A SECRET FOE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10134, 7 December 1910, Page 2

A SECRET FOE.

(OUR SERIAL."* «

„ —o -■ ■ — Ty GERTRUDE WARDEN. Author of "Scoundrel or Saint?" "The Secret of a Letter," -A Bold TW.oDtion," "The Wooing of a Fairy," "The Crime oi: Monte Carlo," etc.

CHAPTER IX.— Continued. Still dressed in her pretty gray costume, Iris sat underneath the light of the tall lamp which stood on the table, with her fair head lowered over an exercise book she was correcting. The children had gone to bed" and perfect quiet reigned in the schoolroom, which was also used as a breakfast rom, and communiea••ccl by steps with the garden. _ ( It Aas growing dusk on a warm September day; the French windows were wide' open ; a pearl-grey sky furnished a charming background to the slim figure of the girl. Presently sue rose with a little sigh, and going to the window, leaned against it and looked up into the Western sky. Tears shone in her deep blue eyes, and her whole attitude suggested a gentle sadness, which, though she was far from intending it, was eminently picturesque and becoming. Her back was towards the door, and she did not hear Fitzalan enter. | She was, indeed, thinking of no one but Drogo Gordon, recalling the tone in which he had quoted those lines of Browning's, and deeply regretting the coldness of their parting. She remembered now, when he had first looked at her on hoard ship, she had thought she read disapproval in the fixity of his gaze, and she felt now more convinced than ever that there was something about her that he disliked. The thought grieved her, and another tear was rolling slowly down lief" cheek, when suddenly, without the least warning, she felt herself seized round the waist by someone who stood behind, her and pressed closely to him. With a little cry, she tv./ :ed, struggling to be free, and in the half light beheld Fitzalan's handsome insolent face bent low over hers. ••My dear child, don't cry!" ho whispered. "And don't fight and struggle in that unladylike fashion. These little attentions are well-meant and should be taken quietly. Tell me all youv troubles; put your head on my shoulder, no cue will ever know anything ahout it—and let me kiss your tears away." The words were hardly out of his mouth, and Iris had not had time to free herself from his unwelcome embrace when, as though it had all been a prepared scene on the stage, Dagmar Mallyon stood before them, wrapped in a loose, rose-coloured tea-gown, her eyes ablaze with fury, grinding her teeth like a very Menad. 'THow dare you?" she hissed, rather than said, passion choking her utterance. "You a man I hate, and you, a paid dependent, how dare you come into this house and insulta my mother and me by secret meetings and love makings under our eyes? Is this the class of conduct, Miss Travcrs, which caused Lord Mallyon to recommend you? That accounts, certainly, for the extreme interest he takes in you. But, understand! I will not have such people under the same roof with me. As to you, Mr Fitzalan, you shall be forbidden this houss; and you," she continued, turning upon Iris with a concentrated and murderous venom which absolutely terrified the girl, "you had better go home with j him. His sister, the mistress of the j house is away, and .you can be let in by the back dor, and sent away before she returns!"

"Dagmar, for Heaven's sake, remember what you are saying " the young man was beginning, when the entrance of Mrs Mavrogodato, whose .attention had been attracted by her daughter's raised voice, causa digression. Dagmar's mother was fully dressed for the opera, and she turned in blank astonishment from one angry agitated face, to another of those before her. "I came in here," cried Dagmar, with outstretched arms, dramatically indicating Iris, "and found this person in that man's arms! Send them both out of the house at once, I insist!" 'Really, Miss Travers," poor Mrs Mavrogodato exclaimed, in bewilderment, "I cannot allow such conduct in my house. Flirtations between my governess and gentlemen visitors " "Please say no more, Mrs Mavrogoda," said Iris, putting up her hand. "Tt is not necessary, t will leave your house to-night."

CHAPTER X. DROGO MAKES UP HTS MIND. Without another word to Mrs Mavrogodato, her daughter, or Edward Fitzalan, Iris left the room, and passed up-stairs "to her own apnartment. She felt dazed by-the unexepectedness of the entire incident, coming as a close to aji exulting day. But in spite of her habitual gentleness, Iris', feelings wore deep, and at that moment she was smarting under the sting of Dagmar's words, as- only sensitive and reserved natures can suffer. Her pride was far too deeply hurt for tears. Mechanically she began putting together her things, preparatory to her leaving the house, for it never occurred to her as possible to sleep for another night under

the roof of pctsojis who had cruelly misjudged her. Slie had still the greater portion of the money, which Lord Mallyon had lent her, untouched. She was treasuring and saving it, with the hope of speedily repaying him in full, and in this critical moment an impulse of gratitude toward him filled her heart, since by his liberality she was not compelled to endure insult through the stress of poverty. She would drive at once, so she decided, to the quiet hotel where she had spent her first two nights in London. For her ten days' service to the Mavrogodatoes she required no payment. . She was only too glad to escape from the house where she had been so foully slandered. Her modest belongings were easily contained in a good-sized bag, and .in twenty minutes' time this receptacle was ready, packed, strapped, and buckled. Iris rather doubted her own capability for dragging the bag down two nights of stairs. Moreover the performance would certainly excite attention, and be extremely undignified; still, she was not in a humour to stop at anything, so borne up with indignation did she feel against Mrs Mayrogodato, and Fitzalan, and Dagmar, but especially Dagmar. Of her, indeed, Iris could hardly bear to think. Already ; she had grown to love the beautiful I and fascinating girl who had shown her such apparent goodwill and friendliness, and it cut her to the heart to think that from Dagmar's lips such cruel and unwomanly insults had been addressed to her. Iris lacked the key to Miss Mallyon's conduct. Totally ignoring the girl's secret passion for Edward Fitzalan, she eoidd not conceive that it was Dagmar's furious jealousy at sight of Iris in her lover's arms which had prompted her hysterical outburst. J-he young governess had really believed in Miss Mallyon's protestations of affection, and burning tears welled up in Tier eyes at the remembrance of the latter's monstrous accusations. She felt at that moment that she did not wish over to see any of them again—Mrs Mavrogodato, whom she regarded with indifference; Fitzalaa, whom she had despised, or Dagmar, whom she had loved. She crept out of her room to the head of the stairs atict listenetl. She did not suppose, that anyone would try forcibly to detain her, but sho thought it possible that fear of offending Lord Mallyon might induce Mrs Mavrogodato to offer some resistance to her departure. A sound of violent sobbing from Dagmar's room arrested her attention. Miss Mallyon had locked herself in her own room again, and was indulging in a lit of weeping in the reaction following her fit of fury. Iris crept from the. door. She could not yet forgive the words of her former friend, and not for a great deal would she have risked a meeting with her;' On the lauding below she perceived the page-boy, and him she beckoned to her to inquire where Mrs Mavrogodato was to be found. "She's gone off in the brougham with Mr Fitzalan, after she and Miss Dagmar and turn had a hawful row in the schoolroom. I did think poor Miss Mallyon had gone off her 'ed. How is she now, do you know, miss?" "I don't know Richard. But would you like to earn five shillings?" "Five bob! Wouldn't I miss-?" "Then help me, as softly as you can , to get this bag down-stairs and out of the front door, and on to a cab. Don't be frightened, Richard. There is nothing inside but what is my own. I haven't put any spoons in my pocket." "Lor,' miss! Are you really going off on the quiet? You'll never tell on me, or get me into trouble, if I help you, will von, now?" Once reassured on that point, Richard lent a hand with the bag, and the other servants being busy in the basement discussing such fragments of the "row" as they had overheard, Iris was able to get well away without the slightest hindrance. On the following morning it so chanced that Lord Mallyon received by the first mail a letter from his friend Sir John Moray, the banker, written from Scotland, in which the latter informed him that as he would be passing through London he would do himself the pleasure of calling upon his friend, the attorney-general, early in the afternoon. | "I <lon't know wnetner you are aware," the letter proceeded, "that J. had the temerity to propose to your lovely neice, Miss Dagmar Mallyon, and that she refused me. Still, she was so very nice about it that I am not without hope that, with your influence o back my suit, I may possibly induce her to reconsider her decision. I fully intend asking her again, until she will, perhaps, become in time tired of saying no." (To be Continued.)