CHAPTER V.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 401, 11 September 1889, Page 4

CHAPTER Y.

OLD COPIES OF TIIK 'COI'KIEU.' • T\so waltzes,' said Trix, counting on her fingers, ' that's two ; one cracovienne, that's three ; les lanciors, that's four ; one galop, that's five ; and one polka quadrille, that's Fix. Six dances, round and square, | with Sir Victor Catheron. Edith,' cried Miss Stuart, triumohantly, 'do you hear that ?' ' Yes, Trixy, I hear,' said Edith, dreamily. ' You don't look as if you, did, or if you do hear, you don't heed. Six dances — two more I am certain, than he danced with any other gill in the hous3. That looks promising now, doesn't it? Edith, the long and short of the matter is this : I shall break my heart and die if he doesn't make me Lad}' Catheron.' A faint, half-absent smile — no other reply from Miss Darrell. In the handsome reception -room of the Stuart mansion, the two girls sat. It was half-past three in the afternoon of the day succeeding the ball. In the luxuriant depths of a putty aimchair, reclined Edith Darrell, as much at home as though puffy chairs and luxuriant reclining had ever been her normal state. The crimson satin cushions contrabted brilliantly with her dark eyes, hair and complexion. Her black silk dress was new, and fitted well, and &he had lit it up with a knot of scarlet tangled in some white lace at the throat. Altogether she made a very effective picture. In another puffy rocking-chair near, sat Trixy, her chestnut hair crape, to her eyebrows and falling in a crinkling shower down to her waist. Her voluminous draperies balloon over the carpet for the space of a couple of yards on either side, and she looks from top to toe , the 'New Yorkiest of New York girls.' They made a nice contrast, if you had an eye for eflect — blonde and brunette, dash and dignity, style and classic simplicity, gorgeous furniture, and outside the grey, fast-drifting April afternoon, the raw, easterly April wind. 1 Of course,' pursued Miss Stuart, going on with the web of rose-coloured knitting in her lap, * being the daughter of the house, and considering the occasion, and everything, I suppose a few more dances than usual were expected of him. Still, 1 don't believe he would have asked me six times If — Edith ! How often did he dance with you ?' 4 How often did — I beg your pardon, Beatrix ; I didn't catch what you said.' •I see you didn't. You're half-asleep, arn't you ? A penny for your thoughts, Dithy.' 'They're not worth a farthing,' Edith answered contemptuously. • I chanced just then to be thinking of Mrs Featherbrain. What was it you asked — something about Sir Victor ?' 'I aßked how often Sir Victor danced with you last night.' • I really forgot. Tour times, I thinkyes, four times. Why ?' v • He danced six with me, and I'm sure he didn't dance more than half as often with anyone else. Mamma thinks he means something, and he took me to supper, and told me about England. We had quite a long conversation ; infact, Edith, I fairly grow crazy, with delight at the thought of 6no day being •* My lady." '

1 Why think of ;ib, then, since ,ib sets you crazy ?' Edith suggested, with cool indifference. ' I daresay you've heard the proverb, Trix, about counting your chickens bofore they're hatched. However, in this case I don't really see why you should despair. You're his equal in every way, and Sir Victor is his own master,, and can do as he likes.' 1 Ah, I don't know !' Trix answered with a despondent sigh; 'he's a baronet, ami these English people go so much for birth and blood. Now you know we've neither. It's all very well for pa to name Charley after a prince, and spell Stuart with a u instead of an ew like everybody else, and say he's descended from the royal family of Scotland — there's something more wanted than that. He's sent to London, or somewhere, for the family coat-of-arms. You may laugh, Edith, but he has. and we're to seal our letters with a griffin rampant, or a catamount couchavt, or some othei beast of prey. Still the griffin rampant doesn't alter the fact that pa began life sweeping out a grocery, or that he was in the tallow business until tlie breaking out of the rebellion. Lady Helena and Sir Victor are everything that's nico, and courteous, but whon it comes to marrying, you know, that't quite another matter. Isn't he just aweet, though, Edith ?' 1 Who ? Sir Victor ? Poor fellow, what has he ever said or done to you, Trix, to deserve such an epithet as that? No» lam glad to pay he didn't strike me as being " sweet " — contrariwise, I thought him particularly sensible and pleasant.' 1 Well, can't a person bo sweet and sensible too ?' Trix answered, impatiently. ' Did you notice his eyes ? Sur.h an expression of weariness and sadness, and — now what are you laughing at. I declare, you're as stupid as Oharley. I can't express a single opinion that he doesn't laugh at. Call me sentimental if you like, but I say again he has the moat melancholy expression 1 ever looked at. Do you know, JDithy, I love melancholy men.' 4 Do you ?' said Edith, still laughing. 1 My dear lackadaisical Trixy ' I must confess myself, I prefer " jolly " people. Still you're not altogether wrong about our youthful baronet ; he does look a prey at times to green and yellow melancholy. You don't suppose ho has been crossed in love, do you ? Are baronets — rich baronets — ever crossed in love I wonder ? His large, rather light blue eyes, look at one sometimes as though to say : " I have a secret sobcow here, A. grief I'll no'ro impart, * It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear, But it consumes the 'art !" ' Miss Darrell was an actress by nature — she repeated lachrymose verse in a sepulchral tone of voice. 4 That's it, you may depend, Trixy. The poor young gentleman's a prey to unrequited affection. What are you shaking your head so vehemently at ?' 4 it isn't that,' said Trix, looking solemn and mysterious. • It's woise '' ' Worse ! Dear me. I didn't think anything could be worse. What is it, then V 1 Murder !' It was Trixy's turn to be Eepulchral. Mise Darrell opened her big brown eyes. Miss Stuart's charnel-house tone was really blood-curdling. ' IMy dearest Trix ! Murder ! Good gracious, you can't mean to say we've been dancing all night with a murderer ? Who has he killed V ' Edith, don't be an idiot ! Did I say he killed anyone? No, it isn'o that — it's a murder that wa? committed when he was a baby.' * When he was a baby !' Miss Darrell repeats, in dense bewilderment. • Yes, his mother was murdered, poor thing. It was a most shocking afiair, and as interesting as any novel you ever read,' said Trixy, with the greatest relish. Murdered in cold blood as she slept, and they don't know bo this day who did it.' Edibh's eyes were still very wide open. ' His mother — when he was a baby ! Tell us about it, Trix. One naturally takes an interest in the family murders of one's future second cousin-in-law.' 4 Well,' bogan Miss Stuart, and with the utmost relish, ' you see his father — another Sir Victor — made a low marriage — married the daughter of a common sorb of person, in trade. Now there's a coincidence to begin with. I'm the daughter of a common sort of person in trade — at least I was !' 'It is to bo hoped the coincidence will not be followed out after the nuptial knob,' answered Edith, gravely. ' It would be unpleasant for you to be mutdured, Trix, and plunge us all into the depth of despair and bombazine. Proceed ; as they say on the stage, " Your tale interests me.' " ' He was engaged —the other Sir Victor, I mean — to his cousin, a Miss Inez Cathoron—pretty name, isn't it? — and, it seems, was afraid of her. She was a brunette, dark and fierce, with black eyes and a temper to match.' A bow of acknowledgment fiotn Miss Darrell. 4 As it turned out, he had good reason to be afraid of her. He was a year and a half married, and the baby— this present Sir Victor — was two or three months old, when the marriage was made public, and wife and child brought home. There must have been an awful row, you know, at Catheron Royals, and one ovening, about a month after her arrival, they found the poor thing asleep in the nursery, and stabbed to the heart.' 4 Was she asleep after she was stabbed or before V ' Bother ! There was an inquest, and it burned out that she and MibS Catheron had had a tremendous quarrel that very evening. Sir Victor was away when ib happened, and he jusb went stark, staring mad the first thing when he heard it. Miss Catheron was arrested on suspicion. Then ib appeared thab she had a brother, and that this brother was an awful scamp, and that he claimed to have been married to Lady Catheron before she married Sir Victor, and that he had had a row with her that same day too. Ib was a dreadfully mixed up affair — all that seemed clear was that Lady Catheron had been murdered by somebody, and that Juan — yes, Juan Catheron — had run away, and when wanted, was not to be found.' 1 Ib appears to have been a strictly family affair from first to last — that, ab least, was a consolation. Whab did they do to Miss Inez Cabheron ?' ' Pub her in prison to stand her trial for murder. She never stood it, however ; sho made her escape, and never was heard of from that day to this. Isn't ib tragical, and isn'b ib dreadful for Sir Victor — his mother murdered, his father crazy, or dead, ages ago for what I know, and his relations ttied for bheir lives?' • Poor Sir Victor t Dreadful indeed. But where in the world, Trixy, did you find all this out ? Has he been pouring the family history so soon into your sympathetic ear?' lOf course nob ; bhob's the curious part of the story. You know Mrs Feabherbrain ?' 'I'm happy to say,' retorted Miss Darrell, 'I know very little about her, and I intend to know less.' • You do know her, however. Well, Mrs Featherbrain has a father. 1 4 Poor old gentleman !' says Mids Darrell, compassionately. 4 Old Hampson— that's his name. Hamp« SQn is au Englishman,- and from Cheshire,

and knew the present Sir, .Victor's grand father. He gets the Cheshire papers evei since he left, and, of course, took an in terest in all this. He told Mrs Feather brain — and what do you think ? — Mrs Featherbrain actually asked Lady Helena.' •It is precisely the sort of thing Mn Featherbrain would be likely to do. *' Fools rush in where angels feapto tread." How copious are my quotations this afternoon What did Lady Helena say ?', • Gave her a 100k — a lady who was pre sent told me— such a look. She turned dead white for a minute, then she spoke — " I never discuss family matters with per feet strangers." Those were her woids ■-"perfect strangers." "I consider your question impertinent, madame, and decline te answer it." Then she turned her back upon Mrs Featherbrain ; and shouldn't ] like to have seen Mrs Featherbrain's face ' Since then, she just bows frigidly to her. no more.' ' Little imbecile ! Trixy, 1 should like te see tho=e papers.' 'So you ean — I have them. Charley got them from Laura Featherbrain. What could not Charley get from Laura Featherbrain, I wonder V" adds Trix, sarcastically. Edith's colour roso, her eyes fell on the tatting between her fingers. ' Your brother and the lady aro old lovers, then ? So I inferred from her con versation last night.' ' I don't know about their being lovers exactly. Charley has that ridiculous flirt ing manner, young men think it their dutj to cultivate, and it certainly uas s strong case of spoons — excuse the slang, Pa never would have listened to it, though — he wants birth and blood too, and old Hamp3on's a pork merchant. Ther. Phineas Featherbrain came along, sixtj years of age, and a petroleum prince. OJ course there was a gorgeous wedding — New York rang with it. I don't see that the marriage makes much difference in Charlej and Laura's flirtation, though. Just wait a minute and I'll go and get the papers — 1 haven't read it all myself.' Miss Stuart swept^ stately and tall, from the room, returning in a few moments with some half-dozen old, yellow newspapers. Miss Darrell throws aside her work and becomes absorbed in the ' Chesholrr Courier ' of twenty-three years back. Silence fell — the moments wore on — the girls became intensely interested, so interested that when the door was thrown open and ' Sir Victor Catheron ' was an nounced, both sprang to their feet con scionco-stricken with all their guilt, red in their faces. • Here you are, sir,' she cries, in shrill, newsboy singsong ; 4 the full, true, and particular account of the tragedy at Cathe ron Royals. Sounds like the title of a sensation novel, doesn't it ? Here's No 1 foi you — I've got on as far as No. 4.' He advanced, hat in hand, a smile on his face. He is beside Trix first. She stood, tho paper still clutched in her hand, hei cheeks redder than the velvet carpet. His astonished eyes fell upon it — he who rar might read - the 'Chesholm Courier' itbig, black letters, and in staring capitals, the ' TRAOhDY of Catheron Royals.' The smile faded from Sir Victoi Catheron's lips, the faint colour, walking in the chill wind had brought, died outol his face. He turned of that dead waxen whiteness, fair people do turn — then he lifted his eyes and looked Miss Stuart full in the face. • May I ask where you got this paper ? be asked, very quietly. 1 Oh, I'm m) sorry !' burst out Trixy. • I'm awfully sorry, but I—lI — I didn't know— 1 mean, I didn't mean — oh, Sir Victor, forgive me if I have hurt your feelings. ] never meant you to see this.' 'I am sure of that,' he said, gently; 'it is necessarily very painful to me. Permit me to ask again, how you chanced to come by these papers ?' ' They were lent us by — by a lady here ; her father is from Cheshire, and always gets the papers. Indeed lam very, very sorry. I wouldn't have had it happen for worlds.' ' There is no need to apologise —you arc in no way to blame. I trust I find you and Miss Darrell entirely recovered from the fatigue of last night. The most charming party of the season — that is the unanimous verdict, and I for one endorse it.' He took a seat, the colour slowly returning to his face. As he spoke, two eyes met his, dark, sweet, compassionate, but Edith Darrell did not speak a word. The obnoxious papers were swept out of sight — Miss Stuart made desperate efforts at easo of manner, and morning call chitchat, but every effort fell flat. The spell of the "Chesholm Courier" wason them all, and was not to be shaken off. It was a relief when tho baronet rose to go. ' Lady Helena desires best regards to you both— she has fallen quite in love with you, Miss Darrell. As it is a ''Nilsson night" at the academy, I suppose we will have the pleasure of seeing you there?' ' You certainly will,' answered Trix. ' Edith has never heard Nilssou yet, poor child. Remember us to Lady Helena, Sir \ictor. Good afternoon.' Then he was gone — and Miss Stuart looked at Miss Darrell, solemnly and long. ' There goes my last hope ! Oh, why, why did I fetch down those wretched papers ? All my ambitious dreams of being a baro — nette are knocked in the head now. He'll never be able to bear the sight of me again.' • I don't see that,' Edith responded ; •if a murder is committed, the world is pretty sure to know of it — its something not to be ignored. How deeply he seems to feel it too — in spite of his rank and wealth I pity him, Trixy.' ' Pity him as much as you like, co that it is not the pity akin to love. 1 don't want you for a rival, Edie— besides I have other views for you.' 1 Indeed ! The post of confidential maid when you are Lady Catheron ?' ' Something better- the post of confidential sister. • There ! You needn't blush. I saw how the land lay from the first, and Charley isn't a bad fellow in spite of his laziness. The door bell again. Nothing but callers now until dark.' All Miss Stuart's masculino friends came dropping in successively, to institute the necessary inquiries as to the state of her health, after eight hours' steady dancing the preceding night. Edith's unsophisticated head ached with it all, and her tongue grew paralysed with the platitudes of society. The gas was lit, and the dressing-bell ringing, before the last coattail disappeared. As the young ladies, yawning drearily in each other's faces, turned to go up to their rooms, a servant entered, bearing two pasteboard boxes. ' With Sir Victor Catheron's compliments, Miss Beatrix, and brought by his man.' Each box was labelled with the owner's name. Trix opened hers with eager fingers. A lovely bouquet of white roses, ! calla lilies, and jasmine lay within. Edith opened hers— another bouquet of white and scarlet camellias. ' For the opera,' cried Trix, with sparkling eyes. ' How good of him— how genet ous— how forgiving 1 After the papers and all ! Sir Victor's prince, or ought to be.' • Don't gueh, Trixy,' Edith said ; « it grows tiresome. Whyald he send you all .white, I wonder? • As emblematic of your I spotless innocence and that sort of thing

And do / bear any affinity to ' La Dame aux Camellias 1 I think you may still hope, Trix— if there be any truth in the language of flowers.' Three hours later — fashionably late, of course — the Stuart party swept in state into their box : Mra Stuart, Miss Stuart, Mr Stuarb, junior, and Miss Darrell. Miss Stuart dressed for sonic after ' reception ' in silvery blue silk, pearl ornaments in her hair, and a virginal white bouquet in her hand. Miss Darrell in the white muslin of last night, a scarlet opera cloak and a bouquet of white and scarlet camellias ; Charley lounging in the background, looking, as usual, handsome of face, elegant of attire, and calmly and upliitedly unconscious of both. The sweet singer was on the stage. Edith Darrell leaned forward, forgetting everything in a trance of delight. It seemed as though her very soul were carried away in the spell of that enchanting voice. A score of ' double-barrels ' were turned to their box — Beatrix Stuarb was an old story — but who was the dark beauty ? As she sat, leaning forward, breathless, trance - bound, the singer vanished, the curtain fell. 4 Oh !' it was a deep drawn sigh of pure delight. She drew back, lifted her impassioned eyes, and met the smiling ones of Sir Victor Catheron. ' You did nob know I was here,' he said. ' You were so enraptured I would not speak. Once it would have enraptured me too, but 1 am afraid my rapturous days are past.' ' Sir Victor Catheron ppeaks as though he were an octogenarian. I have heard it is "good form " to outlive, at twenty, every earthly emobion. Mr Stuart yonder prides himself on having accomplished the feat. I may be stupid, but I confess being blase doesn't strike me in the light of an advantage.' 'Bub if blase be your normal state? I don'b think I ever tiied to cultivate the ranitab vanitafcm style of thing, but if it will come ? Our audience are enthusiastic enough— see ! They have made her come back."' She came back, and held out both hands to the audience,and the pretty gesture, and the charming smile,redoubled the applause. Then silence fell, and softly and sweetly over thabBilence floated the tender pathetic words of ' Way down upon the Swanee River.' You might have heard a pin drop. Even Sir Victor looked moved. For Edith, she sat scarcely breathing — quivering with ecstasy. As the last note was sung, as thefairsongsterkissedhandsand vanished, as the house arose from its spell, and rerang with enthusiasm, Edith turned again to the young baronet, the brown eyes luminous with tears, the lips quivering. He bent above her, paying something, he could hardly have told whab himself — carried away for once in his life by the witchery of two dark eyes. Mr Charles Stuart, standing in the background, beheld it all. 'Hard hit,' he murmured to his moustache, but his face, as he gave his mother his arm, and led her forth, told nothing. An old adorer escorted Miss Stuarb. Miss Darrell and her camellias came last, on the arm of the baronet. That night, two brown eyes haunted Sir Victor Gatheron's slumbers — two brown eyes sparkling through unshed tearstwo red lips trembling like the lips of a child. For the owner of the eyes and lips, she put the camellias carefully in water, and far away in the small hours went to bed and to sleep. And sleeping she dreamed, that, all dressed in scarlet, and wearing a crown of scarlet camellias, she was standing: up to be married to Sir Victor Catheron with Mr Charley Stuart as officiating clergyman, when the door opened and the murdered lady of Trixy's story came stalking in, and whirled her screaming away in her ghostly arms. Too much excitement, champagne, and lobster salad had engendered the vision no doubt, but it certainly spoiled MissDarrcll's beauty sleep that night.