Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2719, 14 December 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist.

[ALL KIGIITS KESI'KYED.] Love's Labour Won: AN EVENTFUL STORY.

BY JAMES GRANT. Author of " Tlie Romance of War," "The Black " Watch," "Jf'airer than a Fairy," &c., fr.c.

CHAPTER LXIII.-IN Piccadilly. It was early in the second month of the London season. The afternoon was beautiful : but, as usual in London, there came no breeze to replace the heat of the breathless midday; yet the Park and the Row were crowded. All the world of fashion, wealth and idleness was there, riding, driving, sauntering about, or occupying the long lines of seats near Hyde Park corner. At the lofty door of Mrs Chillington's residence in Piccadilly a handsome and well-appointed open carriage was standing, as Lonsdale drew near, on the opposite side of the way, by the pavement that borders the northern side of the Green Park. He perceived in an instant that its occupants were Melanie, her friend Amy Musgrave, and Lord D'Oyley, evidently bent for the Row ; and the carriage, he also saw, was not that of Mrs Chillington, with its pretentious coatsarmorial, but was Melanie's, for on the panels was a widow's lozenge, small and modest, charged with the Braybrooke arms, and the liveries were yellow and black. The two seemed in excellent spirits, and the carriage bowled away west, towards Apsley House.

That Amy should seem joyous and full of vivacity with "town," and all the happiness and change it brought her, was natural. A lively girl, she was always ready for anything ; so why not for a "bit of with this " old fossil, who was weak on Melanie—or was it on Mrs Chillington V Amy cared little if it were so. Melanie's smiles and good spirits jarred upon Lonsdale; but she had happiness in one great measure now. In charge of old Bethia Barlow, at the Dower House, Reggie was well cared for, thanks to her own sacrifice, and Dick's aspirations after Sandhurst would soon be crowned with succcss. They were all independent of Uncle Grimshaw, whose hopes of the flesh-pots of Kavensbourne Hall had faded away, and he could only growl and glare at his frugal meals, while he increased his allowance of cheap port aud brandy and water.

The Viscount was now partially bald; but his hair, whether a triumph of art or nature, was still a rich dark brown, while his burly moustachios were of the same hue, but carefully waxed out at the tips. He was well-preserved, well-padded, and splendidly made up by his tailor, and was intensely vain of having his name coupled with that of Melanie, who was totally ignorant of his real character. That those two country girls should be in such " shady " society as that of his lordship, Lonsdale never doubted to be the result of Mrs Cliillingtori's influence or plans, and their ignorance of the infamous world of London ; and the rough gossip of Captain Bilke and others at the club came painfully to his memory as he crossed the street and handed two cards to a tall, powdered valet—a tall, powdered, overfed and insouciant lout—who was lounging against a pillar and looked down contemptuously on the world at large. "Mrs Chillington was—he believed —at 'ome; but Lady Braybrook was houtso the visitor was ushered in.

In the elegant double drawingroom of the Piccadilly Mansion —a species of apartment to which Lonsdale, for long past, had been a stranger —he glanced about him for some traces of Melanie's presence, nor were they wanting. There was a water-colour sketch of a scene on the Thames —how ■well he knew the features of that locality! The willows and the elms drooping over the shining water whereon the great white lilies floated—the place where they had so often met and last parted, with all its associations. On the piano lay scattered several pieces of music, some by Chopin, and among others, " The Waltz of the King's Dragoon Guards," all inscribed to Lady Braybrooke, with " the kindest wishes of Lord D'Oyley ; " so "this kind of thing" had been going on for some time past. Half-cut novels and serials lay about; they were not much in the peer's line; but a cabinet photo of the latter, in a heavily-frogged coat, with all his medals and orders displayed, occupied a place of honour on a side table, on a pretty little gilded easel, which, however, might have been Mrs Chillington's arrangement. Yet Lonsdale eyed it darkly as if it had beou a Dacoit by tho Rangoon river.

Near it, in a Dresden China vase, was a bouquet of small rod roses. Lonsdale remembered that just such a rose as one of them was in D'Oyley's button-hole as lie drove off| and though it might have been the gift of Mrs Chillington. " trifles light as air" haunted the lover's mind, and were rather in the ascendant just then. It chanced that a little before this time, for support of the Ministry or some partioular members thereof, on the retirement of that incapable body, a huge batch of " creations" had, as usual, taken place; and among the latter now figured Sir Plantagenet de Pi:gwash, Knt., of Stokencross—for " his eminent services to the State in boiling up soap in unusual quantities, we presume. The blushing honours of the old soopboiler of Battersea had filled Mrs Chillington with a general contempt for all bearers of knighthood that was not hereditary. ' Pooh ?" she had said ; '• what are baronets now ?" Thus she aimed at higher game for Melanie. With Londsdale's cards in her lurid, she now lingered for a moment at the rich Indian portiere which hung before the inner draw-ing-room door, and while unseen by him, a very cloudy and hostile expression indeed hovered on lisr certainly fine old face. She half crushed the cards in her angry little hand, as she felt herself positively ill-used by Fate.

lt was too bad to think that after all, after deeming him safely dead and buried, or eaten—she cared little which—by the Burmese, he should return thus, looking as well as ever, to mar, perhaps, her second ambitious plans and hopes of being aunt to a peeress ; and so, in her heart, she hated poor Lonsdale with a most unholy bitterness. ! Yet nothing could equal the sweetness and brightness of her smile as she came tripping forward and said, with both her hands held out: " Welcome, Captain Lonsdale— or are you Major now I—l do hope so, To see a man fresh from the seat of war—especially one who has seen and escaped so much as you— is indeed an excitement in thsee prosaic days of ours." He bowed over the old hypocrite's hand, and took a gilt chair she indicated. " The story of your being killed was most painfully tragic," she resumed ; " but untrue, thank Heaven ! Nothing tragic happens now a days, eh, Captain—er—Lonsdale f' How difficult it was, from her manner, to imagine what was really passing in her snaky old heart, while Mademoiselle Clochette arranged her foot-stool and the tripod table, on which were placed her fan, scent, bottles, her knitting, and pet cur in a mother-of-pearl basket, and then withdrew to plunge into her raciest Zola. Indeed, 110 one who looked 011 Mrs Ciiillingtou and saw the suave expression on her liueless old face, her features delicate and regular, her sweet company smile and care-

ful costume, with the graceful cap of richest lace upon the coils of her snow-white hair, could have deemed what a hard-hearted woman of the world she was.

" And Lady Braybrooke is well, I hope V' said Lonsdale, as if in a casual way. "Oh yes, thanks, wonderfully so, under the circumstances. Ah, hers was a tragic story, if you choose ; poor dear Sir Brisco ! You have heard all about his sudden death, of course—a sad fate—a dreadful shock to us all, dear Captain Lonsdale. But I hope—nay, I am certain/' she added, witii a waggish little smile, " that my niece has got over it all now. And the ruby mines, Captain Lonsdale," she resumed, after a little pause, " 1 long so much to hear about them. Don't you wish that you had gone with the troops to the ruby mines T' "They were scarccly thought of when we were before Ava," replied Lonsdale, coldly, for her manner irritated him. " Ah, indeed ! Then you have been in town for some time V " A little over a fortnight since I landed at Portsmouth." " At your club T' "Yes." " Good," thought Mrs Chillington. "As the club his cards show is only a few doors off, a fortnight without making any move to see Melanie infers that a change has come over the spirit of his dream." And this thought gave her such intense satisfaction that her smile became radiant indeed. " I thought Lady Braybrooke looked pale," said he, after an awkward pause. "You have seen her ?" "Only driving along the street a few minutes ago." "All," said Mrs Chillington, greatly relieved, " London in summer is scarcely the place for rosecoloured complexions, I fear. It is becoming a dreadfully overgrown place, and though delightful, who is it that says, if we take out of London everyone and everything that is not English little will be left behind ? " You will, I trust, give Lady Braybrooke my kindest regards— my best wishes," said Lonsdale, oblivious of her remark, and with a break in his voice. Mrs Chillington was not slow to remark the latter. She made an impatient gesture, with a small and still very beautiful hand, and thought it would be as well to crush out any'" nonsense" that might yet bo lingering in the memory of this tiresome lover. " Your best wishes, as an old friend, dear Captain Lonsdale—-you have heard then. I shall of course.' said she, and added in a confidential manner, and with her sweetest smile, " Her peculiar position, her strange story, and her great attractions have made her an object of deep interest to many in lier new , circle ; but perhaps to none more than her present escort, Lord D'Oyley, who is of a very romantic nature." " Romantic !'' thought Lonsdale, | almost laughing in the old woman's face, while thinking her remark to him was in execrable taste—knowing all she did and all she so cruelly ignored—the present and the past relations of himself and Melanie. Certainly he had never spoken with lier on that subject ; thus, perhaps, with all her aplomb and perfect selfpossession, she felt that she was at liberty to talk of Lord D'Oyley with an ease that was cuttingly cruel and suavely malicious.

Irritated almost beyond good breeding by the style she adopted, and the tenor of such hints as she would have said to no other man, he felt that he had a right to say something in the way of protestation ; and she knew and felt it, too, while inclined to ignore any right or interest lie had in Molanie or her movements. Thus he began, with a smile and manner as suave as her own. " But are you aware, Mrs Chilling ton, that Lord D'Oyley is a man whose antecedents " " Oh, I know all you would urge, as a friend, Captain Lonsdale," said slie, with smiling precipitation ; " but, believe rne, bis lordship is better than many other men, and certainly, I believe, not worse. Every woman, of tbe world knows what your sex is generally." Lonsdale's face wore an expression of dissent and disgust mingled ; but be held his peace. Could it bo possible tliat from underhand influences sncli as these, Melanie. so pure, so good and simple, could tolerate a man with a reputation so unsavoury as that of D'Oyley, whose name was a by-word from the Curragh to Cliowringher. Of course she could know nothing about it, or if she did, there must have come to pass mysteriously some lamentable deterioration on her part, and in her views of men ! rearing to hear more, and loathing what ho had heard, Lonsdale, after a muuvais quart (Fheurc, roso to retire, and his hostess rose too, a hint that their interview was over, as sho rang tho bell. " To-morrow is the day uf tho great Botanic Fete," said she, bowing and smiliug; "you will bo there, of course, Captain Lonsdale —all tho world will be ; oh—good morning." " Good morning." "Heaven aid mo to keep these two fools apart for ever ! " was tho old lady's prayer. Sho said nothing of Lonsdale's call to Melanio when the latter returned from tho Row, and took care to destroy hi -

cards; thus, as clays liad already passed, Melanie began to feel more than ever justly piqued.

Lonsdale gladly quitted the oppressive atmosphere of Mrs Chillington's residence, and found himself once more alone in the sunshine of Piccadilly; but he knew that Melanie was alone with " that man," and in the face of Society, and looking the while so provokingly bright, smiling and happy. Was this the result of her " new circle." as her aunt called it—the new life she was leading 1 It might be so. "If this abominable old woman is to bo our evil genius again !" thought Lonsdale, as he walked sharply onward • "it cannot be Melanio's fault, or, if so, Pope was right:—■ 4 Woman'* at a contradiction *till !' Well, well, if so, hey for India again ! Mother Chillington spoke of the Botanic Fete, casually. No doubt she will be there, and Melanie too. So shall L V

Witli all her mock effusiveness, the aunt had evinced no desire that he should repeat his visit : but Lonsdale cared little for that omission. Ho knew well the dame of old. CHAPTER LXVL—The Botanic Fete. " Hawksley, a hansom cab ?" cried Lonsdale. " All right, sir," replied Dick's friend, the sergeant, who had now quitted the R.W.F.L.W.O. Regiment to become a commissionaire at the club ; while we may add that Corporal Albert Edward Gutters had, for certain malpractices of his own, been relegated for a considerable term to the breezy locality of Dartmoor.

In a very mingled mood, or in many moods rather, Lonsdale was conveyed swiftly up Bond-street, through the network of narrow and shabby thoroughfares that lie beyond it, to the outer circle ; and tlience to the Royal Botanic Gardens, where a scene was presented of which old Marnock, the designer of them, could not have dreamed. The season was summer. The soft warm air was apt to till one with dreams and sensations of pleasure, when a blue sunny ha/.e partly obscured the distant landscape, the haze of heat and moisture, though violets yet lingered in the shadier woods ; but the time we refer to now was night. June is pre-eminently the month for those privileged follies called flower shows, when the woods begin to wear a uniform tint of greenery. But the /lower shows, in all their beauty, were secondary to the wonderful effects of the fete at the Botanic, which presented a coup d' ( cil unthought of, we say, by the worthy Robert Marnock—a North Tweeder wc presume—-as the midnight junkettings, amid myriads of Chinese lauterns, Roman candles and coloured lires, in his old nurserygrounds : while the beauty and fashion of London gathered there in thousands, to promenade, to flirt, and listen to the music discoursed by the bands of the Blues and Life Guards ; and smiles and loveliness, and much real or incipient lovemaking abounds on every side ; the latter more than all in the quiet nooks and shady plaees offered and afforded by the mode in which these gardens are laid out. So skilfully had this been done that tho spectator, standing on any spot or eminence, cannot possibly guess how far the grounds extend, for tho ring of land has become to the eye an epitome of a boundless and varied expanse of open scenery. If in the clear sunshine of day this is tho optical result, how much more must it seem so by night, when, added to all the skilful effects of artificial lights and coloured fires, the beautiful conservatory becomes a temple of frosted silver, aud the lone rhododendron marquees turn to flowering valleys that seem the abode of fairies.

At the sudden explosion of a maroon or signal light at ten p.m., the grounds became flooded with coloured fires that brought out the foliage and peculiarities of plants and trees, from the lowly weeping willow to the tall and stately elm, while the bands of the Household Troops, by the National Anthem, proclaimed that Royalty had come. But it was neither to see the latter nor watch scenic effects that Montague Lonsdale sought that brilliant fete. He came to seek but one sweet face that had haunted him for months and months in places far away beyond the sea; and among all the thousands of lovely girls around liim he saw nothing of it yet. The utter solitude of being alone in a vast and changing crowd, composed of groups and parties of mutual friends, began to oppress him after a time, and he was on the point of turning irresolutely away, when a familiar voice said,

'■ You here, Captain Lonsdale 1 Montague—what a delightful surprise". Then he suddenly found himself confronted by the bright, smiling face, and the languishing hazel eyes of the coquettish Mrs Musgrave, nee Hilda TYeniayne, who was promenading with Mrs Chillington and a gentleman. The latter bowed and moved on a little way, when she at once joined Lonsdale. " This is fortunate," she resumed, beaming upon him ; " lam so longing for special Indian news. Did you sec papa before you left for Europe Are you direct from Calcutta V

" No—Burmah." I "Of course 1 You must tell mo all about the war—-it seems an age since we parted at Suez !" continued the effusive Hilda, as she took Lonsdale's arm, and looked up into his eyes with the old sntile, which he knew so well, and many others, but il; was a light and winning one, nevertheless. " And now tell me, you have seen Melanie—Lady Braybroke, of course ?" "Is she here ?" he asked, evasively. "Oh yes—every one is. She is along with her new (perhaps I should say old) admirer. Your old flame—you laugh at the idea now, no doubt—is one of the sensations of the season ; but she will not long ornament the rooms of the politic aunt, if rumours prove true."

To all this prattle Lonsdale made no reply. He knew Hilda of old, and how capable she was of exercising all her powers of mischief and fascination, married though she was. Thinking of this, he inquired for Mr Musgrave, fearing he was forgotten, " in the way of the half-conscienced world in which they lived.' " Oh, he is well, thanks, and at Brighton, fortunately," she added, in a low voice, with one of her old oeillades shot from her white-lidded eyes; " but the other Horace's little Amy is here, I believe; and —do you know—she is almost amazingly in love with her own husband; though it is said that people now-a-days never do marry the right people. What funny old air is that which the Coldstream band is playing ?" she asked, after a pause. 1 " Love not."' "Ah, very sensible title, too." " How V " Because ' the thing you love may change.' Does not the song say so ?" replied Hilda, with one of her silly but certainly silvery laughs; while Lonsdale gave a species of start, as he saw, among many others, the familiar face he had been in search of close by where he and his companion stood, half hidden under the long branches of a drooping willow, near the artificial lake in which the coloured lights were brilliantly reflected.

It was the face of Melanie —that soft, yet striking face ; so full of sweetness and power, tenderness and strength, strangely blended—the face lie had last seen blistered with tears at their parting place —last, but onc6, morn yesterday she was with the same man who was in attendance on her now. As she passed slowly with D'Oyley, he heard her voice. It was only uttering some commonplaces ; but how it thrilled through him as it fell on his sensitive ear. " There are women," says a writer, "to whom one can shut one's eyes and listen for tho sheer pleasure of sound, half inclined to laugh with the pleasure, without even heeding what they may say, as one listens to the conversation of a pious and sympathetic voice." Such a voice was Melanie's, and Lonsdale had ever felt it to bo so ; but never so much as when, after a lapse of anxious and harassing time, he heard it uttering words that were of little import, and were not addressed to him.

She did not see him ; but D'Oyley, ignorant of any part or tie between them, did, and gave him a friendly and self-satisfied nod as he and she moved on with the passing crowd of promenaders. Bob D'Oyley, as he was always called in the K.D. Guards, had been handsome when young; but dissipation, good living, and hard drinking had sorely marred all that. There was a good deal of self-con-sciousness, and perfect aplomb, of course, about him; and every detail of his dress, from his white cravat and pin to his tight-glazed boots, was perfect, a study. His features were small, cut, but heavy now ; his aquiline noso had become thick and crimson tinted; his eyes watery and leery, while his hearing was jaunty, and his whole air that of a man who was resolved to be still young, and who, though well-saved in some respects, had lived a faster life than was good for him. "You know Lord D'Oyley?" said Hilda, with a little surprise. "Yes, met him in Calcutta," replied Lonsdale, curtly. " Ho is so delightfully wicked ! " laughed Hilda, who took in the whole situation and enjoyed it exceedingly; "you were watching them, I saw." Lonsdale made no reply to this unpleasant speech. '' Don't they seem a handsome couple ? " asked the merciless Hilda, who neither forgot nor forgave Lonsdale's indifference to herself, particularly amid the many opportunities afforded in the Pagoda to Suez. '■Only one is very much older than the other," said he, coldly. "Ah, but Melauie Talbot is an odd girl—she always rather effected elderlioß. But Mrs Chillington says she will make him a most suitable and charming wife." " Wife ! lias he proposed—arc they engaged 1" "Don't you know? Oh, Montague, of course not, you have been so long in Burmah and have not heard what her own circle says ; but you will soon know all about it. Her allowance is to be cut down to less than a half if she marries again, I hear. The selfishness of the upper ten, even in dying, is really disgusting, Montague; is it not 1 If a baronet is one of that upper circle, which I don't think

Mrs Chillington admits, now that they have a higher rank in view." And in this more than vague way she continued, with her sweetest smiles, to " stick pins and needles" in her unhappy listener. " I would rather see Melanie dead than the wife of such a man," was the latter's thought. " Hilda—Mrs Musgrave," said he, with an irritation lie cared not to conceal now, " are you aware of all that your words infer to me?" Under his angry eye her smile faded out, "I only know,"she replied faltcringly, " that Lady Braybrooke's name is mixed up freely with that of Lord D'Oyley, under the influence, guidance, what you will, of her aunt, Mrs Chillington." " I can easily believe that." " I know he has come down to tho weakness of five o'clock teas at Piccadilly, and he seems to be able to command her society at will." Hilda was piqued, indignant now, j at being taken to task. " And I thought her perfect," muttered Lonsdale to himself ; yet Hilda heard, or guessed, the remark. •' Ah, this comes of raising so much upon ideality," she said. "In love we picture the object as perfection, yet have often in the end only the prosaic reality—disappointment and deception. Is it not so ?" she added, while half-perceptibly pressing his arm with softly-gloved hand. Once again Melanie and D'Oyley passed him in the same place unnoticed—in the same gay promenade—and it seemed horrible, unnatural. One fact seemed unpleasantly plain. She had married Sir Brisco, I and seemed ready enough, if all he heard was true to marry again ; and all this seemed, for the time being, to bear but one interpretation to him—that she was doubly false. He might have followed, intercepted, and spoken with her, ending perhaps that tete-a tete promenade ; but Lonsdale's pride was alike roused and crushed, if we may 1 use a paradox. He felt choking. He resolved to quit the fete and return to his rooms; and he did so, ignorant that the Viscount had casually mentioned his name to Melanie as that of a brother officer, whom he had last met in Calcutta, and had just seen now. " Seen V thought the girl : "so we have actually been in the same place—almost together—yet never met! Oh, Amy, is it not horrid!" she exclaimed to her friend ; " why was I not told sooner 1 " " He was too engaged under the willows with Hilda Trcmayne— Musgrave, I mean," said Mrs Chillington, maliciously if not coarsely, and she left nothing unsaid or unhinted to make it appear that the laggard Lonsdale and tho coquettish Hilda were engaged in one of those petty affaires da cwur, for which the latter had become so celebrated, as one of the most dangerous of married llirts, as she had also bloomed into the dubious honour of being a fashionable beauty; and Lonsdale could not know that Melanie, after quitting the Botanic Fete, had also gone home to Piccadilly, disappointed, disgusted, and grieved to the soul.

" Was it for all this sort of thing," thought Lonsdale, that every hour I was away from her, and thousands of miles of ocean rolled betwen us, I seemed to be eating my heart out, and she was my first thought in the morning, and the last at night ? That I had nerve given me to endure and face all I faced and endured among those d dDacoits and savage Burmese '!■ That 1 was spared to outlive the deadly fever of the Rangoon River, and yet couie home, from the land where so many better fellows have left their bones? Surely not—surely not!"' J3y his melodramatic thoughts and half-uttered speeches failed to soothe him. His heart was burning with great bitterness and anger. In this mood, resolving at once to start for the Continent to spend the time, till he could, via Brindisi and Suez, return to his Regiment, he wrote that night to the Adjutant-General for the usual leave to travel abroad, that he might put the " silver streak" between himself and his unforeseen troubles. As he and that blase dragoon, Val Bilke, had a little supper of devilled plovers' eggs and slightly iced champagne, the latter, who saw he was cut up about something, said, quoting some book, though he read little, certainly : * " Don't be down on your luck about a bill or a girl, if possible. I would advise you avoid misanthropy. Amuse yourself with your fellow creatures, make friends of them, make use of them, make all you can out of them, but don't always impute bad motives to them, Our motives are like ourselves, a mixture. That is my advice to you, old fellow." (To be concluded next week.J