Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3016, 12 October 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

- CHAPTER ll.—Continued. "She would kill me sooner than take aid from me or any other man or woman," he had said to thy middle-aged, overworked practitioner. "She must never know. lam an absolute stranger to her, but I have knowledge of her sufferings, of her courage, of her nobility. I ear.i a good salary and I have everything i need. I want to help her, for I know what he is; he is capable of leaving her here for weeks without a penny. Away from the little restraint of h<r presence he will be worse than usa;.i; she may die for all he will care. If I knew her friends I would communicate with them, but 1 can do nothing. Will you help me in thi3 matter, doctor?''

A compact had been struck and carried out, and Mary little knew ihat the few comforts she had been enabled to have in her hour of trial had been bestowed not according to her doctor's statament, by arrangement with Mr Ballaston before he left the town, but all through the -tender-hearted sympathy of the .young man who stood before her now stammering in hef presence. Mary tried hard to curb her feelings, to crush down the sickening •anxiety his words had raised in her mind, but she was very weak. She had travelled too soon after her child's birth, and the cold weather of the last few days had tried her terribly; she found it hard to gather up her strength to control her voice; it was husky and indistinct, and her small hands trembled pitifully as she spoke.

"It seems stange this —this sudden decision. Hugh, my husband, said nothing this morning about it; it is not usual. I "

The thought of the morrow broke the rest of her speech. The morrow, with its loud, indig-nant-voiced landlady and her empty purse!

What should she do? What should she do?

"It was arranged all in a moment," Dering said, trying to utter his own invented story as easily and boldly as he could. "Mr Ballaston, in fact, had not time to run home before catching the last train. He happened to see me, and knowing I am staying in this house he entrusted this message and this note for you to my care." He opened his ulster and took out an envelope. It was not addressed; his hand quivered a little a3 he la;U it on the table. What if she should divine its real origin ! What if she should doubt 9 It was not iiko Ballaston to think of her and her needs in this manner. He gave a quick sigh of relief as he saw she accepted the letter in all good faith" but even in this feeling of relief and satisfaction that he had been able to spare her pain and humiliation on the morrow, there mingled a sense of deep regret that he was compelled to deceive her in so helping her. Her puue, proud, honourable nature was so infinitely above deceit, it was desecration to lie to her. Yet, what could he do? The man who should have shielded her, comforted her, protected he, was something lower than the 1 jwest brutes.

Dering felt his olood rise furiously in his veins as he stood in that desolate room in the presence of that sorrowful, worse than widowed wife, and remembered the scene he had just; witnessed at the theatre, where Mary's husband, infuriated by drink and jealousy of the woman who had lately won his fancy, had declared his intention in loud, angry tones of letting his wife go tu perdition, he cared not where, sooner than permit her, or even remembrance of her, to stand in the way of his enjoyment. Ballaston had, in fact, gone on to Silchester in the train of his vulgar siren, and Paul's one thought had been how to act, an act quickly, so that Mary might be spared the truth, at least for a little while. He knew, without bfeing told in so many words, that Mrs Ballaston would be nearly penniless. It was common gossip in the company the way the conductor treated his wife The Ballastons' perpetual struggles and difficulties had become a sort of by-word among them, to Paul Dering's deep chagrin, for he feared lest in some way this might reach the girl wife -and make her bitter lot still more bitter If he had snot cared so much for her, valued her good name as the most precious of rare jewels, he would have ventured on a remonstance this night with Ballaston, who in his saner moments seemed to have a touch of something good about him. But in the man's mood, and under all circustances, he felt it would be dangerous, even disastrous, perhaps, to her who he sought to help. He could think of nothing but this that he had ju3t done; and now tnat it was done a great longing came over him to do more for her, to stretch out his strong right arm, the arm of an athlete rather than a musician, and shield her now and always from all harm, all sorrow. Mary had made no remark as he had put the envelope on the table, he stood in the same attitude, with the moonlight upon her. She could not quite gage her feelings in this moment—relief at her husband's unexpected absence, jostled with a curious, nervous dread, a fear of nothing definite, but of everything; a of weakness oppressed her: ehe remembered dimly that she had eaten scarcely anything all tnis Jong winter day. She shivered and moved unsteadily, and then she at the young man.

"I—l am grateful to you, Mr Dering, for your kindness. I " "You are very tired. I am so sorry to disturb you so late: but X thought it better to deliver my message to-night, otherwise you might have been extremely anxious,"

y EFfIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS.

Selina's Love Story "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara,' "A Splendid Heart," etc., etc.

Paul interrupted her, hurriedly. "You are very kind," Mary said again. She hesitated a moment, and then she held out her slender hand. "Good-night l " she said with one of her faint, rare smiles. "Good-night und thank you." Paul Dering bent over the little band as though she were a queen. "It has given me groat pleasure to Lk; of any service to you, Mrs Ballaston," he said simply and truthfully. As he turned to go he locked back. "If I can be of the slightest use to you to-morrow morning, pray command me. Perhaps, as your husband is not here to look after things, there may be some " Mary thanked him again. She neitl'er accepted nor refused his oft'tr. Her coldness, her hauteur, would have seemed ungracious to any person who had not studied her so long and so closely as this irian had done; but hi was not chilled by her voice or bearing. He was a keen student of human nature, and he knew that beneath her frozen exterior there ran the fire of a living, passionate temperament, strong with all those qualities of love, infinite sympathy and tenderness that constituted for him the absolute ideal woman.

He closed the door after him with a quick sigh of pain. Yet as he mounted the stairs to his room, which by a mere chance he had engaged before he knew the Ballastons were to stay in the same house, his pain was mingled with pleasure. At least he had been able to smooth the way for the morrow, and by his quick thought he had prevented the knowledge of her husband's latest shame and sin from reaching her for the moment. He sat, smoking, long into the night, thinking, as indeed he thought always now, what was the history of this young creature's early life, whence she came, what she was, and what horrible fate had led her to link her life with such a man as Hugh Ballaston. He knew intuitively she was a woman of birth and position. She carried this testimony in every line of her beautiful face and form; and he knew, too, that some sorrow other than that brought by her blighted youth was eating into her proud heart day by day; but beyond that he knew nothing. He had only conjecture to fall back upon; but his illimitable pity, that was given not to Mary alone, but to all feeule human sufferers; and his comprehension had sketched out a picture of this woman's past that was not far from the real true one.

it was long after midnight before he roused himself from his thoughts. He rose, then, from his chair, and, pulling on his overcoat again, for the fire had gone out, he sat down before a table and took up some letters.

He smiled as he read through one; it was extremely long and written in a thin, dld-fashioned hand. "Dear old mother," he said to himself as he came to an end, "it is rather a shame to leave her so long without a line. I must write now if only to stop a further influx of warm vests and flannels. I have got enough now to stock a shop." {To be continued.)