Fotheringay's Son.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 1736, 22 January 1913, Page 2

Fotheringay's Son.

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| ('}] API F.H XXVI IT. (Continued. | "May 'good-by' to you!" *'!»■ «' x " * claim"'-. "!>-.*) vou think I mean to I say 'co'.-d-by' to your"' j "«'Ar.il yet a good-by will have _to !>;v i-.iiid,''' lie answered gravely. "You have I.HTn kind a-nd condescending t-f:

| "Donakl," -she said, very tenderly, S '\viiy a;v y;u s.> unkind to nicy \Miy do vou ask mo for crude words? My dear, 1 kve yon, love you, love you! 'J I.ere—l have .said it! And nni not ashamf d :>T it. And that is why i will not say 'good-bv to you. 'lhat is why I feel'certain that some, day you will c-o;ne to me and claim me a.s voui* wife. l)o you understand?" There was a pause. Donald felt completely at his wits' end. What words could he uso to kill hor love yet not leave her crushed and ashamed?. He in list lie for her sake. ".Miss Ghuiebrook," he said gravely, "J have been much to blame. I did not dream that you would do me such an undeserved honor—how could I? I thought it was because of your natural generosity that you wece kind to your brother'^.tutor. .When I am gone and you think over tilings you will find that kindness and pity for me were the feelings that prompted you to speak." I "No," she ,sa:d faintly. "Yes, you will .see for yourself that you have made a mistake. You do not lovo me any more -than —than—l must -speak plainly—than 1 love you. My heart has long ago been- given to another woman in my own sphere of | life." She gazed at him in bewilderment, j Her beautiful face grew deathly pale. "I—did —make —a —mistake!"' .she said pathetically. "I —thought—you loved me!" The simplicity of her words cut Donald to the quick. If she had -said anything eke, if she had rebuked him, or if she had wept, it would have been easier to bear than the pain of those simple words, "I thought you loved me!" Even then the temptation came over him to he a man, to take her in his arms and tell her that this work! had never known love greater, deeper, and truer than the love he had for her. "lam very .sorry," lie said. "You see how it was—l could never dream, could T, that you would deign to love me? I feel ennobled by the knowledge that you should ever have thought of me!" "But —" she cried; "I am ashamed! Oh, fam ashamed! I have given my love to a man who loves another woman, and who has no use for it. T am as'hanied —a-shamed!" "No, no," he said, "you must not jbe a-shnmed! On the contrary, you have done what only a noble'woman could have done or said. iNone but a woman who has it in her to be really great would have spoken as you have done." "And you lovo another woman!" cried Sylvia. "I hope you may be happy with her! No, T don't—l don't because 1 cannot! Good heavens, how can you be happy with another woman when I love you?" How indeed? he asked himself. Row could lie be happy when his whole life's happiness had been thrown away that, day? "You will forget mo,'' he said. ou will marry a 'great man, and you will soon forget me. Tt is only a girlish fancy." '•'Forget you ! Forget you ! A girlish fancy! You do not understand me! If it had only been a, girlish fancy, do you think I should Jiave had strength enough to make mv avowal to you?" He made no answer. What was there to say? She sat down on the log and novo red her face with her liands. ' i "Will you go?" she cried, "I do not think I can stand nnich miore.!" "Go?" he asked. "You want me to leave you? Must T go?" "Yos, you must go," she said, not understanding his meaning. "You need not bo afraid. T am not ill—l shall not break down, But I want a little time, to myself. I have to remember that you love some one else —you do not know how that hurts I '' "I cannot go!" he cried hoarsely. "You must go!" she insisted. "T shall fight through it in. time. But it hurts me—it must hurt mei" "You must forget me." said Donald. "Promise mo you will!" No, she said, "I cannot- promise blurt! T know I sliall never forgetyou!" An hour later he said "Good-by" to Glazebrook. CHAPTER XXIX. When Sylvia Glazebrook had dried uftr rears she ran to catr.h a glimpse of Donald Lavender's retreating fio--nre. He. never once looked haek Why should he? she asked herself bitterly. Why should ho look back at a woman whom he does n ot love? But deep down in l;.er heart notwithstanding all that he had said, there wins the consciousness that he did lovo

BY ALLAN ADAIR, Author #f 1 a,i JsSamJ PrinoMi," "A Marriage s( FflllaIt V " *tfl

her—that she need not feel the humiliation of a woman who had confessed her love to a man who did not- care for her. "If lie does not love me, then lie is the most shameless flirt, the most dishonorable man that ever walked this earth!" *ho said -fiercely, and that mood was >still dominant when •slio returned to the house. She found the terrace full of people, who wme waiting for carriages and motor ears to take them to a picnic in the woods. She noticed that her mother looked relieved at her approach.

"f have been in the beechwood." said Sylvia quietly. "I can join your picnic now. mother, as f hear that Mr Lavender has been summoned home by the illness of his mother " "Yes," said Lady Glazehrook. "So providential, is it not? I can now write to young Mackinnon." "Doubtless," said -Sylvia sarcastically, "Mr Lavender's mother was afflicted by illness so that you might have Mr Mackinnon! Are you quite sure that ho" is':not' too attractive, mother? I don't think 'lie woi'dd be a. very goocljjarti, after all." "My dear child," said her mother severely, "let me give you a word of warning—don't cultivate -sarcasm! There is nothing men hate quite as much in a woman. 'They suspect, poor dears, that we are laughing at i them, and it niake,s them uncomfortable. I assure you, I have seen many a girl lose a brilliant match because she has given way to sarcasm." "I will remember," said Sylvia pravely, "and I will promise you not to lose an excellent match." Lady Glazebrook looked at Sylvia a little uneasily. She could net make the girl out. Had she seen Lavender, and had any love passages passed between them ? She did not look like a girl whose love affairs hail gone smoothly. That Sylvia shook! have offered herself to the tutor and been refused never crossed her thoughts. However, the danger was over—the young man was gone.

Sylvia excused herself from driving to the Merrow woods with- the rest of the picnic party, pleading a headache. She and Miss Morse, followed in their own pony trap. The governess had not the slightest idea of the depth of Sylvia's feelings for Donald Lavender, yet she knew the girl cared for him.

Scarcely a word passed between the two as they drove along. Presently they reached the level crossing and found the gates shut. The one-o'clock train had not yet passed. Miss Morse could not help noticing the young girl's agitation. She craned her neckas the train went by,.and Miss Morse saw a man rush to the window of one of the carriages. Sylvia rose and waved her hand and sank back into her seat. looking death'v pale. Miss Morse said nothing, but drove on. Presently Sylvia gave a longdrawn .sigh. "That is over!" she said, with ;• broken' little laugh that was half a •sob.

es, that is over, Sylvia; these things nnss," sa. : d the governess sympathetically. "Most women have suffered from them, but thev do not kill." "No. thev do not kill." the rrirl sadlv, "but they take the joy and the youth out of ,■) woman!" (To he Continued.)