Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3049, 20 November 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

CHAPTER XlX.—Continued. Laurie had coloured vividly as she recognised him; for the moment she looked like her usual self, with the colour in her cheeks; but, as she spike, the blush vanished, and the doctor's keen eyes noted the trouble and the pallor. "Where on earth do you come from?" Laurie asked, in her turn. "What a mysterious man you are, Doctor Cartwright, popping up irom the earth in this manner." "Doctors are privileged persons," was the answer. George Cartwright spoke a little mechanically. He was still looking keenly, and earnestly, at the girl, in a vague way. He felt pained to see the change wrought in Laurie's vivid and usually sparkling personality. "What is the matter with you?" he asked, her suddenly. Laurie looked at him for an instant. She did not pretend to misunderstand, or prevaricate, in the very least. "I am worried, and unhappy," she said briefly. "About your brother?" "About Paul." George Cartwright said nothing immediately, and she leaned back, and let her handsome eyes roam over the sunlit gardens. "You don't like this marriage?" the doctor said, at last. "I/liate it!" was Laurie's uncompromising reply, and then she sighed; "but all the hating in the world will not prevent it now." "Something else may however, postpone it," Doctor Cartwright said quietly. Then, in his curt, short way, "I have just come fromjHungerford Hall. Your uncle is, I rerget to say, in an exceedingly bad condition. I fear he has not many weeks to live, Mifis Laurie." Laurie turned pale. "Oh! poor Uncle Runert!" she said, involuntarily and with sincere sormw in every note of her voice. She had always had an affection for her gentle, henpecked uncle, and this news of his ill-health hurt her. "Perhaps I had better go back. Mother may like to have me," she said hurriedly. "1 think Lady Emily would be glad tojsee you." George Cartwright brushed his coat-sleeve thoughtfully. "I have come here to-day, not so much to pay a visit to the squire, as to speak with you. I want to thank you, M.ss Laurie, for writing to me as you did at the beginning of this week." "It was at Mr 3 Ballaston's request I did so," Laurie answered quickly, flushing a little. "She was so eager you should know all about her as soon as possible. She calls you her best friend, and I rejoice, with all my heart, to think that that poor child's future will be very, very different to what I had feared and anticipated for her only a short week ago. In her uncle's home " "Ah, you think with me, there will be no difficulty with Colonel Leicester," Laurie broke in hurriedly. "I am so glad?" / ',' l do not think, I am sure of this." was Doctor Cartwright's answer. "Immediately after the whole facts of the case were put before me, I went myself to Colonel Leicester. The result of my interview with him is that, before tonight, Mrs Ballaston will receive his forgiveness, and be clasped to a heart that has never hardened, changed, to her in the very least.. I have seen many scenes in my time, Miss Laurie, as you can guess, but I have never seen a man so overjoyed, and happy, as that quiet soldier became, when 1 told him what had brought me to him." ''Oh, I am glad! lam glad!" Laurie said; and tears sprang involuntarily to her eyes. "1 must write to Paul at once; he "

CHAPTER XXX,

And then Laarie remembered herself, and stopped, but not before George Cartwright had caught her words, and given them full interpretation. Except for a little tightening of the lips, there was no evidence to show that these words carried any ' pain or significance to the keenfaced physician, but George Cartwright had learnnd the lesson of self-repression early in life, and already the germ of warm, deep interest that had been brought suddenly into his heart at contact with Mary's beauty, and her pitiful, desolate condition, was checked and nearly destroyed by the man|s iron will and practical nature. Love for this woman must never be; for, were she free as air, George Cartwright had never blinded himself to the fact that Mary's heart would never hold true love for'him. The full proof of his wisdom was 1 forthcoming now, when Laurie's broken words had given him sudden light. •He wanted no further explanation; he knew, and understood, at once, and his first thought was pity for them, both the woman, who had suffered already so much, and for the woman, who must face his future with equal suffering and no hope. How would it end? This was a question too difficult for mortal to answer. Only on one point could they al! be sure, and all rejoice, and that was in the fact of Mary's reconciliation with her adopted father, and of her life henceforward sheltered and tenderly protected by this uncle's unabated love and devotion. Beyond that,, it was impossible to see. The future would develop itself for good or ill. Only to George Cartwright, the volume of love, which could have been inscribed for Ma-y Ballaston, would never now bo wvi'tan for him; it belonged to •:i* (.-tfit t. As i:x doctcr strolled back to '.he

By EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS. Author of Selina s Love Story "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara," "A Splendid Heart," etc., etc.

house, beside Laurie's handsome figure, he told himself ironically he had been a bentimental idiot; that romance and he were very far apart —in fact, had no kin at all with one another; and, even while he thought this, he was standing all unconscious in the very presence of another romance destined, this time, to be the real one of his life.

COLONEL LEICESTER SEVERELY REPROVES ISOBEL. The news Doctor Cartwright had brought to Laurie had caused much consternation, at the big house outside Birchdale, and, in a mild way, the village itself was upset, and troubled. Sir Rupert was not disliked, though he had never been popular, as his clergyman brother had been; but, on the whole, despite Lady Hungerford's interference, and loud-voiced, autocratic manner, it had been a peaceful time under the rule of the present baronet; and, then, death is such a mysterious thing, and, if Sir Rupert had been the most odious man in the world, the news of his death would still have been received with a certain amount of sadness, and awe. As it was, although Paul was beloved of all, there were 'many and hearty expressions of regret to be heard, and constant pilgrimages up to'the house to inquire after the dying man, for Rupert Hungerford was dying, and when at last the church-bell tolled out the truth that the pain and suffering were at an end, and Sir Rupert was dead, there were many who shed a tear, and gave a sigh for the gentle-spoken man who, had he been free of his wife's thrall, would have won even better, ana more golden opinions chan were iow given to him. Lady Hungerford was prostrated at her loss; but, though she was, in reality, a kind woman, it cannot be denied she fretted more at the loss of her position than the loss of her husband. Laurie did all in her power to soothe her aunt, and Lady Emily was kindness and sweetness itself. Isobel still remained at the Hall. She was furious at recent events. The news of Mary's return to her old homa was little less than a thunderbolt to Miss Marston. The fact of Paul's absence, and now ol her postponed marriage made her almost ill. She remained on with Lady Hungerford, ostensibly to administer comfort, in reality to suit her own ends. She would not go back to Thrapstone Court, until she was absolutely obliged, and, to Isobel's annoyance, she found this time arrived; much sooner than she had expected. After the funeral, which Paul duly attended, travelling night and day from the Continent to be in time, Isobel received a cold note irom him, announcing his immediate redeparture, and allowing her to see that, though she might still hold him bound, the marriage was not indenfinitely postponed. (To be continued).