CHAPTER XLIV.-(Continued.)

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2078, 31 October 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XLIV.-(Continued.)

Their voices sank lower — of ooursethatws.l odlj natural, Aflle thought ; they did not care to disturb her ; yet her whole heart grew lick with jealous pain m the noted it. Why need Lady Ethel bend her head in that pretty, graceful way ? Wby need Lord Carsdale look under the pretty brim of the bat ? Sorely he could speak, and she could listen, without being to near together. Then the saw Lady Ethel raise her head in a pretty, petulant faabion natural to her. She looked at Ailie, and her eyes said plainly as eyes oould speak : " Why do you not go away, and leave us to talk together ?" 41 Miss Derwent, would it not be as well if you found another shawl for Lady Waidrove? She may tike cold," said Lady Ethel. And Ailie, looking at her, understood why ■he spoke. " I shall not leave them together," thought Ailie, as she compressed her lips ; they shall not talk to each other in the lovely summer sunshine, while I have to live without one word from him — ha is my husband, not hers." For an answer, she rose and drew the shawl closer round the countess. " She will be warmer now," she said. " I do not think Lady Waldrove likes mo to leave her, even though she falls asleep." The words were spoken with a smile, so rad and so sweet Lady Ethel could not be vtxed. She only thought the girl rather slow of understanding—" not accustomed to taking hints " — and Ailie looked up at her husband to see if she had annoyed him. She met bis glance folly; his eyes seemed to be looking through hers ; and then ske read annoyance and displeasure, irritation and vexation—anything and everything except love. That stern, oold glance pierced her heart ; the could not bear it. She rose from her Mat and left them alone ; she would rather have died than have encountered such another glance. How she lived through the hours of that day she did not knew ; her heart was heavy as lead ; the sunshine and the brightness of everything around disrooted her ; the wept until it seemed to her that the very fountain | of her tears were dry. • i She must see him, she must speak to him, whether he were displeased or not ; she could not bear it. It seemed to her that long weeks had passed since that one interview, in which he hod not been altogether unkind to her. She must speak to him, hear him utter her name, even should it be in accents of anger. Bat where and bow should ahe manage it ? She heard him tell the countess that he should not be home probably for dinner, *s he was riding over to Aihdale Lodge, and should most likely return home about nine. She at onoe resolved to wait for him by the gate that led to the high-road, which he must puss on his return. No matter what happened afterward, whether the countess were angry or not, she must sec him er she must die ; she oould bear this silence and distance no longer. Better that he should speak in anger than never speak at all ; better that he should kill her than leave her te die by this most slow and oruel torture. It seemed to the unhappy young wife that fate itself had intervened to help her ; for the countess shut herself up in her boudoir with Lady Ethel and Lady Gertrude, after saying that she would not require Miis Derwent's services again that evening. Then Ailie was free. She drew her breath with a long, deep sob. Free 1 Ob, Heaven, what a parody the word icemed to her 1 She went to her room, and put on a hat and cloak. It oame natural to her to dress herielf picturesquely, even now in her sorrow and misery. The cloak was worn as only an artist could wear it, and the dark hat was like a dark orown on the golden head. She went quietly out of the house, though she was quite indifferent as to whether any one saw her or not; tho evening was her own, and she could do as she liked with it. She walked quickly across the pleasuregrounds, through the park, to the outer gate that led to the highway. A great cluster of elms crowned the hill just there, and Ailio wt down under their shade to wait for the coming of her husband. Th« sun was setting in the western sky ; the hill-tops and the boughs of the trees were all crimson; the birds were singing their vesper hymns ; the dew was lalling, and the sweet wind whispered among the sleeping flowers. It was so oalm, so peaceful, so still ; the restless, passionate heart grew calm ; the beating puhe, the tired nerves, all grew quiet; the fever-flush faded from her face. How oould human love, human passion, torture a human soul while the grand, serene peace of heaven lay around 7 "So oalm, so still ; it is the smile of God," ahe said to herself. The lovely peaceful calm had its influence over her ; the fever of passion, the fever of unrest passed away ; the fever of jealousy and pain died ; she only remembored that she loved him, and that he was the gallant young husband who had married her to keep her fair name without a cloud. She waited there until the last gleam of crimson had dird in the west ; the sweet, solemn ealm* deepened, the lovely hush of night lay over the land, the stars began to glimmer in the skies ; she listened for the

sound of tbe horse's gallop ; the laid her fuee on the cool, iweet, dewy grist. Even Mother Earth, 10 hard and cold, was loss cold, lets hard, than the hatband who had married her for honor's sake without loving her. "Lord Caradale," the laid, as he came near. . • He did cot hear, and th« rtpe&ted the name. " Lord Carsdalo." Then he heard, and looked more vexed than pleasod vrben bis cjes fell on the beautiful faoe of his young wife.