VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VI, Issue 466, 18 May 1912, Page 2

VIOLET LISLE; OR, A PEARL BEYOND PRICE.

All Rights Reserved.

By the Author of "All or Nothing,' "Two Keys," etc., etc. PART 32. " You are in your dotage, man,' said the marquis with a sneer, madi bold by very desperation, and de termined, since it must be, to fighi to the very last gasp. "It is quite true that I received that sum frorr Lady Darlington ; but it is equally true I paid the same amount tc your daughter. It is my word and ber signatire against her simple word. I fancy any court of lav; would uphold my side of it." " I see you have , thought it all out ; but so have I. Bethink you. my lord marquis, how you will account for having twenty thousand pounds to pay at that time and there will be fifty men who will swear that you did not have twenty pounds of available funds. You will be obliged to show where you obtained that money 1 to pay to my daughter. It would be an interesting showing indeed. Do not imagine my lord, that you have an innocent girl to deal with this time." " Fcr the sake of argument," said the marquis, " let us suppose that your really absurd idea were true. What then ?"

" Very well ; let us suppose that my absurd idea were true. If it were true what would you propose to do about it ?"

" Why," said the marquis, running quickly over in his mind the chances of some sort of compromise and wondering how he could draw himself out of the mire be had fallen into, "ii in the extremely incredible supposition that I were guilty, you ask thai I think, I should retort upon you, and asb what you would propose tc do."

" I," replied the earl, " would begin by giving you the opportunity o! offering some suggestions looking towards what reparation might tx possible. Supposing my accusatior to be true, I now offer you the opportunity." <" Reparation ! What would there be in the way of reparation that could be done I should like to know 1 Of course the first thing in such a case would be the restitution of the money. Consider for a moment,

my lord, that I had done such a thing it would be only necessity that would drive me to it. WelL you know as well as I that British peers have no way of making money so thai when one is unhappily toe old to marry money, he has nothing but poverty before him. If I had had twenty thousand pounds —I sincerely wish I had, my lord —I am very confident that they would have been dissipated long before this. and that now I should be as poor as ever. No, we should have to begin any negotiations by admitting at once the impossibility of restitution Do make a suggestion, my lord." " I would suggest," said the earl, as if it pained him inexpressibly to continue the conversation, "that tc a man of honour it would be less the money than the unhappiness he had caused that wouM. distress him. Restitution of money, it is at once granted, is impossible ; but is it impossible to restore happiness to those who have suffered through , youi acts."

" Again I ask, what would? you suggest ?" " And I answer," said the earl.

with sudden sternness, " that I have no suggestion to make. I say thai I have given you a fair opportunity to voluntarily offer some tardy reparation for your rascality. I now say that I give you five days is which to leave the country for ever. Ifon the expiration of five days yor are found in Great Britain, I shall have you arrested as a common thief and will put in operation against you every engine of the law." He turned to go. The Marquis ol Coldenham saw him. reach the door in gloomy desperate silence. Then he said, hoarsely : " Stop a moment ! Do you know that I can shame your daughter oul of the society thjat unsuspectingly harbours her ? That I can brine ruin find shame on her friend —oui friend too, I thin'v—Lady Westall '. Do you know this ?" " I know, wretched, man, the whole story of those two cruelly ill-used women. I know it, and lam going to make Lady Westall my wife. The wife and daughter of the Earl ol Granthorpe will be beyond the reach of the tongue of a convicted criminal as you will be very shortly if yoi: attempt to injure them an-j further. or if you remain in this country. And this is my last word." The Marquis of. Coldenharn allowed the earl to leave without uttering a word to stop him ; then be walked to the window and seemed to b< studying the laughing grou<p on the lawn. But in truth he saw' no one His eyes looked inward and saw the wretched past moving before him lik< a panorama.

" Well it's done," he muttered ai last, " and can't be undone ; bui curses on them all—curses —curses!" But still he did not move iron: where he stood and when, he was no ticed by the guests from outside and saluted in a merry .fashion by them he did not know it, burt continuet to mutter and scow? to ttimself. "Then what next?" he' said. "Cat anything be dooie ? Don't give n\ without a struggle. Struggle !" h< laughed low anH wildly.. "Strug gle ! No, the time for th: it is past Then there remains: but 01 ie thing. J did not think ft would be so dis agreeable." Exposure of< his villainy meanl

disgrace and banishment from the circle in which he was accustomed to move. He could not endure the withering contempt of those who had believed him to be a man of honour. Crushed, mortified, hopeless, he went to his room. That night. a servant was sent to his chamber to call him to dinner. The Marquis of Goldenham lay with a bullet-hole in his forehead and a pistol by his side. He had done the only possible thing for him —a very disagreeable thing, indeed. CHAPTER XXXIX. A CHANGE OP HEART. Who shall say what the thoughts of Violet were as she sat. alone in her dainty little boudoir after Lady Darlington had left her ? Whit she had heard had opened up in her mind all that past which she had been striving to eflace from it. It had opened it up in such a way as to return her to her old self—the old self that had always teen so thoughtful of others.

She thought of what Guy 'iad bten to her, what she h.;,d been to him, what she had given up for his good as she had supposed ; and how, vbca she had given him up. had told herself that she would do anything to spare him the misery of e.er discovering that she had indeed sterificed herself. She had told him she could not marry him and that alcne should have been sufficient to shake the firmest faith. Then, as she had not known before, thsre was her own signature to a document which gave a direct and overwhelming proof of the apparent truth .<i what the had eaid to him with her own lips.

Even that evidence of her lack of true love he had had the strength and faith to doufbt until th 9 .same wicked brain had, no doubt, coined new proofs of her undeserving. How could she so obstinately deny his right to doubt her, when she had done her utmost to make him do so, and the Marquis of Coldenham had contrived, with such fiendish cunning had contrived to pile proof, until the very angels must have doubted ? She knew very well as she thought then, that in spite of every doubt he had never ceased to love her, and must she expect him to hold her so much more than mortal that he could not doubt her in the face of all the evidence of her faithlessness that she had made it possible to furnish him with ?

She wondered now how she could have been so hard and bitter with him as she had been that day in Nice, and she wondered if he now would forgive her. She had sent him from her with such scorn and anger that she could not believe that he would ever seek her again. Lady Darlington had indeed come to her, asking her to be his wife ; but had she come from him or only been urged by her own love for her ? In short, she wondered and thought and wept, and in the space of half an hour had been converted from the proud obstinate creature that she had been of late into the lowly-minded Violet Lisle of other days. She had returned to her old self, and had put aside that pride which after all, she had only worn as a garment to hide the womanly gentleness which was her natural garb.

All that day and the next she turned her thoughts over in her mind wondering greatly that her father said nothing to her about what had happened but not doubting that he had it all under cansideration for she could see that whenever he looted at her it was with a pitying gentleness that was very grateful to her. She would have been very glad then, of the presence of Lady Westall but'she did not wish to speat' to her unless her father first broached the subject, and she feared there was little likelihood that he would do that. Once it entered her mind to blame her father for not rising above that foolish pride of caste ; but she remembered how recently she had been under bondage to that same pride, and she sighed and wondered bow it would all end. Her father had not failed to notice the distress she was suffering ; but be could not be sure that she had arrived at the frame of mind he desired, and, moreover, he wished to wait until he had had his interview with Lord Coidenharn before saying anything to Violet. But that was done now, and after dinner on the second night subsequent to the discovery about the false receipt he drew a chair near to her as they sat together in the library and said : " Violet, my dear, we must prepare ourselves for the disclosure of the story of your past life. I have seen the Marquis of Coidenharn and have used such terms with him that while I have no doubt that we shall be rid of him for the future, I cannot feel certain that he will not seek revenge in the betrayal of your secret." " I shall not care for myself, papa. It will be only for you that T shall mind. But, after all, dear, what does it matter, even to you?" " Very little. Nothing, in fact." There was silence then for a few minutes ; but presently the carl spoke : " Tell me what is in jour mind, Violet ?" "What do you mean, papa?" she demanded in surprise. " Were you not blaming me for my course towards Lady Westall ?" " I was thinking of her ; but I do not believe I was blaming you." "What would you have me do, Violet ? You find fault with my pride —it is my pride that stands in the way of my happiness, you think ; but is my pride to be blamed any more than yours ? Is there anything more surprising in if? You should be aide to understaod it, Violet. Is there anything but your pride that stand:: between you and the man you love ': You do love Guy Darlington, do you not ?" " Yes, I love him, papa ; and m?

:>ridc did stand between us ; but «o"there is nothing but his will." " My darling !" cried the earl, "is this so ? You have hart the hat.Ue with yourself and come off victorious? Dh; my daughter, what a nature is fours !" " A weak and foolish one, papa !" ;hc faltered ; and her tears (lowed nore freely. He kissed her tenderly and left liVr, saying he would return in a moment. He had not gone above five minutes: r,-hen he came back. Violet was resting her chin em her palm and was looking at the flictfering blaze of the ire. " My dear." "Yes, papa." " Here is a lady I think you will 3 e glad to see." She turned and with a swift jlance saw who it was. " Oh, Lady Westall !" she cried. ' You here ! Oh, papa !" " Thhre my dear," sai-d the carl, ,vith a smile, " I can already hear the hundred curious questions you lave compressed into those three expatriations. I will retire and let l.ady Westall bear the brunt of your ittack." He left them together, and Violet took Lady Westall's hands in hers ind looked long and searehingly at ifir. "Well, what do you see 7" demanded Lady Westall. " Oh, it looks like happiness. Is .t ? Are you happy 7 Is everything svell with you 7" " Everything is well with me, my iarling. Your father is the noblest ol men and I am the happiest of women." " Why did he not tell me 7 Oh, how glad I am ! And I thought all the while— Oh, what an injustice I lid him ! Tell me all about it. How often I have wished for you ! And now I shall have you all the time." "All the time ! Why, my dear Violet, you do not suppose that we shall have room in the castle for you 7 No, no. One pair of lovers—sven if old ones—is all the largest castle in England can hold at one time."

" Please don't jest, dear Lady Westall," said Violet, sadly. " Oh, I am so happy, I must jest, dear. But there, it shall not be at your expense if I do. What a wretch that Coldenham is !" " Who would have believed he could be so base !" " It was not difficult far me to believe it. I wonder if he will have the farther baseness to try to injure us any more. Ido not care for myself ; but after that, I should not like to have my father suffer the discomfort of knowing I was being talked of by those who met us. He says it will not matter to him and I believe him ; but still I would rather it should not be."

" Yes, I should prefer it too. When did you see papa to—to arrange—this—''

Lady Westall smiled. " The same day that Lord Coldenham came here to make his bargain with you." " Then papa could not have hesitated about his course for an instant. Oh, how great an injustice I have done him. It seems easy for me to be unjust."

"What a self-torturer you are!" said Lady Westall lovingly. " If I were it would be only right. But do not let us talk of me. Talk of you and your happiness. What are you going to do ? When are you to be married ? 1 want you for my mother soon."

" It all depends on you, my dear," answered Lady Westall, with a smile. " How on me ?"

" Your father declares wc shall he married when you and Lord Darlington are."

"Please!" cried Violet in a tone of pain. " Please what?" said Lady Westall suddenly rising and going to the door of the library. "It is for you to please "; and she opened the door and admitted one whom Violet at the instant took to be her father. But when Lady Westall went out and closed the door behind birr, Violet looked again. " Guy !" slie cried, " Oh, Guy !" (To be continued.) FRENCH PHRASES EXPLAINED. DESIGN' 1) TO HELP PS UNDERSTAND GALLIC FICTION. A has—A phrase sie-nifyine: "get tho hook." Employed /.est fully and constantly by the French in the course of strikes, riots, and political campaigns. Vive—The Gallic hurrah. A Parisian will "vive" the army, the policeman, the football back, the prize baby, and the girl behind the bar on the lightest provocation. Qui—Yes—yes ! "Oui is invariably repeated two or three times, as a Frenchman would, not expect to he believed if he uttered the athrinat ive nmore than once. Mon eher—A term of endearment employed by the Parisian as a prelude to making a touch or kissm;: up on the cheek. E.g.. "mon eher A-dol phe, lend me five francs." On dit— "It is said." The prelude to the screamer told at the roum table in front of the cafe. Garcon—The pompadoured bandit who brings the vintage that start; the "on dit." Bom with his ham behind his back.—"Smart Set."