A Wonderful Woman. CHAPTER VII. (Continued.) CHAPTER VIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 419, 19 October 1889, Page 5

A Wonderful Woman.

CHAPTER VII. (Continued.)

CHAPTER VIII.

By MAY AGNES FLEMING,

Author of "Guy Earlescourt'a Wife," "A Terrible Secret,'' •• Lost for a Woman," "A Mad Marriage," eto-

Mrs Vavasor lay back among the cushions and laughed till the echoes rang. They were in the streets of Castleford, and pass^ ing pedestrians looked up and smiJed from very sympathy with that merry peal. 'He thinks I am going to commit a murder ! I really believe he does ! No — no ! Mr Danger tield, I'm not a lawyer, but I respect the majesty of the law quite as greatly as you do. I've done a great many queer things in my life, I don't mind owning, but I never committed a murder, and I never mean to, even to gratify spite. Come 1 you're a coward, mon ami, even though you are a Dangerfield ; but if you promise to perpetrate no deed of darkness on the way, will you give me that ten thousand when you are lord of the manor ? Yes or no? just as you please. Sir John will, if you won't.' * I wish I understood — ' ' Wait 1 wait ! wait ! You shall understand ! We are drawing near the Hall. Is it a promise?' *It will be a fool's promise, given in the dark — but yes, if you will have it. y Mrs Vavasor's eyes sparkled with a light this time not derived from belladonna. * You will give me that promise in writing?' 'In anything ; it is easy enough to give a promise we never expect to be called upon to fulfil. If through you Scarswood Park becomes mine, I will willingly pay you the sum you ask.' * Very well, then — it is a compact between us. You fetch the document in writing the next time you visit us, and let that visit be soon. You can surely bear the sight of our lovers' raptures with the secret knowledge that they will never end in wedlock.' 'If I thought that,' between his set teeth. 'You may think it. I know that of Katherine Dangerfield which will effectually prevent Gaston Dantree from marrying her. Ah ! Speak of his Satanic Majesty and he appears. Behold Katherine Dangerfield and the handsome lover her money has bought !' They came dashing out from under the arched entrance gates, both superbly mounted, for Mr Dantree had the run of Morecambe stables. Remarkably handsome at all times, Mr Dantree invariably looked his best on horseback, and Miss Dangerfield, in her tight-fitting habit, her tall hat with its sweeping purple plumes, and wearing, oh, such an infinitely happy face, was, if not handsome, at least dashing and bright enough for the goddess Diana herself. ' Look,' Mrs Vavasor said, maliciously ; ' and they say perfect bliss is not for this lower world. Let those who Bay so come and look at Katherine Dangerfield and that beautiful creature, Gasfcon Dantree — the very handsomest man I ever saw, I believe, and I have seen some handsome men in my lifetime. Real Oriental eyes, Mr Dangerfield — longr, black, lustrous. And he bows with the grace of a prince of the blood.' The equestrians swept by. Mr Dantree doffed his hat, and bowed low to the smiling little lady in the basket carriageMiss Dangerfield's salute was of the haughtiest. Some feminine instinct told her her father's guest was her enemy, de' spite her sugary speeches, her endearing epithets, her ceaseless smiles. 'I hate that woman, papa!' Katherine more than once burst out to her father. ' I hate people who go through life continually smirking. If you told her black was white, she would say, "So it is, my sweetest pet,'and look as if she believed it — -little hypocrite ! I detest her, and she detests me, and she makes you miserable — oh, I can see it I Now, what I want to know is, what's she doing here ?" And Katherine stood before her father and looked for an answer, with her bright, clear eyes fixed full upon him. He kad shifted under the gaze of those frank eyes, with a sort of suppressed groan. ' I wish you would try and treat her a little more civilly than you do, Kathie,' he answered, avoiding his daughter's searching glance ; * you were perfectly rude to her last night. It is not like you, Kathie, to be discourteous to the guest that eats of your bread and salt.' ' And it is very like her to play eavesdropper. I caught her behind a tall orange tree listening to every word Gaston and I were saying. I merely told her I would re peat our conversation any night for her benefit if she was so determined to hear ib as to play the spy. She is an odious little wretch, papa, it she is your friend, and I don't believe she is. She paints and she tells polite lies every hour of the day, and she hates me with the whole strength of her venomous little soul. And she looks at you and speaks to you in a way I don't understand — as though she had you in her power. Papa, I warn you ! You'll come to grief if you keep any secrets from me.' ' Katherine, for pity's sake go and leave me alone ! lin her power ! What abominable nonsense you talk. Go ! walk, drive, sing, amuse yourself with your new toy — the singing man — anything, only leave me to read my " Times "in peace. I begin to believe Victor Hugo's words, " Men are women's playthings, and women are the dcv— " ' ' That will do.papa,' interrupted Katherine, walking away in offended dignity. * You can say things quite bitter enough yourself, without quoting that cynical Frenchman. Mrs Vavasor may be Satan's plaything, for what I know. 'Of that you are naturally the best judge. How long is she to force herself upon us in this house ?' ' / don't know. She will leave before you are — married' — the word seemed to choke him — 'and, Kathie, child, I do wish you would try and treat her with common i civility— for my sake, if not for hers.' J ' And why for your sake, papa ? I bate doing things in the dark. What claim has she upon you that I should become a hypocrite and treat her civilly ?' ' The claim of — of acquaintance in the past, of being my guest in the present. And without any other reason, you might doit because I desire it, Katherine.' ' I would do a good deal to oblige you, papa ; even to — well, even to being civil to that painted, little, soft-spoken, snakeeyed woman. She has eyes precisely like a snake, and is to be trusted just as far. Papa, what is it she knows about my mother?' * Your mother ! What do you mean ?' ' Just this — that she has some secret in her possession which you are afraid she will tell, and the secret concerns my mother. She is trading on that secret in forcing herself into this house, , for you dislike her as much as I do, Sir John Dangerfield, only you won t own it. lamto be kept in the dark, it seems. Very well ! I don't want to pry into, your mysteries, only you can't expect me to shut my eyes to what goes on before them. That woman has some secret

wfiich you are afraid she will tell, and you pay her large sums for keeping it, and that secret concerns my mother. Don't look so thunderstruck, papa ! I won't turn amateur detective, and try to find it out, and I will be as civil as ifc is in human nature — such human nature as mme — to be, only don't try to pass off that creature as an old friend, or anything of that sort. And get her out of this house as soon as you can all all our sakes.' And when Miss Dangerfield walked out of the room in offended majesty, Sir John was left to enjoy his " Times " as best he might after learning his sharp-sighted daughter's discovery. Katherine turned in her saddle now, and looked after the pony phaeton and its occupant. • How I dislike that woman, Gaston !' she exclaimed. ' And you're an uncommonly good hater, mn belle,' Mr Dantree answered, coolly. ' You can love, but you can hate also. In the blissful days to come, when I am your lawful lord and master, it shall be my Christian endeavour to teach you better morality. I know several people whoseenmity I should prefer to yours." • I could never be an enemy of yours, Gaston — never ! Do what they might, I nover could hate those whom I once loved. My likes and dHikes come at first eight. J detested that woman from the moment I set- eyes on her.' • Feminine instinct, 1 suppose. There is no love lost between you, darling. I've caught her looking at you at times when she thought no one was watching her, and — well, it wasn't a pleasant look, either, to give or receive. She 3miles a great deal, but it isn't a very mirthful smile, and she's the sort of woman to present you a dose of strychnine and a kiss together. What does she do at Scar3wood ? An old friend of his, I think Sir John said. He didn't look at her in a very friendly manner, by the by, as he said it. She is a most unwelcome intruder, it is easy to be seen, to Sir John as well as to you. Why, then, does he not give her her congt V ' Ah, why, indeed ?' Katherine repeated, with a frown ; 4 1 wish someone would tell me why. There is some secret understanding between them that I can't fathom. I wonder if papa ever committed a murder, or a forgery, or some interesting crime of that sort, and that this little human cat has found it ou£ and holds the secret like the sword of Dam — what's-his-name — suspended over hia head by a single hair. That would be like the plot of a modern novel.' 1 Like the plot of a modern novel, perhaps, but not in the least like Sir John Dangerfield. Still, I think you're right, Kathie ; there is a secret understanding, and if that understanding relates to a crime, I don't believe Sir John ever committed it. The dear old dad doesn't over and above like me, my darling ; still, he's a game old bird, and never did mortal man or woman wrong in his life, I'm positive. Doesn't our florid little widow often talk in an odd sort of way of your mother, Kathio ? Now, it strikes me the secret— for there is one — involves her.' * I think it very likely, indeed,' responded Katherine, ' and i told papa so only yesterday.' ' You did ! And what did he say ?' 1 Nothing satisfactory — only lost his temper— a chronic loss with him since Mrs Vavaßor's advent. He used to be the dearest old love, but he's become completely demoralised since that woman's been in the hou^e. She always talks as if she had been an intimate friend of my mother's, and papa fidgets, and winces, and turns red and pale by turns, and never says a word. Mysteries may be very interesting,' said Miss Dangerfield with a frown, ' but I'd rather have them neatly bound in cloth than live in the house with them. One comfort is, she is going to leave Scarswood before—' Katherine blushed, and laughed, and broke off. ' Well, ?na belle, before when ?' ' Before — oh, well, before we are married ! Now, Gaston — on the public road, sir, don't ! It's all very well to know that the ?ins of the fathers shall be visited on the children, and all that, bufc it's nowhere in the catechism that the inconvenient friendship of the mother shall and I devoutly wish our visitor in Joppa ! I never saw my mother that I can recollect. I never heard papa speak much about her, and everybody tells me I don't look the least bit in the world like her— l don't look like papa either — Colonel and the late Mrs Dangerfield were both handsome. No, I don't want f a compliment— not even your eyes, Gaston, can make me out other than sallow and plain. And,' with a little droop of the head, a little falter of the young voice, ' I never wished in all my life as I have wished to be beautiful sinee — I have known you.' 4 My dearest Kathie.' Mr Dantree said, politely, struggling with a yawn, ' for a very sensible girl, as girls go, you can talk precious nonsense sometimes ! Sallow and plain 1 I confess I should never have found it out if you had nob told me. You don't want to be cast in the mould of the stereotype British young lady, I hope, with a face like a pink and white wax-doll, and a head more hollow. I can only say if you had you would never have bewitched me.' ' Gaston,' Miss Dangerfield said, * do you f know what they say in Castleford — what Mrs Vavasor says about you ?' c Not at present,' answered Mr Dantree, with his customary imperturbable sang Jroid, • nothing good though, I'm quite certain.' ' They say — it is almost an insult to you to repeat it — that it is not Katherine Dangrerfield you love, but the heiress of [ Scars wood. 1 She looked up to see some outburst of indignation — to hear an indignant denial. Bub Mr Dantree only smiled benignly. ' You don't think that is news to me, do you, Kathie ? Of course, they think — why shouldn't they — I would myself in their place. My dear child, you are seventeen and haven't seen much of life — I'm seven and twenty and have seen it in all its phases. And I tell you no poor man, such as I am, ever married a wealthy wife yet, that the same wasn't said. He may love her with the passion of a second Romeo — it will make no difference. She is rich, he is poor, and it naturally follows he must be a mere mercenary fortune-hunter. There were people in Lyons, perhaps, who said Claude Melnotte only wanted Pauline for her fortune, until he proved his disinterestedness. Of course they say I'm a fortune-hunter and j adventurer — I would be very greatly surprised if they did not. Your father thinks so — Mrs Vavasor, knowing how she would act in my place, thinks so — your cousin Peter, furious with his late rejection, thinks so. But you — Kathie — my darling — ' he bent his pathetic liquid dark eyes upon her, * you surely do not ; if you do — then here — this moment bid me go, and I will obey.' ' Gaston — what nonsense I If I believed, would Ibe at your side now 1 I should die if I doubted you.' Mr Dantree laughed a little cynically. ' No, you wouldn't die, Kathie. Broken hearts went out of fashion with Paul and Virginia and our great grandmothers. You'd not die, Kathie — you'd forget me in six months for — what you could easily find — a better man.

Mr Dantree was right ; ifc would liave been very easy to find a better man, but Katherine Dangerfield was seventeen, and the glamour of a melodious voice, of Spanish eyes, and a face like some Rembrandt picture was upon her, and her whole heart was in the words : • I would never forget. When I forget you — true or false — I shall have forgotten all things earthly.' Something in her tone, in her eye?, moved him, He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. ' I am not half worthy such love and trust as yours. lam a villain, Kathio — not fit to kiss the hem of your garment. JVly life has been one long round of " Reckless days and rcckloss nightsUnholy songs and tipsy fights." But I will try — I will — to make you happy when you are my wife. And the sooner that day comes now the better. Miss Dangerfield,' resuming his customary careless tone, ' are you aware it is beginning to rain V It had been a fitful October day — now sungleams, now grey gloom. Kutherine looked up at the sky, and one great drop, then another fell upon her face. The whole sky was dark with drifcing clouds, and growing each instant darker. The storm which had been brewing all day was close upon them. ' And we are five miles from Scarswood and in five minutes the rain will descend in torrents. Gaston, what shall we do ? I had rather not get drenched, papa will scold. ' ' And I had rather not eret drenched even without a papa to scold. Drenching includes influenza, watery eyes, and a tendency to talk through one's nose, and is not an interesting complaint. Can't we run to cover somewhere? You know everybody in this neighbourhood. There's Major Marchmont's yonder— aren't those the ivied turrets of Marchmonb Place I behold through the trees ?' 'Y-e-e-s. 5 ' My dear, I understand your hesitation. The yallanb major did his best to snub me the other day, but I'm of a forgiving turn and don't much mind. I think I could endure that old officer's grim looks more easily than the raging elements on the open downs. Shall we make for Marchmont?' 'No,' said Katherine ; ' if you can endure Major Marchmonb's insults, I can'c. We can do better than that— we can go to Bracken Hollow.' ' With all my heart. Where is Bracken Hollow ?' 1 Not a quarter of a mile off. This way, Gaston, or we shall get the drenching after all. The place belongs to my old nurse — she came with us from India, and papa gave her the place to end her days in, and to get rid of her ; she and Ninon, my maid, led a perfect cat-and-dog life. Quick, Gaston ! Good gracious, what a deluge !' The rain was falling in torrents now. Uderim fairly flew before it — and Mr Dantree followed his leader. They were close to the coasb ; far away the white foaming sea heaved its dull booming on the shore, mingled with the rush of the rain. ' Here we are !' Katherine cried : ' and we have got the drenching after all.' And then Gaston Dantree looked up and beheld Bracken Hollow. A long, low, black-looking house, lying in a sheltered green hollow, close to the shore, the brake or bracken growing thick and high all round, and tall elms shutting it in. An eerie spot, with the eternal thunder of the sea close down below the cliffs ; a lonely spot, with no other habitation near. Gaston Dantreo was in no way a superstitious or imaginative man, bub now, as he looked, that chill, creeping feeling stole over him — that impressible shudder which makes people say l some one is walking over my grave,' thrilled through him. ' A ghastly place enough, Kathie,' he said, leaping off his horse; ' a murder might be committed here and no one be the wiser. ' ' A murder once was committed here,' Katherine answered ; ' a terrible murder. A young girl, no older than I am, shot her false lover dead under those funeral elms. They took her, tried her, condemned her, and hung her, and they cay tho=e ghostly lovers keep tryst there still.' Gaston Dantree still stood by his horse, looking with extreme disfavour at the black cottage, at the blacker trees. • A horrible story, and a horrible place. I don't know why, but if you'll believe me, Kathie, I feel afraid to enter that house. I'm not a coward in a general way, and once, out West, slept a whole night in a room with a dead man, a fellow who had cut his own throat, without feel ing any particular qualms about it ; but I'll be hanged if I want to enter here. If I believed in presentiments now, or if there were such things, I should say some awful fate was going to befall me at Bracken Hollow. 1 ' Gaston, don't be a goose, and don't be German and metaphysical. Some awful fate will overtake you at Bracken Hollow, and that speedily if you don't come in out of the rain — an attack of inflammatory rheumatism.' She skurried with uplifted skirts into the low porch, and her lover slowly followed. Katherine knocked loudly and imperatively at the door. • She's deaf, poor soul,' she Haid. ' It's the only one of her faculties, except her teeth, that she has lost. Are ona's teeth one's faculties, Gaston V 1 Yes, my dear ; and extremely important about dinner-time. I can't say I envy your ex-nurse the cheerful spot in which she is spending the lively remainder of her days. Ah, the door opens. Now for the presiding witch of Bracken Hollow. Bracken Hollow — there's something ghostly and gloomy in the very name.' A tall old woman, hale and erect, with iron-grey hair and preternaturally bright eyes, held open the door and looked stolidly at her two visitors. ' How do, Hannah ? Get out of tho way, you hospitable old soul and let ue in. You needn't mind if you're not dressed for company — considering the weather, we won't be fastidious. Any port in a storm, you know. This is Mr Gaston Dantree, Hannah. You've heard of him, I daresay,' Old Hannah reared herself a libbl c more and transfixed the Louisianian with her brilliant little eyes. : • I've heard of Mr Gaston Dantree— yes, Miss Kathorine, and I'm glad you've brought him to see me.' • You don't seem to be very cordial about it then ; you don't say you're glad to see him.' •I'm not a fine lady, Miss Katherino — I don't toll polite lies, I'm not glad. You're going to marry him, they Bay— is it true ?' • Well, yes,' Katherine laughed, goodnaturedly, ' I'm afraid it is. You pity him, nursey, don't you ? You took care of me a decade of years or bo, and you know what he has tooxpoct.' 'I pity you !' old Hannah answered, with a second solemn, prolonged stare at her nurseling's lover ; • I pity you ! Only seventeen, and trouble, trouble, trouble before you.' It was not an easy matter to stare Mr Dantree out of countenance as a general thing, bub his eyes fell now before old Hannah's basilisk gaze.

• Confound the nag !' he muttered, turning to the window ; « what does she mean ?' Katherine was fond of her old nurse — too fond to be irritated now by her croaking. 'Don't be disagreeable, Hannah,' she said j ' and don't stare in that Gorgonlike waj.. It's rude, and Mr Dantree is modest to a fault. See how you put him out of countenance. Sit down here like a dear old thing, and tell me all about the rheumatism, and what you want me to get you for the winter ; you'll have lots of time before the rain holds up.' 4 The rain is holding up now, Kathie,' her lover said. ♦ I knew it was too violent to last. In ten minutes it will have ceased. Come, we can go.' He could not account to himself for his feverish haste to leave the place — for the sudden and intense dislike he had taken to this grim old woman. ' I'll go and see to the horses,' he said, * and smoke a cigar in the porch, while you talk to your nurse.' He quitted the room. Katherine looked after the graceful figure and negligent walk with eyes full of girlish admiration ; then she turned to Hannah. ' Isn't he handsome, nursey ? Now confess you're sixty or more, but you like handsome people still, don't you ? Isn the just the very handsomest man you ever saw in all your life V 1 He's rare and handsome, Miss Kathie,' the old woman said, slowly ; ' rare and handsome surely. But, my little one, don't you marry him. It's not the face to trust — id's as false as it's fair.' ' jMow, Hannah, I can't listen to this — I really can't. I thought you would have wished me joy, if nobody else. Everybody says horrid thiugs — nothing is too bad to be "aid of Mr Dantree— and all because he i& poor and I am rich — fortune-hunter, adventurer, false. It's a shame,' ' It's the truth, my bairnie. Be warned, and draw back while there is yet time. Miss Dangerh'eld aroee with calm dignity. I It wasn't worth while losing one'a temper with old Hannah. 4 Good-bye, nursey — I'm going. You are disagreeable to-day, and I shall send you those flannels, though, all the same. Goodbye.' She was gone as she spoke. The rain had nearly ceased, and Mr Dantree was waiting for her impatiently. His dusk, Southron face looked strangely pallid in the grey twilight; of the wet October evening. ' Come, Kathie, it will rain again presently, and night will fall in half an hour. The sooner we see the last of Bracken Hollow the better.' ' How frightened he is of Bracken Hollow !' Katherine said, laughing ; ' like a child of a bogie. Why, I wonder ?' 1 Why, indeed ? Why do you hate Mrs Vavasor, Katherine ? She hasn't given you any cause — yet. " T do not like you, Dr. Fell, The reason why, I cannot tell." I can't tell you why, but I never want to see Bracken Hollow again.' She looked up into his face. What a darkly moody expression it wore! It halfspoiled his beauty. And all the way home, through the chill, rainy gloaming, old Hannah's words rang like a warning in her ears : ' False as fair — false as fair !' I

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS. Mr Dantree dined at Scarswood,and rode homeward through the wet darkness somewhere before midnight. It had been a very pleasant evening, and the Louisianian was in the best possible spirits as he rode back to Moreeambe. The day was drawing near when a more splendid abode than Moreeambe would be at his — when he would reign supreme at Scarswood Park. 4 The governor can't hold out very long now,' Mr Dantree mused. ' After thirteen years of hill-life in India, his liver can't be the size of a walnut — and then, he's apoplectic. Your short-necked, florid-faced, healthy-looking old buffers are always fiagile blossoms ; it's touch-and-go with them at any moment. And he's taking his daughter's engagement to my noble eelf desperately to heart — he's been breaking every day aince. I wonder what's up between him and the little widow ? It wouldn't be pleasant if she should turn out to be a first wife, or something of that sort, and ab his death produce an interesting heir or heiress and oust Mrs Dantree. It looks suspiciously like it ; she's got a strong claim of some kind upon him, and he'« more afraid of her than he ever was of the savagest Sepoy out yonder. I wish I could get at the bottom of the matter before I commit myself further and slip the ring over Miss Dangerfield's finger. Not that it matters greatly — neither matrimonial nor any other fetters ever could bind me. It may all turn out right, however, and I may reign grand seigneur of Scarswood. Rather a change in a few month", for a penniless penny-a-liner. Marie's the only drawback. If ever she finds this out, there'll be the devil to pay in New Orleans.' Mies Dangerfield had been rather surprised when on entering the drawing-room that evening, after her wet ride from Bracken Hollow, she found her cousin Peter playing chess with Mrs Vavasor. It was the first time since their quarrel that he had entered the house. She went over to him with the frank, girlish grace that always characterised her, and cave him her hand. • Welcome back to Scarswood, cousin,' ahe said ; ' I began to think you had quite deserted us. Is it to the claims of kinship or to the fascinations of Mrs Vavasor we owe the present visit, I wonder ?' ' A little of both, Kathie, and a cousinly desire to offer my congratulations to the future Mrs Dantree. I wish you both every happiness.' He did not look at her as he said it, and something in his voice struck unpleasantly on Katherine'a ear. ' You are very good,' she said, a little coldly. ' May I overlook your game ? Who is going to win ?' *1 am of course. We come of a race, Kathie, that always win.' But Mr Dangerfield was mistaken. ' Check !' Mrs Vavasor cried, sharply and triumphantly, a few minutes after. ' Your race may always win except — when they have a Vavasor for an enemy.' Katherine's eyes sparkled. ' Try again, Peter,' she said ; ' a Dangerfield never yields !' ' I fear I must ; lam no match for Mrs Vavasor. Ah ' here is Dantree — lucky dog ! I must go over and congratulate him. It's not every day a poor devil drops into eight thousand a year and the finest place in the county.' ' Katherine dear, suppose you try,' Mrs Vavasor gayly exclaimed, 'and vindicate the honour of the Dangerfields. I play chess pretty well, but who knows — you may become more than a matoh for me.' ' Well,' Katherine said coolly, ' I think in the long run I would. I have a greab deal of determination-*-»obstinacy perhaps you might call it — and when I make up my mind to do anything, I generally do do it. 'Such a3 marrying a handsome tenor singer. Don't be angry, Katherine. Mr Dantree is worthy of you, lam sure. Now, then, for a pitched battle between you and me, and woe to tha conquered !'

There was a sneering defiance underlyii her words — a sardonic gleam in her bla< eyes that Katherine understood. The was more ab stake than a simple game chess ; they looked at one another steadi for an instant, then began the game. The two gentlemen approached. Pet Dangerfield took his place behind the cha of the widow ; Mr .Dantree leaned light over that of Kathie. They stood like tv seconds watching a duel, and neither spok A profound stillness filled the long, velve hung, lamplit drawing-room, in ,which ye could hear the light falling on the cinde in the grate, the ceaseless beating of tl rain on the glass. Which would win ? The widow, it seemed. In the gleai of the lamp-light there was a flush on h< cheek that was nob all rouge, a sparkle i her black eyes not belladonna. She woi a wine coloured silk, decollete, and h< plump, white shoulders and arms shor like marble ; the rich, ruby-red jewe flashed on her fingers, on her neck ; bracelet of fine gold and rubies encircle her wrist, and a crimson rose nestled i the shining, luxurious blackness of haii All crimson and black— -with a fiery ir tensity of purpose flushing her face — an I that peculiar glittering smile o£ hers o her thin lips. Oaston Dantree though of some beautiful Circe — some fatal sire come on earth to work ruin and dark ness. ( 'And yet, after all,' he thought, 'I be 1 lieve in my soul Katherine is more than match for her. How coolly- how thoroughl calm and self-possessed she sits, nob on ! pulse beating the quickcr — while the eye of her enemy are on fire with her devili&l determination to win. In a long-drawi battle of any kind between these two, I\ back the heiress of Scarswood.' Then more and mote absorbed in th< game he forgot even to think. Pie ben over until his crisp black curls touchec Katherine's cheek. She glanced up at hin for a second— her still face brightening — i faint colour coming in her cheeks. 'A drawn battle is it not, Oaston ?' sh< said, • and a true Dangerfield prefers deabl to defeat.' Mrs Vavasor saw both look and smile and a savage resolution to win at al hazards possessed her. She knit her straigh! black brows, and bent to the game, her lips compressed in one straight red line, Sho hated Katherine at that moment with an intensity she had never felt before. How coolly she sat there making her moves, with a face of marble, while she was thrilling ir every vein with a fever of excitement. And how she loved that man behind her, and how happy she was in that love. ' And Co her mother I owe all I have ever suffered — the sin,' the sorrow, the shame ! Pray Heaven they may fix the wedding-day speedily, or I shall never be able to wait ! J wonder how I have waited all these years and yeare. Ah ! a false move, my lady, a false move. The victory is mine !' But the exultant thought came too soon. Katherine's move, made after Jong deliberation, certainly looked like a false one — the widow answered in a glow of triumph. A second later and she saw her mistake — Katherine's false-seeming move had been made with deliberate intention. Her eyes flashed for the first time — she made a rapid pass and rose conqueror. 'Checkmated!' she cried, with a slight laugh of triumph. 'I knew I should vanquish you in the end, Mrs Vavasor !' ' Dinner !' announced the butler, flinging wide the door, and Miss Dangerfield took the arm of Mr Dantrce and swept with him into the dining-room. 'You did that splendidly, Kathie,' he said ; ' you have no idea how proud I am of your conquest ; and she was so sure of winning. She hates you as those little venomous women only can hate — do you know it?' 'Certainly I know it,' Katherine re sponded with supreme carelessness. ' I have known it ever since I saw her firso. She hates me and could strychnine me this moment with all the pleasure in life.' •But why I wonder?' said Mr Dantree, ' you never knew her before she came here — you never did anything to harm her ?' ' My dearest Gaston, it is nob always the people who have done something to harm us we dislike most. We detest them became we detest them. Mrs Vavasor and I are antagonistic ; we would simply hate each other under any circumstances. How bent she was on winning that game, and I — I should have died of mor bin* cation if she had.' ' Take care of her, Kathie ! that woman means to do you injury of some kind before she quits this house. Whether ib be for your mother's sake or your osvn, doesn'b matter — she means to harm you if she can.' Kabherine threw back her head with an imperial gesture. • Let her ! lam nob afraid. If it comes bo that, I may beat her at her own game, as I did five minutes ago. She can't take you from me, Gaston,' with a little gay laugh—' can she ? Anything else I fancy I can bear.' He stooped and answered herin whispered words, and Kabherine's face was quite radiant as she took her place ab the bable. Mrs Vavasor followed wibli Mr Dangerfield. She had risen from bhe table and taken his proffered arm, quite white for an instant chrough all her rouge. He saw that pallor beneabh paint and powder. ' And you are beaten after all, Mrs Vavasor, and by Katherine Dangerfield ! Your game of chess meant more than a game of chess— is it emblematic? She's fearfully and wonderfully plucky, this cousin of mine. Will she come off victorious at other games than chess, I wonder ?' She looked up ab him for one moment, and all the passion, the rage, bhe habred smouldering within her, burst forth. ' I'll crush her P she oried in a furious whisper. « I'll crush her ! And the day is very near now. This is only one more item added to the long account I owe her. She shall pay off all— the uttermost farthing, with compound interest.' ' And stab through him,' Peter Dangerfield said darkly ; « bhe suresb blow you can strike is the one that proves him the traitor and fortune-hunter he is, I believe in my ! soul it would be her death,* 'I shall strip her of all— all— lover— father, name even, I will wait until her weddingday and strike home then. When her cup of bliss is fullest and ab her very lips I shall dash ibdown. And, my brilliant, haughty, high-spirited heiress of Scarswood, how will it be with you then ?' Sir John was in his place — a darkly moody host, amid delights, the flowers, ancl the wines. Mrs Vavasor was- even in higher spirits than usual. Mr Dangerfield was talkative and agreeable, Kathorine was happy, and disposed to be at peace with the world and all therein, even ' Mrs Vavasor. She loved, she was beloved— all life's greatest happiness is said in that. For Mr Dantree, he was simply delightful. He told them inimibable stories of life in the Soubh9rn States, until even grim Sir John relaxed into interest, and after dinner in the draw ing-room sang for them lm favourite afterdinner song, ' When the Winecup is Sparkling Before Us,' in his delioious voice, that anchanted even those who hafced him most. The piano stood in a shadowy recess down it one extremity of the long- room — Katherine and he had ib all to themselves.

Mrs Vavasor was busy with some flimsy feminine handiwork. Mr Dangerfield gab be&ide her, burning over a book of phobographs, and Sir John, lying back in his easy-chair, kepb his eyes closed as though asleep. His face wore a worn look of care — he was watching those two shadowy figures afc the piano, and as he listened to this man's voice, so thrillingly sweet, as he looked at his face, the lamplight streaming on hia dusk Spanish beauty, he ecarce'y wondered at Katherine's infatuation. ' Fairer than a woman and more unstable than water,' he thought, bitterly, 'and this is the reed she has chosen to lean upon through life ! My poor little Kathie, and I am powerless to save you— unless — I speak and tell all. Heaven help you if this man ever finds out the truth.' •Sing me something Scotch, Gaston,' Katheiine said. She was seated in a low fauteuil, close beside him, her hands lying idly in her lap— her head back among the cushions. It was characteristic of this youner lady that she had never done a stitch of fancy-work in her life. She was quite idle now, perfectly happy — listening to the howling of the October storm in the park, and Mr Dantree s exquisite singing. ' Sing something Scotch — a ballad. If I have a weakness which is doubtful, ib is for Scotch songs.' Mr Dantree heard but to obey. He ran his fingers lightly over the keys, smiled slightly to himself, and glanced halfmaliciously at the girl's supremely contented face. ' How well pleased she looks,' he thought. • I wonder if I cannot change that blissful expression. Many women have done me the honour to fall in love with me, but I don't think any of them were quite as hard hit as you, nob even excepting Marie.' He played a prelude in a plaintive minor key, wonderfully sweet, with a wailing understrain, quite heart-breaking, and sanor. His face changed and darkened, his voice took a pathos none of his hearers had ever heard before. " A weary lot is thine, fair maid— A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid And press the rue for wine. A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. ' This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain, But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again ! He turned his charger as he spoke Upon the river shoreHe gave the reins a shake, and said : "Adieu for evermore, My love ! Adieu for evermore." 1 It died out faint and low as the last cadence of a funeral hymn. And then he glanced at Katherine. He had changed the expression of that sensitive face cruelly — it lay back now against the ruby red of the velvet as colourless as the winter snow of which he sang. He arose from the piano with a laugh. ' Kathie, you are as white as a ghost. I have given you the blues with my singing, or bored you to death. Which V She laughed a little as she rose. 'Your eong was beautiful, Gaston, but twice too sad — it has given me a headache. Ibis too suggestive, I suppose, of man's perfidy and woman's broken tru&t. I never want to hear you sing that again.' It was late when the two gentlemen bade good-night and left. Mrs Vavasor took her night lamp and went up the black oaken stairway, her ruby silk trailing and gleaming in lurid splendour behind her. 'Good-night, Kathie, darling— how pale and tired the child looks. And you didn't like that divine Mr Dantree's last song ? 1b was the gem of the evening to my mmd — so suggestive and all that. Bonne nuit et bonnes reves, ma belle ' — Mrs Vavasor had a habit among her other gushing habits of gushing out into foreign languages now and then — * and try and get your bright looks back to morrow. Don't let your complexion fade for any man — there isn't one |on earth worth it. A demain ! good-nighb. ' " A lightsoms eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, No more of me you knew, My love, No more of me you knew ! " ' And with a last backward glance and still singing bhe ominous song, brilliant little Mrs Vavasor vanished. Mr Gaston Dantree rode back to his temporary home at Morecambe in very excellenb spirits. What an uncommonly, good-looking, fascinating sort of fellow he must bo that all the women should lose their heads for him in this fashion. Surely the gods who presided over his destiny must have been in a most propitious mood when they created him their bright particular star. ' I've always heard that it is better to be born lucky than rich, and gad ! I believe ib. 1 was born a pauper. My mother vended apples in the streets of New York ; and my father — well, the less said aboub him the better. He bequeathed me his good looks, his voice, and his — loose-fitting morality. Until the age of eight, I ran wild about the streets ; then my pretty face, and curly head, and artistic way of singing "Oh, Susannah!" attracted the attention of Mrs Weymore, rich, childless, sentimental, good natured, and — a fool. I was sent to school, tricked out in velvet and ruffles, kissed, praised, petted, flattered, spoiled by all the ladies, young and old, who visited my foster mamma; and, by Jove! they've been at it ever since. Then at sixteen came that ugly little episode of the forged cheque. That was hushed up. Then followed the robbery of Mrs Weymore's diamonds, traced clearly home to me. They would not overlook that. I inherited my light-fingered proclivities from my father as well as the good looks they praised ; but they wouldn't take that into consideration. Then for four years there w»3 the living by my wits — doing a little of everything under heaven. Then came New Orleans and my new, and, I flattered myself, taking cognomen of Gaston Dantree, my literary ventures, and their success in their way. And then after three years more came old De Lansac and Marie — poor little Marie. I thoughb I had found the purse of Forbunatus then, when, lo ! the old fool must up and get married. | And as if that weren't enough, there must I follow an heir, and adieu to all Marie's hopes and mine. Then I crossed the Atlantic to try my luck on this side of the pond, and I believe I've accomplished my destiny j at last, as lord of Scarswood at eight thousand a year. I believe I shall bo a square [ peg, fitting neat and trim into a square hole. Katherine's a drawback— exacting, | and romantio, and all thab bosh— but every- ! thing as wo wish it, is not for this world below. The old gentleman will go boes up shortly. I shall take the name of Sir Dantree Dangerfield, sink bhe Gaston, and live happy for ever after.' Mr Dantree was still singing thab ballad of bhe faithless lover as he ran lightly udi stairs to his room. He threw off his wet [ overcoat poked the fire, turned up the lamp, and saw on the table a letter. Now a letter to the handsome tenor ( singer was not an agreeable sight. Letters simply meant duna or else— He snatched ib up with an oath. This was no dun ; ib was something even * worse. Ib was superscribed in a woman's hand, and vr posbinarked New Orleans

'From Marie, by Jupiter !' he exclaimed, blankly. 'Now, how the dcv— ah, I have it, It came to my address in London, and the publishers have forwarded it here. Shall I open it, or pitch it into the fire unread ? Deuce take all women. Can they never let a fellow alone ? What a paradise earth would be without them !' He did not throw the letter into the fire, however. He threw himself into an easy chair instead, stretched forth his splashed riding boots to the blaze, and tore ib open. It had the merit of being brief at least, and remarkably to the point :

New Orleans, Sept. 16th, 1869. GrASTON :— Are you never going to write ?— are you never coming back ? Are you ill or are you faithless ? The Jast, surely ; it would be in keeping -with all the rest. Does your dead silence mean that I am deserted and for ever ? If so, only say it. ana you are free as the wind that blows. I will never follow you — never ask aught of you. No man alive — though he were ten thousand times more to me than you have j been— shall ever be sued for fidelity by me. Come or stay, as you choose : this is the last letter I shall ever trouble you with. Return this, and all my other letters — my picture also, '/lam deserted. But, oh, Gaston ! Gaston 1 | hare I deserved this ? Mabie.

That was all. The woman's heart of the writer had broken forth in that last sentence, and she had stopped, fearing to trust herself. Mr Dantree read it slowly over, looking very calm and handsome in the leaping firelight. 'Plucky little girl!' was his finishing comment ; •it is hard lines on her, after all that's past and gone. But there's no help for it, Marie. "I have learned to love another — I have broken every vow — we have parted from each other — and your heart is lonely now," and all that sort of thing. I wonder if I ever had a heart. I doubt it. I'm like Minerva, a heart was lett out in my make-up; I never was really in love in my life, and I don't want to be. Women are very well as stepping-stones to fortune, fame, ambition ; but for love in the abstract — bah ! But poor little Marie ! it I ever did approach the spooney, it was for her ; if I have it in me to care for anything or anybody but myself, it is for her.' And then Mr Dantree produced a little black pipe, loaded to the muzzle, struck a fusee, and fell back again to enjoy himself, He looked the picture of a luxurious Sybarite, lounging negligently among the cushions before the genial fire. 'And I know she'll keep her word,' he muttered reflectively. 'No breach of promise, no avenger on the track in this case, Gascon, my boy ; all nice and smooth, and going on velvet. That's a good idea about sending back the letters and photograph. I'll act upon it at once. A married man's a fool who keeps such souvenirs of his bachelorhood loose about. And Kathie isn't the sort of girl either to stand that species of nonsense— she's proud as the deuce, as becomes the daughter of an old soldier, and as jealous as the devil !' Mr Dantree arose, and crossing to where his writing-cas9 lay, unlocked it, and produced a package, neatly tied up with blue ribbon. They were letters — only a woman's letters— in the same hand as that of tonight, and in their midst a carte de visite. He took this latter up and looked at it. Ib was the face of a girl in her first youth, a darkly piquante face, with two large eyes looking at you from waving masses of dark hair — a handsome, impassioned face, proud and spirited. And Gaston Dantree's hard, coldly bright brown eyes grew almost tender as he gazed. ' Poor child !' he said — • poor little girl ! How pretty she used to look in her misty whice dresses, her laces, the creamy roses she used to wear, her dusk cheeks flushed, and her big blue eye 3 like stars ! Poor lil^e thing ! and she would have laid a princely fortune at my feet, with her heart and hand, if that old bloke, her grand^ father, hadn't euchred her out of it. And I would have been a very good husband, as husbands go, to little Marie, which is more than I'll ever be to this other one. Ah, well ! Sic transit, and all the rest of it ! — I here goes.' He replaced the vignette, added the last letter to the others, did them up neatly in a sheet of white paper, sealed the package with red w ax, and wrote the address in a firm, clear hand :

c Mile. Marie De Lansac, ♦ Rue de , }\ 'New Orleans, Louisiana.' 'I'll mail this to-morrow,' Mr.Dantree said, putting it in the pocket of his overcoat ; * and now I'll seek my balmy couch and woo the god of slumber. I dare say it will be as successful as the rest of mv wooing.' Mr Dantree undressed himself leisurely as ho did all things, and went to bed. But sleep did not come all at once ; he lay awake, watching the leaping firelight flickering on the wall, and thinking. ' What if, after all now, something were to happen, and I were to be dished again, as I was in the New Orleans affair ?' he thought. 'By George ! ifc was enough to make a man cub his own throat, or— old De Lansac's. A million dollars to a dead certainty — Marie sole heiress, Marie dying for me. And then he must go and geb married — confound him ! I can't think Sir John Dangerfield is dotard enough for that, but still delays are dangerous. I'll strike while the iron's hot. I'll make Katherine name the day to-morrow, by Jove. Once my wife, and I'm safe. Nothing can happen then, unless — unless —Heavens and earth !— unless Marie should appear upon the scene.as they do on the stage, and denounce me !' And then Mr Dantree paused aghast, and stared blankly at the fire. 'It's not in the least likely though,' he continued. 'Marie is not that sort of woman. I believe, by George ! if she met me a week after she gets the letters back she would look me straight between the eves and cut me dead. No — Marie never will speak— she could go to the scaffold with her head up and her big bluo eyes flashing defiance, and it's a very lucky thing for me she's that sort. Still it will be a confoundedly ugly bhing if she ever hears of me again either as Sir Dantree Dangerfield or the heiress of Scarswood's fiance. She might speak to save Katherine. But no ;' and then Mr Dantree turned over with a yawn at last on his pillow, * who ever heard of one woman saving another? Men do, but women — never ! I'll have the wedding day fixed to-morrow, and it shall be speedily.' ( To be continued. )

All things come to those who wait, is a consoling adage to those who would rather wait than work. Yes ! It is certainly true. A«k any ci your friends who have purchased there. Garlick and Cranwell have numerous unasked for and very favourable commendations from country customers on their excellent packing of Furniture, Crockery; and Glass, &c. Ladies and gentlemen about to furnish should remember thab Garlick and Cranwell's is the Cheap Furnishing Warehouse of Auckland. Furniture to suit all classes ; also Carpets, Floor Cloths and all House Necessaries. If your new house is nearly finished, or you are going to get married, visit Garlick and Cranwell, Queen-street and Lome-street, Auckland. Intending purchasers can hay« ft catalogue sent frea,