Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3054, 26 November 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

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

CHAPTER XXll.—Continued. This, Isobel was thoroughly aware, would have been the tone adopted by moast men —men inferior to Paul Hungerford in delicacy and refinement of mind—men without that touch of faith in, and admiration for, womanhood which amounted almost to quixotism; men of the world, in fact, who would have been far too practical to have let themselves or their future be settled in this summary fashion by a clever little young woman like Isobel. It was because Paul had been what he was that she had manoeuvred as she had done, and had found her efforts crowned with success; and Isobel knew, too, that she owed this man the deepest feelings of respect and admiration, for she was quite aware that at the first, when the truth had dpwned upon him. Paul had been silently acquiescent out of truest kindness to her; a kindness that was a mistaken one, for the love he imagined enshrined in her heart, was infinitely unworthy of the delicate, consideration he had given it. This was a lact he speedily proved true. As she had held him up to now through his sense of honour, which was immovable, for, indeed at times, Paul had feared hejnight have given Isobel some cause in the broken words he had undoubtedly uttered in his delirium for imagining he held her. dear, naturally the thought of his leaving her after marriage, and in such a way as to let the whole world know how he despisert and disliked her, was one that had never presented itselt to her. She was stunned by it into silence. She felt sick and cold—her face and limbs were rigid. She was a curious, grotesque likeness of her usual dolllike self. Paul waited a moment for her to speak, but, as she m ade no comment, he turned away again, and walked to the'house; and Isobel stood watching him, as a caged animal might watch its prey moving slowly, vet securely, out of reach each moment. CHAPTER XIII. A JEALOUS WOMAN'S RAGE. Sir Paul walked into the house quiet enough outwardly, but inwardly in a very ferment of emotion, anger, disgust, weary pain jostling with that vivid joy which love must bring no matter how dark with clouds the hopeless sky of the future may be; no matter how great the agony of longing that may never be satisfied, never put at rest. He was in Mary's home. Aroutid and about him were evidences of her presence, all mute, inanimate things, yet possessing an eloquence for him that was too great for words. His eyes went about him in a hungry, eager way, but she was not to be seen. The colonel, still deep in his scientific argument, was pacing to and fro the length of the hall. George Cartwright, with a quick glance at i Paul's face, went on speaking, launching pome more potent argu- ! ment that roused the usually grave colonel to a burst of fiery eloquence. Laurie was lying back in a big chair, listening to the two men, and smiling faintly at their earnestness. As her brother came in, she roused herself. "Let us go into some corner and talk. What an age since we have been together, Paul, darling! Have you written to mother this week?" "Yesterday," Paul answered, clasping her hand fondly, while his eyes still wandered in search of Mary. "She was wise not to come," he said to himself, sighing unconsciously and yet The brother and sister sat chatting in a window-seat for some time, and then they were joined by Doctor Cartwright, the argument being brought to an untimely end by Colonel Leicester's departure to the library to' interview some poor petitioner. "Hungerford," the doctor said, in his own particular brusk manner, as he stood beside him, ."can you give me any information about Hugh Ballaston? I mean late intelligence, during the last few months, for instance?" Paul flushed, and then paled. P "I know no more than that he went to the United States in December last," he replied hurriedy, not quite steadily. "You are sure that he did go, I suppose?" queried George Cartwright. Paul smiled faintly, and shook his head at this. "It does rot seem to be wise to be sure of anything in this world," he answered, and his thoughts went to the story of Mary's death, that had reached him apparently in such an authentic manner; "but I have every reason to beiieve he went to America." Laurie was watching George Cartwright's face; he was frowning a little, and was silent for a time. "And I believe he did not go to America," he said shortly, when he spoke at last. I believe he is no longer on this earth, and that Mrs Ballaston is consequently a free woman!" "A free woman!" It was Laurie who really echoed these words, but they seerjed to be living and reechoing in Paul's heart; he had a dull, singing sensation in his ears for a moment, and strong, young as he was, he felt himself tremble all over like an aged man. "Gome out of doors," Doctor Cartwripbt said suddenly; "it is tni beautiful to remain in the house on such an afternoon. We shiJJ iA.I. nave said good-by 10 our and warm winds."

They obeyed him, and all three strolled out on to the lawn, going slowly in the direction of a small lake that ran through the lower part of Colonel Lecester's property. George Cartwright explained himself more fully as he went along. "I have been making very minute inquiries ever since the moment I became acquainted, thanks to Miss Laurie, with all the particulars of that young ceature's miserable marriage. I don't quite know why I did this," -he confessed freely; "for, apparently there was nothing to be gained, nothing to be done. But, from the description you had given your sister of this man Ballaston's almost perpetual condition. I felt it was not improbable that the later news of him would be equally as disreputable, if not worse. I have had his movements traced from the moment he left his wife, and it is my belief that Mrs Bailaston's husband vyas one and the same with a roan whom I find died in February last, in a Liverpool hospital, from the effects of an accident which had befallen him during a fearful bout of drinking, and at the very instant he was about to sail for New York. I have no definite proof, hut 1 thought I would talk matters over with you, Hungerford, and get some stray bits of information. I require to finally indentifv my man.' Paul's face was pale with suppressed emotion and excitement. "I will tell you ail I know—give you all the help I can," he answered instantly. "And I will leave you together," Laurie said suddenly. "I believe I caught sigU of Mary's gown just now turnirg that corner. Follow me slowly. "You . will find me at the lake side." r The two men fell immediately into a deep conversation while Laurie ran across the grass. She had seen a woman's figure in the distance as she had sat talking with Paul iri the -.window seat, and she had at once guessed that Mary had made, her escape from the' house by the side entrance, and had gone to , the ' lake, a favourite resort of hers, for solitude and thought. Laurie's heart was full of mingled emotions as she ran. If this was true —and to her it seemed that George Cartwright would not have spoken at all unless he had. some good proof to go upon--what a new world of pain and bitterness would be spread out before Paul! Mary free!—the woman he loved free to be loved, to be wooed to be won, and be pound, fettered, tied to a girl not worthy the name of woman, much less wife. The hot blood mantled Laurie's cheek; sh3 dropped into a walk. Behind her the two men followed, sauntering slowly. She left the lawn, and walked down a pathway reaching to the lake and the boathouse. As she drew near to the latter, she heard voices. She stopped unconsciously. Mary was speaking—speaking in evident agitation and trouble. (To be continued).