PRIMROSE DELORAINE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10300, 1 August 1911, Page 2

PRIMROSE DELORAINE

OUR SERIAL.

THE MISER'S DAUGHTER.

By MAISIE PENDENNIS. Author of "Sir Reginald's Whim," "The Forgotten Heir," "Rival Beauties,' 'etc,

CHAPTER XVlll.—Continued

fully high ideal of love, though even then I had ray standard. Two years ago I was something of a scoffer at love,>moro or less an unbeliever in the great human passion that rules the world and man's destinies jo irrevocably. But now I have changed my ideas on the subject, so to speak. I am no longer a scoffer at love —in fact, I have an ideal of love, and what a woman should be. "Love is not to me now a fleeting passion that is soon as dtist and ashes to tho taste, but a white, beautiful thing, wonderful, glorious, pure as the heavens themselves. Tho woman I love, Mrs Vivian, would never be a woman who could so far forget herself and her womanly modesty, as to offer me her love unasked, unsought ; but a woman who was fair and sweet as the angels of paradise, set far above me—a woman I could worship a.s my queen." Then he looked at her, and his eyes softened. "Forgive me," he went on, very gently, "believe me. it hurts me to speak to you like this, but it is better so. And I will turn down this page in my memory of to-night as if it had never been, and never look at it again. I am sorry, but I have no love te give you. Don't think me every kind of i brute and cad that ever existed. I wouldn't have talked to you like this only you Well, perhaps, you forced it on me. Now, will you come with me?" He held out his arm to her, but she did not move, did not seem to see. She stood like a Woman turned to ice. her big eyes fixed on the tall, splendid figure in its gleaming scarlet and white, the strong, brown face that had lived in her hart for two long years. "Was it for this, she asked herself, only for this, that she had lived on a memory all this time ? Only for this that she had laid her love in the dus?;, and abased herself, lowered herseK. for the sake of her wild, abandoned passion ? Suddenly, all .at once she threw up her arms, her round, lovely arms, and laughed—wild, shrill laughter, that made the man who listened shudder to hear. Then swiftly all the flame and passion died out of the face, and left it as white as driven snow, cold with the final, irrevocable coldness of burnedout fires. Only her eyes, if he could have seen them, held a look that would hav« made him shudder again. It was the look of a, woman who had gazed her last on the dream of love that the past had held, and now looked forward only to t"he ghastly, torturing maddening thirst of revenge that was to fill the future for her. She Said the tips of her fingers on his arm, and her old laugh parted her lips. "Yes," she said lightly, "take me away now, Lord Eversdene, and forget the play that I have' acted for your benefit. It was only <a play, after all, you know." And the man, as he glanced at her, marvelled greatly at the wonderful composure that had changed her all !in a flash f rem the woman of flame and passion to a butterfly doll again. ; Manlike, a few minutes later, he had almost forgotten the whole affair. But he had yet to learn, and speedily, that:

But now, as ho looked down into this woman's eyes, and read tho message, their shameless, abandoned message of lov.s his soul grew tick within him, and he found it in his heart to wish, with a great, mighty longing, that ho had never indulged in any sort of flirtation at all. The thought of \L> made him loathe himself in tho 'light of his new emotions. All lighter loves, lighter feelings, were lost to him forever now. The capability of experiencing them was lost, too, merged in the deapsst, strongest feeling of all—the great passion it elf—tho great passio'that comes, one day ..sooner or later, into every man's life. and. coming, alters all his world and holds heart and soul and being in its sweet, powerful thrall for all time. Even as he looked .at the small wie-. ked face so near his own, another face ! rose up and blotted it out. Such a face! Sweet as an angel's, fair as a flower in ita ruffled halo of sun-kissed hair, whoso tender eyes smiled up into his with a lovely radiance, eyes that were the windows of a sweet, innocent soul —a. soul that was pure as the white snow in the outside world. With an overwhelming feeling of repulsion he put up his hands to unclasp the warm, tiny fingers fro mhis neck.' and drew back. His face was set and stern and rigid. "Love," he said slowly, "love and respect go hand in hand, Mrs Vivtan. I couldn't love a woman I didn't respect. Some men might be able toI couldn't. And I—forgive me, I !o not want to hurt you—l could never respect a woman who —er, that is to say —flung herself into my arms, so to speak. I think, perhaps, you ara a trifle upset, a trifle overwrought vonight. Your nerves are all wrong, and you aren't master of yourself, or con scious of what you are saying. "To-morrew," he went on, "I nin sure you will regret the things that you have said to-night, and so we wi-l forget all about them, as if they h*d never .been.'*--'lndeed, .be i lieve„me, y.m honour me'ioo much-. Now lefrihe take you back to the ball room; or wo aid you rather go back to your boudoir?" He stood before her calm and impas-sive-as a statue, true in words, as : n heart, to the love of his life; and sli»» looked at him for a moment in silence, standing like a creature at bay, Ikt jewelled hands clenched, her littlo, sharp teeth set, her eyes flashing vindictively. She looked just like an angry kitte i, ho thought— a little, .ruffled wicked tiger kitten,, with claws all extended from velvet claws, all ready to scratch and scratch their deadly poisonous way with malicious malevolence into ih* heart of their hapless victim—crml. deep, jagged scratches, whose marks would never bo effaced. She meant to scratch too, for s)-v was in a whirlwind of unreasoning passion, baffled desires. She would hurt him, ah! how sh<? would hurt him, this cold, strong man who had dared to scorn her love. Dared to stand before her,in cool, lazy indifference., In that moment she vowed that she would never rest, never know a minute's peace until she h.> J wrecked his hopes of happiness ag he had that night wrecked hers. .^ Ah! she would hurt him, hurt him, ] hurt him. She would have her, le- I venge. She would have her revenge j for every word of his,-' Airevenge.bit- ' tor as death, cruel'a& the grave. > But because she was the sort of w><man she was, before she hurt him, be- . fore she began to work her reveng», she made a last wild bid for the lore that was set so far beyond her reach The love that, because it seemed that *he could never win it, she felt tin I she would sell her soul to win. Even now, after everything, she could not quite bring herself to believe that he was absolutely indifferent to her compelling charm. So many men had fallen victims to her subt.te blandishments that she could scarcely , realise that this'one man would stand aloof forever, proof against, them all.. Lord .Eversdene, as he stood"there, was wondering if he should tell her of; his love for Primrose, and %n end to her importunity for, qnce atid forever.- .Bnt his whole sout- ; shrank" from speaking to her of.'bis" dream just then. It seemed like a sacrilege to his white-flower love; his Primrose, whom he hoped soon to take I away from this woman's keeping altogether, into has safe keeping. thought that his little, sweet girl, so innocent and pur eand pecting, had been placed in Valerie Vivian's charge, held a sting that stab- J bed his soul with many dread fears and ! , misgivings. He turned away, but as he turned yet once more arms clasped him—alluring, seductive arms. Once more a soft, warm body lay against his. Once ; more tempting lips were uplifted to his. "Jack!" Valerie Vivian cried, her breath coming and going in quick, pas- | sionate sobs, her eyes flaming like diar.' mpnds, her cheeks like crimsoh passion flowers, "how can you talk like that, when I love you? I love you, Jack, my darling! My.darling!" And he felt her hot lips warm on his. An instant he stood as immovable as a sphinx. Then he put her from him, gently but firmly. The look of infinite, wordless scorn that lighted his eyes frightened her into swift submission. "Fortunately," he said, and the deadly coldness of his tones sank like ice into her fevered soul, "I am not quite the same man thatl was two years ago. Then I didn't hold an aw-

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, •' Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. *

CHAPTER XIX.,

A GHOST FROM THE PAST

Primrose wandered contentedly in I the lanes, and smiled from very joy of heart ,and wondered if any girl m all tho world had ever been so absolutely, utterly'happy as she, . Life looked golden indeed to her, and on the radiant glory of the future she could' See no single' cloud or shadow. The man she loved had come back to her,-.'.was hers,.and she was his; and in the day® to come they would be together -alwhys, lost in ia love dream .sweet beyond all words, all imagining, 'and would!drift ride.by side down the stream of life, 1 growing nearer and nearer as they-drifted. ; She Lesbie-Manor, t-Kat. morning, but in an hour or two she was going to motor up to London, driven by Smithers. Sir Gerard had gone up the day before with Lord Eversdene, and Mrs Vivian and Primrose were to have motored up together today. But at the last Mrs Vivian had cried off, and said she would rather go by train, arid so Primrose was left te go by herself. Mrs Vivian had started an hour ago, and soon she would follow; and then how happy she would be in London, buying her trousseau, and making arrangements for her approaching wedding. Captain Jack had come back for her. she thought, with a little, delicious thrill, come back from tho other side of the world; and soon they would be all in all to one ■another. They would parted again, never lose one another again, but alwaysShe stopped and looked up quickly. A heavy shadow had fallen between her and the pale spring sunshine, and on the instant a voice broke the golden silence—a harsh, brutal voice that struck to her heart with the echo of half-forgotten horror and tragedy. "Primrose!" itsaid, "I told vou you wouldn't get rid of me so easily, and you see you haven't." (To be Continued^.