PRIMROSE DELORAINE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 1037, 18 August 1911, Page 2

PRIMROSE DELORAINE

j'-q-S DAUGHTER. PENDENNIS. 3'-'.'_i- <: "Sir Reginald's ..wim," "The Forgotten Heir." "Rival TeautiM,' 'etc.

UUR SERIAL.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE END OF THE STORY. | Five years later. Eversdene Castle was en fete. Flags were flying, bands were qlaying, triumphal ardlies, bearing mottos tied with streaming ribbons, were reared here and there. Everywhere there was gayety, laughter, enjoyment. All the tenants and workpeople and emqloyces of the Eversdene estate were gathered together that day on the broad, velvety lawns of Eversdene Castle, to do honour to the fourth birthday of the little Viscount Delorme, the eldest son of the Ear! and Countess of Eversdene —once known as Captain Jack and Primrose of Red Tree Camp, and the future head of the fine old Eversdene family. ,Hugo marquees were crowded with delighted guests, and, a little apart from the noise and laughter, on the broad stone terrace that ran along the south side of the castle, overlooking the wonderful, old-world garden, Lady ; Eversdene, was-sitting, : leaning . con-; tentedly back in a long, low chair, a happy smile playing about the sweet lips, and lighting the purple velvet of her iris-blue eyesi A lovely little girl of two, a picturesque fairy in, white muslin and blue ribbons, her mother in miniature, wias by her side, playing with a huge doll nearly as big as herself —a doll that closed and unclosed its'eyes, and said "papa" and 'mamma" in the most approved fashion. A little away a stately nurse was parading up and down in the sunshine, bearing in her arm's a snowy bundle of cambric and lace, a tiny morsel of pink and white humanity, and by her side a Great Dane was stalking solemnly—the Great Dane that had kept watch with Lord Eversdene on a certain never forgotten night. The little girl—little Lady Primrose Delorme —crowed with delight as she watched the gay crowd. "Oh! mummy, isn't it boo'ful?" she cried.' "And all cause it's Jackie's birfdsay." And Primrose smiled down at the raised lovely, childish face, a wonderful, marvellous mother-love in her eyes; then raised her head quickly as J a sound fell on her e*ars—the sound for I which she had been listening. It was the sound of a horse's hoofs cantering up the winding gravel drive, and a moment later there came into view a gray mare, and on her back a tall, broad-shouldered man, who held before him a beautiful boy of four. The man wiaved his hand as he oame in sight, and the boy shrieked out with delighted laughter. And Primrose rose from her chair, and lifted the little girl in her arms, and held her up so that she might .see lier fahter and brother better. Such a picture she made as slie stood there clasping-the child, her slender, white-robed figure clearly outlined against the gray background of the castle, the sunlight on her wavy hair, the glory of summer all about her, the ohild'k face pressed to hers. And as.-Lord Eversdene watched them his eyes softened suddenly. "Mummy and Rosie, old chap," he said, bestowing * a lazy, affectionate pat on his small son's curly head, "the two most precious things in the whole world. Don't forget that Jackie ; always love Rosie." The boy turned and looked up at him with eyes so like his own that they gave him the odd feeling of looking into a mirror. "Always l6ve mummy and Rosie," he echoed, with childish gravity. "And daddy, too," he went on, nodding, "and baby brother, and—and—oh! — and the gray mare. We all loves the gray mare always, 'cause once, years ago, when daddy and mummy was in danger, the gray mare helped* to save 'em. So mummy says." Captain Jack nodded, smiling retrospectively. "So she did," he said, and his hand stroked the gray satin neck with a very tender, touch. "Good old gray mare. We all love you, don't we, old •■girl?" ■ ,;- And. the good gray mare,' as she .ielt. th©: touch of his hand on her:, shoulder, threw up her head and pricked up her ears and bounded on, stretching her lithe form in long ,swinging -strides, as if she understood all that he said. i A moment later they had reached the terrace, and Lord Eversdene was i by ,his wife's side, looking down' at her with the old love in his eyes—the love that had never failed her yet, would never fail her; a love that found its reflection in her own eyes. The little Lord Delorme and the little Lady Primrose Delorme scampered away to their nurse, to peep at the sleeping, baby and kiss the Great Dane who received tlieir attentions with a dignified condescension. And for the moment Lord and Lady Eversdene were left alone. Then the man reached out his strong, brown hand to lay it on the girl's white arm. ■ -"Five years ago to-day," he said, we were so happy that I thought we never could be happier. Five years ago.to-day was our wedding day, little girl, and I thought the years could give us nothing'.more.sweet. But I was wrong. For every year that has rolled by since then has brought an added sweetness to our two lives. So may the years roll on, gathering sweetness as they pass, Primrose, my Primrose! Sweet, my wife!" He smiled down on her, she smiled up at him, each with perfect loev and perfect trust.

And as they-stood there, side by side, lwppv in their mutua llove and one another, the years to come touched with such radiance as comes only to some of the dwellers on earth, two people, a man and a woman, came quietly out of one of the open windows behind them and onto the terrace, and stood there watching. A big, gravelooking man, a tiny, Dresden-china, fluffy-haired woman. The woman clung to the man's arm with one hand, the othr held a silver headed stick, on which she 'leaned heavily; and the face that had once been brilliant, rose flushed, sparkling, was pale and wistful now. There were shadows beneath the forget-me-not eyes, dark purple shadows that told of piain and suffering. The lovely bloom that had once tinted the fair skin was faded forever, but her face had gained a new beauty, a womanly sweetness that had never softened it in the old days; the old days when she hnd' not been tried in the furnace of affliction, as gold is tried in the fire.- . And round her lips there hovered a, smile that told of everlasting content. And as she watched the beautiful picture before them —the picture of husband and wife, home and children, —Sir Gerard drew Valerie close to his side. Valerie, his wife, the woman who had been snatched from the jaws of death; the woman who was still, as she had always been, all of life to him. For Valerie Vivian had not died, had not passed through the shadows into the Great Silence. Something had held her back from the arms that death stretched out to her. Those who looked on said that nothing but a miracle could save her. And perhaps it vras |a miracle. The miracle of love. (THE END.)