Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3018, 14 October 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

"A Splendid Heart," to., etc.

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. It sent him away wretched. He almost counted the hours till morning. He had settled one thing in his mind; he would entreat her to lee him take her to his mother. She needed a woman's aid, a woman's sympathy. She was so much alone. Surely she would listen to this plan. His heart throbbed with mingled emotions as he drew near the lodgings next day. He never realised till this moment how painful, how difficult was the task he had undertaken. It was not too early. He wanted her to have all her strength for the interview. He heard the sound of the bell in a dim sort of way, aud then the door opened. He inquired for Mary, and asked to see her. "Mrs Ballaston! ■ Why, she's gone, sir. She left ever so early, poor dear; and she was that ill, too. Gone to join her husband, I suppose. Nice sort of creature he is! She weren't fit to move, but a letter come from his lordship, I suppose, and up she gets and out she coes before I could say anything. I tell you her face made my heart fair ache. She's not long for this world; she ain't, mark my—" But Paul turned away, sick with disappointment, with fear, with pain. 111, penniless, alone in the world! What was her fate? What would become of her? In the first moment of surprised sorrow he felt overwhelmed, stunned; he did not know ■which way to turn, what to do. It was a terrible blow, and in the realisation of the aching, yearning pain that came to him he read now with absolute clearness how much this woman had become to him; how great was the love he felt for her; how deathly the knowledge she was lost to him, perhaps for ever. CHAPTER 111. A SISTER READS HER BROTHER'S SECRET, BUT NOT QUITE CORRECTLY. "Here are the letters, Dawson. Put a foreign stamp on that one, and tell Maria to bring me back some half-penny stamps; and, Dawson, have you sent those books up to Mr Paul's room, and is there a nice fireY Dear me, it is tiresome I should have this bad cold just the very day my boy comes home!"

Lady Emily Hungerford had made this lament a hundred times since the morning, but she did not say it peevishly or fretfully; she was the brightest and cheeriest woman in the world; even a severe bronchial cold could not hide that fact from being patent to every one. She was a motherly creature, with almost a pretty face; her hair, scarcely touched with silver threads, was worn brushed back in shining waves from her brows and surmounted with a graceful little cap of lace. Her complexion was as fresh as though she were a girl, and her beautiful hands ■were white and firm and very comforting to look at. Her daughter Laurie and her maid Dawson had combined their forces and compelled her to stay in the cozy, charming drawing-room, scented with innumerable flowers and warm with a bright fire. To this source also was due the existence of a white, fleecy shawl about Lady Emily's shoulders; had she been allowed to exercise her own pleasure in contradiction to their discretion, she would have been standing on the platform of Birchdale's small station, awaiting the arrival of the London.' tram and her beloved son Paul. "It's well-nigh four months since Mr Paul was down last," Dawson remarked as she gathered up the letters from the table. "It seems more like four year 3," Lady Emily said, with a sigh that conveyed eloquently how much she had missed her handsome boy. "How long is he going to stay this time, my lady 9 " asked Dawson with something of a sniff. She had never approved of Mr Paul's roaming about the world under an assumed name, and for absolutely no purpose. There were no secrets in The Elms household in which Dawson did not join, and though no one except his mother and sister had been taken into Paul Dering Hungerford's confidence when he had suddenly determined on devoting himself for awhile to the study of life and his violin in real earnest, fired thereto by the enthusiasm of an old musical friend and instructor, a certain Signor Narini, it was not before Mrs Dawson shared in their knowledge and became one in the conspiracy to keep Paul's doings secret from all, but moie especially from his u de and aunt, Sir Rupert and .Lady Hungerford, who lived in the big, somewhat gloomy house about a mile out of Birchdale, and who were regarded by Dawson with unqualified and sincere disliKe.

It was the greatest wonder in the world that Paul Hungerforcl was not a detestable young man instead of being what he was—one of the best and sweetest creatures ever framed. His mother had done her best to spoil him; so had his sister; so had Dawson, though she would have fiercely rejected this statement; eo had his tutors, his comrades, and indeed all who hnd been brought in contact with bim. He was born after hia father's death, and he was a3 the very apple of his mother's eye. As the child grew into a boy, and the lny gradually became a man, the mot.itv'a love deepened and intensified.

The boy's- adoration for that mother was something beautiful to see. Qf course every one declared from thb first that he would turn out

badly; and Lady Hungerford, Sir

y EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS.

Selina's Love Story "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara,"

Rupert's wife, gave forth more prophecies on this score than most. "Emily is so weak; she does not know how to bring un her children. Paul should have firmer guidance, stronger control; and when one considers his future—well, really, I think she ought to allow Rupert to have a say in the matter of the boy's education." For Paul was sent to no public school. He studied with the rector of the village for some years, and then he went to a private tutor's house till the time came for him to go to Oxford. "No boy is worth a pinch of salt who does not begin life at Eton or Harrow," declared Lady Hungerford. But for once she was all out. Paul Hungerford proved himself worth a great many pinches of salt. He took first honours at his university and won golden opinions from every one. When he was twentyfour he came back to his mother's home and suffered several months of torture. Lady Hungerford having prognosticated unsuccessfully out his youth, was not in the least daunted. "Paul must marry, and marry soon. I must find him a wife. Emily will keep him boxed up in her draw-ing-room and he will never see anything or anybody from one year's end to the next." Dawson always sniffed when her lady told her what was said up at the big house. / "Seems to me'her ladyship might spare herself all this trouble. Mr Paul won't marry to please her or any one else, if I am any judge of character," was her usual remark. Lady Emily never got huffed or out of temper with her officious, autocratic sister-in-law; she always laughed her cheery, pleasant laugh. "Oh! well, Dawson," she would invariably answer to this kind of speech, "it amuses Lady Hungerford and keeps her in a good temper." Paul, however, with the intolerance of youth, combined with the influence of a strongly marked will and character, got a little tired of his Aunt Anne and openly said so in his home. His sister Laurie laughed at his rebellijn. "It is your turn now," she said; "she gives me a little holiday. I have had this sort of thing for the last four years. I begin to hope I have tired her out." "She is a wonderful woman," Lady Emily always said with a smile. But at twenty-four Paul could not bring himself to endorse that statement; he found' his aunt a decided bore, an one day lie could bear it, no longer.

"1 am going abroad for a year, mother," he said tersely, and he went.

. Lady Hungerford was amazed and offended, but her tactics commenced all anew when Paul came back after sixteen months' sojourning on the Continent. He had acquired considerable worldly knowledge in his travels and had studied music hard in Germany. He inherited a strong musical taste from his dead father, while he took his salwart physique from his lov of athletics and sport and his broad English mind from his mother and her family. He was regarded as something of a genius by Lady Emily and his sister. He really played the violin very well for an amateur. (To be continued.)