The Marriage of Felicity

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10629, 7 May 1912, Page 2

The Marriage of Felicity

OUR cehi-U,

BY A LAX ADAIR. Author of "The ;Earl's Wife," "The Mo <>* Mm 'Middleha-m," "His Filler's Son.,'" "Bertram's Folly," etc.

CHAPTE LU—Continued. "Do you mean that there is :i .nail whose .suit your mother "favours?" "There are two or three." "And you expect nio to listen to that with calmness?' ' "Why not? Surely you do not imagine that you are the only man who ever admired me? Should it not. eonsolo you that you are tho only person I love?" ' ' "lint what good will that do v hen J cannot; declare my love for you openly before the. world?" "It will at least keep me from lovinanyone else." "Will it make you refuse their oilers too?" "It has made mo refuse them so far; but I am bound to say,' she added with the air of one who is trying to l)e honest; "that tho offers liavo not, been very tempting.' "You mean the men have not beo?i rich enough?"

"They have been rich, but I Inve not cared for their positions. You — and somo others have made me see that "J can command —a price.'

'"Of course you can command a price. Now, Isobel I put it to you plainly, what position, what wealth would suffice for you?" "If you had money I could trust you to gain the position. And this--" she added very gently, "would sound very mercenary if I did not love you." "It amounts to this. You will *:ot marry m until I have enough money to give you a suitable setting?'' u Y.&s, something of the sort.' : "And in tho meantime what do >Oll propose to do?" "I propose to temporise —to go on is we are, not accepting anyone. But it would be fatal if mother were to suspect that you are responsible for my repeated and refreshed refusals." "Does she mot suspect it now?", "She may think von care for nc, but I am certain that she does nob suspect me of loving you.' ' "Why does her. suspicion stop short of, thai'?" "" " V " /''"Because she does not realise that lam capable of loving any man. I am sure that she never was. A-l my power of loving comes from my father. I can scarcely Remember anything about him except the great tenderness with which he regarded my mother." "I see. If your mo-thcr thought you capable of loving she might inspect you of loving me." "Yes, and that is why I don't want yon to bring matters to -a crisis. I tell you honestly that I sympathise! with my mother. I have enough of her in me to realise hourly the disappointment I am to her. In her way she makes immense .sacrifices for me. .She dresses ,me"—-Isobel looked at the very dainty linen, dress —"well. She gives me all that it is possible for her to give." _ They had reached Knightsbndge, and, feeling that this was the end of their Avalk, the steps became slower. Near the park gate, a man -on horsei back raised his hat to 'lsobel. I "Who is that?" Mark asked joaiousliy. /

"That, 'she answered, "is one of'the men who could give me some of the things I want.. He is Sir Edwin Grant and he has made a large fortune in cotton. He admires, me, but is not in love with me.' "What do you tin can hy that?'' "L mean that lie weighs mo up deliberately." "I .suppose that seeing me here v. ith you will depreciate your market value?" "Undoubtedly'.it does, and we must not be scon often like this." "'Isobel!" He stood still, his irong face clouded. "Isobel, I must have my answer clearly. Do you love mo —will you be my wife?" - "I love you,' she said, "and it. is not unlikely that I will be your wife. But, as I have told you, the only way in which we can carry out our hearts' desire is to keep on as we are now doing. Mark, somclimes it seems to me as if you do not believe in me! 1

If she expected a passionate disclaimer she was disappointed. He j'ist walked on for a. few moments in *i ! once —then ho said, quietly : "I think I understand you, fsobe!-' i "Understand me so. much that you do not believe in uiej. Why should I feign lovo for you ? What do 1 gam by it? Do I not stand to lose by it?' 1 "You love me!' 'ho said almost impatiently, but I also know that v lieu I am away you put me into the background ( of your life yet —you would never forget me!' ' "You are quite right. You Know all of me there is to know —except — how much I love you.' He had not' expected the passionate ending to her sentence, and it thruled him. "And yet,' lie said, responding' to her loving tone; "you forbid me to make my love known. Do you know what I .should like to do? To go with you straight to your mother, and tell her everything, and in three weeks marry you, whatever she said, .vr you said, and to cohquer that world you at my side.' ' "It would be one way," she sari smiling. "Let it be the one way,' 'he pleaded . "Xo.' she sai'd. "It cannot be. Wo must be practical, Mark. We must think of things aw they are. How can you conquer the world with a millstone round you rneek? An expensive wife ,w.ith no money, would drag you down as nothing else would. Besides.

• a. married man does not conint.ir.d .so, I I iihk'Ji sympathy as a single one. \V!ri", you imis: do is to marry inonev—aV | must." "Ho you tliink I would ever marry anyone but yon?" •'I think that you will have to i'oi'ow where the fal-os direct." "Jsobe! !" ho cried. "You breuk i:> v heart. ,1 cannot dream of life witho nf you." "Mark.' 'she said, "you must, -.'o ,y, I. wish. Come to our next "At -Home '' Come early. You cannot kite uie iicie HOW." j-Tlk'i-o was a promise in ln)r vmilo. and Jiis eyes Hashed. „ "Of coursp I will como!' 'lie said. ; "Say .again 'I love you,' and 'that it is j not unlikely that I will be your wile.' ' "I do lovo you, and no one but you Now, aro you satisfied?" "1 must be. What are you haili'n: that cab for?" "I am lunching with Beryl." "Ah ! Mrs Palfreman ! 1 know f';i!f reman. Could you make it possible for us to meet at their house?" "I could,' she answered, "but how would .it serve us?' ' The cab had como" up to them .and ho helped her into it. She left him with the impression that she did not oa-ro to meet him at Mrs.Palfreman's. He watched the hansom as ion:* as it was in sight. Ho loved her passion- , ately, devotedly—as any knight of old loved his lady, and lie would have -bet"' willing to die for her sake. CHAPTER 11. When .Patricia Skelton died everyone said that her .husband would never be the same man again. For once, what everyone said was actually and undeniably true. Edward Skelton went about his work as usual. He was just the same master, the same able/worker that he had .ever boon. Ho visited his workshops and dispensed justice on the bench with the same zest, but ho did nothing more. His ambition, as well as all bis love, seemed to have been buried in the grave j with hir«beloved wife. ' Edward Skelton's father wan a skili!ed mechanic, and in. the days when great fortunes were, often made by men quite ignorant he laid the foundation of his business. He gave hies son as good an education as was obtainable, and when he was twenty-one lie i took him into partnership. The v..grid then appeared to lie at Edward's feet. He was tall, and a well-built man, rather lean, and he had, when 'l'jite , young, a roughly hewn face. When he was four and twenty his father died Then it was that the man's talents were exhibited. If he had shown himself weak iSkel ton's would have lost , their place among the great ironworks of the North. It was a crucial time, when workmen were waking up to the power that they had in their hands. But ho piloted his ship through' manyrough voyages, and at the age of twen-ty-eight tho works stood second to none. And then, 'when- he was twenty-eight he fell' in lovo with a thormighnops that marked everything to which lie set his mind. He had not knownnmch love in his life, had not even known ( his mother or any of the relations of • his father. Probably they existed somewhere in the little Cumberland j village whence the Skeltons originally came. Neither Skelton nor his son troubled their heads about thorn, £0 that Edward had been brought up practically alone. After his father's death he had ue.--oted himself to work, and had rarely indulged in ainusemeut. However, there came a night when he dined with the Mount joys and -mot Patricki Straehley, the only child of an Irish baronet who had dissipated his s nail fortune bv recklessness. Ho was ;ho last of a family that had been great. But that had ben some generations ago, and Patricia was left with a fortune'of thirty pound .a year to make hor way alone in the world. . 1 She iiad htum to school with Emd Mountjoy, a kind-hearted, rosy-faced girl, who, on Sir Patrick Straehley s death, invited her to como over and stay with her while she 'looked romkl,' as Enid expressed it. I (To he continued.)