A STORY OF ENGLISH LIFE. The Way of Love

Waipukurau Press, Volume XXII, Issue 20, 18 February 1927, Page 7

A STORY OF ENGLISH LIFE. The Way of Love

(By

Vera Cunninghame.)

“You think so? I'believe she does, and her father would be glad, I know. He and my father were lifelong friends,; and it has always been his wish that Christine and I should marry. I wish you could see her! She is lovely, with hair like a pale flame of gold and eyes that are as blue as yours.’’ His voice came suddenly from far away, the room grew misty around her, a mass of whirling .shadows in which tiny flecks of light danced .maddeningly before her eyes. But some lingering remnants of pride enabled her to light down the wave of emotion that threatened to engulf her. At all costs she must not let him see how his. words hurt her, or let him know the terrible mistake she had made. She heard her own voice, amazingly calm, detached. “She must be lovely. I hope you will be very happy. Now I think I should like to go home as I am very tired. ” He looked at her in quick contrition. and saw with concern the white pallor that had replaced the soft glow in her cheeks, the shadows of pain in her eyes. 'You must think me a brute to worry you when you are worn out,” he said swiftly. “But you’ve been such a good little p.al that I felt I must tell you. Come, we’ll get a taxi and I’ll take you home.” They were very silent during the short drive to Pearl’s lodging. The girl was quiet because it needed every bit of her strength to keep hey from betraying the utter desolation that was in her heart, the nian because he felt oddly disturbed. There had been something in the eyes of the girl beside him that had stirred a vague pain in him. Her eyes that were so strangely like the eyes of the girl he loved. It was her likeness to Christine that had first attracted him, and made him for the first time in his life want a girl’s friendship. It was only to-night that he realised how much that friedship had meant to him, and how he would miss her when she had gone. ■ J ' As they stood for a moment together on the pavement before parting he was conscious of a queer pang of regret, and his voice was not quite steady “Pearl, you will let me hear from you sometimes? I don’t likt to think that wc shall never meet again. I want to keep your friendship always.” She laughed a little bitterly. “I am afraid my movements are too uncertain,” she said as lightly as she. could. “Anyway, I don’t belong io your world. Your way and mine lie far apart and the two can never meet. Good-bye.” She held out her hand and for a moment he grasped it so tightly that the tenseness of his grip almost made her • cry out. In that moment the image of the girl he hoped to marry seemed wipped from his mind, and he knew that his heart was beating faster than usual and that the pain in Pearl’s eyes called up some answerable pain in him that amazed him in its intensity. Ho had a fierce longing to take her in his arms, to kiss the weary droop from her lips and bring the soft colour back into her cheks. The strength of that emotion filled him with horror. What was the matter with him? All his love was given to Christine, yet this girl had power to stir in him some feeling beside which, even his love of Christine faded away. He tried to fight, it, but in spite of himself he heard his voice say: “Pearl, what is it?” I can’t leave you like this. I can’t let you go.” > He saw the colour creep back like a warm tide into her' cheeks, saw the tears well up and overflow, hanging on her lashes like rain. Then with a stifled cry she snatched her hand from his, fitted her key into the door and flung -it/ open. ’ - . . “Good-night.'” she said desperately, and a moment later the door closed be-, hind her and he was alone. t -• U Up in her room Pearl .threw herself on the bed and b urst into a passionate, flood of weeping. What an idiot she had been to believe that he loved her, that he would ask her to marry him? She saw the truth now in all its ugliness, and'the sight made her writhe in humiliation. To him she was just a dancer in a cabaret with whom he might find amusement for an idle week but whom lie would never drcam of ask-

ing to share his life. She had heard that men took the friendship of such girls lightly, but somehow she had believed him to be different. That brief, foolish dream was over now, and she must face the reality. He had gone back to his own world, his own life,, and she must take up hers again with what courage she could. Once more she had come to a_.parting of the ways, and this time the future looked even drearier -than before. There was no hope of getting another engagement such as she had pust finished.' The theatres would be busy with the pantomine season, and all vacancies-would have been filled long, ago. Yet she must find something to do, for her little store of money would only last her a very short time. She got off the bed and bathed her eyes. Sleep would be impossible, she knew, and she picked up the morning newspaper to scan the advertisements again and there was nothing ther&vfor which she could apply with any hope of success. But anything was better than her own thoughts and she must get through the night somehow. It was as she was laying the paper aside again that an advertisement in the. “Domestic Helpers” section caught her eye. “Wanted: temporary lady’s maid,”she read. “Good salary paid to suit-_ able applicant. Apply Monday morning, Callander, Millers Croft, Mallington, Herts.” x -- She read it twice, a faint smile of amusement curving her lips, a new glow of determination in her eyes. It was not exactly the situation for which she was looking, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She knew that she could perform the duties demanded of her satisfactorily, and anything would be bet-' ter than going back to a lonely Christmas in her dreary room. Besides, work of some sort was an immediate necessity, not only for financial reasons but in order to help her to forgot the past and its folly. She cut the paragraph carefully and put it into her bag .

Millers’ Croft was an imposing mansion, set in beautiful grounds. As Pearl stood at the window of a luxurious apartment on "the first floor, gazing over a wide lawn bordered with magnificent beech trees, she was glad to think that she would spend a month thpre, Her employer too seemed kind, though capricious. Christine Callander was only a few years older than herself, a beautiful girl with golden hair that she wore coiled in shinpng shells Christine had taken an. instant liking to the younger girl, and Pearl had found herself on* gaged at once a lady’s maid to the spoilt daughter of wealth. She heard that the family consisted only of. Christine and her father, a stern, grim man who had married late in life and who was the only person of whom his daughter stood in awe. As the gong for tea revergerated through the great house, Christine pushed aside a heap of lovely silken garments which had come that day from a Bond Street shop and which Pearl had been opening for her inspection, and rose. “I must go down. Fa'ther hates people being late,” she said. “Put these away, will you? I’ll keep all the undies, and the -blue and- silver frock and the rose brocade evening coat. The others can go back. Then you had better get your own tea. The staircase loading to the servants’ hall is at the end of the corridor on the right.” Pearl was hungry, ?or a cup of tea and a scone had furnished her lurich before coming down to Mallingdon, but she deliberately lingered over her task, of folding up the fragile garments and putting them back into their cardboard boxes. She felt very nervous at the thought of- facing the other servants for that would be the most difficult part of all and she shrank from it. She was ignorant of the ways .and customs of the; world in which she now found herself and she was anxious to make no mistakes. (To be Continued.)

She thought that no one would recognise in Marie Drew, the lady s maid, Pearl Grayson, the cabaret dancer.