legally his wife. He would have to go as he wasguing, without a word oi argument, of explanation with Cecil lti so vital a moment, but for the n>membranee of the girl's illimitable horror of him, which iiij act of cruelty had brought forr.li. llvi f-lc truly, as he recalled with a stint; of hurt vanity how he had fallen in the eyes of the girl he had so successfully foiled, that it would 'be but making bad worse if he remained and endeavoured to have speech with Cecil. 1c was not the moment for the exercise of his usual apecious cloquence, and, indeed, he knew no met'iod in which to attack the sub ject. Even if he could have attempted an argument against the folly of believing in the truth of the confession Helen Brownlow had made, there was his 07/n conduct, his own fren

By Effle Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "Hugh Grotton's Secret," "A Splendid Heart," "Bravo IJurk.r.i," "Tl.o Temptation of Jlary Earr," '-Soliua's I.ovo Story," etc.

zied anger and dismay at such a confession, to be explained away. And yet, difficult as it was, Felix saw he would have to make some big effort to keep his grasp on the wealth which he had all but won so triumphantly; for, left to herself, Cecil was, he knew, only too capable of doing exactly as Helen Brownlow had suggested, and of renouncing immediately all claim to the property which, as the accepted and legitimate child of Charles Lacklyne, was her just inheritance. Felix swore to himself, between his closed teeth that the girl should not be left to herself; that she should know she was not free to act independently in any single thought, word, or deed and that having taken him for her husbani she should learn sharply to recognise he was her master also. Hi* faith in his power of conquering difficulties came back to him swiftly. By the time he had reached the station and was being carried back to L-mdon, he was calm again—calm with the keen sense of cruelty that lay hidden at the bottom of his nature. After all, why let himself be troubled? Cecil was but a weak child, and her defiance was worth nothing. He would leave her to herself for the moment, but he would return to White Abbey, say, in a couple of days, and then he should find things much changed and the girl's passion of wrath turned j into tears; for, of course, she loved him, and love at her sentimental age could cover a multitude of such sins as his with charity and forgiveness. Also, Felix comforted himself with recalling the fact that Helen Brownlow would exert all her influence to prevent the girl from doing anything rash.

"3he only said this to frighten me off," he told himself. "She had no intention of letting Cecil do anything so wildly quixotic as write and give the truth to the lawyers. Whatever may be the right or wrong of this case, this confounded woman at least seems to have some love for the girl, and therefore she will not let her ruin herself—unless," Felix added to himself, with an uncomfortable afterthought, "unless Cecil confesses that she is already my wife." He put this thought from him, however. He t/as no subtle readar of human nature—otherwise he would have grasped before this the many strong and unusual traits in Cecil's character that only needed circumstances for development; nevertheless, he jumped to a right conclusion when he satisfied himself that Cecil would hold her marriage a secret from feelings of shame and pride mingled. He found many puints in . his imagination to lead him by degrees into a more comfortable frame of .mind; and when he reached London he was his usual smiling, radiant Silf. He dined well, as was his rule, and afterward he went to his customary stall to watch Kate Kearney in her latest dance, and finally he finished the evening in a merry Bohemian circle. That was the kind of society, above all others, as he said, to take a man out of himself. His one strong sensation of satisfaction was his knowledge that Cecil was his wife. "I will mold her just as I like," was a thought that would flash through his mind at odd times during that evening, and then at othei*3 would come another thought: "And, by God! if I cannot mold her, I can punish her; lean make her sutler for daring to oppose me!" (To be Continued).