Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3061, 4 December 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

By lint ADELAIDE ROWLANDS. Author o£ Selina'j Love Story "An Inherited Feud," " Brave Barbara," " A Splendid Heart," etc., etc.

f CHAPTER XXVl.—Continued

"How Paul can have done it!" she exclaimed. "That sweet child; so pretty, too and so young. I call it nothing less than murder, Lauris —murder;" Lady Hungerford rolled out the word sepulchratly; "for Isobel's heart is broken just as completely as though he had jumped upon it, and crushed it up into little bits." Laurie could not resist a faint, a very faint smile at her aunt's most inelegant diction, but she was too angry to smile long. What a clever, cunning minx this Isobel was! A wave of intense thankfulness passed over Laurie's mind as she realised to the full the girl's contemptible character, and remembered what a store of suffering had been spared Paul in a future with such a woman for his wife.

r "lf Isobel's heart is broken, lam I very sorry for her, aunt," she answered; '"but you must please allow me to hold some strong doubts on that point." "I am quite prepared to hear everything that is extraordinary from your lips, Laurie." Lady Hungerford was getting exceedingly angry, and anger with Lady Hungerford was synonymous with vulgarity, as her niece knew vt ry well by experience. But to-day, although Laurie was herself very angry at the wrath that was being visited upon Paui, she was not so angry as she might have been had she not seen that her aunt firmly believed in Isobsl's talt;, whatever it was, and espoused the girl's cause su hotly because she conscientiously imagined Paul to have behaved very wrongly. Isobei had managed to win Lady Hungerford's entire sympathy, and, judging from the point on which Isobei had evidently posed herself as a heroine of injured innocence, she deserved all the sympathy she could get. But, though she determined from this cause to restrain herself from fighting her aunt as sharply as she would have liked, Laurie could not help becoming gradually infuriated as the tirade went on, and she had to hear all sorts of uncomplimentary and bitter things launched at Paul's head; in fact, she lost all patience after a while.

"You are saying dreadful things, aunt," she broke in impetuously, while hot tears started to her eyes; "and I think you ought not to nay them, when you know how good,, and true, and straightforward Paul is, and always has been. You condemn him in the face of *ll this knowledge. Of course, I see quite plainly, Isobei fads told you some very wrong story. I don't blame you for believing that story, because you have as yet had no reason for doubting Isobei; but I think, in common justice, you should not condemn Paul on the word of one who is, alter all, comparatively a stranger to you. You have always

been so fond ot Paul, and you cannot tell me of<<pne single thing he has done in his whole life that could make you judge him so harshly as you are doing now. It is not for me to speak out. Paul will tell you all there is to tell; at least, I hope he will, for then you will see that, despite all that may have been represented to you as the contrary, he was not only, justified in what he did, but, for my part, I consider he would have been very, very wrong if he had acted differently." Lady Hungerford was not satisfied with this statement, and said so; and the ma.tter raged on till Paul came home to face his aunt's anger

and digest his disgust at this last trick of Isobel's as best he could. jle was very quiet, and said very little until Lady Hungerford, having wound herself up to almost impotent fury, suddenly launched the name of ''Mary" at his head. Then there came a swift change over the young man, and Laurie never remembered to have seen her brother ao roused and incensed in all her lifelong knowledge of him. Lady Hungerford, once set going on the point which through Isobel's cunning, she had been made to suppose was the real and one pivot on which

the whole matter turned, had plenty to say. She denounced Mary in her broadest language.

"A married woman setting herself

deliberately to steal her cousin's lover. Shameful! shameful!" she exclaimed, heedless of the set, white look that came over Paul's handsome face suddenly, and of the quick exclamation of horror from Laurie. "The cousin too, who has been so good to her. who stood by her, and helped her all she could in a time of utter disgrace. Truly, Paul, as you have acted unworthily, you have found a right good companion in your unworthiness. Isobei has " Paul Hungerford suddenly stretched out his right hand.

"Stop!" he said quietly, with an intensity in his voice that-made Lady Hungerford look at him in amazement. "Say one word more, and, though you are my kinswoman, I will have you ejected from thia house, and, between my people and you, there shall be silence utter and complete. You have dared too much; you have gone too far. You have insulted me beyond all bounds. I have borne it, as you have seen, quietly; but, by Heaven, the man or woman who speaka one word of ill against Mary Ballaston will meet with no softness or laniency at my hands!" , Paul walked toward the door as he

finished. Once there, he paused, and 'looked sternly and proudly at Ladj\ Hungerford, who had grown suddenly very pale, and, it must be confessed, felt much Irightened of her nephew's anger. "To •<?!' you have brought against fror-, Au ic Anne," he said, in a suiter voice, though it had by no u.eacs beco;nc its usual kind tone yet,

"rest assured, I have a defense. You have been deceived. I stand before you to-day With no stain of premeditated sin or wrong on my conscience. My honcur--our honour — dearer to me than my life, is as clean and strong as a poor, feeb e man can keep it. More than this, you will never hear from me. Judge me, or misjudge me, as you like. lam con- j tent with my own knowledge of my J innocence and in the love and faith of those dear to me." There was a silence between Laurie and her aunt as the doT closed on Paul after these words, then Lady Hungerford rose. Her fear had "gone with Paul's departure. "1 consider I have been grossly insulted by you both," she said loudly aggressively. "I will never set foot in this house again. I came here with the best wishes in the world to try and set matters right; to try to induce Paul to see that he has been in the wrong. But I see I might have spared myself the trouble. Poor Isobel her life is blighted now for ever; but let neither Paul nor that woman imagine they will reap much happiness from their treachery. They "ill be punished you will see and I shall be extremely glad to hear they are both most unhappy." ' , "You will have your wish alas! Laurie said to herself with tears in her eyes as she accompanied her aunt in.silence to the door and put her into the flv to be driven to the Green Dragon. t ****** j It was a wild, stormy day. There [ was no sun not even a suggestion of [warmth behird the clouds which swept fleetly across the sky. The leaves, ripe for destruction, were torn easily from the branches of the trees by the gusty autumn wind. It was a sad day, and Mary Ballaston felt in tune with the day. She walked alone: quickly over the leaf { strewn pahways, but a close observer : might have noticed that she walked j mechanically, and that her beautiful > eyes had a weary, strained look, as j though the burden of her thoughts i was so great as to affect her sight.

She wore black, but no suggestion of widow's weeds. There was no grief in her heart for the dead man who had been struck down to the grave in the very moment of perpetrating his last most cruel wrong to her. A month had gone since that visit to Liverpool. It was, now late October. Autumn was come, and Thrastone Court stood out clearly amid the dismantled trees. (To be continued).