When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9537, 8 July 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

1 BY OWEN MASTERS. J ? 1 |> Author of "Captain Emlyn's Daughter/' "The Woman C Wins," "The Heir of Avisford," "One Impas- 5 £ sioned Hour," Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER 11.-Continued. "Good day!" the Honourable Gus Etherington said. "Kemember!" He kissed his fingers to the girl, and flashed a malignant look at Duncan Armitage. "My good fellow," he said, dipping his sculls into the water, "we have met somewhere before, but I hope that we shall not meet too often! lam not in the habit of tamely swallowing insults. Beware how you trespass upon my preserves!" With a sneering laugh, he pulled away. Duncan's face was white with rage. In a moment his sculls dashed into the water, while a fierce imprecation escaped him. A score of people looked on amazed, expectant. Then Armitage remembered Helen Howard; her face was white witn fear, and she trembled in every limb. "Have I frightened you, Helen?" Duncan asked penitently. "Forgive me, dear little woman —I could not help myseli! 1 will reckon with that felow at some future time! We will go home now." He glanceed at the slender whiteaobed figure on the punt. The girl's hands were clasped together, the dark eyes were dilated with l J iena . i ing vJ. fgar find adm'ratior. The j pianist was standing beside her, an j incomprehensible smile on his face. "What is it all about?" Helen Howard quietly asked. "I do not understand, Duncan." "You heard what that man said to me? You saw the terror of that child on the punt?'' "But why should you take up the quarrel, Duncan?" Helen said coldly. "She has her own friends—people of her own order. She id quite used to the life, and to the fulsome flattery of men like the Honourable Gus Etherington." He turned upon her swiftly, hauntily. " "We will not discuss the matter, if you please!" Not another word was uttered by either of them until they reached home.

CHAPTER 111. "AT ALL RISKS I WILL SAVE HER FROM THAT SCOUNDREL." While Duncan Armitage dressed for dinner lie could think of nothing but the sweet face of tlie girl minstrel. He reviewed the scene on the river again ard again, and wondered at himself. His brows contracted when he thought of the Honourable Gus Etherington and the "Arabella." The leader of the minstrel trouble had undertaken to perform for the exclusive pleasure of Etherington, and the girl would be there to Bing. The thought angered him, and he was amazed at his own folly. What business was it of his? She had friends of her own, friends of her own order, as Helen Howard had coldly reminded him. Was the pianist her father? Was it possible that a sqaufc, vulgar-looking man, with a heavy saturnine face, could be the father of one so graceful and lovely? He went down to dinner feeling that it was a bore. Once cr twice Lady Annandale was satirically merry at his expense, while Miss Casson watched him curiously. He endured it all with a show of stoical indifference. He was content to make himself agreeable to Miss Howard, and Helen's blushes were a painful revelation to her brother, to Lady Annandale, and to Lorna Casson. The elder people were blind to everything. Dinner ended, Cecil Howard drew Duncan aside. His face was pale acd his manner constrained. "I want a chat with you," he said. "Shall we smoke outside?" "As you will, Cecil; but time is limited. No homilies, mind you! I have had a sufficiency from Florence, and I warn you that your eloquence will be lost upon me. What's in he wind?" He followed Cecil Howard out into the cool evening air. Music and song floated up to them from the river, and thoughts of the girl minstrel and the "Aarbella." He glanced at.his watch. It was nearly eight o'clock. . "Oh, don't be impatient, Duncan! I won't detain you longer than ten minutes. Try these cigars—they are Havanas—some of the general's. He is an epicure in the matter of cigars." "Thank you—now fire away!" Arnr.tge blew a cloud ot smoke upward, and waited. "Duncan, old fellow, I want you to j be perfectly frank with me. I don't think that I ever adopted the role of mentor before; but I atn worried: about my sister." "Well—goon!" "You won't be angry?" ! "Nonsense! What is there to be angry about? What is wrong with Helen?" Still Cecil was embarrassed, and he paced uneasily to and fro. "If you will not understand, I must speak plainly," he said. "Are you so blind that you cannot see that my ; sister cares for you—that the heroworship of her childhood is developing into the one great love of her life?" "And what of it?" interrputed Duncan coolly. "What of it? How dare you ask me in that cold-blooded way? Where you fifty times the friend that I have

believed you to be. I should learn to hate you to the day of my death if you caused her pain!" "And I honour you for it, Cecil. Now don't excite yourself needlessly. Helen and I undertsand each other perfectly well; I spoke to her this morning." He hesitated. The sweet face of the girl singer floated before his mental vision "I spoko to her this morning," he went on. "And —and it's all right." C-3cil looked at him in horrified amazement. "All right?" he murmured hoarsely. "You have asked her to marry you?" "Yes—what else?" demanded Armitage irritably. "Are you mad?" "No madder than usual. What on earth is the matter with you, Cecil? Look here—l am going for a pull on the river. The decorations will be very fine—Chinese lanterns and fairylighta, you know!" He was still thinking of the "Arabella" and the sweet girl minslrel. "One minute! Let us understand each other. You have told Helen that you love her, you have asked her to be your wife, and you kiiow that 9Uch . « union is impossible —utterly impossible! Poor little ilelen! Good heavens —what am Ito do? If a breath of this mad folly reaches Lord Rainhill!" "Cecil, 'cher ami'," Duncan said gently, "within the last few days the boy has merged into the man, withfa desire for man's independence of thought, speech, and action. In this I may differ from many dead-and gone generations of Raiahills; but I cannot help it. Mv future is my own, and no one shall lay down the plan of mv life. I shall see my father on Saturday, and briefly tell him all. If he disinherits me, I shall not be a poor man. The world is wide, and full of great possibilities. With the sympathy and love of your sister, as my wife, I ho fear." Cecil Howard listened helpessly. "Am I dreaming'?' he murmured. "No, 'cher ami'--you are not dreaming. We have been friends and comrades in the past; we shall be so in the future." "I can say no more, Duncan —my tongue is helpless. As you are good to her, may Heaven ba good to you I am yoing back to town to-night—my people and I. What shall I say to them? The general is sure to De stubborn." "Say nothng! I shall be in London on Saturday. You think that it is a bad piece of businesp, Cecil; but then you lawyers do not see with the eyes of ordinary men. An, you human butchers! Oh, for the dear old days when not a care rufflled our brows! They were jolly*times, Cecil! A row with the town, surreptitious 'wines,' ana wicked little bets on the favourite horees of the day!" | TO BE, CONTINUED."]