MARTIN DEVERIL'S DIAMOND

Waikato Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 2842, 30 September 1890, Page 4

MARTIN DEVERIL'S DIAMOND

[ALL RiollTS K'.K.SKRN I'll |

A NOVEL Bγ ADELINE SKRGKANT, Author of "Jacobi's Wife," &c, &c. CHAPTER Ll.—Co.vnuED. " Cicely " Giles Kinglnko said in liis surprise. Then he remembered himself and flushed with embarrassment and vexation. He hud never called her by her Christian namo bofore. " I bog your pardon," ho said, lifting his hat ceremoniously. But she held out her hand to him witli a look that told him ho had no need to ask pardon; she had not been offended by his breach of good manners; her face was full of a joy that made it boautiful to behold.

" Need I say that I am glad to see you ?" she said, as she gave him her hand. lie pressed it gratefully, but his eyes foil. He felt himself guilty and miserable iu her presence—knowing what ho meant to do, and being resolved to do it. " Come away from here," she said, "and walk with me through the park." ''You are having .some of tho trees cut down, I see." "lam having the whole wood cut down. In a few weeks thore will not bo a trace of it loft. I will not havo si single landmark by which ouo can know where— where that terrible thing took place. , ' There was a momentary silence ; and thon Giles spoke, with some emotion iuliis voico. " Your faith in mo was a great help, Miss Lorraine. ]sut for your beliof iu me —yours, and Philip's, and my boy's—what should I have clone ?"' " Of course we believed in you," said Cicely. " How could we help it V "It is very good of you to say so. Everybody did not. You are taking me up to the house, Miss Lorraine. May Igo instead to my favourite place — the children's gardens V " Perhaps you would like to go alone."

" No. I should like you to go with me, if you will." They walked on for a littlo time in silence, until they came to the little plot of ground where Giles and his sisters had played in childhood. Thn gardens were all beautifully tendered ; there were snowdrops and crocuses growing in them, and a breath of fragrance told of the presence of violets in the shade of the hawthorn l>ush. Then Giles forced himself to say what he had come to say. "This is my last look. I wanted to see them again—and you. I wanted to thank you for your kindness. But—l am going away with Will to live out of England, probably for years." lie did not actually look at her, but he knew that she had turned very pale. She shivered as if a cold wind had blown between them, and thon she said quietly :— " Why V That little monosyllable was difficult to answer. Giles hesitated. "It will be good for Will. lie is delicate. And I think I want a change too. The last few weeks have been very trying to us both. It will be good for me too, I hope, as well as for Will, to get away. " And for me 1" said Cicely.

She never knew how or why she said it; she only knew that the spectacle of her own future desolation drove her to desperate ventures. .She said the words, and looked him in the face for a moment with white lips and wide, grieving, reproachful (•yes. And then came a flush of crimson to her pale cheeks, a flood of tears to her eyes. She turned uwiiy and hid Imr face in her hands. " You V said Giles. And then almost before he knew what ho was loin;,', he had drawn her into his arms. "Cicely,! nut-si, go," he said.

"Then you must take me with you,' slim answered, and with a uiiuglfrt sob and laugh, which was as swoot in Giles ear as the cooing of a wood-pigeon. For sho felt safe and satisfied with Gill's" arm round her. and his lips pressing her forehead, which was all that lie could si:<! of'that .sedulously hidden face. iSIm had even spirit enough to be saucy, for she murmured immediately afterwards, " why did you come to tell me if you meant to leave me behind ?"'

" You thought I should ' love and ride away V Cicely, my darling. That is exactly what I meant to do. ]!ut I can't leave you, I find. And yet "' '' Yet you are half sorry that you ca:ne down to La*lywcll at all," said Cicely, lifting her head from the resting place it had found. " You know, Cicely," he said, gently, "it is never pleasant for a man to seem to be living on his wife's bounty. It is your wealth that has stood between us ; the very fact of your possessing my old home. '1 he world will say " " Never mind what it says, l>o I live to hear you, the man of high ideals and large culture, talking about what the world will say T asked Cicely, with a bewitching mixture of fun and earnest. " I am ashamed of you. And as for me, the world will be just ns censorious; for it will say that I was only too glad to join myself to the old family and become one of the real old ICinalakes ! And, in my case, the world won't be far wrong. , " My dear little girl," he said, l: if you understand me and believe in me "

" Wu cim nflbi-d to lot tin} woi-ld «o by. J3ut, : ' shu said, with a sudden blush and an inclination to hide; her face again, "1 could not have spoken as I. did but for the remnmbrunco of that day—the day when I last saw yon—and I have uover told anybody, but I could not forgol-. it. And T liopo you don't

think mo very bold and iannimdonty " "Look up, my darling," said Giles, " and let mo do again what I did then, and what I have repented doing ever since—till now." She looked up, arid ho kissed her on the lips, as lie had - kissed her on tho day when they partod many weeks before. She had lived upon the memory of that kiss, and a whispered word or two, over since ; but nobody had ever learnt the socret of tho whispered words, that stolen caress. They had told that lie loved her, and her own heart had responded to his touch ; but so long as she could not see him she had doubted almost as much as she had hoped. "Eopontedit?" said Cicely. " Yes, lovo ; because I had such a wretched and ruined life to offer

you. Is hoc the stain upon me even worse than tho brand of poverty?" "There is no stain upon you; you are honoured for your courage and for your suffering , . Why should you talk about a stain f I will not hear a word more about your poverty; you are not poor; you have the brain, the will, the capacity that I lack, and you will have need of them; for you are the master of Ladywell Priory now. and I have nothing to do with it. I abdicate." Ho stood grave, irresolute. He did not like the thought of receiving gifts, even from his wife's hand; but Cicely knew how to change the current of his thoughts. " Think of Will's coming liore," she said. " How he will enjoy the gardens, Giles! When the summer comes ho can lie on the lawn in the sunshine, and drive about with us through tlie country lanes. Oh, I am suro he will learn to love Ladywoll—and me, too, perhaps, though at present, you know, he hates us both!" " Not yon, my darling." " At any rate he does not like tho thought of sharing you with anybody else; you must lot him understand that I shall never come between him and you, ffiles; you will be to him all you havo crer been before—and he must put up with mo as well."

'• There is no fear but that he will soon learn to love yon," said Gilos. "I must confess, Cieoly, that I was wretched at the thought of leaving England." " It was very wrong of you, sir," said Cicely giving him a swoet look. "In fact, we nearly mismanaged tho whole matter ; and if I had not had a little more sonso than you—" " Wo should havo been miserable for lifo. I must not forget," said Giles, gravely, "that tho proposal camo from you." " Indeed, it did no such thing!" cried Cicely, with audacious mendacity, and thon they went back to tho house, as happy as two people well can be in this sublunary world. " Will," said his father to him that night, " you need not pack up your curiosities, just yet. We are not going abroad until a littlo later in tho yoar." •'AVhynot, daddy?" " I've made a different arrangement. I may be away from you for a few clays in March, but not for long. Then we will have a long, pleasant excursion together to all the places we want to see—Rome, and Venice, and the Rhine, eh, old fellow T

"That will be. delightful," said Will, thoughtfully. Then he twisted himself round and looked eagerly into his fathor's face. " "What has made 3'ou chango your plans ? Why do you look so different ? so happy ? What have you been doing, father ?" " I'vo been asking somebody else to come with us, Will. Don't bo afraid, my laddie ; sho will not make 1110 love you one bit the less. And you will love her too, Will, first for my sake, and then for her own." " It's Miss Lorraine, I suppose," said Will, pulling at a button on his father's coat, aud keeping his eyes fixed on that. " Yes, it's Miss Lorraine.' , Then there was a short silence. " I'd just as soon it was Miss Lorraine as nru/body,' , said Will by-aiul-ljy, with a little twitching of his features, and a tear on his eyelash, " because she is pretty and nice—but then, daddy dear, she is so rich." " That was my own objection," said Giles, inadvertently. " What, when she asked you V said Will brightening up. " You stupid boy, ladies don't aslc gentlemen to marry them. , ' "Don't they? Oh, I thought they did sometimes, And it is Leap Year,' , quoth Will, innocently. '' Are you qnlti , sure she didn't, father ? Why, you're colouring up quite red ! Oh, well !'"—in a tone of extreme satisfaction—"l don't mind at all if it was she that asked you first! Of course, you couldn't say ' No.' , ' , (To bo continued.)