VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VI, Issue 459, 24 April 1912, Page 2

VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

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By the Author of "All or Nothing, ' "Two Keys," etc., eto. PART 25. " You wished to see me, I believe," he said. " A handsome, aristocratic old man," was her thought, as she glanced at him before responding to his words. " If he is like this when his pride is broken, I can imagine what he must have been before ;" and whether for Violet's sake, or for a natural prepossession towards him, she liked him at once.

" Yes," she answered, " I wished to see you, but I would like you tc believe before I broach the subject of my errand, that I have come in no meddling spirit, but only because my affections are bound up in the cause I wish to advocate."

Melville Lisle breathed harder than was his wont, but placed his hand upon his breast and bowed, saying, with the utmost courtesy • " I find it easy to believe that anything you may interest yourself in will be worthy of my closest attention. I beg of you to proceed." She smiled a little at his stately gallantry, though she was careful that he should not notice it.

"Thank you," she said. "I will not tax your patience with a long preface, but will come to my purpose at. once. You have a daughter, Violet ?"

His face twitched i s she could see, and there was an eager movement at the sound of his daughter's name; bat pride was not yet dethroned, and he drew himself a little more erect, and answered :

" I had a daughter of that name." " Then you still have, for she is living," was the soft answer. There was a pause of some mo-* ments, and then he said, a little unsteadily : " She may be dead to me."

" How can that be when she longs to return to your home ? " asked Lady Westail. "Do you know why she left my home ?" asked the father, struggling hard with pride that had already wrecked his life. " She has told me all of the wretched story—l know more of it than you, perhaps. I know that she was as blameless and as innocent as the angels, and that you sent her out into the hard world to become whatever fate and her own nature might make her."

It was said a little indignantly and Lady Westail was a little fearful after the words were out of her mouth, that she had undone the good she might have done ; but Melville

Lisle had pondered that theme too often and too painfully to shy at it

now, and he smothered his first feeling of anger at being so spoken to, and answered eagerly : " She had disobeyed me and had voluntarily left her home to cast in her lot with another. She had been gone a day and a night, and then returned to me. What was I to think ?"

" You should have thought the truth —that she was a Lisle, and be appearances what they might, that she could not have done a wrong act."

It was a subtle appeal that Lady Westall made to him, and it carried far more weight than a volume of proofs would have done. "I may have been wrong," he admitted.

"Oh, you were wrong," said Ladj Westall, earnestly ; " and I see now that you will meet me half-way. May I tell you of Violet ?" The womanly impetuosity with which she took it for granted that he was now in sympathy with her relieved him of a needless amount of gradual yielding, and he answered, with less effort to hide his real feelings than before :

" Please do. Is she well ? Yes, tell me about her. I know, from what you say, that she must be worthy now as say " and he half arose to bow—- " that your friendship for her would be evidence enough for me. Is she well ?"

"Very well, and longing to see you."

" She has forgiven me ?" " She believes that you did right in treating her as you did." " Yes, that would be like her. She never had this pride of mine."

Lady Westall smiled. " Do not be too certain of that," she said. " Violet has pride enough in being a Lisle."

The father's face lighted up at that. His greatest complaint against Violet had always beer, that she was deficient in pride. " Then she has never done anything to—to—has never been forced by circumstances to do anything to bring—not precisely disgrace, but —" " She has never done anything that a Lisle might not be proud to do," said Lady Westall, thinking that she could not be responsible for his unreasonable prejudice against public singing.

Melville Lisle rose from his chair and walked to the window, where he stood silent for a few minutes. Then he turned and went towards Lady Westafl.

" Lady Westall," he said, " bring my child to me. Let me confess to you who have been her friend, as I can see, that I have so longed and jearned to have her back that but for the fear that I should iin'l her what my treatment of her might have made her, I would have gone to search for her ere this. I did not know my own child,"

" No, you did not know her. It was my good fortune to rind her soon

after she left you, and'she has been with me ever since, the sunshine of my life." " Heaven bless you," murmured Melville Lisle. " There is one thing, Mr. Lisle," raid Lady Westail, hesitatingly. " What is it ?" " This : Violet makes no stipulation; she will rejoice to come to you as you will ; but she knows that her name has been bandied, about this pillage, and that it would he a real • hime to her to return to it. and have the villagers look askance at her. Would you object to hviiu ?lse-.vhcre ? Remember this is my suggestion, not hers." " It does not matter whose it is; I shall willingly leave here. Ho mc the honour to let me know what your plans arc ?"

" Always with reference to your zctter judgment "; and Lady Westail ■)ov;cd almost as low as Mr. Lisle lad done a moment previously. This exchange of courtesies was quite as sincere as it was ceremonious, for the poor gentleman was mightily taken with the beautiful woman who had befriended his daughter, and she was of the opinion that with all his pride he was a singularly fine man. They were both in a frame of mind to please each other and Lady Westail proceeded to unfold her plan with far more confidence than she had conceived it. It was in fact nothing less than that he should go to London with her, and be her guest until she could have her neglected place, Ravenscroft, in Surrey, put in order for ;heir reception. He demurred with i touch of his old jealous pride ; but she represented first that it would be hard on her to suddenly lose Violet, v?ho had become necessary to her, ind secondly that he would need time to look about him to find a suitable place to live. Of course he yielded finally, and it was arranged that he should return to London with her, and th a t Goody White should be left behind to pack the goods in readiness for removal. The furniture was to be left in the cottage .until it was required, the lease which Mr. Lisle held not expiring for two months yet. CHAPTER XXXII. THE" EARL OP GRANTHORPE. The meeting between Melville Lisle and Violet was more affecting than anyone knowing how much she had suffered through his harsh pride would have been able to believe. Each was affected differently, but almost equally powerfully. To Violet her father represented even more than the parental idea —he was a representative of a past which was more dear to her that she had resolutely set herself against any renewal of it ; and, moreover, from the overbearing, forbidding pride of thte past, to the subdued manner of the present, gave him a dignity wMch all his haughtiness had never conferred on him.

To him Violet was a wronged child and he would have greeted her with affection in any case ; but when he entered the drawing-room at Lady Westall's and was met by the exquisitely beautiful creature, so richly and yet so daintily dressed, and knew her for his daughter, not only his affection, but his pride as a Lisle rose from his heart, and he had scarcely returned her impulsive greeting, when he held her from him and exclaimed :

" You, my Violet? Why no Lisle ever lived that had more to be proud of in a daughter than I have. You would grace a royal crown. Ah, there is something in blood that will tell."

Violet laughed, with a sad ring in the music of it that was lost on the ear of her father.

"I am not likely to grace "a royal crown, however," she said, "and I shall be satisfied with gracing my father's house, if he will have me." " Oh," said he with a gentleness that affected her deeply, " now that I stand in your presence, my dear child, I realise more than it was possible to do before how terribly I wronged you. You must forgive me, Violet —you must forgive me." " Then let us say nothing about it, papa."

" Yes, yes, that will be best. But when I look at you, beautiful as you are, and with that look of pride on your face—Ladj Westall told me you had developed the pride of the Lisles —and think that you went from my door with nothing but your strength of character between you and the temptations of the world, I realise how much I have to be proud of in the daughter that through it all never did a thing that any Lisle could blush to own." Violet could hardly bear deceiving him about her occupation during her absence from him ; but she knew so well what a shock it would bo to him to learn that his daughter had stood on a public platform and sunc for money, that she refrained from undeceiving him, and by so doing made it impossible to do it later, when what was now a trifle became then a matter of great importance. It was curious to see how Melville Lisle developed anew under the cam of the daughter upon whom his whole strength of pride was now centred. He went with her and Lady Westall to Ravenscroft and accepted the hospitality of the friend of his daughter as gracefully as if he were not the poor gentleman whose poverty had driven him from among his associates in his own level of life. The subdued manner and petulant spirit disappeared, and he became as stately and dignified as ever royal duke.

However there was more in it than the care of his beautiful child, v.i»: made it her task to enliven his life. She saw with no little wonder, but also with considerable pleasure, tlrni there was growing into existence a regard between Lady Westall and hei

ather which promised to em! m

omething stronger. It wns a lit tic singular, she thought, as she watched .hem walking together, thai il ihould come into her yoiini; life to ■vitness the birth and death of hor }wn love, and to foster (hat. of hcr 'ather. For foster it she did. ihinV n.ir that she could do no greatrr 'ivindness to either of them than ie lo so. It was all so peaceful, so idyllic. it Ravenscroft that it seemed as if t might be possible to find some rest for her aching heart in forget■illness after a while ; but she did lot or would not take into account diat while she was seeking forgotulness there were others who were seeking her. For a time after she had returned :o London and was singing there, she lad looked into her audiences on the lights she had sung, dreading lest she should see the face of Guy there; out she had not seen it, and one lirh't she became conscious to her ■ecrct shame and anger that she was jcginning to fear that she would not find his face there. Not that she ivould have yielded a jot of her position ; but she bad been so certain ;hat he would not give her up so :asily. Now so much time had gone by without any word or sight of him, or Df Lady Darlington that she had given up—shall it be said,' hope ? md if she thought of them or either jf them, it was as belonging to an past. The human ncart is a singular thing. Had Guy Darlington appeared before her at any time during her lonely and sal Jays she would have turned her bae'e 3s coldly upon him as if he was the least cf created beings to her, and vet she could not keep her thoughts Tom him.

But Lady Darlington she would aave been glad to see, and scarcely a lay went by that she did not wonder if there was not some way by which she could bring herself into commifni:ation with her, without thereby seeming to soften towards Guy. It was thus with her, and perhaps she was thinking these thoughts one day when she had been left alone by her father and Lady Westail who dad gone for a drive. She was sitting at the piano, idly running her fingers over the keys and singing softly to herself, as her wont ofter was, when she became aware of 3omeone standing in the doorway of the music-room. She glanced carelessly up and stopped. Lady Darlington stood there, fairly devouring her with her eyes, On the stoppage of the music and the startled look from Violet, Bhe ran towards her with outstretched hands, crying : " Oh, Miss Marsden ! Miss Lisle ! Violet !"

It seemed perfectly natural for Violet to be embraced by Guy's mother, and yet the strangeness of it struck her too, and there was a consciousness of it in her manner as she drew back and said :

" How did you know I was here, Lady Darlington?" " I searched for you. Do you believe I would let you go out of my life so easily ? You made me youi debtor for life ; you stole my hear* away, as I must think you have £ fashion of doing, and then you slipped away from me as if you hopec to be rid of my importunities in thai fashion." " You know I was obliged to go away, dear Lady Darlington," an swered Violet, pleased to see Guy's mother, but each moment dreading what she was certain was to come.

"I think, dear, that you ran away to avoid seeing Guy. Was not that it ?"

" Yes," answered Violet, gravely, meeting the issue more steadily than she had hoped she could. She knew she needed all her composure and her courage ; for it was plain that Lady Darlington had come to plead for Guy.

" And you met Guy afterwards in Nice ?" " Yes." " Do not be offended with me, dear, for speaking of this, will you?" They were sitting together on i sola, by this time, and Violet did not refuse to let Lady Darlington take her two hands in hers, but she answered monosyllabically :

'* No." " You know why I have come here, dear ?" " Yes."

" I have come for myself first. Noi to apologise for my injustice to you in the time that is past, for I know you forgave that before you riskee your life to save mine. You did it for Guy, though you will not say sc now, but jou must have forgiven me if indeed you ever needed to. 3 think such a nature as yours holds forgiveness in readiness for any offence."

" I never thought I had anylhinto forgive. Lady Darlington. Yor, did what was right and 1 am glad 1 had the opportunity to -serve you. I know why you have come here. '.

will not be foolish and pretend oilierwise ; besides 1 wish you to feel how much in earnest I am. You have come as much for your son as your self."

" Yes. dear ; and will you not for give him. Surely it cannot be mart for you, who forgive those who ill use you, to forgive, one who loves yoi with all his heart ami. being- (lu\ does that. dear. Will-you not forgive him ? Will you not let mi take back to him the assurance tha/ you still love him ?" (To be continued.)