When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9584, 2 September 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

"P.S.—John Seton, alias James j Randall, has gone to New South j Wales. Thai's the end of him!" i Duncan despatched an immediate reply. He was engaged at home for a while, but would run over and see j Etherington in a week or two—was sorry to hear of his illness. Yes —lie consented to be one of the executors of Etherington's will, though he sincerely hoped that his services would not be needed for a long time. He did not write Zilla'a name. His eyes become blurred, and the pen shook. He cou'.d not do it. Alas, poor Zilla! He made no mention at home of his visit to the specialist in spinal complaints until the next morning. Lord Rainhill listened doubtfully. Helen's parents and brother were sent for, but it waa Armitage whs broke the news to his wife. "I cannot lose you," he said vehemently. "You must not die! You do not want to die?" "I should like to live, if it be Heaven's will!" "Oh, my Helen, think that I have learned to love you a hundredfold for your patience,your sweet resignation!" She smiled up at him faintly. He noticed, with a thrill of terror, that her face was much thinner. The great blue eyes looked larger still, and shone with a strange unearthly brilliance. "I am anxious to see the famous specialist, Duncan," Helen said quietly. "1 want to live for your sake, if it be Heaven's will I shall live. I can hear the birds singing in the trees and smell the fragrance of the flowers. This is a beautiful world, Duncan! I do not want to leave it yet." "I am answered, my Helen." An impatient sigh passed his lips. He took a turn across the room, then pressed a swift kiss upon the white, thin face and went away. The specialist arrived at noun. For nearly an hour ha was c oseted with* Sir Edward Black. Sir Edward was obdurate and (skeptical to the lust. The specialist maintained that there was one chance in ten in favour of a successful operation. Sir Edward Black said that tnere was not one chance hi a hundred, "You retuse to assist me, Sir Edward?" "Absolutely." "Then I must telegraph to town. Good day!" "If you fail, Sir Edward!" The specialist spoke with quiet confidence. He was on his mettle. It meant either increased fame or a great loss of prestige; but success meant also a severe check to a rival whose jealousy had resulted ir. open warfare. In the evening an assistant came, and that night the operation was performed. It took some time to the people waiting in the room below it seemed an aga. At last the specialist came downstairs. 'lt is over," he said, "And lam almost exhausted. I would not go through the strain —the anxiety again for a thousand pounds! So far all is in favour of my patient. She will sleep for twenty-four hours. She | is young, and has an excellent constitution, and she clings to life; so I am sanguine. 1 can say no more." CHAPTER XXVll.—Continued. CHAPTER XXVIII. "MY SWEET HELEN, MY LIFE IS DEDICATED TO YOU!" One—two weeks passed, and the name of the great specialist rang throughout England; indeed, his wonderful skill was talked of throughout Eurone. The remarkable marriage could not be kept a secret. It was a beautiful —a touching story, and it brought tears into the eyes of many sympathetic souls. The devotion of the young husband was so rare! Then the bride had been snatched from the very arms of death by an operation which some of the most eminent surgeons in Europe had declared to be impossible. The man who had performed it was the hero of the hour. "A great fight!" he said deprecatingly. "And youth and a strong constitution are the victors. lam sorry for Sir Edward Black!" For weeks Duncan watched beside his wife. She was merely a shadow cf the beautiful Helen of old. The struggle with death had been long and fierce, but through it all the lue eyes had shone with an eternal love. "I have lived for your sake, Duncan—that is all!" she daid. "How long since I have been ill? The summer is ended, and we have had no picnics in the woods —no dreamful hours on the river! It seems but yesterday that you told me of your love, darling. And now we are married." She blushed deeply. "It was a strange whim of mine, but I believed that I should be dead very soon." "We have both been the happier for it. Helen," Duncan said gently. "Then I am content!" She sighed softly. "Nov/ I want to get strong. I wonder if I shall ever be strong again? I am afraid of the long winter, of the biting winds and the chill ' rain. I can feel that autumn is here. Do you,remember the beautiful thought of William Morris, when he was singing of the spring?" "'0 fair mid-spring, be sung so oft •and oft.

BY OWEN MASTERS. Author of "Captain Emlyn's Daughter," "The Woman \7ms," "The Heir of Avisford," "One Impassioned Hour/' Etc., Etc.

How dan I praise thy loveliness enow? Thy sun that burns not, and thy breezes soft, That o'er the blossoms of the orchard blow. The thousand things that 'neath the young leaves grow ; The hopes and chances of the growing year Winter forgotten long, and summer near."' Helen's blue eyes were dim with tears. Duncan smiled down at her. "We will winter abroad, sweet heart, where the cold winds may not reach you," he said gaily. "Why should you bs afraid? If the poet's moods are to influence you, then I will quote the same singer in favour of the fall of the year." "I am not afraid, my husband, when you are near me!" She nestled more closely to him. "I am listening, darling." He caressed the golden hair; he kissed the white face, and there was real passion in the touch of his lips. "Poets, my Helen, are the most unreliable and contradictory people in the world. They sing of the gates of Elysium and the miseries of Hades in a breath! '"0 Love, turn from the changing sea and gaze Down these gray slopes, upon the year grown old, A-dying 'mid the autumn-scented haze That hangeth o'er the hollow in the wold, Where the wind-bitten ancient elms enfold Gray church, long barn, orchard, and red-roofed stead, Wrought in dead days for men a long while dead. "'Come down, 0 love, may not our hands still meet, Since slill we live to-day, forgetting June, Forgetting May; deeming October sweet? Oh, hearken —hearken, through the afternoon, The gray tower sings a strange old tinkling tune! Sweet, sweet and sad, the toiling year's last breathe, To satiate of life, to strive with death. "'And we, too—will it not be soft and kind, That rest from life, from patience and from pain, That rest from Dliss we know not when we find, That rest from love which ne'er the end can gain? Hark—how the time swells, that erewhile did wane! Look up, love! Ah, cling close and never move! How can I have enough of life and love?'" . I TO BE CONTINUED.!