FIGHTING HER WAY.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9718, 14 February 1910, Page 2

FIGHTING HER WAY.

V . BY ROSS ASHLEISH. 1 ** Author of "Eleanor's' Luck," "The V> idow's "ft ager, § "Pure Gold," 7 Etc, etc.

CHAPTER XVII. Continued. j : 'lt is precisely that which I wish j to speak'of, Miss Custlebar; I owe it . to you and to myself that I should. , The lady who so grossly insuulled : us both last night was engaged to me . —she is no longer. She chose to permit herself to be maddened by the , anonymous slander of some cowardly , villain, and by her conduct has finally ( put an end to all relations between , us. I beg that you will not attach the , least importance to what occurred; it ie really not worth a thought. Let us speak now of your affairs.' •First allow me to say, Mr Marlow, that what occurred last night is worth many thoughts to me, especially when taken in connection with a part of my last interview with Doctor Howard, which I left out of my recital last evening. He dared also to insinuate that your kindness to me had been misconstrued into gallantry. You must know that the cause-how-ever innocent and proper in itself, for these comments—must cease to exist. Grateful as I am for your goodness, 1 cannot receive it at the peril of my fair name.' 'Great Heaven! Have I indeed been the occasion of such a sharneful wrong to you, Miss Castlebar' ? exclaimed the young man, with unfeigned sorrow and surprise. 'Oh, Mr Marlow, it is a cruel world we live in, since a good man cannot befriend a lone, helpless girl without such results. And I am not the only one to suffer; it has been the means of separating you from the woman you love.' 'She spoke brokenly, as if scarcely unable to keep back the sobs that rose from her neart. Her whole aspect was most pitiful—most appealing to a man with Roland's loving, generous and passionate nature. He was seized, with a great desire to take this beautiful frail creature to his strong breast, and hold her there, jasin a citadel, from the worlds ! harsh judgments. With difficulty he | mastered this feeling enough to say ! calmly: . j 'lt is a cruel world, my little 1 friend, to have hurt you so; hut do i not let the last idea cause you a roo- | ment's pain. J feel I have the right i to say this much; I never loved Miss | Carrol, though I was engaged to ' marry her. Her condut last evening would have conquered the most ardent attachment, had I ever felt it. But I did not, and the engagement was one of convention, which it has ! tost me nothing to sever if it might 1 have come about less disgracefully Poor Christine was conscious of a sudden lifting of the dared not think why-at heanng.that his heart was not given to that dreadful woman with the face of a Fury. She answered, very gently: i 'None of those facts can alter the '■ situation so far as we are concerned. Mr Marlow, and I must entreat you to add one more to your generous acts of Kindness to me, by putting ! an end to all further acquaintanceship between us.' | Her cheek and her lips had lost ! their rich color as she said this, and •her downcast lids were quivering | piteously. I 'Do you mean to let the senseless I suspicion of that old devil, Howard i (for the whole thing from the first to last, is of his making), deprive me of the happiness of serving you now, when you need just such help as I I can render?' There was a conrolled passion in his low voice that penetrated Christine's being like veins of electrical fluid. She became still paler and trembled so that her hands could scarcely hold their work. She managed to say: 'I do not require any further assistance now, Mr,Marlow. I have already written a letter to Doctor Howard in reply to his, accepting his proposition to make good my loosses, and let the rest go, for the sake of his wife and child, and the man who ' was so good to me in mv trouble. So, you see, I shall not need a lawyer, now.' As she said the last words she looked up with a wan smile on her but a strange shrinking fire in her eyes that swept away the last particle of Roland's self-com-inand. He was too thoroughly sympathetic not to see how keenly she was suffering, and that she nobly punished herself in thus dismissing him from her life. With a swift impassioned movement that she did not forsee, nor quite comprehend, he put his hand " over both of hers and held them fast while he said: 'Christine, you do need me, as I have wanted you from the first hour I met you. Cannot you understand how souls rush together, overleaping all barriers of time ur "; circumstance, and claim each other in the face of destiny itself? 'Ah, my little girl, I love you dearly and tenderly, with the best love of a true man's heart! and if you will promise to be tny wife and to wait for me till I have strangled the wolf poverty, I will do my best to make your sweet life safe and happy. Lian you love me a I little, Christine'? g It was a cruel moment for the girl,

f<jr every fibre in her being throbbed to the music of his passionate voice: she was so lonely, and her heart ached so for ihe blessed haven of this great deep lovs that flowed out to her from Roland's yearing eyes. Could she love him a little? Alas! she already loved him with all her soul—and forever. She dared not trust herself to speak with his hands clasping hers so; all her will seemed to lie prostrate under the touch of his strong fingers She drew herself gently from him,, and said mournfully: 'You do uot know what you ask. What can you know of my past, that you are willing to make me your wife?' 'I know that you fill -my soul to overflowing, and that I want you, aDd you only, for its companionthat is enough.' 'No. it is not enough to satisfy the f requirements of your world, and I am far too proud to bring its censure upon you for having made a misalliance.' 'Child, we are poor together. Only a few days ago a stroke of ill luck, in the form of paralysis, deprived my father at once of his health, and the office by which he supported his family—my mother and four sisters. Just when I fancied myself reaching a position of pecuniary independence, I find myself burdened with the care of all these helpless ones. I can manage it, but it will take time; that is why 1 said it you would wait for me.' 'That alone would be a sufficient reason why I should not add another weight to your load.' she said sadly. 'Oh, not a weight, Christine, but a hope and an incentive! With such a reward ahead of me, I should be obliged to succeed—don't you understand?' 'Say no more, Mr Marlow. I dare not listen an instant longer to such words. I should be unworthy even of your respect if I could take advantage of your noble sympathy to secure my own happiness.' The word slipped passionately from her sad, trembling lips unawares, and all her face told the story of how she was crucifying her own heart on a scruple of honor. Then you would be happy with me, darling!' cried Roland, with enraptured joy, as he folded his arms about her and drew her forcibly to his breast, where she lay for a minute, so white and still that all the life seemed gone out of her. Unmindful or unconscious of the silent anguish she was suffering, Roland pressed his eager lips to hers in that transport of joy which the first sense of possession in the woman of his love gives to a man. In response to the wild passion of his kiss there came a great sob from the depths of Christine's heart, and raising herself to her feet, she moved away from him with her hands over her eyes, moaning like one in physical pain.

CHAPTER. XVIIL ) LOVE AGAINST CONSCIENCE. 'Have I hurt or orrended you, my poor little flower?' cried Roland in despair, lest his stormy passion had wounded the sensitive- delicacy of this wonderfully impressionable woman, whose moral nerves seemed all to be exposed, as it were. There was such earnest contrition in his tone that Christine felt her heart longing to say some word that would tell him how entirely her soul answered his. *Ah, do not speak to me like that, Mr Marlow—indeed, I must not hear you. I have been mad to give myself up to one moment of such a heaven as your love offers to my lonely life. But alone I must be always—always!' 'What can you mean by .those despairing words, Christine? Surely you have become the victim to some foolißh dream. Come back to me, dear, and tell me what it all means. Don't be afraid to sit here again. I will not touch you, I swear.' She returned to her chair, and, folding her hands on her lap, with her eyes bent on them, she began to apeak in a low, troubled way. 'You have the right now to know my sad story, Mr Marlow. I had not thought I should ever t ti l it to any one; but now I feel I'd rather have you learn the truth, ur at least all that I know of my history. 'My earliest recollectio* is of living alotie with my mother is in a small tenement room in a noisy part of this great city. My poor mother was a pale, delicate creature, who seemed always on the verge of weeping, so sad and so forlorn was her face. I used often to go and put nay : arms round her neck as she sat paint- ! ing fans and fine screens by which i she made our support, and say: "Mamma, why do you look so? Why don't you cry, if you want to?' TO BTS CONTINUED