Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3045, 16 November 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

By EFFIS ADELAIDE ROWLANDS. Author of Selina's Love S'.ory "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara," "A Sjlemlid Heart," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XVI. -Continued. Paul scarcely knew what he had answered at the tine. The story had jarred on him, jarred in the sense that he felt dimly, how or why he could not exactly have explained, that it would have been more gentle and becoming in Isobel to tell it in more loving words. Laurie's answer to his question, put so hurriedly and eagerly, confirmed him still further in his belief that Isobel had maligned Mary, and for no apparent good reason. He who had stood* on one side for so long, watching the proud dignity with which Hugh Baliaston's wife bad borne a life of misery, degradation and pain, almost too great to be described—he who had grown to know almost every beautiful quality of Mary's nature, every thrill of her heart—felt a rush of sudden, tempestuous disgust come upon him for the small, smiling, flaxen-haired sprite, who so belied her gentle looks and had let him see how pitiful a soul it was she possessed. Laurie repeated the exact story Isobel had given to him. "I always feel so sorry for Colonel Leicester for I am sure he must have loved this girl with all his heart. Don't you think he looks very unhappy, Paul?" Laurie said thoughtfully, as sh2 finished. "Laurie, there is a mission for you to undertake hers," Paul answered in a low voice, not quite steady; "do you understand?"

She turned her dark eyes questioningly on him. "Not quite," was her reply. And then, m<;re quickly. "Yes, perhaps I do. You have come across some news of this girl, Paul?" "I have come from her myself." Laurie gave a sudden exclamation.

"Ah! I see. I understand now. This beautiful, sorrowful creature, whom I fiaw at Wbiterock,., she is Colonel Leicester's Mary. She is the girl he mourns. I have guessed right, have I not, Paul?"

He smiled faintly. There was a gleam of light in his eyes; a curious thrilling look about his handsome face, sharpened and intensified by deep thought and suffering.

"And can you guess more. Laurie?" he said in tnat low, unsteady voice. "Can you understand the rest?"

Their eyes looked into one another's for a moment, then Laurie gave a little cry. The road was empty; n.it a living creature was in sight; but had there been hundreds passing to and fro, Laurie Hungerford could not have re-strained herself from putting her arms about her brother's neck, and pressing tender kisses on his face.

"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she said, and he knew by her voice that his secret v/as clear to her now. "Oh! my darling brother; if I could only help you. If —if " but Laurie could get no further, and Paul regained possession of himself as he saw her emotion, and how she suffered for him.

"Dear, good, faithful friend and sister," he said earnestly; "the best sister man ever had; don't fret like this; it —it 13 all one great mistake ; but we must make the best of it, Laurie. There is ir.ueh to tell you, much to explain; but not now; later on. Now tnere is work for you to do, and do quickly ; and, Laurie believe me, it is not all shadow and sorrow. Remember she lives, and I thought her dead; were —were I free, she is still beyond my reach; but still she lives! I have had a strange time H'nce I left you yesterday, Laurie. I seem to have lived through a century. J am dull, and tired, and stupid; and yet—oh! Laurie, the fact of knowing she lives. I can scarcely realise it yet. And then —if we can give her back to her home; if we can only know that the forgiveness she craves for so much is hers at last; if we can take her out of this life ol chance and toil, and see her safely housed and protected in her uncle's love, the- -the rest will be almost easy, Laurie. I shall be almost content, dear."

(To be continued.)

Laurie made no answer; only she reld him a moment longer in her arms, and kissed him again and again; and then, with her hand in his, as though to give him comfort and love in her mute touch, they turned and walked to their home in silence.

CHAPTER XVII

A LADIES' QUARREL. That evening after dinner, Laurie walked up to the big house. She did not often honour her uncle and aunt by such an unceremonious visit, and Isobf 1 knew instantly that it was no idle thing that had brought Paul's sister there on this lovely evening. Laurie consented to join the party j»t the table., and eat a little fruit, while Lady Mungerford expressed her opinion that it wari by no means a proper thing ior her niece to walk alone from her home at this time of the day, even though she had lived in the neighbourhood all her life, it was decidedly not right, she said. Laurie only laughed. "Dear Aunt Anne, how funny!" was her remark.

Lady Hungerford was extremely annoyed.

"Not at all funny. I wonder you don't see for yourself, Laurie, how improper this sort of thing is. I have a good mind to make you . stay here to-night; as it is, I shall have to order the brougham out for you, and it is so inconsiderate of you, Laurie, really." j "Laurie cut, her aunt's reproof short.

"|'.r-.l "•: fomin.Er up to nrkip: m« back; hi-, ivould have acconpaniH

me now, but mother asked him to read aloud to her for a little while, and then to give her a little music." Isobel' Hushed hotly. Paul back so soon? Immediately she scented something wrong. Lady Hungerford was not softened.

"In my young days a lover would have been more courteous to his future wife," she observed coldly ; "it is scarcely pleasant for Isobel to realise she comes second; besides, she knew nothing of Paul's return." "Oh, dear Lady Hungerfml!" Isobel cried quickly; "mothers should always come first, in my opinion." "And then," Laurie said quietly, "they are lovers; and lovers, you know, Aunt Anne " She glanced coldly at Isobel as she spoke. Miss Marston set her teeth firmly. So there was to be a fight; well, she could fight well, as Laurie could see.

Lady Hungerford, having given a long disquisition on a variety of uninteresting subjects, at last rose from the table.

"Are you going into the gardens, Isobel"." Laurie said. "I will accompany you." "Don't atay out too long, Isabel," Lady Hungerford cried ; "and don't forget you must send that pattern of blue silk to Valerie by to-night's express, without fail." Isobel answered something lightly, and then together the two girls walked across the lawn to where a tent showed white under the trees in the misty twilight. They were silent for a long time. Laurie was trying to frame her words as gently, as delicately as she knew how. All at once a determination had come upon her to try and save Paul from the crowning fulfilment of a mistake which was none of his doing, a mistake which meant so much suffering to him; not for a short time only, but for all his life long. She could not stand by any longer, and let him be drawn on and on into the net that a girl's unblushing vanity and cunning had spread for him.

"If she had seen one gleam of light in his future, if she could foreshadow one ray of peace and understanding in his association with Iscbel, even, despite all, despite the fact he had no love to give the girl who held him so close, Laurie would have said nothing, but she saw nothing Defore Paul but misery, and as she loved him so dearly, loved him with more than an ordinary sister's love, she could not endure to stand on one side and see him go on to such a future as awaited him with Isobel Marston for his wife.

Happiness such as she longed to give him, happiness such as could have been his, might never, never be now; but at least there would be comfort and pleasure for him could he be freed from these hateful bonds, which had been put about him by Isobel's cunning skill, and which, with ?n almost Quixotic sense of honour and chivalry to a woman whom he could not but despise, he had permitted to the engagement to remain unquestioned, and to all appearances the outcome of his own earnest wish.