THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XII, Issue 981, 5 October 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

WIFE IN NAME ONLY. By the author of " Doha. Tnouxty' •""Ox" Hkr Weeding Mown," " Redeemed by Love," "A Woman's Wab," &c.. &(i. (Ooiithnicd from last Saturday's issue). CHAPTER XXXI. A year and a half had passed, and Lord Arleigh was still, as it were, out of the vvoijd. It was the end of April, a spring" fresh and beautiful. His heart had turned t) Beechgrove, where the violets were springing and the yoirig- larches were buddine* but he could not go hither— the picture-gallery was a hj um>d spot to

him —.uu Lji:(lim in; could not endure. The fashionable intelligence had told him that the Duke and Duchess of Hizlewoo.J had arrived for the season, that they had had their magnificent ramsion refurnished, and that the beautiful Duchess intended to startle all Lon. d n by the splendour and variety of her entertainments. He said to himself tint it won d bo impossible f>r him to remain in towu without seeing them —and s»e them of his own tree wdi he never would again. Fate wa<, however, too strong for him. He had decided t.l.a-. he would leave London rather t! a i run the risk of meeting the Duchess ot tiazlewood. Jfe went one morning to a favorite exhibition of and the tir.it person he saw in t,he gallery was the Duchess herself. As their eyes met her face grew deadly paie, so pale that he thought she would faint and fall -,o the ground ; her lips opened as tnough she w»ukl lain utter his name. To him shelooked more beautiful, more st itely •liui ever—her superb costume suited her to perfection— yet he looked coldly iuto die depths of her dark eyes, and without a word or sign of greeti .§ passed ou. He never knew whether she was hurt or not, hut he decided that he would leave London at ones He was a sensitive man, more tender of heart than men as a rule, and their meeting had been a source of torture to him. He could not endure even the thought that Philippa should lost all claim to his respei-t. He decided to go to Tintagel, in wild, romantic Cornwall; at least thare wouhl be boating, fishing, and the gloiious scenery. _' I must go somewhere,' he said to himself—'l must do something. My life hj .ngs on my own hands—how will it end V

So in sheer weariness and desperation he went te Tintagel, having, as he thought, kept his determination to himself, as ho wished no one to know whither he had retreated. One of the newspapers, however, heard of it, and in a little paragraph told that, Lord Arleigh of Beechgrove, had gone to Tintagel for the summer. That paragraph had one unexpected result. It was the first of May. The young nobleman was thinking of the May days when he was a boy—of how the common near his early home was yellow with gorse, and the hedges were white with hawthorn. He strolled sadly along the-iea-shore, thinking of the sunniest May he had known since then, the May before hi* m irriage. The sea was unusadly calm, the sky above was blue, the air mild and balmy, the white seagulls circled in -he air, tlv.> waves broke with a gentle murmur on the ! yellow sand. He sat down on the sloping bench. Tney had nothing to tell him, thosn rolling, restless waves—no sweet story of hope or of lov<>—no vvjrup, pleasant harmony. "With a deep sigh, he bent his head as he thought, of the fair young wife from whom ho had parted for evermore —t.h.> beautiful, loving girl who had clum ; to him so earnestly. 'Madeline—Madeline!' he cried, aloud; and the waves seemed to take up the cry—thev ned t,n repeat " Madaline" as thev broke on the shore. " Mad -lino !" tluKmild wind whispered. It was like 'ha realisation of a dream, when he heard his name murmurel, and, turning,s»w his lost wife before him The next moment, he had sprung to his feer, uneertain at first whether it was really herself or some fancied vi-iion. ' Madaline,, he cried, 'is it really you V ' Yes; vou must not be ano-rv with me, Norman. See, we are quite alone; there is no one to see me speaking to you—no one to reveal the fact that we have met.' She trembled as she spoke; her face—to him more beautiful limn ever—was raised to his with a look of unutterable appeal. ' You are not angry, Norman V ' No, I am not angry. Do not speak to me as though I were a tyrant. Angry \ —and with you, M.adaline—ahvavs ray best beloved —how could that be ?' ' I knew that you were here,' she said. ' I saw in a newspaper that you were gone to Tintagel for the summer. I had been longing to see yon again—to see you, while unseeu myself; so I came hither ' ' My dear Madaline, to whit purpose V he asked, sadly. ' t felt that, if I did not look upon your face, I should die—that T could live no longer without seeing you. A t© rible fever seemed to be burning my life away. My heart yearned for the touch of your hand ; so I came. You are not ai\gry that I came ?' ' No, not angry ; but, my darling, it will be harder for us to part.'

' I have been here in Tintagel two whole days,' she continued. ' I have seen you, but this is the first time you have gone where I could follow. Now speak to me, Norman. Siy something to me that will cure my terrible pain—that will take the weary aching tVorn my henrt. Say something- that will make me stronger to bear my desolate lifebraver to live without you. You are wisr, better, stronger, Wver than I. Teach me to bear my tale.' What could he say ? Heaven help them both—what cou'd he siv ■? He looked with passiona.'e sorrow Into her fair, loving face. ' You must not think it uuwoma ly of me to cuue,' she siid. ' I am your is no harm

in my coming. If I Were „ ofc your wife, I would sooner have drowned myself than return after you had seut me away,' Her face was suffused with a crimson blush. • Norman,' B he said, gently, ' sit down hero by my side, and I will tell you why I have come ' They sat down siie by side on the beacij. There was only the w.le blue skv above, ou the w.de waste «t restless wa era an iheir feet, uuly a circling *ea.gall near—no human being near to wa:oh the irwgedy of love a „d pride played out by thi- saa waves, ' I have come,' she said, * to make one mo: e appeal to you, Norman—to ask you to change this stern dedermmation which is ruining your life and mine- to ask you to take me back to your home and your heart. I do not see that the obstacle iis such as you seem to imagine. It was a terrible w.ong, a great disj grace—it was a cruel deception, a fatal mistake, but, after ail, it might ■>e overlooked. Moreover, Norman, •viien you m„,| e me youv wife, did you not promise to love and to cherish, to protect and make sine iappy until 1 died ?' " K ' Y-< he replied, briefly. ' Then how are you keeping that prmiise— a promise made in the sight ot Heaven '}' Lord Arleigh .looked down at the fail-, pure young face, a s range light glowing on his own. 'My d«, r M.kW, ~.,' j e said, 'you must not ovi;.-<u >u vvnafc tne honor of my race duman Is I have my own ideas of what is due to my ancestors; and I ctuiut think that I have sinned by broken \ows. I vowed to love you-so I do, my darling, ten thousand times better than anything else on earth. I vowed to be true and faithful to you —so I am. for I would not even look at another woman's face. I vowed to protect and shield you—so I do, darling, I have surrouuded you with luxury and ease.'

"What could she reply—what urge or plead ? /So, iu the eyes of Heaven, my wife, I cannot think I aca wronging you.' 'Theu,' she said, humbly, 'my coming here, my pleading, is in vain? ' Not in vain, my dialing. Even the sight of you for a few minutes has been like a glimpse of Elysium.' ' And I must return, 1 she said,' as I came—with my love thrown back, my prayers unanswered, my sorrow redoubled ' She hid her face in her hands and wept aloud. Presently she bent forward. ' Norman,' she said, in a low whisper, ' ray darling I appeal to you for my own I love you so learly that 1 cann >t live away from vou ir is a liviog d-<atb. You naiiu >t i-eili.se it T .ere ;u'e few ■omen's nigh or day, m wh.ch your f i '.a is \,<) bf > e stte few moments in winch I d> nor. heir your voice, '■asr. Uigur I dre.m d .-i, ,"r you stood oefor • me wt ii -juts ■,. ~|i. -larmsand o.ilhl iu \ I . n ; ,t v - 01l ;m( j y oll oi -j>-i in* i.. ..ir .11 You said, ' M ii i. wi -, r .i.i.s all been a • nisr ke -a rerci .;.. ra 8 ke—and I •a cjne , s'.r y.u • ardon and ike vo!i Iu ~-.' [ u ,„y dream, Monn.ui, you kissed my "faye, my lips, my h.,iids, and called me b# ■svery loving name yuu could invent. You were so kind to me, and I was* so happy. An I (he dream was so. vivid, Norm hi, that <ven afier I awoke I believed it, to be reality. Tiien I beard the s ibbtng of the waves on the beach, and I cried out, < Norm™, Norman!' thinking you were still near me ; but there was no re !y. It was only the silence that roused me to a full sense that my hap.-injss was a dream. There was ii > husband with kind words and t-nder kisses I thought my heart would have broken. And then I said to myself that. J could live no linger without «»al<i'.g rt n efforto&ce more to ohange your decision. Oh, Norman, for my s.ikt*, do not send me bic< to utter de ohuion and despair ! D..- not send rue back to coldness and darkness, fr. sorrow and tears ! Let me be. near my love, my love, let me be near you T You have a thousand interests in life—l have but one. You can live without love, \ oannot. Oh, Norman, for my sake, for my love's sake, for my happiness' sake, take nie back, dear—take me back !' 7e be Continued.

Ladies and Gentleman wishing to fnr. nish their Houses would be well repaid by a visit to the Cii.y Hall Arcade, the finest Show room in New Zealand, and confcahr |ing the largest stock of Carpets and I greatest variety cf Furniture to be seen anywhere in the colouy. The large buaine?s transacted in this Establishment is due to the very moderate prices charged and zealous attention paid to the wants, an I wishes of its pa'rons. The Proprietors' have smcesfnliy initiated the; London system of couibiuing the varions Hepartmats of Drapery, Ladies and Gentleman s Clothing, with House furnshing in all its branches. Cotmlnj Settlers' requirements are especially studied, and, as regards Furniture, they will find rnadr-., ready for delivery, Sittingroom Suites in greac variety—Bedroom. Furniture, comprising hundreds of Bedsteads in Iron, Brass, and Wood— Redding of all sizes, Wardrobes, Chests of Drawer?, Wash Stands, Toilet Glasaes and Tables, Toilet Ware, Fenders and Fire Iron?, Book C»ses, What-Nots, Carpets, Mattings, Fl.ior Cloths and Linoleum -in fact, everything necessary to furnish a house comfortably. Book Cata« logue* sent po*t; free, and prices given tr> unending pnrchasers. Hotelkeepers will find it to fh-ir advantage to deal with tbe ua lersigiied, as r-.hey keep goods eapecially suited for their establishments-.. Give y >ur ri>de>- to HollowAV, Gakxick, A«u C--AKWBLL, Cn-y Hall Arcade, Qu- en-street, Aucfelaud.