THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XI, Issue 900, 30 March 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

WIFE IN 'NAME ONLY. By the author of "Dora Thokne," "Oir Her Wedding Mon:.," " Redeemed by Love," "A Woman's War," &c, &c. (Continued from last Saturday's issue.) CHAPTER XII. The opportunity that ,-Lbrd Arleigh looked for came at last. Philippa had some reason to doubt the honesty of a man whom she had been employing as agent. She was kind of heart, and did not wrah to punish him ; yet she felt sure that he had not done his duty by her To speak to her solicitors about it would be, she felt, injurious to hira — whether innocent or guilty. If innocent, it would create a prejudice against him ; if guilty, they would wish to punish him. She resolved upon laying the matter before Lord Arleigh, and hearing what he thought of it. : He listened very patiently, examined the affair, and then told her that he believed she had been robbed. 'What shall I do?' she asked, looking at him earnestly. 'I know what you ought to do, Philippa. You onght to punish him.' ' But he has a wife, Norman* and innocent little children* In ex, posing him I shall punish thom, and they are innocent.' ■' That is one of the strangest of all universal laws to me,' said Lord Arleigh — ' why the innocent always, and always must, suffer for tbe guilty; it is one of the mysteries I shall never understand. Common sense tells me that you ought to expose this man — that he ought to be puuished for what he has done ; yet, if you do, his-wife and children will be dvagged down into an abyss of misery. Suppose you make a compromise of matters, and lecture him well.' He was half smiling: as he spoke, bub she took every word iu serious earnest. ' Philippa,' he continued, ' why do you not marry? A' husband would save you uil this trouble j he would attend to your affairs, and shield' you from annoyances of this kind.' 'The answer to your question, ' Why do I not marry V would form a long story,' she replied, and then turned the conversation. But he was determined to ke. his word, and plead with her forth. Duke. Another opportunity came tbat evening. It was Lady Peters's birthday, and Philippa had invited some of her most hit .male friends, uot young people, but those with whom she thought her chaperon would enjoy herself best. The result was a vory pleasant dinner party, followed by a vei y pleasant evening. Lord Arleigh could not be absent, for it w ; ;s, in some men sure, a family fete. The guests did not remain very late, and Lady Peters, professing herself tired with the exertions she had made, lay down on a -couch, and was soon asleep. PhiJippa stood by the window, with the rose-silk hangings drawn. ' Come out on to the balcony,' sho said to Lord Arleigh — « the room is j very warm.' , It was night, but the darkness was silvery-gray, not JbJnck. Tiie sky above was brilliant with the gleam of a thousand stars, tlie moon was shining behind some silvery clouds, the great masses of foliage in the Park were just stirred with tho whisper of the night, and sweetest odours came frow heliotrope and mignonette _ the brooding silence of the summer night lay over the land. Philippa sat down, ard Lord Arleigh stood by her side. The moonlight, falling on her beautiful face, softened it in(o wondrous loveliness — it was pale, refined with depths of passion in ■her dark eyes', and lender, tremulous smiles on tha scarlet lips. She wore sosae material of white an^ gold. A thin scflrf waa thrown carelessly over ber white shoulders. When the wind stirred it blew the scarf against her face. She might 1 a-e been the very goddess of love, she lookfd so fair out in the S'arlight. If th re had been one particle of love inLrrd Arleigh's heait, that hour and scene must have called it into life. For a time they sat in perfect si!e"ce. Hei- head was thrown b^ against a pillar round which red roses clustered nnd clung, and the light of the stars fell upon her face; the dark eyes were full of radiance. ' How beautiful ic is, Norman ! she said, suddenly. < What musio has ever equalled the wl.ispcrs of the nifrht-wind ? It seems a sad pity after all that we are oblig e 1 to lead such conventional liver, and spend the greater part of them iu warm? close rooms.' « You br.ve a: great love for out.

lf-door • freedom,' he remarked, aaghingly. . T •Yes, I love the fresh air. I think, if anyone asked me what I loved best on earth, I should say tlie wind.. I love it in all its moodsrough, caressing, tender, impetuous, calm, stormy; it is always beautiful. Just listen to it now, sighing in the branches of those tall trees. Could any music be sweeter or softer V ' No,' he replied, and then added, The time and the scene embolden me, Philippa. There is something that. I wish to say to you—something that I. have Jong wished to say. Will you hear ifc now V A tremor, like that of the leaves in she wind seemed to pass over her. There was a startled expression in the dark eyes — a quiver of the crimson lips. Was it coming at last ? — this for which she had longed all her life. She con trolled all ou tward signs of emotion, and turned to him quite calmly. ' I am always ready to listen to you, Norman, and to hear what you nave to say.' 'You see, Philippa, the starlight makes me hold. If wo were in that brilliantly-lighted drawing-room of youis, I should, probably, hesitate long before speaking plainly, as I am going to do now.' He saw her olasp her hands tightly, but he had no key to what was passing in her mind. He drew nearer to her. ' You know, Philippa,' he began, ' that I have always been tondof you. I have always taken the same interest in you tbat I shonld have taken in a dearly-loved sister of my own, if God had given me one.' She murmured some few words which he did not hear. 'I am going to speak to you now/ he continued, 'just an tbojigh you were my own sister. Have I your permission to do so, Philippa.' . ■' Yes,' she replied. 'And you promise nob to be angry about anything that I may say.' 'I could never be angry with you, Norman,' she answered. ' Then I want you to tell tne why you will not mi>rry the Duke of Hnzlewood. You have Ireatod me as ytiur brother and your friend. The question might seem impertinent from another ; from me ifc will not appear impertinent, nor curious — simply true and kindly interest; Why will you not marry him, Philippa f ' A quick sharp spasm of pain passed over her face. She was silent for a minutes before she j answered him, and then she said — 'The reason is very simple Norman — because I do nofc love bim.' • That is certainly a strong reason ; but, Philippa, let me ask you' bow another question — why do you not love him f She could have retorted, 'Why do you not love me?' but prudence forbade it. ' I cannot tell you. I have heard you say love ia fate. I should imagine it must be because ihe Duke of Hozlew ood is not my fate.' He did not know what answer to make to that, it was so entirely his own way of thinking. 'But-, Philippa,* he resumed, after a pause, do you not think that yoii might love him if you tried V ' I have never thought about it,' was the quiet reply. Lord Arleigh continued— yln my idea he is one of the most charming men in England ; I have never seen a more perfect type of what an Englishmen should be — he is noble, generous, bravp, chivalrous. What fault do you find with him, Philippa V ' 1 1' she asked, looking up at him in wonder. 'My dear Norman, I have never found fault with the Duke in' my life. ' Then why do you hot love him?' ' That is a very different thing. I find no fault with him; on the contrary, I agreo with you that he is one of the noblest of men, } r et I liave never thought of marrying him;' 'But, Philippa' — and witn kindly impressiveness he laid one- hand on her shoulder — ' why dp you not, think of marrying him ? Between you and myself there can be no compliments, no flattery. I tell you that of all the women in England you are . the ono most fitted to be Duchess of Hazlewocd — and you would be a beautiful duchess too. Think of the position you would occupy— second only, to royally. I should like to see you in such a poslUon-r-you would fill it grandly. Think of the power, the influence, the enormous amount of good you could do j think of it all Philippa.' Ho did not sea the sudden sharp quiver of pain that passed o . er the beautiful face or how pale it grew in the starlight. ' I am thinking,' she answered, quietly — * lam listening attentively to all that you say.' She drew the light scarf more closely around her shoulders, and Skpciderec. as. though a chill breeze had passed over her. .Are you cold, dear,' he asked, kindly. ' Cold 1 How could Ibe on this warm starlight night. Go on, Norman; lefc mo hear all that you bave to say.' ' I am trying to persuade you to accept what seems to be one of the happiest lots ever offeied to woman. I want to see you the Duke .of Hazlewood's wife. 1 cannot imagine any man more calculated to win a woman'e love, or to please her fancy, than he is. He is young, bjjnds?i»e, »o'o!e in face and figure

as he is iu heart and soul ; and he is clever and gifted. ' Yes,' she allowed, slowly, 'he is allthat, Norman,' 'Some day ov other he will be the leading spirit in the land ; he will be the head of a great party. ' That I believe,' she agreed. 'And he loves you so well, Philippa \ I have never seen a man more devoted, How many years has he loved you now — two or three ? And he says thafc he shall go unmarried to his grave, unless you consent to be his wife.' 'Did he tell you that? He must indeed be attached to me.' she observed. 'Norman, did he ask yen to say all this to me ?' ' He asked me to plead his cause,' replied Lord Arleigh. ' Why did he ask you to do so f ' ' Because —believing ua to be what we really are, Philippa, tried and true iriends — he thought I should have some influence with you.' ' Clever Duke V she said. Norman, are you well vessed in modern poetry?' » To be Continued.