Mary's Great Mistake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3064, 8 December 1908, Page 2

Mary's Great Mistake.

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

CHAPTER XXVlll.—Continu3d. Lady Hungerford's blunt, outspoken abuse was, in fact, far easier lor Paul to bear than the refined, delicate suggestion of wrong that was conveyed to his sensitive mind by Mary's refusal to hold the smallest communication with him by her determination to deny him all joy because of Isobel.

Paul loved her so much; it was almost an impossibility tor him to gage the extent, the depth, the power of his Jove; but he was only human, and despite his marvellous patience, gentleness, and tender sympathy, he could not fail to suffer bitter mortification, as well as bitter pain, in the present miserable state of things. The only comfort he had allowed himself, was the remembrance that it was Isobel rather than his dear Mary ..who was to be blamed for the trouble.

Mary had been worked upon by Isobel's clever hand, just as Lady Hungerford had been worked upon, only the result was far more disastrous in the one case than in the other.

Jfaul had waited day after day for some sign, some word of hope and unclouded belief from the woman he loved. Until this came he could do nothing, he said to himself; could do nothing to sweep away the meshes that Isobel had spread about his pathway. If Mary had only given him one little chance, he could have made everything comprehensible tu her; but she maintained this cruel, disheartening sileice; and Paul, in hLs despair, told himse>'f that his brier dream of hope was indeed nothing but a dream, and that he must set about some means to push the misery of this disappointment from him if he would not sink into a morose and embittered man.

Something of this determination had communicated itself to Laurie when he had spoken of his intention to go abroad, and'this evening she felt it even more decisively and more nervousiy. She J hesitated as to whether she would speak on the subject of Mary or not, and settied at last to wait until George Cartwright had come, and she had heard all he had to say.

The brother and sister parted with a few words and an affectionate handclasp, and then Laurie, with her retinue of dogs, took her way briskly toward the station. Paul watched her go with something like a mist over his eyes. "Dear old Laurie," he sajd to himself. "She will be happy. ' She will not miss me so much. He will do a lot to reconcile her to my loss. I am sure they] will jog along splendidly. Cartwright is just the man for her.'' He turned indoors with a face clouded and overcast. The big house seemed lonely and gloomy. Paul gave an irrepressible shiver as he looked about him. "And yet," he said to himself, with a sigh of wistfulness, "and yet it would he beautiful to me were she only here to share it with me. Oh, Mary, my love—my love! Must I lose you now, having so nearly won you? Even that I could bear, separation hopeless separation, such as was present before me for so long. Yes, that I could bear, but that you should doubt me—that you should think I have done wrong, that I have acted unworthily—it is bitter to experience such a thing from any one, but from you, Mary, from you! it is more than I can bear?"

£ Laurie stood outside the small station as the London train drew up within it. She tried, but in vain, to brush out of her cheeks and eyes the pleasure she felt at Doctor Cartwright's arrival, but the pleasure was too keen, too intense to be so easily dismissed. Laurie was endowed with a new grace and a softer charm as she stood smiling a welcome to the man coming toward her; a grace and a charm that communicated itself to him instantly. £ They shook hands quietly, and then Laurie looked into his face. . "You have something very important to tell me. I knuw it. I see it," she exclaimed abruptly, as they walked on, the doctor's satchel being despatched by a porter to Lady Emily's abode. "You are a witch," George Canwright said dryly, but there is something more than a smile about the corners of his clean-cut mouth, and a curiously tender expression in his eyes. "I think it is you who are the witch, if it is possible for a man to be a witch," Laurie answered. George Cartwright thought suddenly of another person who had been wont to credit him with more than ordinary powers. That he could recall that parson and that time so easily and quietly was a satisfaction that was allied to another sensation that was brought out definitely by near contact with Laurie's attractive individuality. • "I suppose you really do care for your brother, Mi3S Laurie?" he said, in his quizzical way. Laurie gave him a fleeting smile. "And you are simply longing to see them man and wife?" "You know I am," the girl said half-reproachfully, she was so impatient to know what was to come. Lector Cartwright said a word or two to the Hogs. His next remark waa addressed to them. "Tell your mistress she must buy you all new ribbons and fal-lals, for the wedding that will be so soon." They had progressed some yards away from the station. Laurie came to a sudden standstill. "Doctor Cartwright!" she said, in a <~hoky «nd particularly unsteady \ ay. ■ '.aiss Laurie!" he made answer, .stopping too. __

'•'Don't tease me!" she said imploringly. George Cartwright took one of her hands, and drew it through his arm in a masterful sort of way that was strangely de.ieious to the usually masterful Laurie. "I won't dear," he said tenderly, and thereupon he commenced to speak. "I found Isobel." "Is she very ill?" asked Laurie. •'111? I wish 1 cuuld think anything so kind of her.. Upon my word she is a bad lot, that girl. I traced her to Brighton. She is not with her aunt, has not been for some time." "Not with ther aunt! then " Laurie got no further. "In fact, Isobel is Isobel Marston no longer, she is a much grander individual; no less a personage, indeed, than Isobel, Lady Ingrave, and future Countess of Wiiminster." "What!" Laurie was speechless with amazement, and then she suddenly began to laugh. "Oh, poor Aunt Anne!" and then her thoughts going swiftly from one thing to another, and remembering her conversation with Paul not half an - hour at;o, she added, "But how extraordinary; how very, very funny!" (To be continued).