THE LADY IN BLACK.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8432, 2 May 1907, Page 2

THE LADY IN BLACK.

By FLORENCE WARDEN. AutKOr of "An Infamous Fraud," "A Terrible Family 1 ■ «Fw Love of Jack," "The House <>n the Marsh," etc., etc.

" CHAPTER Vl.—Continued.

' "Well?" said Mrs Dale. And her voice was hoarse and broken. "1 have ben waiting her a for you, wondering where you hai gone. I hac almost begun to think," sne went on, with assumed playfulness, which did not hide the fact that her fear had been real, "that you had run away from'me altogether." Mabin lost her awkwardness, her stiffness, her shy, girlish reserve in an instant; moved by strong pity and affection, she took the two steps which brought her under the portico, and, stooping, flung her arms round the little figure. J "You didn't-really?" she whispered hoarsely. ."Oh, I hope not, I hope notl" ■■ .; , Mrs/Dale could not answer. But Mabin felt her. frame quiver, from ;■■■ headtofoot, and, heard the sound of a stifled aob. Rudolph stepped noiselessly out into the garden again. "My dear, my dear child," murmured Mrs Dale, wheji she had recovered some of her self-possession by a strong effort, "you would have been quite justified if you had gone. s But lam glad, oh, so glad, that you have waited for me to drive you "You won't do that!" cried Mabin, starting back, and seeing with surprise in the fair, Wue-eyed face an expression of strong resolution. "After pretending you were glad to have.nie!" , « ;.., n "It was np pretence, believe me! said Mrs Dale, with a sad little smile. "But I must send you away, all the sameV It would not be right to keep you here, now that I see the persecution I am, to be subjected to still." And her blue eyes flashed angrily; as she spoke. But the next moment her face changed again, and she added quickly: "I toave deserved it all. More than all. lam not , complaining of that; I have no right to complain. Only—she might have spared you. I should have done you no harm; you would have leaned * no evil from me, wicked as I am." The girl-interrupted her, with a frightened face and speaking in an eager whisper: -Oh hush hush! You are not wicked. It is dreadful to hear you say such things. I will not let you say them! You have the kindest heart in the world; if you have ever done wrong, you are sorry, bitterly sorry. Wicked people are never sorry. Let me stay, with you and comfort you, if I can,. by'showing you how happy it makes me to be with you!" . Mrs Dale shook her head. She did not, however, repeat in words her resolve that Mabin must go, though; ' the girl guessed by the expression of her face that her mind was made up on the subject^,; ; . They stood silently looking out at the soft beauties of the twilight, the freehs as they melted into gray lending in such a tender harmony of - colour that the sight seemed to supply h balm, through tear-dimmed eyes, to their heavy hearts; the scent of the roses came to them across the broad space of gravel, too, mingled withjjthe pleasantly acrid perfume of thelites; * RuoSlphVstep,;;aß he took advantage ?oi the silence to thrust himself again upon the notice of the ladies, st&rtled them both. "JNow, you've spoiled it all!" cried>Mrs Dale, in a tone which was meant to be one of light-hearted pleasantry, but which betrayed too plaimV the' difficulty she had in assuming it. "The garden looked like '/ a fairy picture till you unshed in and ruined v the perspective. Aren't you going to apologise?" "No. The picture wanted human " '. interest, so I painted myself into the 'canvas, just to satisfy your artistic susceptibilitiesJ I am sorry to find you so ungrateful. I { hope you, Mabin; have more appreciation?" But the girl's eyes were full of tears, and, not being used to this light strain of talk, she could hot answer, except by a few mumbled words which had neither sense nor *oherence. Mrs Dale put up her hand—she had to stretch it up a long way—and smoothed the girl's pretty / brown hair. "Don't tease her," she said softly. . "Mr Borinington, I mustn't ask you to dine with Us, but I would if I might." " ."And why mustn't you?" asked Rudolph. t . "Well, because, in the miserably equivocal position I am in, it would be a pleasure-if I may take it for granted that it would be a pleasure to m as it would certainly be to me—- ' dearly bought: The vicar would strongly disapprove; your mother would be shocked beyond measure. "But I shouldn't mind that, I ■assure you. I've shocked my mother and excited the disapproval uf my father so often that they don't expect anything else from me. Besides, I am afraid you flatter yourself too much in believing that you have such an enviable peculiarity; if you were to issue invitations, to the whole parish to a garden-party, or a dinner, or anything you liked, 1 m afraid you would be disappointed to find that everybody would come." '■ "Perhaps they would think there • was safety in numbers, and that, for- * lifted by the Dresence of everybody else, they could gaze at the monster insecurity!" suggested Mrs Dale, with a smile. "In the meantime, how much nearer have 1 got to avoid inviting myself to dinner this evening?" said Rudolph, with a subdued voice and a , meek manner. • "Ah, well, ,for Mabin's sake, then, I spare you the humiliation, and invite you 1 myself, You shall . '. ■ v stay to amuse her, since lam , " ; afraid she would find me a very •dreary companion." "Indeed I shouldn't," cried Mabin, blushing deeply, and speaking with as much energy as if the presence of

Rudolph were an injury, "I should like nothing better than an evening alone with you." Rudolph gave utterance to a deep sigh, and eVen Mrs 1-ale couldfnot suppress a smile at the girl's unconsnou. gauchevie. When ftiabin realised what a stupid thing she had said, she whs, of course, too much asham <\ of herself taliu»h.at.her clunssy words, and fell, instead, iito an embarrassing silence which the others found it impossible to make her break except by demure, monosyllabic answers. When they went into the diningroom, therefore, the evening did not promise to "be a very lively one. Mrs Dale seemed to find it impossible to shake off the effects of the visit of her persecutor. Rudolph was oppressed by fears for both the lidies, and by doubts whether his presence there was not an ihdiscreton which would make matters WJ>r*e for both of them. While Mabin, perplexed and troubled by a s:ore of umccustomed was the most silent, the most distressed, of all. , Daylight was still streaming in from the west as they took their seats at the table in the dingily furnished room. Mrs Dale gave a little shudder as she glanced from the "fur-nished-house" knives to the common place dinner-serVice. "Ah!" she said, "it was nbt like this that -1 used to entertain my friends. My little dinners had quite a refutation—once!"' Then, as if she felt that these regrets were worse than vain, she changed the subject abruptly, while a spasm of pain for the moment cpnvulsed her face.

Rudolph, on side, was sorry he had mentioned, the "little din, ers." They suggested a past life in which there had been something more tnaja frivolity; something with which he would have dissociated Mrs Dale if he could. But innocent Mabin, wishing to say something, brought the conversation back to the point it 'had left.

"But why can't you have pretty dinners now, if you like to?" Mrs Dale's fair face became whiter' as she gently answered: . "I.wjll tell you—presently—some day—why I don't have anything j pretty or nice about me now." And Mabin, feeling that had i touched a painful chord, became | more silent than ever. Perhaps it was her sudden subsidence into, absolute gloom which caused the other .two to make a great effort to restore something likeani-, mation to the talk. And being both young, and of naturally high spirits, they succeeded so well that before the meal, which had begun so solemnly, was over, Mrs Dale and Rudolph were talking and laughing as if there had never been a shadow upon either of their lives. At first they made brave attempt* to drag Mabin into the .conversation. But as these efforts w£re in vain, it naturally ended in her being left out of the gaiety, and left her sitting entrenched in a gloomy silence of her own. And when dmner was over and they all went into the little adjoining room which Mrs Dale called her /'den," it was quite natural that Mrs Dale should sit at the piano, in the good-natured wish to leave the young people to entertain each other; and equally natural that Rudolph, on finding that Mabin'had nothing to say to hint, and thaf; she was particularly frigid in ber manner, should, go over to the piano, .and, by coaxing Mrs Dale to sing him hiu favorite songs and then hers, should continue the brisk flirtation begun at the dinner table. Mabin had broueht it all upon herself, and" she tried to persuade herself that it was quite right and natural, and that she did not mind. And when Rudolph was gone, and she was alone with her hostess, she succeeded in persuading her that she had not felt neglected, but had enjoyed the merriment she had refused to share.

But when she got upstairs into her gretty bedroom, after bidding Mrs Dale good night, she had the greatest difficulty in keeping back the tears which were dangerously near her proud 3yss. .She did not care for Rudolph, of course not; she wanted him to fall in love with Mrs Dale, if, indeed, he had not already done so, and marry her, and console her for all her troubles/and stop the persecution of "the cat." But somehow this hope, this wish, did not give her- all the unselfish satisfaction it ought to have done. ( (To-be Continued.)