When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9550, 24 July 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

CHAPTER X.—Continued. "Is there nothing I can do for you?" he asked. "Nothing but keep my secret for a little while." Duncan turned his white face to • the glow of the sinking sun. "I am going to town also. My traps can be sent on. Let me be your friend in the future as 1 have been in the past. Hark! There goes the first bell. The women must suspect nothing." They entered the dining-room together, and Mountarbon kept up a flow of small talk. He assumed his best manners. He was the easy, self-possessed man of the world, the flatterer, the good-natured cynic. No one would have dreamed that less than an hour ago his fiercest passions had been aroused. Miss Casson listened to him with a mocking, scornful expression in her eyes. "I am going to London with Duncan to-night, Lady Annandale," Mountarbon said when dinner was over. "You will pardon my indecent haste, I am sure." He nodded at Duncan. "We will meet at the station." He followed Lorna Casson to another room, and held out his hand. "You will think of me sometimes?" he whispered. "I think sometimes of most people whom I have met." she repliad. with proud disdain; "but the thoughts are not always pleasant ones." "I am sorry if I inspire unhappy moments, Miss Casson " "Good evening, Mr Mountarbon. How tiresome some men can be. You force me to be rude." She turned carelessly, and seated herself at the piano. "Yuu shall one day confess that I am your master!" he fiercely retorted. "I love you, Lorna Casson, for your beauty, for your spirit, yet I hate you for your cruel scorn'" A mocking laugh followed him to the door, then she burst into song: " 'But her fate so bit-bit-bitter Is a story fit-fit-titter, * For a sad little sigh. And a tear in the eye, .Than a thoughtless tit-tit-titter!' " The refrain echoed in Mountarbon's ears with strange persistence; it followed Armitage to the conservatory, whither he had gone in search of Helen Howard, and he mentally anahema f ized Miss Casson and her singing. There was a note of mournlulness in the song that chilled his heart. Helen Howard was standing among the fragrant hothouse flowers, a look half of pain, half of expectancy, in her eyes. She turned a white face to the man she loved, and held out her hands appealingly. "Duncan —Duncan, there is someting wrong! Will you not tell me? At first I almost feared you would go away without saying good-by to me." "What foolish fancies you women have, Helen!" he replied, downing. "I am naturally very much worried —my father, you know, and the inevitable row. And my sister will go into hysterics before the night is over! Confound Miss Casson and her squaUing." He whisked off the head of an unoffending carnation. "I am sorry about this trouble, Duncan," Helen said; "but perhaps it will not be so bad after all. Lord Rainhill may relent " He interrupted her rudely. "Lord Kainhill relent? You know better than that, Helen! 1 must do exactly as he did at my age—exactly as my grandafther did—and marry the women chosen for me. lam at mere nonentity. My wife must be an heiress, with red hair and freckles, perhaps! It requires a princely revenue to maintain the Rainhill estates. Pshaw! I am heartily weary of it all!" His tone suddenly changed to one of tenderness. "Dear little Helen! Are you very sorry for me?" "Sorry for you. Duncan? Do I not love you more than any one else in the whole world?" she whispered. She' placed her hands upon his shoulders, and he stooped and kissed her brow. He shivered slightly, thinking what a traitor he was: The sweet face of Zilla, the gipsy girl, rose before him, her voice sounded in his ears. "You love me, Helen?" he said helplessly. "So much that I would give up everything for your sake, Duncan — even my own happiness! I ask you to put me aside, and follow the dictates of your own heart in all things. If you deem it wise to obey Lord Rainhill I shall never reproach you, thouhg I think that my heart will break." She clung to him, and her eyes were moist with tears. "I was wrong to tempt you, Duncan, jbut 1 could not help myself. Our love "was so sweet, and forgot your futher's ambition. We ought to have waited for a little while, until there was some hope that he would give his consent. My darling, you are free from 1 this moment! I was so hopeful, so happy, until I saw the trouble in your eyes, and since then the night and the day have been filled with misery." She waited for him to speak, but his face was averted. A nightin-

BY OWEN MASTERS. Author of "Captain Einlyn's Daughter," "The Woman Wins," "The Heir of Avisford," "One Impassioned Hour," Etc., Etc.

gale broke the stillness, and he moved impatiently. "Dear Helen," Armitage murmured, with a feeling of self-reproach-r—"dear, dear Helen! The little love of my boyhood! Oh, those old, happy days, the fragrance of the woods, the wild roses, the sweetbrier! We were children then —innocent, happy children!" He impressed a kiss on her white brow. "Oh, don't!" She shivered. "You make it so much harder, this parting! And you have not yet told me what you are going to do. Oh, my love —my love, I have seen it for days and days! Lady Annandale makes no secret of it, and I fancy she suspects something of this engagement of ours. Miss Casson is rich and handsome! You will marry her, Duncan—the match will be suitable —and I shall die!" He drew her to him, her heart thrilling with tenderness and pity. "Miss Casson?" He laughed contemptuously. "I shall never marry Miss Casson, Helen. She is not my style. I hate dark women of her type. How can she compare with you, my angel?" He looked away again. The sweet notes of the nightingale filled the air. A rapturous light was shining in the girl's eyes. "You ask me what I am going to do, Helen," Armitaga resumed, in determined tones. "I shall wait upon Lord Rainhill to-morrow, and Lord Rainhill will hear the truth. 1 shall marry no woman of his choice; I shall marry the woman I love. His approval is a matter of perfect indifference. The idea of a 'marriage de contenance' has ever been repulsive to me; it is no marriage at all in the sight of Heaven. My resolution remains unshaken. As I make my bed so shall I be contented to lie. I have counted the cost." A vivid blush mounted to Helen's cheeks, a,id she gazed straight into his eyes. "Duncan, you have made me so happy!" she faltered. "I thought that you were wavering, and I was afraid—your manner has heen so strange! Oh, forgive me for doubt-1 ing your strength and your courage!" . Her arms were about his neck, her head was upon his shoulder. There was a look of dismay on his face. He trembled from head to foot. She did not hear him. but murmured: "And you will tell your father of our love, Duncan? I cion't think that he will be greatly surprised. He used to be very fond of me. In the old, happy days we were always called little sweethearts!" "Yes—l will teil him," he vaguely promised. I TO PR OONTINI/EDi"] j I