CHAPTER XIII. HOW CHARLEY TOOK IT.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 407, 2 October 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER XIII. HOW CHARLEY TOOK IT.

Mkahtimk the long sunny hours that passed so pleasantly for these plighted lovers, lagged drearily enough for one young lady at Powyes Place— Miss Beatrix Stuart. She had sent for her mother and bold her the news. Plncid Aunt Chatty Htted her meek eyebrows and opened her dim eyes as she listened. • Sir Victor Catheron going to marry our Edith ! Dear me ! lam sure I thought it wns you, Trixy, all the time. And Edith will be a great lady after all. Dear me !' That was all Mrs Stuart had to say about it. She went back to her tatting with a serene quietude that exasperated her only daughter beyond bounds. 1 I wonder if an earthquake would upset ma's equanimity !' thought Trix savagely. ' Well, wait until Charley comes ! We'll see how he takes it.' Misery loves company. If she was to suffer the pangs of disappointment herself, it would be some comfort to see Charley suffer also. And Trix was not a bad-hearted girl either, mind —it was simply human nature. Charley and the captain had gone off exploring the wondera and antiquities of Chester. Edith and Sir Victor were nobody knew where. Lady Helena had a visitor and was shut up with her. Trix had nothing but her novel, and what were all the novels in Mudie's library to her this bitter day ' The long, red speai-3 of the sunset were piercing tho green depths of fern and brake, when the two young men rode home. A servant waylaid Mr Stuart and delivered his sister's message. She wanted to see him at once on important businops. 'Important business!' murmured Charley, opening hia eyes. But he went promptly without waiting to change his dress. 'How do, Trix?' ho said, sauntering in. 'Captain Hammond's compliments! and how's the ankle ?' He Mirew himself — no Charleynever threw himeelf — he slowly extended his five-feet-eleven'*of manhood on a sofa, and awaited his sister's reply. • Oh, the ankle's just thd sam« — getting better, I suppose,' Tiix answered, rather crossly. 'I didn't send for you to talk about- my ankle. Much you, or Captain Hammond, or anyone else cares whether I hare an ankle at all or not.' •My dear Trix, a young lady's ankle is always a matter »f profound interest and admiration to every well-regulated mascu line mind.' • Bah ! Charley, you'll never guess what I have to tell I' •My child, I don'fc intend to try. I have been sight-seeing all the afternoon, interviewing cathedals, and walls, and rows and places, until I give you my word you might knock me down with a feather. If you have anything preying ou your mind— and I see you haye — out with it. Suspense ia painful.' He closed his eyes, and calmly awaited the new 3. It came— like a bolt from a bow. 1 Charley, Sir Victor Catheron has pro posed to Edith, and Edith has accepted him !' Charley opened his eyes and fixed them upon her— not the faintest trace of surprise or any other earthly emotion upon hie atigued face. • Ah— and that's your news ! Poor child ! After all your efforts, it's rathei h»rd upon you. But if you expect me te

be surprised, you do your only brother's penotration something lobs than justice. It has been an evident case of spoons — apparent to the dullest intellect from the first. I have long outlived the tender paasion myself, but in others I always regard it with a fatherly — nay —let me say, even grandfatherly interest. And so it they are going to •' live and love together through many changing years," as the poet save. Bless you,' eaid Charley, lifting his hand over an imaginary pair of lovers at his feet — ' bless you, my children, and be happy 1' And this was all \ And she had thought '. he was in lovo with Edith himself • Thi3 was all — closing his eyes again, as though sinking sweetly to sleep. It Mas too much for Trix. 4 0 Charley !' she burst forth, • you are such a fool !' Mr Stuarb rone to his feet. * Overpowered by the involuntary homage of this aseembly, I rise to — ' ' You're an idiot ! there '—went on Trix, 1 a lazy, stupid idiot. You're in love with Edith yoiusolf, and you could have had her if you wished, for she likes you better than Sir Victor, and then Sir Victor might have pioposed to me. But no— you must go dawdling about, prowling and prancing, and let her slip through your fingeis !' 1 Prowling and prancing ! Good Heaven, Trix. I ask you soberly, as man to man, did you ever see me prowl or prance in the whole course of my life V * Bah-h-h !' said Trix, with a perfect shako of scorn in the interjection. ' I've no patience with you. Get out of my room -do.' Mr Stuart, senior, was the only one who did not take it quietly. His bile rose at once ' Edith ! Edith Darrell ! Fred. Darrell's peniless daughter ! Beatrix Stuart, have you let this young baronet slip through your fingers in this ridiculous way after all V * I never let him slip- -he never was in my fingers,' retorted Trix, nearly crying. ' It's just my usual luck. I don't want him — he's a stupid noodle— that's what he is. Edith's bettei -looking than I am. Anyone can see that with half an eye, and when I was sick on that horrid ship, she had everything her own way. I did my best — yes, I did, pa — and I think it's a little too hard to be scolded in this way, with my poor sprained ankle and everything !' 'Well, there, there, child,' exclaimed Mr Stuart, testily, for he was fond of Trix ; ' don't cry. Tjiere'o as good fish in the sea as ever were caught. As to being better-looking than you, I don't believe a word of it. I never liked your dark complected women myself. You're the biggest and the best-looking young woman of the two, by George !' (Mr Stuart's grammar ,waa hardly up to the standard.) ' There's this young fellow, Hammond — his father's a lord — rich, too, if his grandfather did ma-ke it cotton-spinning. Now, why can't you set your cap at him ? When the old rooster dies, this young chap will be a loid himself, and a lord's better than a baronet, by George ! Come downstairs, Trixy, and put ou your etunningest gown, and see if you can't hook fcho military swell.' Following these pious parental counsels, Miss Tux did assume her • stunmnge3t' gown, and with the aid of her brother and a ciutch, managed to reach the diningroom. Here Lady Helena, pale and preoccupied, joined them. No allusion was made at dinner to the topic — a visible restraint was upon all. ♦Old lady don't half like it,' chuckled Stuart p&re. 'And no wonder, by George! It it was Charley I shouldn't like it myself. I must speak to Charley after dinner — there's this Lady Gwendoline. He's got to marry the upper-crust too. Lady Gwendoline Stuart wouldn't sound bad, by George ! I'm glad there's to be a baronet in the family, even if it isn't Trixy. K. cousin's daughter's better than nothing.' So in the tirsb opportunity after dinner Mr Stuart presented his congratulations as blandly as possible to the future Lady Catheron. In the nevt opportunity he attacked his son on the subject of Lady Gwendoline. 4 Take example by your Cousin Edith, my boy,' said Mr Stuart in a large voice, standing with his hands under his coattails. 'That> girl's a credit to her father and family, by George ! Look at the match s/ic'.s making without a rap to bless herself with. Now, you've a fortune in prospective, young: mnn, that would buy and pell half a dozen of these beggardly lordline?. You've youth and good look.*, and good manners, or if you haven't you ought to have, and I Fay you shall marry a tifcle, by George ! There's this Lady Gwendoline — she ain't rich, bub she's an cad's daughter. Now, what's to hinder you going for her V Charley looked up meekly from the depths of his chair. 'As you like ib, governor. In all mablers matrimonial, I simply consider myself as non-existent. Only this, I will premise - I am ready to marry her, but not to court her. As you truthfully observe, I ha.\e youth, good looks and good manners, but in all things appertaining to love and courtship, I'm as ignorant us the child unborn. Matrimony is an ill no man can hope to escape— love-making ?'•>•. As a prince in my own right, I claim that the wooing shall be done by deputy. There is Her Most; Gracious .Majesty, she popped the qucbtion to the late lamented Prince Consorb. Could Lady Gwendoline have any more illustrious oxatnple to follow ? You settle the preliminaries'. Let Lady Gwendoline do the proposing, and you may lead me any day you please as a lamb to the slaughter.' With this* rt-ply, Mr Stuart, senior, was forced for the present to be content and go on his way Trix, overhearing, looked up with interest : • * • Would you marry her, Charley ?' ' Certainly, Beatrix ; haven't I said so ? If a man must marry, as well a Lady Gwendoline as anyone else. As Dundreary says '• One woman is as good as another, and a great deal better." ' 4 But you've never seen her.' • What difference does that make ! I suppose the Prince of Wales never saw Alexandra until the matter was cut and dry. You see I love to quote lofty examples. Hammond has described her, and I should say, from his description, she is what Barry Cornwall would call • a golden girl ' in every thine excepb fortune. Hammond speaks of her as though she were made of precious metals and gems. She has golden hair, alabaster .brow, sapphire eyes, pearly teeth, and ruby nose. Or, stay — perhaps it was ruby lips and chiselled nose. Chiselled, sounds as though her olfactory organ was of marble or granite, doesn't it ? And she's three-and-thirty years of age. I found bhat out for myself from the Peerage. IVn rather an advantage, however, than otherwise, for a man's wife to be ten or twelve years the elder. You see she combines all the qualities of wife and mother in one.' And then Charley sauntered away to the whitt table to join his father and mother and Lady Helena. He had as yet tound no opportunity of speaking to Erlith, and at dinner she had studiously avoidod meeting his eye. Captain Hammond took his post beside Miss Stuart's invalid couch, and made himself agreeable and entertaining to that young lady. Trixy'B eyes gradually brightened, and her colour paqw back ; ehe held him a wjU*

ing captive by her side all the evening through. Papa Stuart from his place at , the whist table beamed' paternal approval down the long room. ' A silken-hung arch separated this draw-ing-room from another smaller, where the piano gtood. Except for two waxlights on -the piano, this second drawingroom was in twilight. Edith sat at. the piano. Sir Victor stood beside her. Her hands wandered over the keys in soft, dreamy melodies ; they talked in whispers when they talked at all. The spell of a silence, more delicious than words, held the young baronet ; he was nearing the speechless phase of the grande passion. Then there is a speechless phase, I have been credibly assured again and again, by parties who have had experience in the matter, and certainly ought to know. At half-pasC ten Lady Helena, pleading headache, rose from the vrhist table, said good-night, and went away to her room. She looked ill and worn, and strangely anxious. Her nephew, awaking from his trance of bliss, and seeing her pale face, gave her his arm and assisted herup the long stairway to her room. Mrs Stuart, yawning very much, followed her example. Mr Stuart went out through the open French window to* smoke a last cigar. Captain Hammond and Trix were fathoms deep in their conversation. Miss Darrell, in the inner room, stood alone, her elbow renting on the low marble mantel, her eyes tixed thoughtfully on the wall before her. The twinkle of the tapers lighted' up the diamonds on her hand, glowing like a miniature sun. ' You have been so completely monopolised all evening, Dithy,' said a familiar voice beside iier, ' that there has been no such thing as speaking a word to you. Better late than never, though, I hope.' She lifted her eyes to Charley's face, Charley looking 'as he ever looked to her, ' a man of men,' handsome and gallant, as though he wore indeed the prince they called him. He toek in his, the hand hanging so loosely by her oide, the hand that wore the ring. ' What a pretty hand you have, Edio, and how well diamonds becomo it. I think you were born to wear diamonds, my handsome cousin, and walk in silk attire. A magnificent ring, truly — an heirloom, no doubt, in the Catheron family. My dear cousin, Trix has been telling me the news. Is it necessary to say I congratulate you with all my heart ?' His face, his voice, his pleasant smile held r.o emotion whatever, save that of kindly, cousinly regard. His bright grey eyes looked at her with brotherly frankness, nothing more. The colour that came so'useldom, and made her so lovely, rose deep to Edith's cheeks — this time the flush of anger. Her dark eyes gleamed scornfully ; she drew iier hand suddenly and contemptuously away. 'It is not necessary at all, Cousin Charley. Pray don't trouble yourself — I know how you hate trouble— to tutn iine phrases, I don't want congratulation?; I am too happy to ne«d them.' ' Yet being the correct thing to do, and knowing what a stickler you are for Its convenances, Edith, t you will still permit me humbly to otter them. It i.s a most suitable match ; I congratulate Sir Victor oit his excellent taste and judgment. He is the best fellnw alive, and you — 1 will say it though you are my cousin — will be a brido even a baronet may bo proud of. I wish you both, all the happine&s so suitable a match deserve?.' Was thi* sarcasm — was it real? She could not tell, well as> she undei?too r l him. His placid face, his serene eyes were as cloudless as a summer sky. Yes, he meant it, and only the other clny he had toltl her he loved her. ho could have laughed aloud— Chai ley Stuart's love! On the instant Sir Victor returned. In his secret heart the baronet was mortally jealous of Charley. The love that Edith could not give" him, he felt instinctively, had long ago been given to her handsome cousin. There was latent jealousy in his face, as he drew near. 'Am I premature, Sir Victor, in offering my congratulations V Charley said, with pleasant cordiality ; 4if so, the fact of Edith's being my cousin, almost my sister, must excuse it. You are a fortunate man, baronet. It would be superfluous to wish you joy — you have an overplus of that article already. ' Sir Victor's brow cleared. Charley's frankness, Charley's perfect good-humour staggered him. Had he then been mistaken after all ? He stretched forth his hand and grasped that of Edith's cousin. She turned suddenly and walked away, a passion of anger within her, flashing as she went a look of hatred — yes, absolute hatred — upon Charley. She had brought it upon herself, sho had deserved it all, but how dared he mock her with his smiles, his good wishes, when he knew, he hieio that her whole heart was in his keeping ? llt shall not be in his keeping long,' she said savagely, between her set teeth. ' Ingrate ! More unstable than water ! And I was fool enough to cry for him and myself that night at Killarnoy." It was half past eleven when she went up to her room. ' She had studiously avoided Cbarlej' all the remainder of the evening. She had demeaned herself to her affianced with a sailing devotion that had early turned his brain. But the smiles and the brightness ill faded away as she said good- | night. She toiled wearily up the stairs, i pale, tired, spiritless, half her youth and beauty gone. Farther down the passage she could hoar Charley's mellow voice trolling carelessly a song : 'Did you ever have a cousin, Tom I And could that cousin sing I Sihtcrs we have by the dozen, Tom, But a cousjn s a different thjug.' > E\eryone went to bed. and to sleep perhaps, but Sir Victor Catheron. He was too happy to sleep. He lit a cigar and paced to and fro in the soft darkness, thinking of the great bliss this day had brought him, thinking over her every word and smile, thinking that the first of September would give him his darling for ever. He walked beneath her window of course. She caught a glimpse of him, and with intolerant iir patience extinguished her lights and shrouded herself and her wicked rebellion in darkness. His eyes strayed from hers to his aunt's, farther along the same sice. Yea, in her room lights still burned. Lady Helena usually kept early hours, as befitted her years and infirmities. W hat did she mean by ' burning the midnight oil' to-night. Was that black lady from London with her still ? and in what way was she mixed up with hia aunt? What would they tell him tomorrow ? What secret did his aunt hold ? They could tell him nothing that could in the slightest* influence his marriage with Edith, that he knew ; but still ho wondered a little what it all could be. At one the lights were still burning. He was eurprised, but he would wait no longer. He waved his hand towards Miss Darrell's room, this very far-gone young man. ♦Goodright, my lpve, my own, 5 he tmifmured Byronicnlly, and went to bed to .«le,ep and dream of her. And no warning Voice came in those dreams to tell Sir Victor Catheron it was the last perfectly happy night h« would ever know. ,{Tq &c continued,)