Lady Marjorie's Love

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 6 March 1913, Page 7

Lady Marjorie's Love

By Carl Swerdna Author of "To the Uttermost Farthing," "A Mere Ceremony," "A Fight for Honour," Etc.

(OUR SERIAL

CHAPTER XII. (Continued.)

I avoidance and aversion that spurred and whetted her in his pursuit of her. Now, leaning a shoulder against the tree at her «ide, he smiled a.s if the angry scorn of her attitude and expression merely amused him. j "Ye», I'm in hick to chance across you, Lady Marjorie. .1 began to think I should never catch a sight of you again—did, upon my life! It's a new idea to shut yourself up so uncommonly close, isn't it?" "You .should surely understand that we do not—neither the countess nor I visitors now, Mr Jocelyn."' "Visitors! Well, no—in the ordinary way, 1 suppose not. Not" the thing, and all that. But you don't look upon a neighbor like me a.s a visitor, I hope? And I deserved letting in if it was only for my perseverance. Why, if I've called at the castle once, trying to see you, not to speak of dodging alxmt the park and this blessed wood. I believe I have done so a dozen times!" "Indeed?" "Yes—indeed! And, although I've more time on my hands' than f know what to do with, as a general thing, still it's rather discouraging, you know, to get only 'Engaged,' 'Can't see you,' and all that kind of thing ■ for a fellow's pains. .Now don't you think so?" "I tiling it is a pity you took the pains. Mr Jocelyn. They were not necessary." "Of course! T expected that. And it's a nice, gracious sort of thing to say, isn't it?" As always, his stolid good humor was quite imperturbable, the wrathful flush on her face, the wrathful .sparkle in her eyes only seemed to increase it. And yet it was mixed with a curious stealthy rage. Tn his way—the only way of which he had or ever could have any conception—he loved this delicate, haughty, disdainful creature, and, though her open aversion was to him her principal attraction, he felt the lance of his contempt, thick skinned and heavy a.s be was. He meant to win her, and had never wavered in his intention but he meant to humiliate her, too.

"Why "■ asked Marjorie slowly. She no longer stood in a strained at? titude, but there was not a tinge of color in her face; the moment in which she had seen herself homeless, helpless, had seemed to chili her blood. "Why?" Tho countess shrugged her shoulders. "You will only be angry if I tell yon," she said resignedly. "You know perfectly well without my telling you that Tom Jocelyn " "I hate Tom Jocelyn!" Hashed tho girl fiercely. "My good child, as the most sensible thing you could do would be to marry him and make yourself virtually tho mistress of tho Holt, 1 have r o doubt you do," Lady Marlingford returned,' with her former resignation. "I really can't compliment you upon your common sense, Marjorie—you •seem to me to be curiously lacking in that respect. But yowr poor father was just the same, as your present most unfortunate position sufficiently proves, lam sure. Well, it is of no use going into that; the mischief is done, and we are .both reaping the fruits of it. You had better go out this morning; your headache has made you hole -wretchedly pale." ■ Marjorie mecJia.nica.lly left the room, the .shock Mas still vibrating through every nerve of her body; she felt stupid, sick. The countess, a,s the door closed, gave, an impatient laugh. "The little fool!" she ejaculated, with angry contempt. "Will nothing open her eyes? If Loft us Bligh did not come liore yesterday deliberately meaning t-o break eft' that most ridiculous engagement. I am a« blind as she is. And .she can't see it. and, not caring a straw for him. she has sttill that obstinate faith in him. And yet she is proud enough and in some ways quick enough. 7 ' The countess laughed again. "Proud enough? ft pleases her to turn up her nose at Torn Jocelyn. who i<> nearly as well barn as herself. What would «lie say. I wonder, if she knew that she had another lover in the person of Mr Ohadhurn's agent? For the girl is so ridiculous]v blind that she doesn't even see that!"

CHAPTEE XTTI. Lady Marjorie was out in the wood. She, sat on the felled trunk on which she .sat in her white dress with Loftn.s beside her and sang the ballad of June. But she did not sing to-day. The countess' lance had .struck deep, and it stung and quivered poignantly yet—she had been crueller than she had meant to be. Jack got up fro in' his repose upon his mistress' skirt; like all petted things, human or otherwise, Jack was jealous and resented neglect. She lifted him into .her lap. "Am I neglecting you, dearie? Too had, isn't it? Never-mind, then!" She- pressed lior eyes, all hot and suddenly smarting, against Ins neck. "Oh. I'm thinking, little man! I'm wondering what is going to become of us both. Never ..seemed to realise what a helpless, homeless, little beggarmaid I was till to-day. 1 ought to have thought, but I didn't. If I were to jump into the river there it wouldn't break any one's heart would it ? You'd cure more than all the rest of the world put together, I think, little loving heart, wouldn't you? I know you would." The picture of Jack and herself — two houseless, homeless, and probably hungry wanderers —was too pathetic for stoical contemplation, and Mar-. jorie, began to cry. Jack, developing violent agitation at this unusual display, whimpered. The next moment the prick of his ears and the turn of his head made Mar jorie bend to listen, too. Footsteps were audible in the undergrowth beyond the belt of tress, apparently bearing straight down upon her retreat, and there was only one person to whom it seemed likely that they could belong. "He must have forgotten some paper of other, and come back for it," thought Marjorie, listening; "and he'll come out here and see me, too—that's always tin. way. T wish I had not shown him what a distance he would save by taking this path, that T do! A nice, fright I must look!" Marjorie picked up her hat and put a hand to her hair, and wondered whether she had or had not cried enough to redden her eyes. It was all she had time to do, except to look uiK-onsciou.s, before the figure of Mr Tom Joeelyn stepped from among the trees almost at her side. "Good morning, Lady (Marjorie! T'm in luck at last, then! T thought it must be you T caught sight of." "Good morning!" The greeting was an absolutely necessary one. and Marjorie said it and no more, and with it she gave a. side glance under her eyelids. Then she instantly looked before her at nothing, with' her head disdainfully tilted and her lip scornfully twitched. Xlso had rendered him unobservant of it or he was naturally dull of perception, for it had no effect upon him at all. He was big, and at his ease, and he looked at her pale, proud little face with an insolent scrutiny and bold admiration which made Marjorie indignant. That he wotdd have been less stubbornly bent upon winning her had she less openly and intensely detested him she did not guess, but it was a fact, all the same. Had she cared for and married him at the time when his first proposal was made he would by now have been utterlv tired of her. A woman won or willing to be won would have had "o •charms for Tom Joeelyn. It was the girl's hatred, her

"An uncommonly gracious thing to say," he repeated. "Not that T mind it. Lady Marjorie. Not a bit of it—rather the contrary. T ought to lie pretty well used to that sort of treatment, for I don't think you've given mo a dozen civil words since you were a chit in short petticoats—no. by Jove I don't! Still, for the time being, one can have enough of it, you know. Why, if I hadn't hit upon' the idea of asking for the countess, instead of for you the other day, T shouldn't have

known how tilings were going at all. But I did hit upon it, and a nice snug little chat we bad. Sensible woman" her ladyship!" I (To be Continued.)