When Love Rules The Heart.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9585, 3 September 1909, Page 2

When Love Rules The Heart.

V BY OWEN MASTERS. i I 1 %, Author of "Captain Emlyn's Daughter," "The Woman I* * Wins," "The Heir of Avisford," "One linpas- *» / sioned Hour," Etc., Etc. /

CHAPTER XXVIII.—Co ntinued

A week later Helen left her bed ' for the first time. Her limbs were very weak, but with assistance she could move them freely. Thenceforth her progress was sure if slow. Her husband was ever by her side. To Armitage the past and the J present were like a vaeue dream. ' He had aged years in a few months. To all but Helen his manner had "become brusk and austere. Naturally of a strong and dominant nature, tie neither sought advice nur listened to it. To Lord Rainhill he was studiously though coldly polite. He hated intrigue in any form, and his father had played a part which he could never forget. His mind was not clear yet. Sleepless nights and wearisome days had undermined his health, physically and mentally. He was ever conscious of an indefinite sense of lose of broken dreams, even of wild despair at timts. There were changes everywhere. At the Court all things were dull. Lady Anuandale had joined her husband abroad; Cecil Howard was hard at work in London; and Gus Etherington had died a very few days after writing ( to Armitage. Armitage had intended to pay him a visit, but it was too late now. Very soon after Etherington's death Duncan heard from his lawyers. They reminded him that he had consented to be cotrustee of their late client's estate. "We shall be glad if you will make an early appointment," the letter concluded, "for the purpose of going through the usual documents. Our late client's property is estimated at about a quarter of a million. Every shilling is willed to his daughter, Miss Zilla Etherington, and he has left complete evidence of her legal relationship. The trouble is to clear up the mystery surrounding the youne lady's disappearance. In this your assistance aavice will be highly valued." For hours Armitage was Incked in his room. Ttie reopening of the old wound was anguish indeed. Of couise, Zilla was dead—he never doubled it »ovv ! j ,'i'o him she nad become merely the memory of a dream —a dream exquisitely painful, exquisitely sweet. It was traitorous to tnink of that old love now! tie saw the lawyers the next day. He did not wish to take any active part in the management of the late Mr Etherington's estate, he iaid. He only wanted justice to be done. It would he well to keep possession until something definite was learned of Miss Etherington. His voice broke here and he felt that he must choke. Another month went by. Helen's improvement was siow. Shs would never be the same again. November with its leaden skied, dark diys, and fierce winds, had come, i'he tall trees trembled and moaned, the rivers were sullen, the birds were mute. Helen could travel only quietly, Duncan took his frail, beautiful Aife by easy stageb to Ajaccio. On the way thither they spent a month at rural Bastia, among the mountains and chestnut-woods. It was a blissful month to Helen. From Ajaccio they went to Algiers, but were recalled to England in the early spring by the seriou3 illness of Lord Rainhill. His lordship had contracted a severe cold; he was utterly fatigued at the time, and the cold ootained a complete mastery. He died, after a sharp illness, which defied the skill of the most eminent physicians. For a time Rainhill Court was thrown into mourning, and the new peer devoted his energies to the extrication of his estate from an almost hopeless muddle. Though a remarkable man in finance, the late peer had utterly neglected his own affairs. Thus the spring and summer passed away, and young Lord Rainhill was content to work at his books and minister to the wants of his invalid wife. He saw. with glowing tenderness and concern, that to dream of her restoration to health and strength would be a delusion. So he planned again a pleasant winter tour. One morning Helen was chattering merrily. Lady Annandale had sent her a budget of news. Clarpnee Mountarbon and Miss Lorna Casson had just been married. Lady Annandale had been one of the guests. It was a delightful wedding. "You are not interested in the least, Duncan" Helen said, pouting. "I wish I could have been there! Flo says that the dresses were charming!" "I am interested in all that interests you," her husband fondly replied. "When you grow strong you shall have gaiety enough!?" Lady ltanhill's lips quivered, her eyes grew moist. "I am not complaining, my darling. I should wish to go anywhere, only you are tied at home. I am afraid that I shall never be strong again. But I am very happy—happier than I deserve to be." She turned to her letter again. "Flo wants to know if we received cards of invitation." | "Flo is a senseless chatterbox!" Lord Rainhill sharply replied. Then he added penitently, "Yes, dear, we wera invited; but I do no like Clarence Mountarbon, and as for Miss Casson " He laughed meaningly.

"You know how shamefully she set her cap at me once upon a time!'' He came nearer to his wife and put one am caressingly about her. He kissed the sweet, pale face, and the golden head was laid upon his shoulder. "My sweet Helen, my life is dedicated to you! I know that you do not care twopence for any of these festivities, except for my sake. tut rest assured that in any case they would be hateful to me. I have nothing in common with the world and its frivolities. Where my noble-souled wife cannot go I will not go! Now we will have no more pretences, because I can see through them at a glance!" "Oh, Duncan, I have been atraid but now I know that I was wrong! My lovpr—my husband, I am so happy!" Then they talked of the wonders they had seen together, and of the wonders that they would enjoy during their next tour. • "And next year, little sweetheart, we must give a grand ball. Ferhaps you will be able to dance then. I want to see that dear face rounded again, and the dark rings gone from round your beautiful eyes! I want to see the peach-bloom back on your cheeks, and to hear the rippling laughter of the old days." She looked up at him half mournfully. "Next yesr, Duncan?" she repeated dreamily. "I wonder what will happen then?"

CHAPTER XXIX.

A SAD PARTING. Lord and Lady Rainhill went to Madeira. The young wife was charmed with the glorious scenery. She wished to go no farther, and their projects fell through. Lord Rainhill was quite content. His wife was pleased—that was all he cared for. The voyage had been delightful, marred only by one thing among the pgssengeis on board the magnificent Cape steamer were Clarence Mountarbon and his bride. Mountarbon had at once made overtures for a reconciliation. "Won't you forgive and forget, Armitage—Rainhill, I mean?" be asked. ' I am much more of a man than I was a year ago. I wish to make no excuse; 1 acted a treacherous part. I was mad with jealousy. You stood between me and the woman I worshipped—at least. I believed that you did." I TO BE OONTINI/ml