THE ROMANCE OF THE HOTEL OF THE STAR.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1048, 18 June 1883, Page 4

THE ROMANCE OF THE HOTEL OF THE STAR.

LITERATURE.

The muddy carriage drawn by the lazy horses clattered over the cobbled pavement of the village, and I seated therein, took in such details of the prospect as were unobscured by the broad road shoulders of my charioteer. To my right a sheer precipice of some two hundred feet in height, crowned with shocks of ruddy foliage; to my left a bare landscape that but a month ago had been rich with, golden grain ; overhead a steel-blue sky, dappled with shining clonds. The long avenue of fir and poplar stretched before me in wearisome monotony of green and russet, and the road was moist with rotting leaves. Three miles of muddy road, three miles of firs and poplars, an hour of shake and jingle of the crazy vehicle, and we rolled into the village of Pastal. The driver checked the lazy horse at the Hotel of the Star, a huge white-washed edifice. There were half a dozen irontopped tables, and as many chairs and benches, all in a state of clammy perspiration, under the damp awning above the windows of the dining room. At one of the windows there was a face, which flushed and paled as I descended from the carriage; and as I entered the public room the same face met me at the door. Not an unhandsome face, if judged by the standards of form and color, but one which expressed irresolution and moral shiftlessness, if ever face did yet. * Mr Gordon ! what in the name of wonder brings you here.’ ‘ Business,’ I replied ; ‘ important business.’ * Indeed ! with whom V The question was superfluous, as his shifting glance and irresolute voice would have told any onlooker. * With you,’ I answered ; he looked at me swiftly, and lowered bis eyes again ; ‘*we can talk here, I suppose V ‘ Yes,’ he said sullenly enough ; ‘ there isn’t a soul in the house who understands English. He drew a chair to the fireless stove, and sat chafing his hands in evident discomfort. I took a seat at some little distance. ‘ How’s Mary ?’ he asked presently, without looking up. ‘ Well in health.’ He was silent again for a moment, and then broke out 'querulously. ‘ Can’t you say something to a fellow ? what’s the matter ?’ ‘ I have come with the intention of saying something; and you ought to know what the matter is. Why have you not written ?’ ‘ I have written.’ ‘ She received your last letter a month ago.’ He uttered an inarticulate growl by way of an answer, and I repeated my question. ‘ What is there to write about it in a hole like this ?’ 1 Walter, my lad,’ I answered quietly, ignoring the puerility of his excuse and the insolence of his tone, * it 'won't do.’ ‘ What won’t do?’ ‘ Yonr conduct. And you must alter it. I have come here at some personal inconvenience, and if I am to be of any use at all yon must behave frankly. Now, what’s the matter ? some new entanglement, I suppose ?’ ‘ By Jove, sir, it’s not my fault—upon my soul, it’s not. I like Mary a thousand times better than I—than I like her. But she won’t take “ No for an answer. What’s a poor devil to; do with a woman like that ?’ ‘Have you ever given her “ No” for an answer ?” He answered nothing, but sat moodily staring at the fire. ‘ Will you ever have an ounce of pluck or a shred of common honesty V He growled again, and shifted his feet uneasily. ‘ Who is she. What is her name 7’ ‘ Madame Malines,’ answered Wal-i ter. ‘ Malines ?’ I know the name. Have; 1 ever met her ?’ * Everybody knows the name. She’s ; tbe widow of Malines, the French 1 Academician, the dictionary fellow.’ ‘lndeed!’ Bnt he was an old man, surely. How old is she ?’ ‘ Twenty-eight or thirty, I suppose.’ ■ ‘ Where did yon meet her V ‘ Here, about six weeks ago, and she made a dead.set at me—confound her 1 —the moment she set eyes on me. I’m the nnluckiest beggar that ever lived, I think.’ • ‘What do yon mean by “made a? dead set at you 1” ’ ‘ Why, monopolised me, and hunted; me about wherever I went.’ ‘ She is in the hotel at present ?’ ‘ She will be soon. She’s gone for a drive.’ ‘ Well,’ I asked presently, * what are yonr intentions ?’ ‘ Gordon, I don’t know, I can’t tell.’ He rose, and began an irregular walk about the room. ‘I can’t understand things at all, myself, or her, when she’s away. I care nothing for her; I hate her 1’ he broke out with a sudden febrile rvehemence; 1 she makes me behave like a honnd. 1 should have been back in England a month ago if it bad not been for her. But 1 can’t go. What would be the good ? She knows ail about me, and would he on my track by the next boat.’ * Have you told her of your engagement ?’ ‘ No,’ he answered, with shifty eyes; ‘ I dared not.’ ‘ What do you mean by “ dared not ?” ’ He looked at me quickly. * Wait until you see her, and then ask that.’ His cowardice respecting the woman of whom we spoke had put one suspicion into my mind, which I did not hesitate to express plainly. ‘ Your connection is, at least, blameless?’ ‘ Entirely. I swear it, Gordon, on my soul!’ I had cleared a little ground for my operations, and began forthwith. ‘ If

you were free, if your engagement with Mary did not exist, what would be yonr feelings towards Madame Malines ?’ ‘ As they are now.’ ‘ What are they now ?’ ‘Fear of her when she is present; dislike when she is away.’ ‘ I have one more question to ask, Walter: I implore you to answer it truthfully; what are your feelings towards Mary V ‘ I love her; I never knew how ranch until I met Madame Malines,’ Tbe early winter evening had closed so thickly about us that I could not see bis face ; but judging by his voice, which had for a moment lost its irresolute character, I believed him. We were silent for some little time, and in our silence the singing of the river came up distinctly from below. A clumsy servant, one of the servants of tbe hotel, entered and clamped about the room, lighting the lamps affixed to the walls. She went out, and, turning my eyes to my companion’s face, I saw upon it the intent look “of listens eagerly. I listened too. Clear through the rhythmic cadence of the swollen stream came tbe heat of horses’ hoofs and.the softened roll of carriage-wheels on dead leaves, and with n .sudden shock of sound horses and wheels fell into silence at the door of the hotel of Star. I looked inquiringly at my companion. ‘ Madame Milines ?’ ‘ Madame Malincs.’ Almost ns he spoke her name the lady entered the room, and came towards us. A woman of resolute carriage, though short in stature and slight in build. Her head was perhaps a little disproportionately large, and the expression of the face was decidedly rather masculine than feminine. Bnt her most remarkable feature was her eyes. Without being of extraordinary size, they were yet large, and of a depth and brilliance surpassing those of any it has ever been my fortune to see set in a human head. She came straight towards me, without bestowing so much as a glance upon Walter, who stood awkwardly regarding us, and held out to me a tiny gloved hand, which I took a little clumsily. ‘ Good evening, Mr Gordon.!’ ‘ Good evening, Madame Malines 1’ * The bore of an introduction avoided for once; my guess was right—as it generally is ; you are Walter’s friend ; will you be mine, I wonder ?’ She was silent, looking me in the face with her searching glance. * Yes, I think so. ’ She turned to my companion. ‘ Walter, Mr. Gordon and I have business to talk about; we will see you at dinner.’, * He accepted his dismissal without a word, and went away, leaving ns together in the dimly lighted room. ‘ Mr Gordon,’ said Madame Malines, when we were alone, ‘ whether your appearance here will be a circumstance for me to remember with pleasure in the future, the future mast show for itself; for the present I am glad of it.’ “ Thank yon, Madame Malines.’ She waved her hand a little impatiently. . ‘ We have much to talk of, and little time to do it .in-; I am glad of your appearance here, because you can be of use to me in resolving certain doubts of mine, and for no other reason in the world.’ I waited for her next utterance, having handed her a chair. She waved me to another; I drew it towards her and seated myself. ‘ Mr Gordon, if any understanding—no matter of what kind, friendly or otherwise—is to be established between us, we must be frank one with another; yon are a man of business ?’ ‘ I am.’ ‘lama woman of business ; I have certain 1 questions to ask ; will yon answer them V * If I can do so without any breach of confidence —frankly and fully.’ ‘ How long have you known Walter ?’ * All my life.’ ‘lntimately.?’. ‘ Yes—most intimately,’ * What is your opinion of him ?’ I stammered something—what, I scarcely knew at the time. ‘ Would you like to know my opinion of him ?’ I answered awkwardly that I should be pleased to hear any communication with which she might honour me. ‘ I despise him !’ she said calmly. The speech amazed me, and I showed my amazement in my face. She laughed a short hard laugh, of doubtful meaning, and went on, * My opinion of men in the abstract is not high ; my opinion of such men as it has been my lot to know is lower still; if my judgment has been warped by unfortunate circumstance, that is my loss; yon shall judge, Mr Gordon, if yon will; I will tell you the story of my life.’ (To he continued.)