A Wonderful Woman.

Te Aroha News, 15 February 1890, Page 6

A Wonderful Woman.

By MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of “Guy Earlescourt’s Wife,” “A Terrible Secret," “ Lost for a Woman," “A Mad Marriage,” etoBOOK 11. CHAPTER VII. ‘ THEKE IS MANY A SLIP,’ ETC. Lady Cecil’s wet feet were considerably wetter before she reached the picnic party on the sand. But there was no help for it and she laughed good-naturedly at all Sir Arthur’s anxious predictions of future c olds.

‘ Mishaps and misadventures, rain storms and general demoralisation of one s raiment, are what one inevitably expects at picnics. It is in the nature of things for lightning storms to come up in the midst of all pleasure excursions. I wonder if the carriages safely protected those we left behind ; and above all, I hope Ginevra and her party svere not out in that fairy bark of theirs when the squall arose.’ But they were. Two hour 3 had elapsed between Sir Arthur and Lady Cecil leaving the pleasure party and their return, and during those two hours dire misfortunes had befallen. The whole picnic party were assembled in one excited group as the two wanderers came up in their midst—the major, Lady Dangerfield, and the rector’s daughter, dripping from head to foot like a triad of sea deities. Lady Cecil gave a gasp. ‘ Sir Arthur ! Look here ! the boat has upset !’ The boat had. Lady Dangerfield excitedly and eloquently poured out the tale of their hair-breadth escape as they approached. They were a mile and a half or there abouts from the shore when the thunderstorm had so swiftly arisen, and they had turned and put back at once. But before they bad gone ten yards, either owing to the major’s management, or the sudden striking of the squall, away went the little boat, keel uppermost, and down into the ruffled sea, with ringing shrieks of affright, went th.e two ladies and their military protector. The major could swim—so could Miss Hallan, the rector’s daughter. Flinging one arm about Lady Dangerfield, the major struck out for the shore, but an awful panic had seized the baronet’s wife ; sudden death stared her in the face, and all presence of mind deserted her. She struggled in the major’s clasp, clinging to him the while and shrieking frantically. In vain the major implored and entreated. ‘For Heaven’s sake, Ginevra, be still and I will save you.’ In vain the afuighted party on the shore, forgetful of rain now descending in floods, added their shouted . prayers to hers. In vain ! Lady Danger- ■ held screamed and struggled, and the picnic party was in a fair way of wind- ; irjg up with a "tragedy, when a. boat skimming like a bird over the dancing waters, o.nd skilfully handled by one man, shot towards them, swift and straight as on

arrow. ‘ Hold on there,’ a voice from the boat shouted. ‘You’ll go down to a dead certainty if you plunge about like that much longer.’ The boat flew nearer. The man leaned over and picked up my lady. Major Frankland scrambled in after. , • Rather a close finish!’ their deliverer said, coolly. ‘You were doing your best to make the bottom. Are you.all right there, sir ? Look after the lady, will you ? I think.she is going to faint.’ Hut Lady Dangerfield did not faint —too much cold'water, perhaps. . She glanced at her preserver, and noticed, even in that moment, that he was one of the very handsomest men it had ever been her good fortune to behold. She glanced at herself. ■Good Heaven ! half the exquisite abundance of curls and braids she had set rorth with that morning were miles out_at sea, her complexion was a wretched ruin, and her lovely pink grenadine, in which she had looked nob a day over twenty-five one short hour ago—that pink grenadine, all puffings, and friilings, and flounces—no, .words are poor and weak to describe the state of that dress. The boat, flying before the rising wind, made the shore in five minutes. Lady Dangerfield had not spoken one word ; tears -jf shame and mortification were standing in

her eyes. Why, ob, why had she over come on this wretched trip, this miserable picnic, at all ? What business bad Major Frankland to propose going out in a boat when he wasn’t capable ol handling a boat ? .What a fright she must look - hatless, hairless, comparatively complexionless, and her bright, gossamer summer skirts clinging about her like wet leeches? What must this remarkably good-looking and selfpossessed gentleman sittingyonder steering think of her ? He was not thinking of her at all he was watching, with an amused face, Miss Rallan calmly and deliberately swimming ashore, and all the other people standing like martyrs in the rain. ‘How, then, madam !’ He sprang ,out and almost lifted her on the sands ; Very sorry for your mishap, and if I might presume to offer a suggestion, would recommend an instant return home and a change of garments. Good-day, sir ; your boat’s all right—floating ashore.’ And then this cool gentleman, without waiting for thanks or further ado, pushed off again, and skimmed away like a seagull. Such a plight as this pleasure party stood in when Sir Arthur and Lady Cecil rejoined them ! Web through, all their fine feathers spoiled—every one of the ladies in as miserable a plight as the shipwrecked par tv themselves—every one drenched to the skin. Lady Cecil’s dark eyes, full of suppressed fun, were lifted to the baronet’s ; there was a grave smile even at the corners of his sedate mouth. It was wonderful how they understood each other, and how much nearer they were than they had been that morning. Of course the picnic broke up in most 1 admired disorder,’ and at once. The wet mermaids were packed damp and Gripping into the carriages and whirled Away to Scarswood as fast as the horses could trot the distance. Lady JDangerfield oewailing her fate, her narrow escape for her life, and anon wondering who her preserver could be. ‘ He had the air of a military man,’ she said ; ‘ there was no mistaking it; and he was bronzed and bearded, and somewhat foreign-looking. A genfclemon, beyond a shadow of a doubt, with a bow of a D° r d Chesterfield or a court chamberlain, and the whitest teeth I ever saw.’ It was evident Major Frankland had a rival. , . , . ‘I wish I had asked his name, and incited him to call,’ my lady went on. ‘ Cornwon courtesy required it, but really I was so confused .apd frightened, and all the rest of it, that I.thought of nothing. Abominable n Jasper Frankland fto let the boat upset. I’ll never forgive him. JYhat could that stranger have thought .of such a orribl fright as J must look ■ c.y.V.H

‘ My dear Ginevra,- does it matter what this stranger thinks ? We are a B™®“ to him for coming to your rescue so opportunely, but as to his good opinion, I don t perceive that that is a matter of consequence , one way or the other. ‘ One doesn’t want to look like a scarecrow,’ returned her ladyship, indignantly, ‘ even before strangers ; and he was so distinguished looking, and had the finest eyes, Queenie. Perhaps he maybe one of the officers from the Castleford barracks. ‘ I thought we had had all the officers from the Castleford, and if any of them are eminently distinguished - looking, I have hitherto failed to perceive it. ‘We might have had him over for our theatricals to-morrow night, if I had only had presence of mind enough to ask his name. But how can one have presence of mind when one is drowning? And to lose my hat and my—my chignon, and everything ! Queenie, how is it that you have escaped so completely ? Where did Sir Arthur take you ?’ ‘To Bracken Hollow. We were caught in the first of the storm, and had to run for it. Such a race ! Even Sir Arthur Tregcnna, the most dignified of mankind, does not look dignified scampering away from a rain-storm.’ Lady Cecil laughed maliciously. it does people good to come down off their stilts once in a while, and put their high an d—mightiness in their pocket. Really it has been a day of extraordinary adventures altogether.' ‘Yes,’ said Lady Dangerfield crossly; ‘ and adventures are much nicer to readfo than to take part in. ■ I don’t want adventures out of Maudie’s selected novels.’ ‘A day of adventures,’ went on Lady Cecil, laughing. ‘ You get upset in the midst of the ragingoeean,lightning Hashing, thunder crashing, rain falling -and what rhymes to falling, Ginevra* besides bawling? And at the last moment, up rushes the gallant knight to th 6 rescue, handsome, of course, gentlemanly also, military likewise,and with the bow of—a court chamberlain, I think you said ? And for me, my knight takes me into the Haunted Castle, and we hear and see the ghost of Bracken Hollow.’

• Oh, Sir Arthur is your knight then, is he V interrupted her ladyship sarcastically. ‘ I thought it would come to that in the end. We don’t refuse thirty thousand a year, do we, Queenie, darling, In spite, of all our fine poetical, cynical talk of buying and selling. And what Bracken Hollow ? And what ghost ’’ ‘ What Bracken Hollow ! There’s only one, and your husband says it’s haunted. I suppose he ought to know ; he seems an authority on the subject of goblins and ghosts. Of my own knowledge, I can say it is as dismal and dull a looking place as ever I laid eyes on—in the words of the poet, “ A lonesome lodge that stands so low in lonely glen.” And a grim and sombre old woman—a sort of Sussex “ Noma of the Fitful Head’’—ghostly face, and from an upper chamber we heard a most ghostly cry. “Norna of the Fitful Head” accounted for it in some way about a raven and a country, girl; but I don’t think she expected me to.believe, it. And then lam sure—certain—I saw—’

But Lady Cecil paused. Why should she create an unpleasantness between the governess and Lady Dangerfield by telling of seeing her there? That there was no mistake she was convinced. Miss Herncastle’s was not a face to be mistaken anywhere —not at all the sort of face we mean when we say ‘it will pass in a crowd.’ Most people in any crowd would have turned to look twice at the very striking face of my lady’s nursery governess. Lady Cecil went up to her room at once, and rang for her maid. In her damp dres3 she stood, before the open window while she waited, and looking.down she saw, immediately beneath her, in the rose garden, Miss Herncastle ! Miss HerncaStle, calm,' composed, pale, grave, lady-like* and looking, with her neatly arranged dress and serene manner, as though she had been there for hours, the last person'possible to be guilty of anv escapade whatever. She looked up, smiled, bowed, turned slowly, and disappeared down a lime walk. Lady Cecil stood transfixed. What did it mean ? Miss Herncastle looked a very clever person, but she was* not clever’ enough, surely', to be in two places at once. That was Miss Herncastle she had'seen at Bracken Hollow less than an hour ago, and now Miss Herncastle was here. She could not have walked the distance in the time—she could not. have ridden. And if it wasn’t Miss Herncastle, who then was it she had seen ? . . . ‘ Oh, nonsense!’ Lady Cecil cried, tapping her slippered foot-impatiently. ‘I know better. * It was Miss Herncastle. Desiree,’ to'her maid. ‘ I see Miss Herncastle down there. How long is it since she c*me in?’ 1 Came in,’ Desiree repeated, opening her brown French eyes. ‘But, mademoiselle, Mees Herncastle wasn’t out at all. She lias been in the schoolroom with her young ladies.’

‘ Are you surf., Desiree?‘Yes, mademoiselle,’ Desiree was sure. That is—she had been in the servants’ hall herself, and. not in the grounds, but of course Miss Ferncastle - ‘That will do, Desiree. You pull my hair when you brush and talk together. Make haste!’ _ ... Desiree made haste, and in fresh slippers and rosettes, fresh organdie and ribbons, Lady Cecil tripped away to the schoolroom. Pearl and Pansy were th«re, making houses of cards. Down went the cards, and the twins surrounded Aunt Cecil immediately. ' ' ‘Did she see the lightning—oh, wasnt it awful ? And the thunder—wasn’t she frightened ? They were. They went up to the nursery and crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over their faces—and never spoke till it was all over.’ ‘ A very praiseworthy precaution, my pets. And where, all this time, was Miss Herncastle?’ ‘Oh, Miss Herncastle —poor Miss Herncastlo had such a headache, and had to go to bed, and they were so glad- . Nob for the headache, ; of course—they were sorry for poor Miss Herncastle —but glad that they had had - a holiday. And that other dress for Seraphina Seraphina was the biggest of the dolls—‘when would Aunt Cecil make that?’ ‘ To-morrow, if possible. And so Miss Herncastle had a bad headache and had to go to bed. : Hum-m-m. When did she ill ? ? ‘ Oh, right after you all went away. And she went up to her room with some vinegar, and pulled down the blinds, and locked the door, and told Mrs Butler she would try to sleep it off. She got up justvbefore you came home—l saw her come out of her room and go down to the garden.’ The door opened and Miss Herncastle came in, her roses and myrtle in her hand. She bowed to Lady Cecil with a slight smile, crossed the room with easy grace, and placed her bouquet in a Parian vase. *1 regret to hear you have, been suffering from a severe headache all day, Miss Herncastle,’ Lady Cecil said, and the amberclear brown eyes fixed themselves fulhupon the face of the governess, ‘ Pansy tells me you have been lying down all day. But for that I should positively think it was your face I saw at a window of the house in Bracken Hollow.’ Y The face of the governess turned from powers over which she was bending—-the

-deep grey eyes- met the searching brown ones steadily. ‘ Thought you saw me, Lady Cecil! How very strange. And Bracken where is Bracken Hollow ?’ ‘ Bracken Hollow is within easy walking distance of Scarswood, Miss Herncastle: and you are right, it is very strange. I was positive it was you I saw.’ ‘You were 1 mistaken, of course,’ the governess said, calmly ; ‘ it seems my fate to be mistaken. I had a headache, as Pansy • gays, and was obliged to go to my room. I am unfortunately subject to bad nervous headaches.’ Her face was perfectly calm —not a tremor, not a flinch of eye or muscle. And again Lady Cecil was staggered. Surely ' this was truth or most perfect acting. If Miss Herncastle had spent the day in her own room she could not have spent it at Bracken Hollow. And if it were not Miss Herncastle she had seen, who on earth then was it ? Thoroughly mystified, the earl’s daughter descended the stairs. In the vestibule sat the hall porter, the ‘ Castleford Chronicle ’ in his hand, his gaze meditatively fixed on the rainbow spanning the

sky. ‘ Johnson, have you been here all day—all day, mind ?’ ' Johnson turned from the rainbow and made a bow. ‘ Yes, my lady—which I meanter say my hexcepting of corse while I was at dinner — all the rest of the day, my lady.’ «And did anyone leave the house during our absence? anyone the children—the servants ?’ «No, my lady,’ Mr Johnson responded, rather surprised, ‘ not that I see, my lady. And it would be himpossible for hanny one to come, without my seeing, my lady. The young ladies, they wasn't on the grounds all day, my lady, likewise none of the servants. Mrs Butler she were a-making

hup long haccounts in her hown room, and Miss ’Ern castle she were a layin’ down with the ’eadache, my lady. And there wern’t no callers, my lady. 1 Lady Cecil turned away with a dazed look. She had no wish to play the spv upon Miss Herncastle. If she had been to Bracken Hollow, and had owned to it, Lady Cecil might have wondered a little, but she would have said nothing about it. She said nothing about it as it was, but she puzzled over it all the evening. The picnic party, rejuvenated, dined at Scarswood. Sir Peter left the S<iturnia Pavonia, and dined with his guests -my lady’s rather, and my lady herself in fresh raven ringlets, fresh bloom, and fresh robe of goldcoloured tissue and white roses, looked as pretty and as animated as though ten pounds’ sterling worth of tresses had not drifted out to sea, and a lovely new toilet had been utterly ruined. ‘ I wish I had thought of asking him his

name,’ Lady Danger-field remarked, over and over again, returning to the Unknown. ‘A gentleman, I am positive—there is no mistaking the airs of society ; and an officer; I should know a trooper in the pulpit or in his coffin, there is no mistaking their swing. And he had the most expressive eyes X.think I ever saw. ‘ Your close observation does him much honour,’ said Major Frankland with suppressed jealousy. *He is, in allprobability, some wandering tourist, or artist unknown to fame and Trafalgar Square. . It would be cruel, I suppose, to hint at his being a commercial traveller, down from the metropolis with - his samples.’ ‘ Gad ! he looked like some one I’ve met before,’ ' muttered the earl, glancing uneasilv at his daughter. 'He was in London the night of the opera,and it is just possible he may have followed us down here. Only that it would not be like him—proud as Lucifer he used to be ; and then I

should think, too, ne naa got. over wu madness. “Did you see this unknown knight-errant, Queenie ?’ ‘I ? No, papa ; it was all over before we came up. The curtain had fallen on the grand 'sensational tableau, the hero of the piece bad fled ; Sir Arthur and I were only in time for the farce.’ The earl stroked his iron-grey moustache, reassured. ‘lf it be O’Donnell, and 'pon my life 1 think it is, 1 only hope Sir Arthur may speak before he appears again on the scene. Nob that she cares for him, of course, or

that his appearance will make any difference in the result. It was only a girl’s, nob a child’s fancy—and it is six years ag°. What woman ever remembered an absent lover six years a husband for that matter? They say Penelope did; but we have only their word for.it. I dare say while Illysses was flirting on" that island with Queen Calypso and Miss Eucharis, she was flirting at home, and looking out for his successor. The only unpleasant, thing about it will be,, if they discover the little counterplot I indulged in at that time. It’s odd Sir Arthur don’t propose. He is greatly taken her, that is evident, and though she doesn’t en-

courage him, she is friendly enough. . Sir Arthur wax taken with her. His eyes followed that fairy, graceful figure everywhere ; he stood by the piano while she sang, and she sang very sweetly, his eyes on the perfect face, his ear drinking in the silver sounds. He was at his ease with her ; he talked to her as he had never talked to any woman in his life; sho was fair and good, lovely and gentle Why should he not make her his wife ? If that exquisite dower-face of. hers had wrought dire havoc ere now with the toosuspectible hearts, was she to be blamed ? She might not be quite his ideal, perhaps —but which of us ever meets or marries our ideal?-and he liked her very wellvery well, and admired her greatly. Why not speak, then, and ask her to be his wife ? He revolved this question in bed that night until he fell asleep. Of love, such as he'had heard and read of—that intermittent fever of cold fits and hot fits, of fear, of hope, of jealousy, of delight—he knew nothing. That mad fever into. which common -sdrise never enters isn’t a dignified passion ; a man on his knees to a woman, calling upon all the gods to witness how he worshipped her, is not an- elevating or majestic sight. He was not a lover of the usual hot-headed, hare-brained sort,. all wearing the.same bright armour, all singing the same sweet song. But he esteemed, and admired, and liked Lady Cecil. She was his equal in everything save fortune, and that he neither thought of nor cared for, and the very next day that ever shone he would ask her to be his wife. For Sir Arthur Tregenna to resolve was to do. He was none of your vacillating lovers, who don’t know their own minds, and who are airaid to speak when they do. Without being in the least a coxcomb, he felt pretty sure of his answer. Her father wished it, she did not seem at least to dislike him, and as husband and wife they would learn to love each other, no doubt, very dearly. His eyes followed her that day as they had never followed her before—with a new interest, a new tenderness. And Lady Dangerfield’p sharp black eyes saw it as they saw everything. ‘ Thine hour has come, oh, Queenie,’she laughed maliciously. The grand mogul has made up his mind to fling his handkerchief at his slave’s feet. Look your loveliest to night, La Eeine Blanche, for the great Cor nieh baronet is goine to lay his title and fOFtpne at your feet.’

The .colour flashed hotly, for a moment over the exquisite drooping face —a flush of pain, of almost dread. Her woman’s instinct told her also, as well as Ginevra, that Ginevra was right. He was going to ask her fco be his wife, and she—-what should she say ? What could she say but yes ? It was her destiny as fixed as the stars. A sort of panic seized her. She did not love him, not.one whit, and Lady Cecil Clive at two-and-twenty, old enough to know better certainly, and admirably trained by a thorough woman of the world—a woman of the world herself—out three seasons—believed in love !

I am pained to tell, but the truth stands —she believed in love. She read De Masseb, and Meredith and Tennyson—she even read . Byron sometimes. She liked him—as she might a grave, wise, very much elder brother, bub love him—no—no —no !

And Lady Cecil knew what love meant. Onee, oh, how long ago it seemed ! for seven golden weeks the sun had shone, and the roses flamed in the light. Earth had been Eden, and the Someone that we all see a day or two in our lifetime had appeared before her, and then—the seven weeks ended, and life’s dead level flowed back. That dream of sweet sixteen was ended, and welLnigh forgotten, it might be ; but she didn’t care for Sir Arthur Tregenna, and he was going bo ask her, and there was nothing to say but ‘ Yes.’ She avoided him all that day, as she had never avoided him before in all her life. If her chains were! to be clasped, at least she Would avert ttie fetters as long as she could. She shut herself up in her room, took a book, and forced herself to read. She would nob ■think, she would nob come down. It had to be, but at least she would have a respite in spite of them all. The lovely, rosy July day wore on, and dinner time came. She had to go down then, As Owen Meredith says :

■ We may live ■without books— what is knowledge but grieving ? , . , . We may live without hope— what is hope but deceiving? , . . , . We may live without love— what is passion but pining? ... . But where is the man that can live without dining?’ Her respite was over. She mnst face her doom. She went down in white silk and pearls. There was to be an evening party —theatricals, charades, dancing—a large company were coming. She was as white as her dress, but perfectly calm. They were ever a brave race, the Clives, going to the scaffold or to the altar without wincing once. Sir Arthur took her to dinner —gentlemen never know when they are not wanted. He was very silent during that meal, but then silence was his forte. Lady Cecil, usually the brightest of the bright, was under a cloud too. She cast furtive, sidelong glances at her companion. Oh, her doom was sealed—that compressed mouth, that stern face, those grave, inexorable eyes told the story. Do her best, she could not shirk fatality long. She made her escape after dinner, unnoticed, as she fondly hoped, amid the gay throng. A bright little boudoir, all rose silk and ormolu, and cabinet pictures, opened off one of the drawing-rooms, double doors and a velvet curtain shutting it in. Thither this stricken deer fled. The double doors slid back, the rose velvet curtain fell, and she was alone, amid the pictures and the bric-a-brac, with the crystal moonrays. She sank down in a dormeuse in the bay window, drew a great breath of relief, and looked out. How peaceful it was, how sweet, bow hushed, how lonely. Oh, why couldn’t life be cast in some blissful Arcadian valley, where existence might be one long succession of ruby sunsets and silver moonrises, where nightingales sing the world to sleep, where young ladies need never get married at all if they like, and thirty thousand a year is not a necessity of life? She clasped,her hands, and looked up almost passionately at that bright opaltinted star-sefsky. * Oh !’ she said, ‘I wish, I wish, I wish, i need not marry Sir Arthur Tregenna.’ ‘ Lady Cecil, I beg.your pardon for this intrusion, but they have sent me here to find you.’ ' Her clasped hands,.,fell—her hour had come. Sir Arthur stood tall and serious before her. She looked up, all her terror,

all her helpless appeal for an instant in her large soulful eyes*. , Bub he did nob read it aright—-what man ever does? And he came forward hastily, eagerly. How beautiful she Ipoked, how noblo, how sweet —a wife for any man to be proud of. He stooped over her and took her hand. The words were on his lips—in one moment all would be over ! .* Lady Cecil,’ he began. ‘ I have sought you here to—’ He never finished the sentence. , The door slid back, the curtain wa3 lifted, and Miss Herncastle came into the room.: (To be continued.)