CHAPTER XXIX.

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2063, 26 September 1885, Page 5 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXIX.

AILIE'S WEXiCOMB. " I hope I have not done an imprudent thing," said Lucia, Lady Waldrove; "and I see no reason to fear it. She is undoubtedly wonderfully beautiful; but even beauty requires gilding in these days." " You are generally right, Lucia," said the earl. " Women seem to me to have a sixth senpe, which tells them what it is most fitting to do." The Earl and Countess Waldrove sat together in the drawing-room at Boseneath, and the subject under consideration was the wonderful beauty and gentle grace of the new companion, Miss Derwent. She had reached Eoseneath at the close of a lovely May day, when the air was faint with perf umeind the daffodil light was dying in the sky — when the sweet singing birds had hushed their musio, and the blossoms fell lightly on the grass. The countess had grown impatient for the arrival. To her it seemed a simple marvel that she should be compelled to exert herself — that she should have to read and answer letters, to write notes of invitation, to think of the thousand and one details that her children had been aooustomed to think of for her. She had lived so long in the very height of luxurious idleness that all exertion was distasteful to her. Then, as she pathetically remarked to her husband, when Gertrude was away, there was no one to attend to the " dear dogs — no one to take an affectionate interest in them." Then L*dy Waldrove was a great admirer of fiction. She did not care to waste the light of her own eyes in reading ; she preferred that some one should read to her. Her maid's voice was coarse — she could only fall asleep to the music of a refined, sweet voice. Altogether, between one misery and another, my Lady Waldrove longed for the arrival of her companion. Dinner was over, and the countess had gone out on the western terrace to on joy the last rays of the setting Bun. My lady affected, at times, a wonderful love of nature ; the two fat littls Bnaniels, with a considerable amount of exertion, oontrived to walk on each side of her. One of the footmen approached her with considerable diffidence. " Miss Derwent has arrived." •• Arrived I" said the countess, roasiog from her usual languor. " Ask her to come* to me here at once. Thank heaven 1" she said ; •• I shall have no more letters to write now. The real hard work of life would have destroyed me." Then her ladyship saw a picture that never faded from her mind while life lasted. She saw a graoeful, girlish figure, in a long, trailing dress of rioh gray silk ; a beautiful, tragical face, with deep, earnest blue eyes, fringed with long lashes ; a sweet, sensitive mouth, red, ripe lips, and a lovely dimpled chin ; a head crowned with golden-brown hair, on which rested a bonnet that seemed to consist of white laoe and a rose. It wap the tragical beauty of the girl's face that first enlisted the countess' attention and excited her wonder. The girl was standing quietly in front of a cluster of red camellias, and Lady Waldrove, who had something of an aJtist's nature, exolaimed at the beauty of the picture. Then she thought to hereelf : " She is like the picture mmc of Greek tragedy . What is it that her face says ?It is an uncommon story. There will be a strange future for that girl, unless Nature has written in vain." She hurried just a little to meet Ailie; the little spaniels looked up at her piteously; they confided in one another that if my lady were going on in that kind of way, the sooner they gave up the better. In a moment of inspiration Lord Waldrove had named his wife's favorites Castor and Pollux. Castor whined piteously ; it was not to be expected that he should run like a dog of common origin or common manners. " A pound of veal outlets or cold chicken would not make up for this," he thought, as ho quickened bis pace to keep up with his mistress. Lady Waldrove went up to the girl; she took hpjr hand, whioh was an unusual oon-de-cpneion — she usually received strangers with a measured smile, indifferent or pleasant, according to their rank. To this beautiful jnrl, with the sad, sweet face, her heart warmed. She held out her white, jewelled hand in kindly greeting, while the dogß moaned in chorus. " Weloome to lloseneath, Mips Derwent," she said ; then she wondered why a sudden li»hfc oanip over the beautiful face. To Ailie (hope words hnd seemed like an omen of good fortune. "Have you had a pleasant journey?" asked Lady Waldrove; "the country is looking very beautiful, I should imagine. May is one of my favorite months." Then, having exhausted herself, the oounte!3 sank on one of the pretty garden chairs ; the dogs composed themselves at her feet. She thought it just a little strange that the girl remained silent, with that strange look of wonder on her face — wonder that was half huppy delight and awe. Madame had express!; stated that she was a quiet but entertaining companion. " Perhaps," thought her ladyship, " she is shy — unoomfortable with a person of rank. I must set hrr at her ease." So she talked anpily and kindly, until the white, startled face grew calm and still. What would she, the proudest woman in all England, the haughtiest pecreps that wore a coronet— what would she have paid had ehe known that the fair-faced girl sitting so quietly by her side was hor son's wife ? -wife to the brilliant, handsome young heir, whom the loved aa she loved no one «Ue on earth.

Gculd she have guessed it, her Anger would have been bo great that she would btvve dashed the beauty from her face, and have trampled it out. km As it was, the girl's delicate beanty oharmed her; her graceful loveliness and quiet elegance were above all praise. Then, when the countess thought her lord would have roused himself from his after-dinner meditations, she was anzious that he should see her companion. Lord Waldrove would have been less than human had he failed to admire her, When she had sat with them for some minutes, the countess bethought herself that probably her young oompanion would require rest and refreshment. I* You will like to go to your room," she said. " Perhaps you will feel tired to-night ; if not, I should be glad if yon will read to me. I have been so long without anyone to do anything for me, that I am quite exhausted." It was sufficient that Lady Waldrove should express a wish for Ailie to feel ready to yield her life rather than refuse it. That night, although she was so tired that the exertion of keeping her eyes open pained her, she read, hour after hour, until the countess fell into a deep, balmy sleep. Lord Waldrove himself was slightly surprised ; he was accustomed to the patrioian beauty of ladies of his own rank; he was accustomed to the handsome, high-bred faoes of his wife and daughter ; but this delicate loveliness, this fair, half- sad beauty, was new to him. From the patrioian faoes around him all particular expression was banished ; in this he, in common with others, had the foreshadowing of a tragedy ; there was an intensity of earnestness about it, a wonderful pathos. It was not so much the loveliness of the face which distraoted him as it was the strange, earnest, wistful expression. He told Lady Waldrove he was not quite sure if she had done right by bringing a beautiful, tragical-looking young creature like that to the house ; Bhe was too attractive. But the countess smiled with languid scorn. Who was there to attraot ? " Unless," she added with a little'gleam of malice—'* unless you feel that your heart is in danger, or, more properly speaking, your fancy; in that oase, of oourse " But Lord Waldrove laughed, as the countess had intended him to do, and there was no more said on the matter. Ailie fulfilled her duties so faithfully that Lady Waldrove congratulated herself on having found a treasure. " Gertrude and Linda were always devoted to me," she said to the earl, " but this girl seems to live but to please me." If she had known that Ailie was, after all, but trying to win her love, and that beoause she was her son's wife, then Lucia, Countess of Waldrove, would have formed a very different idea of her. Ailie was so patient. When the oountess wearied of one book, she took up another ; if Floss, Che old-established favorite, wanted an airing, she was never annoyed at having to take him ; if Oastor and Pollux, the new favorites, disputed, she was always ready to take the part of one or the other. The countess was altogether pleased. When Lady Gertrude, quite expeoting either a long lecture or an indignant denial, wrote to ask if she might remain some weeks longer with her sister, the Duchess of Claverdon, the oountess answered yes, by all means ; she had found a perfect treasure in her oompanion, and so hardly missed her daughter. 11 Indeed, my dear," she said to Ailie ; "you are almost like* a daughter to me; you seem to know my wishes and thoughts beforehand — you anticipate them very often. My child," she continued, looking keenly at her, "you have tears in your eyes! How is that?" The beautiful eyes were dimmed ; there was the slightest quiver on the mouth that was beautiful enough to have belonged to a Greek goddess. " Tears in your eyes," repeated the oountess. " Now, why is that, I wonder ? Ton have a mother of your own, I think I have heard you say ?" " I have a mother whom I love very much," says Ailie ; and there oomes to her a vision of the languid, helpless, fine-lady mother, who has made suoh a hopeless mess of her life. Lady Waldrove said no more, but she thought often why it was that her young companion's eyes had grown dim with tears. Lord Waldrove was not long in learning to appreciate Ailie'sgood qualities. "A beautiful faoe is the least of her charms," he said one day to the countess. "We have patrioian daughters — high-bred, elegant women — but we have no such affectionate child as this." He liked her very much. " Will you read the leading artiole to me ?" he would ask. "My eyes are not what they have been." And he would yield himself to the delight of listening to one of the sweetest and most musioal voices ever heard ; indeed, it was a strain of finest music to him. Ho would say to himself that no bird singing in the happy freedom of its woodland horne — no queen of song, trained by the great masters of the art — oould eclipse, or even compare, with this girl, who was quite unknown to fame. The sweet, soft music would gradually overcome him, and his eyes would close. Thsn Ailie would lay down the paper and look eagerly into his faoe, watohing to see if there was any resemblenoe between it and the handsome face of the husband who did not love her, yet had married her to save her from blame.