ii

LIBRARY of the UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

on deposit from Massey College

cJUl'K.

POPULAR NOVELS.

By May Agnes rieming.

I.— GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE. II.— A WONDERFUL WOMAN. III.— A TERRIBLE SECRET. {In Press.)

"Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing; more and more popu- lar every day. Ttieir delineations of character, life-like conversations, flashes of wit, con- stantly varying scenes, and deeply in- teresting plots, combine to place their author in the very first rank of Modern Novelists."

All published uniform with this volume. Price each, and sent free by mail, on receipt of price, by

G. W. CARIiETON & CO., New York.

A

Wonderful Woman.

BY

MAY AGNES FLEMING,

AUTHOR OF

"Guy Earlscourt's Wife," "A Terrible Secret," Etc., Etc., Etc.,

NEW YORK: G. fF. Carleton ^ Co., Publishers.

LONDON: S. LOW SON & CO. M.DCCC.LXX1II.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by

G. W. CARLETON & CO., Ill the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Stereotyped at the women's printing nousB, 56, 58 and 60 Park Street, New York.

^0 Jrunb,

^ARA JiAMILTON E M O N ,

In Memory of the Pleasamt Winter Afternoons Spent Together WHILST IT WAS BEING WRITTEN, this book is affectionately PEDICATED.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGB

I. — Katherine ^ 9

II. — Mrs. Vavasor. ... 22

III. — Among the Roses 36

IV. — Love under the Lamps 43

V. — Before Breakfast 47

VI. — Asking in Marriage 56

VII. — The Second Warning 65

VIIT.— A Letter from New Orleans 81

IX.— The Third Warning 91

X. — Before the Wedding 104

XI.— The Wedding Night 123

XII.— The Telling of the Secret 136

XIII. — Mrs. Vavasor's Story 144

XIV. — Day of Wrath ! Day of Grief! 154

XV.—'' Dead or Alive " 166

XVI.— Before Midnight 179

XVIL— "Resurgam" 192

PART II.

I. — La Reine Blanche 207

11. — Miss Herncastle , 221

III. — Sir Arthur Tregenna 235

IV. — At Scars wood 240

• V. — " Once more the Gate behind me falls" 253

VI. — Something very strange 262

VII. — '* There is many a Slip," etc 272

8

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAG^

VIII.— Redmond O'Donnell 282

IX. — Six Years before 292

X. — An Irisli Idyl 300

XI. — Its English Reading 314

XII.—" The Battle of Fontenoy " 326

XIII. — The Mystery of Bracken Hollow 337

XIV. — Under the King's Oak 353

XV.— " As in a Glass, darkly " , . . 362

XVI. — The Story of the Ivory Miniature 377

XVII.— The Scar on the Temple 391

XVIII.— Rose O'Donnell's Secret 403

XIX.— Knight and Page 416

XX.— A Dark Night's Work 432

XXI.— The Length of his Tether 437

XXII. — After the Masquerade 445

XXIII. — «* Six Years too Late" 457

XXIV. — A Chapter of Wonders. 474

XXV.— The Last Link 487

XXVI.— Hunted Down 497

XXVIL— That Night 509

XXVIII.—" Not I, but Fate, hath dealt this Blow" 524

XXIX.— How it ended 533

/

/.

A WONDERFUL WOMAN.

CHAPTER 1.

KATHERINE.

HE large, loud-voiced clock over the stables struck nine, and announced to all whom it might concern that the breakfast-hour of Sir John Dangerfield, Bar- onet, of ScarsAVOod Park, Sussex, had arrived. Scarswood Park ! A glorious old place, lying deep down in the green heart of a Sussex v/oodland ! A glorious old place, where the rare red deer disported amid the emerald glades'j and dusky, leafy aisles of tlie oak and beech ! A vast and stately park, sloping down to the tawny sea-shore, and a vast and stately mansion, its echoing turrets rising high above the tower- ing oak and copper beeches, and its eastern windows sparkling in the red sunhght of this bright September morning like sparks of fire !

Within and without the great house was very still ; a break- fast-table, sparkling with crystal, rich with rough old silver, gay with tall glasses of September roses, and snowy with napery, stood ready and waiting in a spacious room.

Through the open windows the sweet, hay-scented morning wind blew, and far off you caught in the summer stillness the soft wash of the waves on the yellow sands, more than a mile away.

At tlie last chime of the loud-voiced clock the door opened, and Sir John Dangerfield came into the room. A silver-toned French time-piece on the marble mantel began a tinkling waltz, preparatory to repeating the hour ; the birds, in their gilded cages, sang bUthely their welcome ; but the baronet glanced impatiently around in search of something or somebody else.

"Not down yet," he said. "That's not like Katherine ! 1*

lO

KATHERINE.

She is not used to dissipation, and I suppose last night's concert has made her lazy this morning. Thomas," — to a footman, appearing like a tall plush specter in the doorway — "tell Miss Katherine's maid that I am waiting breakfast. Has the Ti7nes arrived ? "

" Yes, Sir John."

Thomas presented the folded Thunderer to his master, and vanished.

Sir John Dangerfield flung himself into an easy-chair, that groaned in every joint with his three hundred pounds of man- hood, and opened the damp London paper, perfuming the room with the smell of printers' ink. He was a tall, portly gentle- man, this Sussex baronet, with a handsome, florid face, and an upright, mihtary bearing. For three months only had he reigned master of Scarswood ; three lives had stood between him and the baronetcy, and, a colonel in the Honorable East India Com- pany's Service, he had, four months before this sunny September morning, about as much idea of ever lording it in Scarswood Hall as he had of ever sitting on the throne of England. Sud- denly, and as if a fatality v/ere at work, these three lives had been removed, and Colonel Dangerfield, of her Majesty's H. E. r. C. S., became Sir John Dangerfield, of Scarswood Park, and, with his daughter and heiress, came back to England for the first time in fifteen years. He was a widower, and Miss Dangerfield, his daughter, his heiress, his idol, had been born in England, and was two years old when her father had first gone out to India, and grown up to be nearly seventeen before she ever set foot upon English soil again.

He unfolded his paper, but he did not read. The loud sing- ing of the birds, the dazzling brightness of the summer morning, disturbed him, perhaps. It dropped on liis knee, and his eyes turned on the emerald lawn, on the tangled depths of fern and bracken, on the dark expanse of waving woodland — terrace, lawn, and coppice, all bathed in the glorious golden light.

" A fair prospect," he said — " a princely inheritance ! And to think that four months ago I was grilling alive in Calcutta, with no earthly hope but that of retiring one day from the Company's service v/ith chronic liver complaint, and a colonel's half-pay. For myself it would not matter : but for Katherine ! " His face changed suddenly. If I only could be certain she were dead ! If I only could be certain my secret was buried with her ! It never mattered before — we were out of her reach ; but since my accession to Scarswood, since my return to Eng-

KATHERINE.

II

land, that wretch's memory has haunted me Uke an evil spirit. Only last night I dreamed of her — dreamed I saw her evil black eyes gleaming upon me in this room. Paugh ! "

A shudder of disgust — a look of abhorrence ; then he lifted the paper again — and again he dropped it.

A door far above closed Avith a bang ; a fresh young voice caroling like a' bird ; the quick patter, patter, patter, of little female feet downstairs — the last three cleared with a jump ; and then the door of the breakfast-room was flung wide, and the heiress of Scarswood Park flashed into the room.

Flashed — I use the word advisedly — flashed in like a burst of sunshine — like a hillside breeze — and stood before her father in fluttering white muslin, pink ribbons waving, brown hair fly- ing, gray eyes dancing, and her fresh, sv/eet voice ringing through the room.

Good morning, papa ! " Miss Dangerfield cried, panting, and out of breath. " Is breakfast ready ? I'm perfectly fam- ished, and would have starved to death in bed if Ninon had not come and routed me out. And how \^ your appetite, papa? — and I hope I have not kept you waiting too long — and, oh ! wasn't the concert perfectly de — licious last night !"

And then two white arms went impetuously around the neck of the Indian officer, and two fresh rosy lips gave him a kiss that exploded like a torpedo.

Sir John disengaged himself laughingly from this impulsive em- brace.

Gently, gently, Kathie ! don't quite garrote me with those long arms of yours. Stand off and let me see how you look after last night's dissipa^tion. A perfect wreck, I'll be bound."

"Dissipation ! A perfect wreck ! Oh, papa, it was heavenly — ^just that ! I shall never forget that tenor singer — who sang Fortunio's song, you know, papa, with his splendid eyes, and the face of a Greek god. And his name — Gaston Dantree — beautiful as himself. Don't talk to me of dissipation and a wreck ; I mean to go again to-night, and to-morrow night, and all the to-morrow nights while those concerts are given by the Talbots."

She stood before him, gesticulating rapidly, with the golden morning light pouring full on her face.

And Miss Katherine Dangerfield, heiress and heroine, was beautiful, you say, as an heiress and heroine should be ? I am sorry to say No. The young ladies of the neighborhood, other- wise English misses with pink and white complexions, and per-

12

KA THERINE.

feet manners; would have told you Katherine Dangerfield was lanky and overgrown, had sunburnt hands and complexion, too small a nose, and too large a mouth and chin. Would have told you her forehead was low, her complexion sallow, and her manners perfectly horrible. She was boisterous, she was a hoyden, she said whatever came uppermost in her mind, was utterly spoiled by a doting father, and had the temper of a very termagant. They would probably have forgotten to men- tion— those young ladies — that the sallow complexion was lit by a pair of loveliest dark-gray eyes, that the tall, supple figure of the girl of seventeen gave rare promise of statelv and majes- tic womanhood, that the ever-ready smile, which parted the rosy lips, displayed a set of teeth flashing like jewels. '

They would have forgotten to mention the wonderful fall of bright brown hair, dark in the shadow, red gold in the light, and the sweet freshness of a voice so silver-toned that all who heard it paused to hsten. Not handsome — you would never have called her that — but bright, bright and blithe as the summer sunshine itself

''Well, papa, and how do I look? Not very much uglier than usual, I hope. Oh, papa," the girl cried, suddenly, clasp- ing her hands, "why, why, why wasn't I born handsome ? I adore beauty — pictures, music, sunshine, flowers, and — hand- some men ! I hate women — I hate girls — vain, malipious mag- pies— spiteful and spiritless. Why don't I look like you, papa, — you handsome, splendid old soldier ! Wliy was I ^orn with a yellow skin, an angular figure, and more arms and hands than I ever know what to do with ? Whom do I take after to be so ugly, papa? Not after you, that's clear. Then it must be after mamma?"

Miss Dangerfield had danced over to the great mirror on the mantel, and stood gazing discontentedly at her own image in the glass.

Sir John, in his sunny window-seat, had been listening with an indulgent smile, folding his crackling paper. The crackling suddenly ceased at his daughter's last words, the smile died wholly away.

" Say, papa," Katherine cried, impatiently, " do I look like mamma ? I never saw her, you know, nor her picture, nor any- thing. If I do, you couldn't have been over and above partic- ular during the period of love's young dream. Do I inherit my tawny complexion, and square chin, and snub nose, and low forehead from the late Mrs. Colonel Dangerfield ? "

KATHERINE.

13

Her father laid down his paper, and arose.

" Come to breakfast, Katherine," he said, more coldly than he had ever spoken to her before in his life, and be kind enough to drop the subject. Your flippant manner of speaking of — of your mother, is positively shocking. I am afraid it is true what they say of you here — Indian nurses — the lack of a mother's care — and my indulgence, have spoiled you."

" Very well, papa ; then the fault's yours and you shouldn't blame me. The what's-his-name cannot change his spots, and I can't change my irreverent nature any more than I can my looks. But really and truly, papa, do I look like mamma ? "

" No — yes — I don't know." No — yes — I don't know. Intelligible, perhaps, but not at all satisfactory. When /am left a widow, I hope I shall remem- ber how the dear departed partner of my existence looked, even after thirteen years. Have you no portrait of mamma, then ? "

" No ! In Heaven's name, Katherine, eat your breakfast, and let me eat mine ! "

" I am eating my breakfast," responded his daughter, testily.

I suppose a person can talk and eat at the same time. Haven't you rather got a pain in your temper this morning, papa ? And I must say I think it a little too hard that I can't be told v/ho I take my ugliness from. I'm much obliged to them for the inheritance, whoever they were."

Sir John again laid down his paper with a resigned sigh. He knew of old how useless it was to try and stem the torrent of his daughter's eloquence.

" What nonsense you talk, my dear," he said. " You're not ugly — you don't want your father to pay you compliments, do you, Katherine ? I thought your cousin Peter paid you enough, last night to satisfy even your vanity for a month."

Katherine shook her head impatiently until all its red-brown tresses flashed again.

" Peter Dangerfield — wretched little bore ! Yes, lie paid me compliments, with his hideous little weasen face close to my ear until I told him for goodness sa,ke to hold his tongue, and not drive me frantic with his idiotic remarks ! Pie let me alone after that, and sulked ! I tell you what it is, papa — if some- thing is not done to prevent him, tha.t little grinning imbecile will be asking me to marry him one of these days — mark my woi ds ! "

" Very well — suppose he does ?" The baronet leaned back

14

/CATHERINE.

in his chair and raised his paper, nervously before his face. " Suppose he does, Kathie — what then ?"

"What then!" The young lady could but just repeat the words in her amaze and indignation. " What then ! Sir John Dangerheld — do you mean to insult me, 'sir ? Put down that paper this instant, and look the person you're talking to full in the face, and repeat ^ what tJien^ if you dare!"

" Well, Kathie," the baronet said, still hdgeting with his paper screen and not looking his excited litde commanding ofhcer in the face, " Peter's not handsome, I know, nor dashing, but he's a clever little fellow, and my nephew, and in love with you, -and will make you a much better husband, my dear, than a much better-looking man. Handsome men are always vain as peacocks, and so deeply in love with themselves that they never have room in their conceited hearts and empty heads to love any one else. Don't be romantic, my dear — you'll not find heroes anywhere nov/ except in Mudie's novels. Peter's a clever little fellow, as I said, and over head and ears in love with )^ou."

"A clever little fellow! A clever little fellow," repeated Miss Dangerfield, with intense concentrated scorn. "Papa," with dignity, " a few minutes ago you told me to change the subject. / make the same remark now. I wouldn't marry your clever little fellow not to save my own head from the gal- lows or his soul from perdition. Sir John, I consider myself doubly insulted this morning ! I don't wonder you sit there excruciating my nerves with that horrid rattling paper and ashamed to look me in the face. I think you have reason to be ashamed ! TeUing your only child and heiress she couldn't do better than throw herself away on a pitiful little country lawyer, only five feet high, and with the countenance of a rat. If it were that adorable Gaston Dan tree now. Oh, here's the post. Papa ! papa ! give me the key."

Miss Dangerfield forgetting in a second the late outrage offered her by her cruel parent seized the key, unlocked the bag, and plunged in after its contents.

" One — two — three — four ! two for me from India — one for you from ditto, in Major Trevanion's big slap-dash fist, and this — Why, papa, what lady correspondent can you have in Paris ? What an elegant Italian ha^nd ! what thick yellow perfumed paper, and what a sentimental seal and motto ! Blue wax and pensez a moi! Now, papa, who can this be from ? "

She threw the letter across the table. With her first words ^

KA THERINE.

15

the face of the Indian officer had changed — a hunted look of absolute terror had come into his face.

His hands tightened over the paper, his eyes fixed themselves upon the dainty missive his daughter held before them, his florid, healthful color faded — a dull grayish whiteness crept over his face from brow to chin.

" Papa ! " Katherine cried, you're sick, you're going to have a fit ! Don't tell me ! can't I see it ? Drink this — drink it this moment and come round ! "

She held a glass of water to his lips. He obeyed mechani- cally, and the color that had faded and fled, slowly crept back to his bearded, sun-browned face. "There !" said Miss Dan- gerfield, in a satisfied tone, "you have come round ! And now tell me, was it a fit, or was it the letter ? Tell me the truth, sir ; don't prevaricate ! "

" It was one of my old attacks, Kathie, nothing more. You ought to be used to them by this time. Nothing more, I give you my word. Go back to your breakfast, child," he said tes- tily, "and don't stand staring there in that uncomfortable way !"

" My opinion is, papa," responded Miss Dangerfield, with gravity, " that you're in a bad way and should turn your attention immediately from the roast beef of old England to water gruel and weak tea. A fine old English gentleman of your time of day, who has left his liver behind him in India, and who has a Sepoy bullet lodged for life in his left lung, and a strong ten- dency to apoplexy besides, ought to mind what he eats and drinks, and be on very friendly terms with the nearest clergy- men. Aren't you going to read that letter, papa, and tell me who the woman is who has the presumption to wTite to you without my knowledge ? Now where are you going ? " For Sir John had arisen hastily, his letters in his hand.

" To my study, Kathie. Finish your breakfast, darling, and don't mind me." He stooped down suddenly and kissed her, with almost passionate tenderness. " My darling ! my dar- ling ! " he said. " Heaven bless and keep you always, what- ever happens — whatever happens."

He repeated the last words with a sort of anguish in his voice, then turned and walked out of the breakfast parlor be- fore his very much amazed daughter could speak.

" Well ! " exclaimed Miss Dangerfield at last, " tliis does cap the universe, doesn't it?" This question being addressed to vacancy received no reply. " There's a mystery here, and I don't like mysteries out of sensation novels. I have no secrets

i6

KATHERINE.

from papa — what business has papa to have secrets from me ? "

She arose with an injured air, gave the bell a vicious pull, and walked in offended dignity back to her room. The broad, black, slippery oaken staircase went up in majestic sweeps to the regions above. Miss Dangerfield ascended it slowly and with a face of perplexed thought.

" It was never an attack — don't tell me — it was that nasty, vicious, spidery written little letter ! Now what woman wrote that letter, and what business had she to write it ? I shall insist upon papa giving me a full explanation at dinner-time. No woman in Paris or any other wicked city shall badger my pre- cious old soldier into an early grave. And meantime I shall have a gallop on Ilderim over the golden Sussex downs."

She entered her room singing the song the handsome tenor had sung at the concert the night before, the melody of whose silver voice, the dusky fire of whose eyes, the dark foreign beauty of whose face, had haunted her romantic seventeen-year- old mind ever since.

" Rispondia a chi t' implora ! Rispondia a cara a me ! "

How handsome he was, how handsome — how handsome ! If ever I marry, it shall be a man — a demi-god like that. Peter Dangerfield, indeed ! Nasty httle bore ! Still I would rather have him in love with me than have no one at all. I wonder if it is I, myself, he loves, or Scarswood Park, and the heiress of eight thousand a year. Ninon ! my green riding-habit, and tell them to fetch Ilderim around. And oh, Ninon, my child, tell that tiresome groom I ^(?;27 want him perambulating behind me, like an apoplectic shadow. Ilderim and I can take care of ourselves."

"But, mademoiselle — Seer John's orders — "

"Ninon Duclos, will you do as / order you? I won't have the groom — there ! I'm always shocking the resident gentry of this neighborhood, and I mean to go on shocking them. I feel as if I had a spy at my heels while that beef eating groom is there. Help me on with my habit and say no more about it."

Little Ninon knew a good deal better than to dispute Miss Dangerfield's mood when Miss Dangerfield spoke in that tone. Miss Dangerfield had boxed her ears before now, and was very capable of doing it again. Perhaps, on the whole, smart little Ninon rather liked having her cars impetuously slapped by her

KATHERINE. 1 7

impulsive young mistress, and the tingling curecTj as it invariably was, by the present of Miss Katherine's second-best silk dress half-an-hour after.

Looking very briglit and dashing, if not in the least pretty, the heiress of Scarswood Park ran lightly down the slippery stairs, out of the vast vaulted hall, where statues gleamed and suits of mail worn by dead-and-gone Dangerfields centuries be- fore, flashed back the sunshine. Her dark -green riding-habit fitted her, as Katherine herself said, as though she had been born in it," — the waving brightness of her brown hair was twined in thick plaits aronnd her graceful head, and her pork- pie hat with its scarlet bird's-wing perched ever so little on one side, set off the piquante face beneath — a thoroughly English face, despite the golden hue of a tropic sun.

"I beg your parding, miss," Roberts, the butler, said, step- ping forward. He was a dignified, elderly, clerical-looking per- sonage, like an archbishop in silk stockings and knee breeches ; " but if you will hexcuse the remark, miss, I thinks as ow we're going to 'ave a storm. There's that closeness in the hair, miss, and that happearance in the hatmosphere that halways per- ceeds a thunder-storm ; if I might make so bold miss, I should hadvise you not to stay hout more than a hour, at the furthest."

" Good gracious, Roberts, what nonsense ! There's not a cloud in the sky. Oh, well ! that one ! why it's no bigger than my hand. I'm going to Castleford, and I don't believe in your thunder-storms."

" You'll catch it, though, for all that, my young lady," solilo- quized Mr. Roberts, looking after the slight girlish figure as it dashed out of sight down the elm avenue mounted on a spirited black horse. " Great storms 'ave come from clouds no bigger than a man's 'and before now. But you're a young persing that won't be hadvised, and you'll come to grief one of these days through 'aving too much of your own way, as sure as my name's Roberts."

And then Mr. Roberts philosophically went back to the Castleford Chi^ofiicle, and never dreamed that he had uttered a prophecy.

Miss Dangerfield dashed away over the breezy Sussex downs — gold-green in the September sunshine. But the brilliance of that sunlight grew dim and dimmer with every passing moment, and looking up presently she saw that her " cloud no bigger than a man's hand" had spread and darkened, and was fast glooming over the whole sky. Old Roberts had been right then,

i8

ICATHERINE.

after all ; and unless she stayed at Castleford, or turned back at once, she was in for a drenching.

" I won't turn back and I won!t stop at Castleford," the bar- onet's daughter said, setting her white teeth. "I'll get my books, and I'll go home, and Ilderim and I shall outstrip the lightning after all."

She dashed into the town. Castleford was a military depot, and knots of red-coated officers grouped here and there, lowered their crests, and gazed after her with admiring eyes as she flew

by- . ...

" Plucky girl that," said Captain Vere de Vere of the Plung- ers Purple to his friend Captain Howard of the Bobtails Blue. " Gad ! how squarely she sits her saddle. And what a waltzer she is — as graceful as a Parisienne ballerina, and as springy. Comfortable thing there waiting for some lucky beggar — clear eight thousand a year, and strictly entailed. Not a handsome girl, I admit, but what would you ? Doosidly clever, too, and thafs a drawback. I hate your clever, women — put a fellow out of countenance, by Jove ! Shouldn't know anything — women shouldn't, beyond the three great feminine arts, dancing, dress- ing, and looking pretty." With which terse summary of women duties the Honorable Plantagenet Vere de Vere lit his huge manilla and sauntered away. " She seemed uncommonly sweet on that foreigner, that Creole fellow — what's his name — at the concert last night," he thought. "It's always fellows like that- with tenor voices and long eyelashes, that draw the matrimo- nial prizes. Heard her tell Edith Talbot last night all the offi, cers at Castleford had ginger whiskers, and knew no more how to waltz than so many lively young elephants."

Miss Dangerfield's errand was to a Castleford bookseller's, and her order was for all the newest novels. She came out presently, followed by the obsequious shopman carrying her parcel and bowing his thanks. The storm was very near now. The whole sky was dark — there was that oppressive heat and stillness in the air that usually precedes a thunder-storm.

" Coming ! " Miss Dangerfield thought, vaulting into her sad- dle. " Now then, Ilderim, my beauty, my darling, outstrip the storm if you can ! "

She was off like the wind, and in a few minutes the town lay far behind her. But fate had decreed to take sides with Rob- erts.

On the bare downs, treeless and houseless, the lightning leaped out like a two-edged sword. There came the booming

KATHERINE.

19

crash of thunder, then a deluge of rain, and the mid-day sum- mer tempest was upon her in its might. The swift, sudden blaze of the lightning in his eyes startled the nervous system of llderim. He tossed his little black Arabian head in the air with a snort of terror, made a bound forward and fled over the grassy plains with the speed of an express train. " A runaway, by Jove ! "

A man darted forward with the cry upon his lips, and made the agile spring of a wild-cat at llderim' s bridle rein. A mo- ment's struggle and then the spirited Arab stood still under the grasp of an iron hand, quivering in every limb, and his mis- tress, looking down from her saddle, met full two of the most beautiful eyes into which it had ever been her good fortune to look.

It was Mr. Gaston Dantree, the handsome, silver-voiced tenor of last night's concert, and a flash of glad surprise lit up her face.

"Mr. Dantree ! " she cried, "you ! and in this tempest, and at so opportune a moment. How shall I thank you for save — for rendering me such very timely assistance ? "

" For saving my life," she had been going to say, but that would have been coming it a little too strong. Her life had not been in the smallest danger — she was a thorough horse- woman, and could have managed a much wilder animal than llderim. But the knight to the rescue was Mr. Dantree, and last night Miss Dangerfield had looked for the first time into those wondrous eyes of gold-brown light and fallen straight in love with their owner.

He was very handsome ; perfectly, faultlessly- handsome, with an olive complexion, a low forehead, a chiselled nose, a thick black mustache, and two dark almond eyes, of "liquid light." Not tall, not stout, not very manly-looking, perhaps, in any way, men were rather given to sneer at Mr. Gaston Dantree' s somewhat effeminate beauty. But they never sneered long. There was that in Mr. Dantree' s black eyes, in Mr. Dantree's musical voice, in Mr. Dantree' s trained muscles, that would have rendered a serious difficulty a Uttle unpleasant. He took off his hat now, despite the pouring rain, and stood before the heiress of Scarswood, looking like the Apollo himself in a shabby shooting jacket.

" You do me too much honor, ]\liss Dangerfield ; I don't really think your life was in any danger — still it's pleasant to know / was the one to stop your black steed all the same. Rather

20

KATHERINE.

a coincidence, by the bye, that I should meet you here just at present, as, taking advantage of last night's kind invitation, I was about to present rnyself at Scarswood."

"And Scarswood is very well worth seeing, I assure you. As it is not more than a quarter of a mile to the gates, suppose you resume your hat and your journey ?"

"But, Miss Dangerfield, you will get your death at this pace, in this downpour."

"Oh, no, I'll not," Katherine answered coolly. "The rain will never fall that will give me my death ! You don't know how strong I am. Come, Mr. Dantree, let me see if you can walk as fast as Ilderim."

She looked down at him with that brilliant smile that lit her dark face into something brighter than beauty.

"Come, Mr. Dantree," she repeated, "let me be cicerone for once, and show you the splendors of Scarswood. It is the show place of the neighborhood, you know, built by a Danger- field, I am afraid to say how many centuries ago. We came over with William, the what's-his-name, you know, or, perhaps, William found us here when he arrived ; I'm not positive which. We're a dreadfully old family, indeed, and I'm the last daughter of the race; and I wouldn't be anybody but Katherine Dan- gerfield, of Scarswood Park, for the world ! "

She dashed under the huge stone arch of masonry as she spoke, half laughing, wholly in earnest. She was proud of the old blood that 'flowed so spiritedly in her veins, of this noble mansion, of the princely inheritance which was her birthright.

"Welcome to Scarswood, Mr. Dantree," she said, as he passed by her side under the Norman arch.

He raised his hat.

"Thank you. Miss Dangerfield," he said gravely; and so, still by her side, walked up the drippling elm avenue and into the house.

His fatal beauty — fatal, though he was but seven-and-twenty, to many women — had done its work once more. Her own hand had brought him there, her own voice had spoken her sentence. Gaston Dantree stood under the roof of Scarswood Hall, and, until her dying hour, this day would stand out dis- tinct from all other days in Katherine Dangerfield' s life.

Sir John sat in his library alone, that letter from Paris still crushed in his hand as though it had been a serpent. It seemed a very harmless serpent at first sight ; it only contained these lines, written in an elegant, flowing Italian chirography :

KATHERINE.

21

" Paris, September 23.

"My Dear Sir John Dangerfield : How delightedly my pen writes the title ! A baronet ! Who would have thought it ? And Scars- wood Park is yours, and your income is clear eight thousand a year. Who could have hoped it ? And you're back in England, and la petite — the lit- tle Katherine. Darling little Katherine ! So full of spirit and self-v/ill, as she was when I saw her last, and that is fifteen years ago. Ah, mon dieu ! fifteen weary, weary, weary years. My dear baronet, I am coming to see you ; I knozv you will be enchanted. On the third of October you will send your cai-riage to Castleford Station to meet the 7.20 London ex- press and me. And your servant will ask for Mrs. Vavasor. I adapt my names as I do my conversation, to my company ; and, among the aristo- cratic county families of Sussex, let me be aristocratic, too. Adieu, my baronet, for the present ; and allow me to subscribe myself by the old and, alas ! plebeian cognomen of , PIarriet Harman.

*'P. S. — Tell my pet, Katherine, I am coming. Kiss the darling child for me."

He had sat for hours as he sat now, that letter crushed in his hand, a grayish pallor on his face, his eyes looking blankly out at the drifting rain, at the tossing, wind-l3lown trees. The light- ning leaped forth at intervals, the summer thunder broke over the roof, the summer rain beat on the glass. He neither saw nor heard ; he sat like a man stunned by a great and sudden blow.

''And I thought her dead," he muttered once. "I hoped she was dead. I thought, after fifteen years' silence, I was safe ; and now — oh, God ! will the wicked wish never be granted ? "

He sat there still as he had sat since he left the breakfast table, when the door was flung wide, and Katherine, dripping like a mermaid, stood before him.

- " May I come in, papa, or have you fallen asleep ? Do you know it is two o'clock, and past luncheon time, and that I have brought home a guest? It's Mr. Dantree, papa — you re- member him, you know — and he wants to see the house, and I\N'^\\\. you to be civil to him. He's in the blue drawing-room ; and while I'm changing my habit I wish you would go up and entertain him. Papa ! " She broke off suddenly, catching sight of his altered face. " What is the matter ? You look like your own ghost ! "

He rose up stiffly, as if his limbs were cramped, crushing the letter more tightly still in his hand. He turned away from the window, so that his face was hidden from her, as he answered :

" I am a little cold. Who did you say was waiting, Kather-

22 MRS. VAVASOR.

ine ? Oh, yes ; the singing man — Gaston Dantree. By the bye, Kathie, tell Harrison to prepare one of the front chambers for a — a lady — an old friend of mine — who is coming to visit us. She will be here on the evening of the third of October next, and her name is Mrs. Vavasor."

CHAPTER II.

MRS. VAVASOR.

THE London express, due at Castleford station at 7.20, rushed in with an unearthly shriek, like Sinbad's black monster, with the one red, fiery eye. There were five passengers for the town — four men and a woman. The train disgorged them and then fled away, shrieking once more, into the black October night.

A wet and gusty autumn evening, a black and starless sky frowning down upon a black and sodden eartli. A bitter blast blew up from the sea, and whirled the dead leaves in drifts be- fore it. The station, dreary and isolated, as it is in the nature of stations to be, looked drearier than ever to-night. Far off the lamps of the town glimmered athwart the rain and fog, specks of light in the eerie gloom.

The four male passengers who had quitted the train hurried with their portmanteaus, buttoned to the chin, and with hats slouched forward over their noses — honest shopkeepers of Castleford, but looking villanously brigandish in the light of the station lamps. Only the female passenger remained, and she came tripping up the platform with a little satchel in her hand, crisp and smiling, to the chief station official.

I beg your pardon, sir ; but can you tell me if the carriage from Scarswood Park is waiting for me ? "

She was a beautiful little woman. Two great dark eyes of lustrous light beamed up in the ofhcial's face, and a smile that lit up the whole station with its radiance dazzled him. She had feathery black ringlets — she had a brilliant high color — well, a trifle too high, probably, for some fastidious tastes — she had teeth wliite and more glistening than anything the official had ever seen outside a dentist's show-case — she had the tiniest lit-

MRS. VAVASOR.

23

tie figure in the world, and she h?.d — as far as the official could judge, for the glitter of her v/hole appearance — some three-and- thirty years. With the flash of her white teeth, the sparkle of the black eyes, the glov/ of the rose-red cheeks, she dazzled you like a sudden burst of sunlight, and you never stopped to think until afterward how sharp and rasping was the voice in which she addressed 5^ou.

The carriage from. Scarswood? No, it had not — that is to say the official did not know whether it had or not.

Would the lady be pleased to sit down ? there was a fire in here, and he would go and ascertain.

"I certainly expected to find it v/aiting," the little lady said, tripping lightly after him, " Sir John knows I am coming to- night. He is such an old friend of mine — Sir John. It's odd now the carriage isn't waiting — tell them when they do come, Mrs. Vavasor is here."

"The carriage has come," announced the official on the mo- ment. " This way, madame, if you please."

The close carriage, its lamps glov/ing like two red eyes in the darkness, its horses pav/ing the ground, its coachman stiff and surly on the- box, was drawn up at the station door. The official held the door open — she thanked him with a radiant smile, and then Sir John Dangerfield's carriage was flying through the darkness of the wet October night over the muddy high road to Scarswood Park. Little Mrs. Vavasor wiped the blurred glass, and strained her bright black eyes as the vehicle whirled up the avenue, to catch the first glimpse .of the house. It loomed up at last, a big black shadow in the darkness. Lights gleamed all along its front windows, and the distant sound of music floated out into the night. Mrs. Vavasor's fascinating face was at its brightest — the sparkle in her eyes sparkled more than ever.

"A party — a ball perhaps. Let me see, the third of Octo- ber— why la petite's birthday, of course. Miss Dangerfield, Heiress of Scarswood, is just seventeen to-night. How stupid of me to forget it." She laughed in the darkness and solitude, a little low laugh not pleasant to hear. " I wonder how poor dear Sir John will meet me, and what account he will give of me to his daughter? It couldn't have been pleasant for him to receive my note. I dare sav by this time he thought me dead."

She stepped out a moment in the rain, then into the lighted vestibule, then into the spacious entrance hall, where Mrs. Har-

24

MRS. VAVASOR.

rison, in a gray silk gown and white lace cap, and all the dig- nicy of house-keeper, met her courtesy. "Mrs. Vavasor, I think, ma'am?"

Mrs. Vavasor's enchanting smile answered in the affirmative.

" Sir John's orders are every attention, ma'am, and he was to be told the minute you arrived. This way, if you please, and you're to wait here, ma'am, until he comes to you."

She led the way upstairs, and threw open the door of a half- lit, elegant apartment, all bright with upholstery, curtains, and carpet of blue and gold.

" How very nice," Mrs. Vavasor remarked, glancing pleas- antly around; "and you are the housekeeper, 1 suppose, my good soul ? And your young lady is having a party on her birth-night ? How pleasant it must be to be only seventeen, and handsome, and rich, and a baronet's daughter."

Mrs. Vavasor laughed that sharp little laugh of hers that rather grated on sensitive ears.

" Miss Dangerheld is handsome, no doubt, Mrs. -ah — "

" Harrison, ma'am," the housekeeper responded, rather stiffly. " And Miss Katherine is very 'andsome, indeed, in my eyes. I'll tell Sir John you're here, ma'am, at once, if you'll please sit down."

But it pleased Mrs. Vavasor to stand — she turned up the lamps until the room was flooded with light, then walked over to a full-length mirror and looked at herself steadily and long.

"Fading!" she said: "fading.! Rouge, French coiffures, enamel, belladonna, and the rest of it are very well; but they can't make over a woman of thirty-seven into a girl of twenty. Still, considering the life I ve led" — she set her teeth like a lit- tle lion-dog. "Ah, what a bitter fight the battle of life has been for me ! If I were wise I would pocket my wrongs, forego my vengeance, keep my secret, and live hapi)y in Scarswood Hall forever after. I wonder if Sir John would marry me if I asked him ? "

The door opened and Sir John came in. Little Mrs. Vava- sor turned round from the glass, folded her small hands, and stood and looked at him with a smile on her face.

He was very pale, and grim as the grave. So for a moment they stood, like tivo duelists waiting for the word, in dead si- lenge. Then the lady spoke :

" How do you do, Sir John ? When we parted I remember you found me admiring myself in the glass ; when we meet again, after fifteen years — Dicu ! how old it makes one feel —

MRS. VAVASOR.

25

you find me before the glass again. Not admiring myself this time, you understand. I sadly fear I have grown old and ugly in all those hard-fought years. But you — you're not a day older, and just the same handsome, stalwart soldier I remember you. Won't you shake hands for the sake of old times, Sir John, and say ' you are welcome ' to a poor little woman who has travelled all the way from Paris to see you? "

She held out her little gloved hand. He drew away with a gesture of repulsion, and crossing to the chimney-piece leaned upon it, his face hard and set, in the light of the lamps.

" Why have you come here ? " he asked.

''Ah, Ciel / hear him! — such a cruel question. And after fifteen years I stand all alone in this big, pitiless world, a poor little friendless woman, and I come to the gallant gentleman who fifteen years ago stood my friend — such a friend — and he asks me in that cruel voice why I have come 1 "

"That will do, Mrs. Vavasor — this is not a theatre, nor am I an appreciative audience. Tell me the truth, if you can— let us have plain speaking. Why have you come here ? What do you want ?"

" That is plain language certainly. I have come here be- cause you are in my power — absolutely and wholly in my power. And I want to stay here as an honored guest just as long as I please. Is that plain enough to satisfy you, or would you like me to put it still plainer ?"

Her deriding black eyes mocked him, her incessant smile set his teeth on edge. Hatred — abhorrence — were in his eyes as he looked at her.

''You want money, I suppose? Well, you shall have it, though I paid you your price long ago, and you promised to trouble me no more. But you can't stay here ; it is simply impossible."

"It is simply nothing of the kind. I have come to stay — my luggage is down yonder in the hall, and you will tell them presently to fetch it up and show me to my room. I do want money — yes, it is the universal want, and I mean to have it. Eight thousand a year and Scarswood Park, one of the finest seats in Sussex. And such an old family! — baronets created by James the First, and knights centuries and centuries before ! How proud your daughter must feel of her ancient name and lineage ! " And Mrs. Vavasor laughed aloud, her tinkling laugh that struck shrilly on hypersensitive ears. . " You will leave my daughter's name out of the question, if 3

26

MRS. VAVASOR.

you please," the baronet retorted haughtily ; " such lips as yours sully her name. If you had one spark of womanly feeling, one grain of self-respect left from the life you have led, a woman's heart in your breast, you would never come near her. In Heaven's name go — I will give you anything, anything, only don't insist upon staying here."

For answer she walked back to the mirror, and deliberately began removing her bonnet, gloves, and mantle.

"As I intend going down and joining your party presently, and being introduced to the county families, I think I will go up to my room at once, if you please. Sir John. By the way, is Mr, Peter Dangerfield one of your guests on this happy occa- sion ? It strikes me now I should like to know him. He is your only brother's only son and heir-in-law — after your daughter, of course. How awkward for that young gentleman you should have a daughter at all. And the estate is strictly entailed to the nearest of kinr There was a gleam of almost dangerous malice in her eyes as she turned from the mirror. " Yes, I am really anxious to make the acquaintance of Mr. Peter Dangerfield."

He turned almost livid — he made a step towards her.

" You would not dare," he said huskily ; "you wretch ! You would not dare — "

" I would dare anything except being late for Miss Danger- field's birth-night party. Just seventeen ! a charming age, and an heiress, and a beauty, no doubt ? Ah ! what a contrast to my waning yOuth. I grow melancholy when I think of it. 1 was seventeen once, too, Sir John, though to look at me now you mightn't believe it. Ring the bell, please, and let that nice old creature, your housekeeper, show me to my room. And when I'm ready — say — at ten o'clock — you will come for me here, and present me to your guests. No, really, baronet — not another word to-night on that subject. These serious matters are so ejchausting ; and remember I've been travelling all day. Ring the bell."

He hesitated a moment, then obeyed. The look of a hunt- ed animal was in his eyes, and she stood there mocking him to his face. It seemed about as unequal a contest as a battle between a huge Newfoundland and a little King Charles, and the King Charles had the victory this time.

Mrs. Harrison answere'd the bell ; in the brief interval no word had been spoken.

MRS. VAVASOR.

27

" You will show Mrs. Vavasor to her room," Sir John said shortly and sternly, turning to go.

*'And I will be dressed by ten, and you will call for me here," responded Mrs. Vavasor gayly, over her shoulder. " How fortunate I have been in not missing the opportunity of offering my congratulations to Miss Dangerfield."

And then humming a gay French air, Mrs. Vavasor followed the housekeeper up another broad oaken stairway, along a carpeted corridor and into a velvet-hung chamber, bright with firelight and waxlight, luxurious with cushions, chairs, and lounges, fragrant with hot-house flowers, and rich with pictures.

"Your trunks are in the wardrobe adjoining, ma'am," Mrs. Harrison said : " and if there is anything I can do or if Miss Katherine's maid — "

"You good creature!" Mrs. Vavasor answered. "No, I am my own maid — I haven't eight thousand a year, you know, like your darling Miss Katherine, and can't afford luxuries. Thanks, very much, and — good-night ; " and then the door closed gently in the housekeeper's face, the key was turned, and Sir John's guest was alone.

She stood and looked round the room with a smile, that incessant smile that grew just a trifle wearisome after the first half hour or so.

In the golden gleam of the light the tall mirrors flashed, the carpet looked like a green bank of June roses, the silken draperies shimmered, and the exotics in their tall glasses per- fumed the warm air. Outside the rain beat, and the wind blew, and the " blackness of darkness " reigned. She listened to the wild beating of the storm in the park with a little deli- cious shiver.

" Is it like my life ? " she said softly. " Have I come out of the rain, and the wind, and the night, to the roses, and wax- lights, and music of existence? Or is the gypsy, vagabond instinct too strong in me, and will the roses fade, and their perfume sicken, and the lights grow dim, and I throw it all up some day, and go back to the old freedom and outlawry once more ? The cedar palace and purple robes of the king look very inviting, but I think I would rather have the tents of Bohemia, with their freedom, and the stars shining through the canvas roof"

An hour later there descended to the long drawing-room, a lady — a stranger to all there. She appeared in their midst as suddenly as though she had dropped from the rainy skies,

28

MRS. VAVASOR.

a charming little vision, in amber silk and Chantilly flounces, and diamonds, and creamy roses in her floating feathery black hair. A little lady whose, cheeks outshone all roses, and whose eyes outflashed her diamonds, and whom Sir John Dangerfield introduced to his guests as Mrs. Vavasor. Who was Mrs. Vavasor ?

Women looked at her askance — the stamp of adventuress was on her face and raiment.

The rouge was artistic, but it was rouge ; the amber silk was shabby, the Chantilly, a very clever imitation, the dia- monds Palais Royal beyond doubt. And then Sir John was so pale, so gloomy — the old soldier, not used to society masks, showed his trouble all too plainly in his perturbed face.

A woman not of their order — and the ladies' bows were frigid and chilling as the baronet presented her.

But the men — what did they know of shabby silks and brownish laces. They saw a brilliant little fairy of — well, five- and-twenty summers, perhaps — by lamplight — with the eyes and teeth of a goddess.

''But, Miss Dangerfield, Sir John — Miss Dangerfield ! Miss Dangerfield ! " Mrs. Vavasor cried, tapping him . playfully with her fan ; " those people are not the rose, though they have come to-night to do honor to that gorgeous flower. I am dying to behold Miss Dangerfield."

The stormy blue eyes of the Indian officer flashed ; he gnawed his mustache, with an oath only heard by the lady on his arm. Her shrill laugh answered it.

" For shame. Sir John ! So ill-bred, too ! And that face ! You look like the Death's-head the Egyptians used to have at their banquets. What will people say ? There, I see her — 1 see her ! that is Katherine."

She stopped short, still holding Sir John's arm, and a vivid light came into her black eyes. The baronet's daughter was advancing on the arm of Mr. Gaston Dantree.

''"Katherine," her father said, bringing out every word with a husky elfort, "this is Mrs. Vavasor, a very old fri — acquaint- ance." If his life had been at stake, he could not have said " friend." " You have heard me speak of her ; she is our guest for the present."

He turned abruptly, and walked away.

Katherine Dangerfield held out her hand — for the first, the last time — to her father's acquaintance. Their eyes met, and on the only occasion, perhaps, in all her seven-and-thirty years

MRS. VAVASOR.

29

of life, those of the elder woman fell. The bright gray eyes of the girl looked straight through her, and distrusted and dis- liked her with that first glance.

"My father's friends are always welcome to Scarswood." She said it very briefly and coldly. " May I beg of you to excuse me now, I am engaged for this waltz to Mr. Dantree."

She was looking her best to-night and almost pretty ; but then "almost" is a very wide word.

She wore pink tissue, that floated about her like a rosy mist, with here and there a touch of priceless old point, and a tiny cluster of fairy roses. She had pearls on her neck, and gleam- ing through her lovely auburn hair, a rich tea-rose nestling in its silken brown.

She looked graceful ; she looked unspeakably patrician ; she carried herself like a young princess. And the vivid light in Mrs. Vavasor's black eyes grew brighter as she watched her float away.

"She has her mother's face," she whispered to herself; "she has her mother's voice — and I hate her for her mother's sake ! A home in Scarswood forever, the fleshpots of Egypt, the purple and fine linen of high life, would be very pleasant things, but revenge is pleasanter still."

One of the gentlemen to whom she had, at her own special request, been introduced, came up, as she stood, and solicited the pleasure of a waltz.

"I am sure you can waltz," he said : "I can always tell, by some sort of Terpsichorean instinct, I suppose, when a lady is, or is not, a waltzer."

Mr. Peter Dangerfield was right at least in this particular- instance*; Mrs. Vavasor waltzed like a fairy — like a French fairy, at that.

She and the baronet's daughter whirled past each other more than once — Katherine with her brown hair floating in a per- fumed cloud, her lips breathless and apart, and her bright eyes laughing in her partner's face.

"Is she in love with that very handsome young man, I won- der ? " Mrs. Vavasor thought ; " and is he rich, and in love with herl If so, then my plan of vengeance may be frustrated yet."

"Mr. Dangerfield," to her partner, "please tell me the name of that gentleman with whom Miss Dangerfield is danc- ing? It strikes me I have somewhere seen his face before."

"Not unlikely, he's been everywhere. His name is Gaston

30

MRS. VAVASOR.

Dantree, and he is, I believe, a native of the State of Louis- iana."

" An^ American ! He is very rich, then — all those Amer- icans are rich."

" Dantree is not. By his own showing, he is poor as a church-mouse ; his only wealth is his Grecian profile and his tenor voice." There was just a tinge of bitterness in his tone as he looked after the handsome Southerner and his partner.

" * My face is my fortune, sir, she said,' "

hummed gayly Mrs. Vavasor. " How, then, comes monsieur to be here, and evidently first favorite in the regards of Sir John's heiress?"

" His handsome face and musical tenor again. Miss Dan- gerfield met him at a concert, not three weeks ago, and behold the result ! We, poor devils, minus classic noses, arched eye- brows, and the voices of archangels, stand out at the cold and gaze afar off at him in Paradise."

" Does Sir John like it ? "

" Sir John will like whatever his daughter likes. Any human creature persistent enough can do what ^^Jiey please with Sir John. For his daughter he is her abject slave."

The bitterness was bitterer than ever in Mr. Peter Danger- field's voice; evidently the heiress of Scarswood and her hand- some Southerner were sore subjects.

He was a pale-faced, under-sized young man, with very light hair and eyes — so light that he was hopelessly near-sighted — and a weak, querulous voice. It was just a little hard to see Scarswood slipping out of the family before his very eyes through the headstrong whims of a novel-reading, beauty-loving, chit of a girl.

He, too, was poor — poor as Gaston Dantree himself — and at thirty, mammon was the god of his idolatry, and to reign one day at Scarswood, the perpetual longing of his life.

" And Miss Dangerfield is a young lady whose slaves must obey, I think ; and Scarswood will go out of the family. Such a pity, Mr. Dangerfield ! Now, I should think you might pre- vent that."

She made this audacious home-thrust looking full in his pale, thin face, with her black, resolute eyes.

The blood flushed redly to the roots of his dull yellow hair.

" I ! My dear madame," — with a hard laugh — "/stand no chance. I'm not a handsome man."

MRS. VAVASOR.

31

Miss Dangerfield — I am a woman, and may say so — is not a handsome girl."

All the greater reason why she should worship beauty in others. Gaston Dantree, without a sou in his pocket, a for- eigner, an adventurer, for all we know to the contrary, will one day reign lord of Scarswood. See them now ! Could any- thing be more lover-like than they are, Mrs. Vavasor ? "

He spoke to her as though he had known her for years. Some rapport made those two friends at once.

She looked where he pointed, her smile and glance at their brightest.

The waltz had ended; leaning on her handsome partner's arm, the last flutter of Miss Dangerfield' s pink dress vanished in the green distance of the conservatory.

" I see ; and in spite of appearances, Mr. Dangerfield, I wouldn't mind betting — my diamonds, say, against that botan- ical specimen in your buttonhole — that Mr. Gaston Dantree, Grecian profile, tenor voice, and all, will never reign lord of Scarswood ; and for you — why you know the old rhyme :

" ' He either dreads his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch. To win or lose it all.' "

She walked away, with her last words, her ever-mocking laugh coming back to him where he stood. What did the woman mean? How oddly she looked and spoke. How could she prevent Gaston Dantree marrying Katherine ? But the last advice was good— why despair before speaking ?

" To win or lose it all ! " repeated Peter Dangerfield, strok- ing his 'feeble, colorless mustache. "By George! \ will try. She can but say no."

There was a call for Mr. Dantree on the instant — Mr. Dan- tree was wanted to sing.

Mr. Dangerfield stood where he was, and saw the dark-eyed tenor emerge leisurely from the conservatory, and— alone. He sat down at the piano ; his slender, shapely hands flew over the keys in a brilliant prelude. Everybody was listening — now was his time. Katherine was in the conservatory yet. He made his way slowly down the long vista of rooms to where, at the extreme end, the green brightness of tropic plants gleamed in the lamplight.

She still stood where her late companion had left her, in the recess of a window, her robe of pink tissue shining rosily, her

32

MRS. VAVASOR.

jewels glancing softly. Tall tropic plants spread their fan-like leaves about her ; the air was rich and faint with exotic odors ; and over all the soft, abundant light poured down.

Gaston Dantree's song floated in — an Irish song, half gay, half sad, wholly sweet — and a brooding tenderness lay on the girl's face — a great happiness, new and sweet — and made it almost beautiful. The rain lashed the windows, the wind of the October night blew in long, lamentable blasts through the rocking trees : but the storm and darkness without only made the contrast within the more brilliant.

"Katherine!"

She neither saw nor heard him until he was close at her side. She lifted up her dreamy eyes, her trance of bliss over.

" Oh, you, Peter ! What an odious habit you have of steal- ing in upon one like a cat. I never heard you."

" You never heard me. Miss Dangerfield ? You need hardly • tell me that. You were listening far too intently to Mr. Gas- ton Dantree to hear anything else."

" Was I ?" retorted Katherine. They rarely met, those two, except to quarrel. "Well, all I can say is that Mr. Gaston Dantree is very well worth listening to, which is more than I can say for you, cousin Peter."

"You mean I'm not a singing man, I suppose, Kathie? Well, I admit my brains do not lie in my throat and lungs."

" Nor anywhere else, Mr. Dangerfield."

" And when is it to be, Katie ?" Mr. Dangerfield demanded, folding his arms; " when are we all to offer our congratulations ? Such a flirtation as yours, my dear cousin, with this x\pollo Belvidere from the Southern States, can have but one end- ing."

"And such a flirtation as yours with this pretty Mrs. Vavasor, from nobody knows where, can have but one ending, too, I suppose," responded Katherine, coming up to time bravely. " She is some five or six years your senior, I should think ; but, where true love exists, what does a little disparity of years sig- nify ? A case of love at sight ; was it not, cousin ? "

"You might have spared me that taunt, Katherine; you know very well who it is / am so unfortunate as to love."

"Upon my word, I don't. My little cousin Peter, his loves and hates, are subjects that trouble me very slightly. There ! Mr. Dantree's song is done, and they are playing the Lancers. Suppose we leave off quarreling and go and have a cousinly quadrille ? "

MRS. VAVASOR,

33

" Not yet, Kathie. I can endure this suspense no longer. No, you shall not go ; I will be heard ! To watch you as I have watched you to-night with that man would simply drive me mad ! "

"Would it? Then why on earth .do you do it ? I don't want to be watched, and I don't suppose Mr. Dan tree does, either. You mean Mr. Dantree, don't you ? And, Peter, don't put on that tragic face; it isn't your style, dear. You're too fair complexioned. And what business is it of yours, and why should it drive you mad ? "

" Little need to ask, Katherine. You know only too well — because I love you. Kathie, don't look like that ! I love you, and you know it well. I haven't had thoughts or eyes for any living creature but you since you first came here. Ah, Kathie ! Listen to me. Don't laugh, as I see you are going to do. I love you with all my heart — better than ever that fel- • low can do — and I ask you to be my wife. Katherine, don't laugh at me, for Heaven's sake ! "

But the warning came too late.

Katherine broke out into a ringing peal of laughter, that the music happily drowned.

Peter Dangerfield, looking desperately in earnest, very, very, yellow, and, with folded arms, stood glaring at her in an un- commonly savage way for so tender a declaration.

''I beg your pardon, Peter, but I can't help it. The idea of marrying you — only five feet five inches, and an attorney, and my first cousin ! First cousins should never marry, you know. What would papa say, you silly little boy, if he could hear this ? "

" My uncle knows," the young man answered, with sullen anger \ " I spoke to him a month ago."

Miss Dangerfield opened her big, gray eyes.

" Oh, you did? That's what he meant, then, that morning after the concert. I remember ; he tried to plead your cause. And you spoke to him first ; and you're a lawyer, and knew no better than that! No, Peter; it is not possible. You're a nice little fellow, and I think a great deal of you ; and I'd do almost anything you wanted me, except — marry you. That's a little too much, even for such good nature as mine."

"Then Pm to consider myself rejected ?"

"Now, Peter, don't put on that ill-tempered face ; it quite spoils your good looks, and you know you have none to spoil — spare, I mean. Well, yes, then ; I am afraid you must con- 3*

34

MRS. VAVASOR.

sider yourself rejected. I really should like to oblige you in this matter, but you perceive I can't. Come, let us make it up — I'm not angry — and take me back to the drawing-room for my dance. It is a sin to lose such music as that."

"In one moment, Katherine. Will you answer me this, please ? Is it for Gaston Dantree I am refused ? "

Cousin Peter, I shall lose my temper if you keep on. If , there were no Mr. Dantree in the case I should reject you all the same. You're very well as a first cousin ; as a husband — excuse me ! I wouldn't marry you if you were the only man left in the world, and the penalty of refusing you be to go to my grave an old maid. Is that answer decisive enough ? "

"Very nearly ! Thank you for your plain speaking, Kathie." He was white with suppressed anger. "But lest we should misunderstand each other in the least, won't you tell me whether or no Mr. Dantree is to be the future lord of Scarswood Park? Because in that case, for the honor of the family I should en- deavor to discover the gentleman's antecedents. A classic profile and a fine voice for singing may be sufficient virtues in the eyes of a young lady of seventeen, but I'm afraid they will hardly satisfy the world or Sir John."

"For the world I don't care that / For Sir John, whatever makes me happy will satisfy him. I am trying to keep my temper, Peter, but don't provoke me too far — it isn't safe. Will you, or will you not, take me out for the dance ? I am not accustomed to ask favors twice."

" How queenly she says it — the heiress of Scarswood ! " His passion was not to be restrained now. " And it is for this Yankee singing man — this needy adventurer — this negro min- strel in his own land, that I am cast off ? "

She whirled round upon him in a storm of sudden fury, and made a step toward him. But rage lent him courage ; he stood his ground.

" You little wretch ! " cried Miss Dangerfield, " how dare you stand there and say such things to me ? How dare you call Gaston Dantree an adventurer ? You, who would not pre- sume to call your soul your own in his presence ! Negro min- strel, indeed ! You wretched little attorney ! One should be a gentleman to judge gentlemen. That's why Mr. Dantree's beyond your judgment ! Don't ever speak to me again. You're very offer is an insult. To think that I — / would ever marry you, a little rickety dwarf! " . And then dead silence fell.

MRS. VAVASOR.

35

I don't uphold this heroine of mine — her temper is abomina- ble, I allow ; but the moment the last words passed her lips her heart smote her. Peter Dangerfield stood before her white as death, and trembling so that he was forced to grasp a gilded flower stand for support.

" Oh, Peter ! I am sorry ! " she cried out, I didn't mean that ! — I didn't ! I didn't ! — forgive it — forget it — my temper is horrible — I'm a wretch, but you know," suffering a slight relapse, " it was all your own fault. Shake hands, cousin ; and oh, do — do — do forget my wicked M^ords ! "

But he drew back from the outstretched hands, smiling a ghastly smile enough.

" Forget them ? Certainly, Cousin Katherine ! I'm not the sort of fellow to bear spite. You're very good and all that, but if it's the same to you, I'll not shake hands. And I won't keep you from dancing that quadrille any longer. I'll not be your partner — I don't dance as well as Mr. Dantree, and I see him coming this way now. Excuse me for having troubled you about this presumptuous love of mine ; I won't do it again."

Then he turned away, and Gaston Dantree, looking like a picture in a frame, stood in the rose-wreathed entrance arch.

" I am sorry, and I have apologized," Katherine said coldly. ^' I can do no more."

" No more is needed. Pray don't keep Mr. Dantree wait- ing. And I would rather he did not come in here just now." Come, Kathie," Mr. Dantree called softly.

It had come to that then ; it was " Kathie " and Gaston." He saw him draw her hand under his. arm as one having the right, whisper something in her ear that lit her face with sun- shine, and lead her away.

Peter Dangerfield stood alone. He watched them quite out of sight — his teeth set, his face perfectly colorless, and a look in his small eyes bad to see.

" I have read of men who sold their souls to the devil for a price," he said, between his set teeth. " I suppose the days for such bargains are over, and souls are plentiful enough in the kingdom of his dark majesty, without paying a farthing. But if those days could come again, and Satan stood beside me, I would sell my soul now for revenge oxs.you ! "

" Are you sure you have one to sell ? " a clear, sharp voice close behind him said. " I never thought lawyers were troubled with those inconvenient appendages — hearts and souls. Well, if you have, keep it ; it's of no use to me. And I'm not

36 AMONG THE ROSES.

Satan, either, but yet I think for a fair price / can give you your revenge."

He whirled round with a stifled exclamation, and saw at his elbow — Mrs. Vavasor.

CHAPTER III.

AMONG THE ROSES.

iHE stood beside him, her ceaseless smile at its bright- est on her small face, looking like some little female Mephistopheles come to tempt a modern Faust. He put up his eye-glass to look at her. What a gorgeous little creature she was ! It was his first thought.

In the dim yellow light of the conservatory, the amber silk glittered with its pristine lustre, the yellow roses she wore made such an admirable foil to her dead black hair.

" What the deuce brings me here ? Don't trouble yourself to ask the question, mon anii^ your face asks it for you.' I've been eavesdropping," in her airiest tone ; " not intentionally, you understand," as the young man continued to stare speech- lessly at her through his eye-glass. " Entering the conserva- tory by the merest chance, I overheard Miss Dangerfield's last words to you ; * a little more than kin, and less than kind,' were they not ? Permit me to congratulate you, Mr. Dangerfield."

" Congratulate me ! " Mr. Dangerfield repeated, dropping his double-barrelled eye-glass and glowering vengefully at the fair creature by his side. " In Heaven's name, on what? "

" On having escaped becoming the husband of a termagant. Believe me, not even Scarswood and eight thousand a year would counterbalance so atrocious a temper as that."

" Eight thousand a year would counterbalance with me even a worse temper than that, Mrs. Vavasor," the lawyer answered, grimly. " I am only sorry I am not to have the opportunity of trying. Once my wife, I think I could correct the acidity of even Katherine Dangerfield's temper and tongue."

" No you could not. Petruchio himself would fail to tame this shrew. You see, Mr. Dangerfield, I speak from past experience. I know what kind of blood flows in our spirited Katherine' s veins."

AMONG THE ROSES.

37

" Very good blood, then, I am sure — very good-tempered, too, in the main — at least on the father's side."

" Ah ! On the fathers side ! " The sneer with which this was said is indescribable. " May I ask if you knew her mother, Mr. Dangerfield ? "

" Certainly I did — a deucedly fine woman, too, and as ami- able as she was handsome. Colonel Dangerfield — Sir John was colonel then — married a Miss Lascelles, and Katherine was born in this very house, while they were making their Christ- mas visit. You may have known her father and mother — you certainly seem to know Sir John suspiciously well — but don't tell me Katherine took her tantrums from either of them — I know better."

Mrs. Vavasor listened quietly, adjusting her bracelets, and burst out laughing when he ceased.

" I see you do — you know all about it. How old was Kath- erine when her father and mother left England for India ? "

" Two or three years, or thereabouts. It seems to me — being so well acquainted, and all that, as you say — you ought to know yourself Was it in England or India you came to know the Governor so well ? "

In neither, Mr. Dangerfield." . ^

"Or does your acquamtance extend only to the baronet?' Gad ! he looked like an incarnate thunder-cloud when present- ing you. His past remembrances of you must be uncommonly pleasant ones, I should say. Did you know the late Mrs. Colonel Dangerfield, Mrs. Vavasor ? "

'*I knew the late Mrs. Colonel Dangerfield, Mr. Danger- field."

" And yet you say Katherine takes her temper from her mother. My late aunt-in-law must have greatly changed, then, from the time I saw her last."

" I repeat it," Mrs. Vavasor said, tapping her fan. " Kath- erine inherits her most abominable temper from her mother, the only inheritance her mother ever left her. And she looks like her — wonderfully like her — so like," Mrs. Vavasor repeated in a strange, suppressed voice, " that I could almost take her for, a ghost in pink gauze."

Like her mother ! " cried Peter Dangerfield. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vavasor, but you must be dreaming. She is no more like her mother than I am. The late Mrs. Dangerfield was a handsome woman."

" Which our spirited heiress never will be. I agree with you,

38

AMONG THE ROSES.

Mr. Dangerfield ; and yet you told me you were in love with her, and wanted to marry her."

"I meant what I said," the young man responded, sullenly. " I do want to marry her."

" Or her fortune — which ? "

"I don't see that that'sany business of yours, Mrs. Vavasor ; and I don't see what I am standing here abusing Katherine to you for. You don't like her, do you ? Now what has she ever done to you ? "

"Nothing whatever — /haven't seen Katherine until to-night for fifteen years. She was two years old then — a little demoi- selle in pantalettes, and too young to have an enemy."

" Yet you are her enemy, Mrs. Vavasor, and you sit at her table and eat her bread and salt. And you speak of her mother as if you detested her. Is it for the mother's sake you hate the daughter ? "

"For the mother's sake." She repeated the four short words with a concentrated bitterness that rather repelled her compan- ion. " And you hate her for her own, Mr. Dangerfield." She laid her little hand suddenly and sharply on his arm, and sent the words in his ear in a sibillant whisper. " We both hate her ; let us make common cause together, and have our revenge."

Peter Dangerfield threw off the gloved hand that felt unpleas- antly like a steel manacle on his wrist.

" Don't be melodramatic, if you please, Mrs. Vavasor. Re- venge, indeed. And I a lawyer. You would make an uncom- monly good first actress, my dear madam, but in private life your histrionic talents are quite thrown away. Revenge ! bah ! Why the vendetta has gone out of fashion even in Corsica. We don't live in the days of the handsome Lucrezia, when a per- fumed rose or a pair of Jouvin's best kids sent one's adversary to glory. There is no such word as revenge in these latter days, my dear madam. If one's wife runs away from one with some other fellow, we don't follow and wipe out our dishonor in his blood ; we simply go to Sir Creswell and get a divorce. If we runaway with some other fellow's wife, that other fellow sues us for damages, and makes a good thing of it. Believe me, Mrs. Vavasor, revenge is a word that will soon be obsolete, except on theatrical boards. But at the same time I should like to know what you mean ? "

" What is that you sing me there ? " Mrs. Vavasor cried, in the French idiom she used when excited. " While the world lasts, and men love, and hate, and use swords and pistols, re-

AMONG THE ROSES.

3?

venge will never go out of fashion. And you hate your cousin — hate her so that if looks were lightning she would have fallen at your feet ten minutes ago. * A little rickety dwarf.' " She laughed her shrill, somewhat elfish laugh. " Not a pleasant name to be called, Mr. Dangerfield."

His face blackened at the remembrance, his small, pale eyes shot forth that steely fire light blue eyes only can flash.

" Why do you remind me of that ? " he said hoarsely. " She did not mean it — she said so."

"She said so — she said so ! " his companion cried, scornfully. "Peter Dangerfield, you're not the man I take you for if you endure quietly such an insult as that. And look at her now, with Gaston Dantree, that penniless tenor-singer, with the voice of an angel and the face of a god. Look how she smiles up at him. Did she ever give you such a glance as that ? See how he bends over her and whispers in her ear. Did she ever Hsten to you with that happy face, those drooping, downcast eyes ? Why she loves that man — that impoverished adventurer ; and love and happiness make her almost beautiful. And she called you a rickety dwarf Perhaps even now they are laughing over it rather as a good joke."

" Woman ! Devil ! " her victim burst out, goaded to frenzy. " You lie ! Katherine Dangerfield would stoop to no such base- ness as that ! "

"Would she not ? You have yet to learn to what depths of baseness women like her can stoop. She has bad, bitter bad blood in her veins, I tell you. She comes of a daring and un- scrupulous race. Oh, don't look at me like that — I don't mean the Dangerfields. And you will bear her merciless taunt, and stand quietly by while she marries yonder handsome coxcomb, and go and be best man at the wedding, and take your hat off forever after when you meet Gaston Dantree, Lord of Scars- wood Park. Bah ! Peter Dangerfield, you must have milk and water in your veins instead of blood, and I am only wasting my time here talking to you. I'll detain you no longer. I wish you good-evening."

She had goaded him to the right point at last. As she turned to go he caught her arm fiercely and held her back.

" Stay !" he cried hoarsely ; "you shall not go ! You do well to say I hate her. And she shall never marry Gaston Dantree if I can prevent it. Only show me the way how ! Only show me ! " he exclaimed, breathless and hoarse, " and see whether 1 have blood in my veins instead of milk and water —

40

AMONG THE ROSES.

a man's passions in my heart — though it be the heart of a rickety dwarf ! " Ah ! that blow struck home.

" Look at them once again, Mr. Dangerfield, lest your brave resolutions should cool — look at Katherine Dangerfield and her lover nowy

The baronet's daughter was waltzing again — she had a pas- sionate love of dancing, and floated with the native grace of a Bayadere.

She was waltzing with Dantree, her long rose-wreathed brown hair floating over his shoulder, her happy face uplifted as she whirled down the long vista in his arms to the intoxicating music of the " Guard's Waltz."

You see!" Mrs. Vavasor said significantly; "he who runs may read, and he who stands still may understand. His melan- choly tenor voice, his lover-like sighs, his dark, pathetic eyes have done their work — Katherine Dangerfield is in love with Gaston Dantree ! It is a very old story : a lady of high degree has * stooped to conquer.' Sir John won't take it, I dare say ; but could Sir John refuse his idolized darling anything ? If she cried for the moon she would have it. And she is so impetuous, dear child ! She will be Mrs. Gaston Dantree in the time it would take another young lady to decide the color of the brides- maid's dresses."

"She shall never be Mrs. Gaston Dantree if I can prevent it ! " Peter Dangerfield cried, vehemently, his pale blue eyes filled with lurid rage.

"Yes, but unhappily there is the rub — if you can prevent it. You don't suppose now," Mrs. Vavasor said, thoughtfully, " this Mr. Dantree is in love with her ? "

" I know nothing about it. He looks as though he were, at least — and be hanged to him ? "

"That tells nothing. She is the heiress of Scars wood, and Mr. Dantree — like yourself, I haven't a doubt — is in love with that. I wonder if either of you would want to marry her if she hadn't a farthing — if her brown hair and her fine figure were her only fortune ? "

" I can answer for myself — I would see her at the deuce first ! "

"And unless I greatly mistake him, Mr. Dantree would also. How she looks up at him ! how she smiles ! — her infatuation is patent to the whole room. And after her, you are the heir-at- law, Mr. Dangerfield."

AMONG THE ROSES.

41

•"I don't see what that's got to do with it," the young man retorted, sulkily. I am likely to remain heir-at-law to the end of my days, for what I see. The governor will go off the hooks, and she will marry, and there will be a son — half-a-dozen of 'em, most likely — and my cake is dough. I wish you wouldn't talk about it at all ; it's of no use, a man howHng his life out for what he never can get."

" Certainly not — for what he can't get ; but I don't perceive the ' can't get ' in this case. Three people stood between Colo- nel Dangerfield and the title six months ago, and they — as you express it in the elegantly allegorical language of the day— ' went off the hooks ; ' and lo ! our Indian officer, all in a moment, steps into three pairs of dead men's shoes, a title, and a fortune. Scarswood may change hands unexpectedly before the year ends again."

"Mrs. Vavasor — if that be your name — /don't understand you. What's the use of badgering a man in this way? If you've got anything to say, say it. I never was any hand at guessing riddles. What the deuce do you mean ? "

Mrs. Vavasor laughed gayly.

" Forcible, but not polite ! Did you ever have your fortune told, Mr. Dangerfield ? I have some gypsy blood in my veins. Give me your hand, and I'll tell it, without the proverbial piece of silver."

He held it out mechanically. Under all this riddle-like talk, he knew some strong meaning, very much to the point, laj^ What could she mean ? Who could she be ? She took his thin, pale, cold hand, and peered into the palm, with the prettiest fortune-telling air imaginable.

" A strangely chequered palm, my gentleman ; all its strange future to come. I see a past, quiet and uneventful. I see a character, thoroughly selfish, avaricious, and unprincipled. No, don't take your hand away ; it will do you good to hear the truth once in a way, Mr. Dangerfield. You can hate with tiger- ish intensity ; you would commit any crime under Heaven for money, so that you were never likely to be found out. You care for nobody but yourself, and you never will. A woman stands in your path to fortune — a woman you hate. That ob- stacle will be removed. I see here a ruined home ; and over ruin and death you step into fortune. Don't ask me how. The lines don't tell that, just yet ; they may very soon. You are to be a baronet, and the time is very near. How do you like your fortune. Sir Peter Dangerfield, that is to be ? "

42

AMONG THE ROSES.

She dropped his hand and looked him full in the face, stream- ing fire in her black eyes.

" Hush-h-h ! for Heaven's sake ! " he whispered, in terror. " If you should be overheard ! "

" But how do you like it ? "

"There can be no question of that. Only I don't under- stand. You are mocking me. What you predict can never happen."

"Why not?"

" Why not ! why not ! " he exclaimed, impatiently. " You don't need to ask that question. Katherine Dangerfield stands between me ; a life as good — ^better than my own."

The little temptress in amber silk laid her canary-colored glove on his wrist and drew him close to her.

"What I predict will happen, as surely as we stand here. Don't ask me how; I can't tell you to-night. There's a secret in Sir John Dangerfield' 5 life — a secret I have been paid well to keep, which I have kept for fifteen years, which no money will make me keep much longer. I have a debt of long stand- ing to pay off — a debt of vengeance, contracted before Kather- ine Dangerfield was born, which Katherine Dangerfield yet must pay. What will you give me if within the next three months I make you heir of Scarswood ? "

"You?"

" I ! "

" It is impossible ! "

" It is not ! " She stamped her foot. " Quick ! Tell me ! What will you give ? "

" I don't understand you."

" I don't mean that you shall yet. Will you give me ten thousand pounds the day that makes you — through me, mind — lord of Scarswood ? Quick ! Here come our lovers. Yes or no?"

"K?j."

"It is well. I shall have your bond instead of your promise soon. Not a whisper of this to a living mortal, or all is at an end. We are sworn allies, then, from this night forth. Shake hands upon it."

They clasped hands.

He shivered a little, unprincipled though he was, as he felt the cold, steely clasp of her gloved fingers. She glanced up, a flash of triumph lighting her eyes, to where Katherine Dan- gerfield, still leaning on her handsome lover's arm, approached.

LOVE UNDER THE LAMPS.

43

"Now, then, my baronet's daughter — my haughty little heiress — look to yourself! I am a woman who never yet spared friend or foe who stood in my path. Vce, victis / "

She vanished as she spoke ; and Peter Dangerfield, feeling like a man in a dream, his head in a whirl, glided after her, as his cousin and her cavalier stepped under the arch of rose and myrtle.

CHAPTER IV.

LOVE UNDER THE LAMPS.

OW charmingly cool it is here," Miss Dangerfield's fresh young voice was saying, as they came in ; " how bewitching is this pale moonshiny sort of lamplight ' among the orange trees and myrtles ; and oh ! Mr. Dantree, how delicious that last waltz was. You have my step as nobody else has it, and you waltz so hght — so light ! It has been a heavenly evening altogether ! "

She threw herself into a rustic chair as she spoke, where traihng vines and crimson bloom formed a brilliant arch over her head, and looked up at him with eyes that shone like stars.

" I wonder if it is only because balls and parties are such rare things to me that I have enjoyed this so greatly, or be- cause I am just seventeen, and everything is delightful at seventeen ; or because — ^because — Mr. Dantree, I wonder if you have enjoyed yourself?"

" I have been in paradise. Miss Dangerfield." " And how gloomily he says it — and how pale and wretched he looks," laughed Katherine, " Your paradise can't be any great things, judging by your face at this moment ! "

"Miss Dangerfield, it is because my paradise has been so perilously sweet that I look gloomy. The world outside, bleak and barren, must have looked trebly bleak to Eve when she left Eden."

"Eve shouldn't have left it then — she should have had sense and left the tempting apple alone."

" Ah, but it was so tempting, and it hung so deliciously within reach ! And Eve forgot, as I have done, everything, the fatal penalty — all but the heavenly sweetness of the passing moment."

44

LOVE UNDER THE LAMPS.

" Well," Miss Dangerfield said, fluttering her fan, and look- ing upward, " I may be stupid, Mr. Dantree, but I don't quite catch your metaphor. Eve ate that apple several thousand years ago, and was very properly punished, but what has that to do with you ? "

" Because I, like Eve, have eaten my apple to-night, and to- morrow, the gates of my earthly paradise close upon me for- ever."

Divested of its adjuncts — there wasn't much, perhaps, in this speech ; but given a young lady of seventeen, of a poetic and sentimental turn of mind — soft, sweet music swelling in the distance — a dim light — the fragrance of tropic flowers and warmth, and a remarkably good-looking young man — -it implies a great deal. He certainly looked dangerously handsome at this moment, with his pale Byroftic face, his fathomless dark eyes, his whole air of impassioned melancholy — a beauty as fatal as the serpent to Eve in his own allegory.

No doubt that serpent came to our frail first mother in very beautiful guise, else she had never Hstened to his seductive words.

The soft white lace, the cluster of blush-roses on Katherine's breast, rose and fell. She Avas only seventeen, and over head and ears in love, poor child.

She laughed at his romantic words, but there was a little tremor in her clear tones as she spoke :

"Such a sentimental speech, Mr. Dantree. Sussex is a very nice county, and Scarswood a very agreeable place, no doubt ; but neither quite constitute my idea of paradise. And what do you mean by saying you leave to-morrow ? "

" I mean I dare stay no longer. I should never have come here at all — I wish to Heaven I never had !"

It was drawing near ! Her heart was throbbing with rapt- ure ; she loved him, and she knew what was coming, but still she parried her own delight.

" Please don't be profane, Mr. Dantree. You wish you had never come ? Now I call that anything but complimentary to the neighborhood and to me. Be kind enough to explain your- self, sir. Why do you wish you had never come ? "

" Because I have been mad — because I am mad. Oh, Katherine ! can't you see ? Why will you make me speak what I should die rather than utter ? Why will you make me confess my madness — confess that I love you ? "

He made an impassioned gesture, and turned away. Mac-

LOVE UNDER THE LAMPS,

45

ready could not have done it better. His voice, his glance, his passionate words, were the perfection of first-class drama. And then there was dead silence.

" You do not speak ! " he cried. " I have shocked you ; you hate, you despise me as I deserve ! " He was really getting alarmed in spite of his conviction, that she was hopelessly in love with him. "Well, I deserve it all ! I stand before you penniless, with neither noble name nor fortune to offer you, and I dare to tell you of my hopeless passion. Katherine, forgive me ! "

The rich green carpet was soft, there was no one to see, and he sank gracefully on one knee before her, and bowed his head over her hand.

" Forgive me if you can, and tell me to go ! "

Then his soft tenor tones died away pianissimo in stifled emotion, and he lifted her hand to his mustached lips. It trembled — with an ecsfeacy too great for words. He loved her like this — her matchless darling — and he told her to bid him go ! Her fingers closed over his, tighter and tighter — she bent down until he could almost hear the loud throbbing of her heart.

"Go!" she whispered, faintly. "Gaston, I should die if you left me ! "

He clasped both her hands, with a wild, theatrical start, and gazed at her in incredulous amaze.

"Katherine ! do you know what you say ? "Have I heard you aright? For pity's sake, do not mock me in my despera- tion— do not lift me for a moment to Heaven only to cast me out again ! It cannot be — it is maddest presumption of me to hope that you love me ! "

Her hands closed only the more closely over his ; her head drooped, her soft, abundant brown hair hiding its tremor of bHss.

" I never hoped for this," he said ; " I never thought of this ! I knew it was my destiny — my madness — to adore you ; but never — no, never in my wildest dream— did I dare hope you could stoop to me. My darling — say it just once, that I may know I am awake ! " He was very wide-awake, indeed, at that moment. "Say just once, my own heart's darling, * Gas- ton, I love you ! ' "

She said it, her face hidden in his superfine coat-facings, her voice trembling, every vein in her body thrilling with rapture.

And Mr. Gaston Dantree smiled — a half-amused, a half-ex- ultant smile of triumph.

46

LOVE UNDER THE LAMPS.

**I've played for high stakes before," he thought; "but never so high as this, or with half so easy a victory. And — oh, powers of vengeance ! — if Marie should ever find this out ! There's only one drawback now — the old man. The girl may be a fool, but he's not. There'll be no end of a row when this comes out."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him, shy and sweet.

"And you really care for me like this, Gaston, and you really thought I would let you go — ^you really thought the dif- ference in wealth and rank between us would be any difference to me ? How little you know me ! "

" I knew you for the best, the dearest, the loveliest of all women. But your father, Katherine — he will never consent to a poor artist like me coming and wooing his darling."

" You don't know him, Gaston ; papa would do anything on earth to please me — anything. When he discovers how we love each other, he will never stand between us. He lives but to make me happy."

"You are sure of this, Katherine ?"

" Certain, Gaston ; your poverty will be no obstacle to him."

" Then he's a greater fool than I take him for," thought Mr. Dantree. " If I were in his place, I would kick Gaston Dan- tree out of the room. Good Heavens ! if I should marry this girl and it should get to Marie's ears ! If — I shall marry her — come what may. Eight thousand a year at stake, and Marie the only obstacle in the way, and hundreds of leagues of sea and land between me and that obstacle ! There is no turning back now ; come what may, I shall marry the heiress of Scars- wood." He turned to her with almost real passion in his voice now.

" Katherine," he said, taking both her hands in his and look- ing in her eyes, " whatever betides, for good or for ill, you will not draw back — for good or for evil you are mine ? "

She met his eyes full for the first time. She was pale, but there was no tremor in her voice as she slowly repeated his words. Clearly and firmly they came :

" Yours, Gaston — yours only. For good or for evil, to the end of my life — yours ! "

For good or for evil ! — ominous words.

For good or for evil the vow was plighted ; and she stood under the lamps pledged to become Gaston Dantree' s wife.

BEFORE BREAKFAST,

47

CHAPTER V.

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

N the bleak, raw dawn of the wet October morning, Sir John Dangerfield's guests went home. While the lamps still gleamed among the flowers on the landing and stairways, Mrs. Vavasor, trailing the yellow glim- mer of her silk robe behind her, went up to her own room — went up with the fag-end of a tune between her lips, a feverish lustre in her eyes, a feverish flush, not all rouge, on her cheeks, looking, as a hopeless adorer at the foot of the stairs quoted :

" In her lovely silken murmur Like an angel clad with wings."

The adorer had taken a great deal of champagne at supper and hiccoughs interrupted the poetic flow of the quotation.

So also had Mrs. Vavasor herself Perhaps a little of the brilliancy of eyes and color were due to the Cliquot, but then a good deal more was owing to triumph. Everything was going on so well. The little debt she had waited so long to pay off was in a fair way to receive a full receipt.

Peter Dangerfield was pliant as wax in her hands. Gaston Dantree was the man of all men whom she would have chosen for Katherine Dangerfield's affianced husband. And Sir John had passed the night in a sort of earthly purgatory.

" Poor old Sir John ! " the little woman said, airily, to her- self; "Pm really concerned for him. He never did me any harm — poor old soldier. How plainly he shows his abhorrence of me in his face ; foolish, uncivilized old man. If his precious daughter were not so wrapped up in her curled darling she could not fail to see it. I suppose our handsome tenor pro- posed in the conservatory? What a capital joke it would be to let him marry her after all, and then speak out. I think I'll wait until the wedding day. Ah, my lady ! my lady ! You were a great peeress and a brilliant woman in your day, but you're dead now, and forgotten, and Httle Harriet, whom you circumvented so cleverly, lives still, and prospers, and hates you dead as she hated you alive."

The fire still burned on the marble hearth, the waxlights glimmered softly. She drew the window curtain and looked out at the rainy morning light struggling feebly in the stormy

48

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

gray sky. The elms and beeches rocked in the October gale, the swaying of the giant trees was like the dull roar of the sea. She dropped the silken curtain with a shiver and turned away.

" It gives me the horrors," she muttered ; " it makes me think of old age, and death, and the grave. Will I live to be- come old, I wonder? and will I have money enough left to pay hirelings to smooth the last journey ? This visit to Sussex will surely make my fortune, as well as give me my revenge. And when — all is over — I will go back to Paris — oh, my beau- tiful Paris ! and live the rest of my life there. Whether that life be long or short I shall at least have enjoyed every hour of it. And, my lady, I'll be even with you to the last, and carry my secret to the grave."

She crossed over to the wardrobe where they had placed her trunksj opened one, and took out a book of cigarette paper and an embroidered tobacco-case.

^'It's no use going to bed," she thought. ''I never can sleep at these abnormal hours. A cigarette will sooth my nerves better than slumber."

She began, with quick, deft fingers, to roll half-a-dozen cigarettes, and then lying back in a luxurious arm-chair, with two slender arched feet upon the fender, to light and smoke. One after another she smoked them to the very last ash. The rainy daylight filled the room as she flung the end of the last inch in the fire.

She arose with a yawn, extinguished the lights, drew the curtains and let in the full light of the gray, wet morning. The great trees rocked wearily in the high gale, a low leaden sky lay over the flat, wet downs, and miles away the sea melted drearily into the horizon, In the pale bleak light brilliant little Mrs. Vavasor looked worn, and haggard, and ten years older than last night.

" Such a miserable morning ! What a wretch I must look in this light. Captain Devere paid me compliments last night, fell in love with me, I believe, at least as much in love as a heavy dragoon ever can fall. If he saw me now ! I believe I'll go to bed after all."

Mrs. Vavasor went to bed, and her eyes closed in graceful slumber before her head was fairly on the pillow. And as the loud-voiced clock over the stables chimed the quarter past ten she came floating down the stairs in a rose- cashmere robe de matin, and all her feathery black ringlets afloat.

Am I first, I wonder ? " she said, peeping in. " Ah, no ;

BEFORE BREAKFAST,

49

dear Sir John, what an early riser yon always were. You don't forget your military habits, though you are one of the wealthiest baronets in Sussex."

She held out one slender white hand all aglitter with rings. But as he had refused it last night so the baronet refused the proffered handclasp this morning. He stood tall and stern, and grim as Rhadamanthus himself, drawn up to his full height.

" We are quite alone, Mrs. Vavasor, since you choose to

call yourself by that name, and we can afford to drop private theatricals. I fancied you would be down before Katherine, and I have been waiting for you here for the past hour. Harriet Harman, you must leave Scarswood, and at once."

Sir John's guest had taken a tea-rose from a glass of flowers on the breakfast table, and was elaborately fastening it amid the luxuriance of her black hair. She laughed as her host ceased speaking, and made the rose secure ere she turned from the mirror.

" That is an improvement, I think — yellow roses always look well in black hair. What- did you say, Sir John? Excuse my inattention, but the toilette before everything with us Paris- iennes. I must leave Scarswood at once ? Now, really, my dear baronet, that is a phase of hospitality it strikes me not strictly Arabian. Why must I go, and why at once ? "

" Why ! you ask that question ? "

" Certainly I ask it. Why am I not to remain at Scarswood as long as I please ? "

" Because," the Indian officer said, frigidly. " You are not fit to dwell an hour, a minute, under the same roof with — with my daughter. If you had possessed a woman's' heart, a shadow of heart, one spark of womanly feeling, you would never have crossed Katherine's path."

" Again I ask why ? "

*' I have given you your answer already. You are not fit — you are no associate for any young girl. I know the life you led at Homburg."

" You do ? And what do you know of that life to my dis- credit ? " Mrs. Vavasor demanded, in her sprightliest manner. " I sadly fear some malicious person has been poisoning your simple mind, my dear Sir John. I received a salary at Hom- burg, I admit ; I lured a few weak-minded victims, with more money than brains, to the Kursaal ; I gambled ever so little perhaps myself But what would you have? Poor little women must live, penniless widows must earn their bread and

3

50

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

butter, and I labored according to my light. Who can blame me ? A gambler's decoy is not a very reputable profession, but I did not select it because I liked it. As you say here in England, it was * Hobson's choice.' To work I was not able, to beg I was ashamed. And I gave it up, when I heard of yom- good fortune, forever, I hope. I said to myself, ' Harriet, child, why lead this naughty life any longer ? — why not give it up, pack your trunks, go back to England, and become virtu- ous and happy ? Here is your old friend — well, acquaintance, then — Colonel Dangerfield, a baronet now, with a magnificent estate in Sussex, and eight thousand a year. You did him good service once — he is not the man to forget past favors ; he will never see you hungry or cold any more. And la petite is there — the little Katherine, whom fifteen years ago you were so fond of — a young lady, and a great heiress now. To see her once more, grown from a lovely English Miss — what rapt- ure ! "

She clasped her little hands with a very foreign gesture, and lifted two great imploring eyes to his face. The baronet sighed heavily.

" Heaven help you, Harriet ! You might have been a better woman if you had loved the child, or anything else. But you never loved any human creature in this world but yourself, and never will. I suppose it is not in your nature."

Have you ever seen the swift pallor of sudden strong emotion show under rouge and pearl powder ? It is not a pleasant sight. After the baronet's last words there was a dead pause, and in the dull, chill light he saw that ghastly change come over her.

" Never loved any human creature in this world ! " She repeated his words slowly after him, then broke suddenly into a shrill laugh. Sir John Dangerfield, after half a century of this life's vicissitudes, the power to be astonished at anything earthly should have left all men and women, but you are sixty odd, are you not ? and if I chose I could give you a glimpse of my ]3ast life that would rather take you by surprise. But I don't choose — at least not at present. Think' me heartless, unprincipled, without conscience or womanly feeling — what you will — what does anything in this lower world signify except costly dresses, good wines, and comfortable incomes? And that brings mc back to the point, and I tell you coolly and de- liberately, and determinedly, that I won't stir one step from Scarswood Park until I see fit."

BEFORE BREAKFAST,

She folded her hands one over the other, and looked up in his set, stern face, with an aggravating smile on her own.

" It is of no use your blustering and threatening ; if you should feel inclined that way, my dear baronet, it will do no good. I won't go. But you are too much a soldier and a gentleman to even try to bully a poor little woman like me. I have an object in view in coming to Scarswoodj when that object is attained, I shall leave— not one instant before."

"And your object is — ? "

" A secret at present. Sir John. As for your daughter," — with sneering emphasis — " / should be the best judge, I think, as to whether or no I am a fit associate for her. Miss Danger- field appears to be a young lady in every way qualified to take care of herself And now, dear Sir John, as we thoroughly understand each other, suppose we take breakfast. It is past ten, and I am hungry."

" I never breakfast without Katherine," the baronet answered, coldly. "Mrs. Harman I " — abruptly — "they say every man has his price — will you name yours, and leave Scarswood forever ? "

" Now what an indelicate way of putting it — my price ! " She laughed. "Well, yes. Sir John, I don't mind owning as much. I have a price. Do you know what I said to myself last night when I first entered Scarswood? I said ' I wonder if Sir John vv'ould marry me if I asked him ? ' And Sir John, I wonder if you would ? "

"Mrs. Harman," the Indian officer answered, with a look of disgust and contempt, "let us keep to the subject in hand, if you please. I am in no humor for witticisms this morning."

" Which, translated, means, I suppose, you would not marry me. It's not leap-year, I am aware, and my proposal may be a little out of place. But just think a moment. Sir John — what if the telling of your secret depended on it, and I should really like to be my lady ? — what then ? "

" Mrs. Harman, if you say another word of this kind I v/ill turn you out of the house. Am I to understand, then, it is to tell you have come hither ? "

His voice broke a little, the strong, sinewy hand that lay upon the broad window-sill, clenched. He bore himself bravely before her, but there was mortal fear and mortal anguish in the old soldier's blue eyes.

" For God's sake tell me the trutl ! " he said. " What have

52

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

you come to do ? I saw you in the conservatory last night alone with my nephew — do you mean to tell him ? "

There was an easy-chair close to the window ; the widow sank down in its silken cushions — all this time they had been standing — and she flung back her little, dainty, ringleted head.

"As this conversation will be prolonged, no doubt, until Miss Dangerfield appears, we may as well take a seat. So you saw me in the conservatory la,st night with your nephew ! I did not know you did me the honor to watch me, Sir John. Well, yes, I was in the conservatory last night with Mr. Peter Dangerfield."

"And you told him all ?"

" I told him — nothing ! My dear old baronet, what an im- becile you must think me. Why should I tell him ? — a poor little pettifogging attorney. I only drew him out there — read him, you know — and he is very large print, indeed. Woe to the man or woman that stands in his path to fortune ! — better for them they had never been born. He never felt a touch of pity or mercy in his life for any living thing, and never will."

" I know it ! " the baronet said with a groan. " I know it too well. My life has been a life of terror since this inheritance fell to me — fearing him, fearing you. If he had been any other kind of a man than the kind he is, I — think — I know I would have braved all consequences and told him the truth, and thrown myself upon his generosity. My life has been one pro- longed misery since we came to Scarswood. I knew if you were alive, you would hunt me down as you have. It would be better for me I were a beggar on the streets."

Mrs. Vavasor listened to this passionate tirade with airiest indifference.

"Then go and be a beggar on the streets," she responded; " nothing is easier. Throw yourself upon your nephew's generosity — tell him that little episode in both our lives that happened in the Paris hospital fifteen years ago — tell him, and see how generous, how magnanimous he can be. You saw me talking to him, you say, in the conservatory last night. Would you like to know what we were talking about? Well — of Katherine ! "

He stood and looked down at the small mocking face, and the derisive black eyes, gnawing the ends of his gray mustache.

" Of Katherine," Mrs. Vavasor said. " He told me he re- membered her an infant here — in this very house, that she was two years old when she left England with papa and mamma.

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

S3

I asked him if he recalled her looks fifteen years ago, but naturally he did not."

Mrs. Vavasor laughed at some inward joke.

" Do you know, Sir John, he is in love with the heiress of Scarswood, and would marry her if she would let him ? He proposed last night — "

What ! " the baronet cried eagerly ; " he asked Katherine to marry him ? And she — what did she say ? "

" Called him a rickety dwarf — truthful, but unpleasant — and said no as your high-spirited daughter knows how to say it. He's not handsome, and Miss Dangerfield dearly loves beauty. She resembles her mother in many things — in that among the rest. She refused Mr. Dangerfield last night — still I think, my dear baronet, I shall have the pleasure of congratulating you upon the accession of a son-in-law."

" What do you mean ? "

" Excuse me ; our haughty little Katherine might not thank me for meddling with her affaires du cceur. And I wish so much to stand well with the dear child. So affectionate a daughter can have no secrets from you — she will tell you all about it her- self, no doubt, before the day ends. And, Sir John, I can safely promise you this much — I shall leave Scarswood before your daughter's wedding day, to return no more."

He looked at her in painful, anxious silence. He felt that behind her words a covert threat lay.

" Before her wedding day. The child is but seventeen and not likely to marry for four or five years yet. I don't knov/ what you mean, Harriet. For pity sake speak plainly — let us understand each other if we can. I don't want to be hard upon you. Heaven knows. I would pour out money like water to secure my darling's happiness — and you — oh surely! of all the creatures on earth, yoii should be the last to harm her. Don t betray me — don't betray her — don't ruin her life. I know I ought to tell ; honor, truth, with all the instincts of my life, urge me to speak, but I know so well what the result would be, and I dare not ! " A stifled sob shook the old soldier's voice. " I love her better than ever father loved a child before — bet- ter I think than ever, if that were possible, since this new dan- ger threatened. If you keep silence there is nothing to fear. In Heaven's name, Harriet, mention any sum you like, however exorbitant, and leave this house at once and forever."

She sat and listened, without one touch of pity for the love she could not fathom ; she sat and watched him without one

54

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

softening glance of the hard eyes. There was an unpleasant tightness about the thin lips, an almost diabolical malice in her furtive gaze.

" I will take ten thousand pounds, and I will leave Scars- wood a week preceding Miss Dangerfield's wedding day. The sooner that day is named the better. That is my zdtimatum."

"A week before her wedding day ! Why do you harp on that ? I tell you she has no idea of being married-for years — a child of seventeen ! "

" And I tell you she has. Children of seventeen in this year of grace have very grown-up notions. Miss Dangerfield had two proposals of marriage last night ; one she refused, one she accepted. If you have patience, your future son-in-law will be here for his answer before dinner. As Katherine will be on his side, your answer will be, * Yes,' of course, though he were the veriest blackguard in England. If that tall slip of a girl told you to swear black was white, you would swear it, and half be- lieve you were not perjuring yourself. You are too old to learn wisdom now, my poor Sir John ; but if you were a younger man, I would try and convince you of the folly of loving, with such blind, dog-like devotion, any creature on this earth. No one alive is worthy of it — least of all a woman. You would die to make her happy ; more, the soul of honor, by training and instinct, you are yet ready to commit dishonor for her sake. And she — if you stand between her and this good-look- adventurer, only seen for the first time a few weeks ago, she will set you down for a very tyrant and monster, and run away to Scotland with him the instant he asks her. Oh, yes' she will ! I'm a woman, and I know my sex. They're like cats — stroke them the right way and they'll purr forever ; stroke them the wrong way, and their sharp claws are into your flesh, though yours the hand that has fed and caressed them all their life. Katherine is no worse than the rest, and when she leaves you and runs away with him, she is only true to her feline nature. I will take ten thousand pounds, cash down, one week before the day fixed for Kathie's wedding, and I'll leave Scarswood, and you, and her, forever— with the secret untold. The sooner that wedding day is fixed, the sooner you are rid of me. And I'll never come back — I'll never ask you for another stiver. Now we understand each other, and we'll get along comfortably, I hope. Don't let us talk any more on this subject, it isn't a pleasant one ; and. Sir John, do, do try and look a little less like a martyr on the rack ! Don't wear your heart on your

BEFORE BREAKFAST.

55

sleeve, for the daws of society to peck at. You know that tire- some story of the Spartan boy and the fox, or wolf — which was it ? The animal gnawed at his vitals, but he kept his cloak well over it and bore the agony with a smiling face. I think the horrible little brute lays hold of all mankind, sooner or later ; only some suffer and make no sign, and others go through the world howling aloud over the pain, /have hid my wolf for the last nineteen years— you would not think it, would you? Don't let everybody see you have a secret, in your face, or they may find it out for themselves, if you do. Here comes our little truant at last : and Dieu merci, for I am absolutely famished ! "

Clearing the last three steps with a jump, according to cus- tom, all fluttering in crisp white musHn, and lit up with bright ribbons, Katherine came into the room, her happy face sun- shiny enough to illuminate all Sussex.

''Late again, papa," throwing her arms round him after her impetuous fashion and giving him a sounding kiss; ''but last night was an exceptional occasion in one's life; one was priv- ileged to oversleep one's self this morning. Oh, papa ! " with a little fluttering sigh, " what a perfectly delicious party it was ! "

" My dear," her father said, in a constrained sort of voice, " don't you see Mrs. Vavasor ? "

She had not until that moment. In her own happiness she had forgotten the very existence of her father's guest. Her face clouded ever so slightly now as she turned to meet the little woman's gushing greeting.

" Dearest Katherine — oh, I really must call you Katherine — how well, how bright you are looking this morning. Look at that radiant face, Sir John, and tell me would you think this child had danced twenty-four consecutive times last night ? / counted, my pet," with her tinkling laugh — " danced until broad day this morning. Ah how delightful to be sweet seventeen and able to look like this after a long night's steady v/altzing."

She would have kissed her, but Katherine' s crystal clear eyes detected the rouge on her lips, and Katherine, who never re- sisted an impulse in her whole life, shrank back palpably.

" What ! " Mrs. Vavasor exclaimed gayly ; " you won't kiss me, you proud little English girl ? Never mind, I foresee we shall be great friends — don't you think so, Sir John? if only for her mother's sake."

"My mother's sake!" Katherine repeated. "You knew my mother ? "

56 ASKING IN MARRIAGE,

^ Very well, indeed, my dear — I was her most intimate friend. And you are like her — like her every way — in face, in manner, in voice. I should have been fond of you in any case, but since you resemble your mother so strongly, think how I must love you now ! "

CHAPTER VL

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

RS. VAVASOR might be never so vivacious, but it was a very silent, not to say gloomy, meal. Sir John sat moodily, eating little, and watching his daughter with strange new interest in his eyes. His perplexi- ties seemed thickening around him. It was surely bad enough to have this obnoxious visitor on his hands, without an objection- able son-in-law flung in his face willy-nilly also. Who could the man be ? He had not, if you will believe it, the remotest idea. He had been so completely absorbed by his espionage over the little widow all night that he had scarcely once re- marked his daughter. Who can the man be ? He thought over the list of his unmarried masculine guests and lit upon Cap- tain De Vere, of the Plungers, as the man.

" And if it l)e he," the baronet thought with an inward groan, " there is nothing for it but to make a clean breast of it before the wedding. And how will it be then ? He is a very heavy swell, De Vere, and will one day write his name high in the peerage. He may be in love with Katherine now — how will it be when he knows the truth ? Heaven help me ! was ever man so badgered as I am ? "

Katherine was very silent, too ; even her hearty girl's morn- ing appetite seemed to have failed her. She trifled with what lay on her plate, a tender half-smile on her hps and in her eyes. Love had taken away appetite. How handsome he had looked ! the mellow lamp-light of the conservatory streaming across his dark, southern beauty. How nobly he had spoken ! And he had feared refusal — this darling of the gods ! He had thought himself unworthy the heiress of Scarswood — he who was worthy the heiress of a throne I

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

57

I am glad I am an heiress for his sake," she thought : I only wish my thousands were millions ! Oh, Gaston ! to think that your poverty would be any obstacle to me. I am glad you are poor — yes, glad, that I may give you all ; that I may be in every way the good angel of your life !"

Mrs. Vavasor, chattering cheerily on all imaginable subjects, asked her a question. It had to be repeated ere it reached her ear, dulled by her blissful trance. She lifted her dreamy eyes.

" What did you say, madame ?"

Mrs. Vavasor's rather shrill laugh chimed forth.

" What did I say, madame ! and I have asked her three times. No, my dear, I'll not repeat my question as to whether you'll drive me to Castleford if it clears up, as I see it is going to do, being quite certain you will have other and pleasanter com- pany. Look at that abstracted face, Sir John, and tell me what you think."

The baronet's answer was a sort of growl, as he rose abruptly from the table.

" I am going to my study, Katherine, and I want to speak to you — will you come ? "

" Speak to me, papa ? " Katherine repeated, faintly, her color coming and going nervously for the first time in her life.

"Yes." He offered her his arm, looking grimmer than she had ever seen him in all her experience. " Mrs. Vavasor will find some other means of amusing herself besides that drive to Castleford. My carriage and coachman are at her service if she really desires it."

" Very well, papa," Miss Dangerfield responded, with a meek- ness very different from her usual manner of frank impertinence which sat so well upon her. " Could he know ? " she was think- ing in some trepidation. " Can he know so soon ? Did he see us last night in the conservatory together ? and, oh ! what will he say?"

Mrs. Vavasor watched the stalwart, soldierly figure, and the sHght girlish form on his arm from sight, with a hard, cold glit- ter in her black eyes.

" Your coachman is at my service, Sir John, but your daugh- ter is not. And her Royal Highness, the Princess of Scars- wood, would not let me kiss her this morning ! Like her mother again, very much like her mother indeed. And I have a good memory for all slights, little and great."

Sir John's study was a cosey room, on the same floor with the breakfast parlor, and commanding a view of the entrance ave- 3*

58

ASKim; IN MARRIAGE,

nue with its arching elms. He placed a chair for his daughter, still in grim silence, and Katherine sank into it in a little flut- ter of apprehension. Fear was a weakness that perhaps had never troubled the girl in her life. Whatever the blood in her veins, it was at least thoroughly brave. And, womanlike, it was more for her lover than herself she trembled now.

"Papa won't like it," she thought. " Gaston's poverty will be a drawback to him. He will forget he was poor himself only half a year ago, and refuse his consent. ISTo, he won't do that ; he would consent to anything, I think, sooner than see me miserable."

" Katherine," her father began, abruptly, " Peter Dangerfield proposed last night."

Katherine looked up with a start. Nothing was further from her thoughts at that moment than her cousin Peter — she had entirely forgotten him and their quarrel of last night. " Peter ? Oh, yes, papa, I forgot all about it."

" Humph ! highly complimentary to Peter. I need hardly ask if you refused him. Miss Dangerfield?"

" Certainly I refused him ! " Miss Dangerfield retorted, her spirits rising, now she had found her tongue, " and his declara- tion ended in no end of a row." The heiress of Scarswood was a trifle slangy at times. " I lost my temper — that's the truth — at one thing he said, and spoke to him as I had no busi- ness to. I'm sorry now, and I apologized, but I know he'll never forget or forgive the affront. He's one of your nice, quiet, inoffensive people who go to church three times every Sunday, and who never do forgive anything."

''What did you say ?"

Papa's voice was terribly stern — for him. Miss Dangerfield hung her head in deserved contrition.

" Papa ! you know what an abominable temper I've got, and still more abominable tongue — I called him a rickety dwarf." Katherine .r'

"I'm sorry, papa," Katherine repeated a little sullenly, and not looking up. "I apologized; it is all I can do; it's said, and can't be recalled ! Scolding will do no good now."

There was silence for a moment. A pallor that even her wicked words seemed too trifling to call there overspread his face.

" A bad business ! " he muttered. " Peter Dangerfield will never forget or forgive your insult as long as he lives. Heaven help you now, child, if you are ever in his power."

ASKING IN MARRIAGE,

59

" In his power ! in Peter's !" Katherine said, lifting her head haughtily. What nonsense, papa ! of course I shall never be in his power. And he provoked me into saying it, if it comes to that ! What business had he to speak as he did, to in- sult— " Miss Dangerfield pulled herself up with a jerk, and looked up.

"Insult whom, my daughter?"

" Never mind, papa — a friend of mine."

"And a rival of his. Was it Captain De Vere, Kathie?"

" Captain De Vere ! Oh dear, no, papa ! Captain De Vere can fight his own battles — he's big enough and old enough. He has nothing to do with me."

" Then somebody else has. You are keeping something from me, and that is not like you, Kathie. You had .another proposal last night."

Katherine looked at her father in sheer amaze.

" Why, papa, you must be a wizard — how do you find these things out ? Did — did you see me in the conservatory ? "

" / did not — I did not deem it was necessary to place Kath- erine Dangerfield under surveillance at her first party."

" Papa ! "

" Oh, child ! You compel me to say cruel things. The world will watch you if I do not, and report all shortcomings."

"The world may," Katherine said, proudly- " I have done nothing wrong — I know who has told you — you would never play the spy; it was that odious woman in the breakfast room. Who is she, papa, and what does she do here, and how long is she going to stay ? I don't know anything about her, but I hate her already. Who is she ? "

" She is Mrs. Vavasor. Never mind her at present, my dear — you are the subject under discussion. We have not come to this other lover yet — let us come to him at once. Two lovers ! and yesterday I thought you a child. Well, well ! it is the way of the world — the female portion of it at least. Katherine, who is the man? "

She looked up — grew very pale — met her father's stern, sor- rowful eyes, and looked down.

" It is — papa, papa ! don't be angry. He can't help being poor — and I — I like him — so," with little gasps. " Oh, papa, please ! You never were cruel to your little Kathie in all your life — please doiit begin now ! "

He stood very still, listening to this outburst with a face that grew every moment graver.

6o

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

" And it needs such a preface as this ! You have to plead for him before even you tell his name. Who is he, Kathie ? "

She got up, flung her arms round him, and hid her face on his shoulder.

" It is — papa, p-p-please don't be angry. It is Gaston Dan- tree ! "

The murder was out ! Of all the men he had thought of, he had never once thought of him. Gaston Dantree ! An utter stranger — a singer of songs — his voice giving him the entree into houses where else he had never set his foot. A schemer probably — an adventurer certainly — a foreigner also — and Sir John Dangerfield had all your true-born Briton's hearty detes- tation of foreigners.

Kathie," he could just exclaim ; " that man ! "

"I love him, papa!" she whispered, between an impulsive shower of coaxing kisses ; " and oh, please don't call him that man ! He may be poor ; but he is so good, so noble — dearer, better every way than any man I ever knew. If you had only heard him talk last night, papa ! " .

" Talk ! Yes, I dare say." The baronet laughed — a dreary- sounding laugh enough. " It is his stock in trade — that silvery tenor of his ; and all adventurers possess the gift of gab. It is the rubbish that keeps them afloat."

An adventurer, papa ! You have no right to call him that. You don't know him — you should not judge him. He may be poor ; but poverty is his only disgrace. He does not deserve that opprobrious name ! "

" It would be difficult, indeed, to say what name Mr. Gaston Dantree does not deserve. A penniless stranger who could deliberately set himself to work to steal the affections of a child like you — for your fortune alone ! That will do, Katherine : I know what I am talking about — I have met men like Mr. Gas- ton Dantree before. And I have no right to judge him — this thief who comes to steal away my treasure ! Child — child ! you have disappointed me — you have disappointed me more than I can say."

He sighed bitterly, and covered his eyes with his hand ; Katherine' s arm tightened imploringly round his neck.

" But not angered you, papa, not giieved you ; don't say I have done that ! " She cried faintly, hiding her face. " Dear- est, best father that ever was in this world, don't say you are angry with Katherine — for the first, the only time ! "

" Heaven knows, my dear, I could not be angry with you if

ASKING IN MARRIAGE,

61

I tried. Lift up your head, Kathie, and give me a kiss. Don't cry for your new toy, my child ; you shall have it, as you have had all the rest. Only whatever happens in the future, don't blame me. Remember that I have nothing but your happiness at heart."

Her impetuous kisses, her happy tears thanked him. Since her childhood he had not seen her weep before, and the sight moved him strangely.

" And when am I to see him, Katherine ? " he asked ; when is this unknown hero, without money in his purse, coming to claim the heiress of Scarswood? It requires some courage, doubtless, to face the * heavy father ; ' but I suppose he does intend to come. And I think your Mr. Dantree has courage — no, that's not the word — cheek enough for anything."

" He will be here to-day," she whispered, lifting her head ; and papa, for my sake don't be hard on him — don't hurt his feelings, don't insult him for his poverty ! "

He put her from him, and walked away with a gesture al- most of anger.

" His poverty ! as if I cared for if/iaf ! The baronets of Scars- wood have been poor men, often enough ; but they were always gentlemen. I don't think your handsome lover with the tenor voice can say as much. But, whatever he is — blackleg, advent- urer, fortune-hunter — I am to take him, it seems, to give him my daughter, and heiress, as soon as it pleases his sultanship to claim her. If not, you'll become a heroine, won't you, Kathie, and run away to Gretna Green with him ? Katherine, if by some freak of fortune Scarswood and its long rent-roll passed from you to-morrow, and you stood before him penniless as he is, hov/ long do you think he would prove true to all the love- vows of last night — in the conservatory, was it?"

For all the years of his life, papa," the girl cried, her large eyes flashing. " You don't know him — you judge him cruelly and unkindly. He loves me for myself — as I do him. Papa, I never knew you to be so unkind before in all my life."

**That will do, Kathie — I have promised to accept him when he comes — let that suffice. I confess I should have liked a gentleman born and bred for a son-in-law, but that weakness will no doubt wear away with time. Ah, I see — ' lo ! the con- quering hero comes ! ' Will you dare trust him to my tender mercies, my dear, or do you wish to remain and do battle for your knight ? "

For Mr. Gaston Dantree was riding slowly up the avenue.

62

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

The sun which all morning had been struggling with the clouds burst out at the moment, and Mr. Dantree approached through the sunburst as through a glory. The girl's eyes lit, her whole face kindled with the radiance of love at seventeen. And this son of the gods was hers. She turned in her swift, impulsive fashion, and flung her arms round her father's neck once more.

" Don't be unkind, papa, for my sake. It would kill me if I lost him — just that."

" Kill you," he laughed, cynically. " Men have died, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. There, go — I may be an ogre, but I'll promise not to devour Mr. Dantree this morning, if I can help it."

He led her to the door, held it open for her to pass out. She gave him one last imploring glance.

" For my sake, papa," she repeated, and fled.

He closed the door and went back to his seat beside the window. The last trace of softness died out of his face, he sighed heavily, and in the garish sunshine his florid face looked haggard and worn.

" If I only had courage to face the worst," he thought — " if I only had courage to tell the truth. But I am a coward, and I cannot. The revelation would kill her — to lose lover, fortune, all at one blow. If it must fall, mine will never be the hand to strike, and yet it might be greatest mercy after all."

The door was flung wide.

''Mr. Dantree," announced the footman.

Sir John arose with a stern ceremoniousness that might have abashed most men. But it did not abash Katherine's lover. In the whole course of his checkered career no man had ever seen Mr. Dantree put out of countenance. He came forward, hat in hand, that handsome mask, his face, wearing a polite smile.

" Good-morning, Sir John — I hope I see you well after last night's late hours. It was a most delightful reunion. And Miss Katherine, I trust, is well also after the fatigue of so much dancing ? "

" My daughter is well ! " — very stiff and frigid, this response. " Will you take a seat, Mr. Dantree, and tell me to what I owe the honor of this visit ? "

He paused. The tone, the look, were enough to chill the ardor of the warmest lover. Mr. Dantree took them, and the chair, as matters of course. He laid his hat on the floor,

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

63

drew off his gloves, ran his fingers through his glossy black curls, and met Sir John's irate gaze with unflinching good humor.

" I come to you. Sir John, on a matter of supreme im- portance. As you appear in haste, I will not detain you long — I will come to the point at once. Last night I had the honor of proposing for your daughter's hand, and the happiness of being accepted."

This was coming to the point at once with a vengeance. Sir John sat gazing at him blankly. The stupendous magnifi- cence of his cheekiness completely took his breath away.

" It may be presumptuous on my part," Mr. Dantree coolly went on ; ''but our afi"ections are not under our control. Love knows no distinction of rank. I love your daughter, Sir John, and have the great happiness of knowing my love is returned."

Sir John Dangerfield actually burst out laughing. Some- where in the old mustache there lay a lurking vein of humor, and Mr. Dantree'5 perfect sang-froid and pat little speech tickled it ; and the laugh took Mr. Dantree more aback than any words in the Enghsh language.

" Sir ! " he began, reddening.

" I beg your pardon, Mr. Dantree — I certainly had no inten- tion of laughing, and I certainly suppose you don't see any- thing to laugh at. It was that pretty speech of yours — how glibly you say your lesson! Long practice, now, I suppose has made you perfect."

" Sir John Dangerfield — if you mean to insult me — " "Keep quiet, Mr. Dantree — you're not in a passion, though you feign one very well. You may be an actor by profession, for what I know, but I'd rather we dropped melodrama and kept to humdrum common-sense. Reserve all you flowery periods about love overleaping the barriers of rank— Katherine is not listening. Am I to understand you are here to demand my daughter's hand in marriage ? "

Mr. Dantree bowed.

" You are to understand that, Sir John. I possess Miss Dangerfield' s heart. I have come here this morning, with her consent, to ask you for her hand."

" And my daughter has known you — three, or four weeks — which is it? And you are good enough to acknowledge it may be a Httle presumptuous ! Mr. Dantree, what are you ? Katherine is seventeen, and in love with you ; I am sixty-five.

64

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

and not in love ; you possess a handsome face and a very fine voice — may I ask what additional virtues and claims you can put forth for my favor ? Dark eyes and melodious tenors are very good and pleasant things in their way, but I am an un- romantic old soldier, and I should like you to show some more substantial reasons why I am to give you my daughter for life."

"If by substantial reasons you mean fame or fortune, Sir John, I possess neither. I own it — I am poor. I am a journalist. By my pen I earn my bread, and I have yet to learn there is any disgrace in honest poverty."

"There are many things you have yet to learn, I think, Mr. Dantree, but easy assurance and self-conceit are not among them. You are poor, no doubt — of the honesty of that poverty I have no means of judging. At present I have but your word for it. Would you like to know what I think of you, Mr. Dantree — in plain language ?"

" If you please. Sir John, and it will be plain, I have no doubt."

"Then, sir, you are, I believe, simply and solely an advent- urer— a fortune-hunter. Be good enough to hear me out. I am not likely to repeat this conversation for some time, and it is much better we should understand each other at once. There is but one thing I would rather not see my daughter than your wife, and that is — dead ! "

" Thank you. Sir John — you are almost more complimentary than I had hoped. I am to understand, then," he said this with perfect coolness, " that you refuse your consent. In that case I have only to bid you good-day and go."

Sir John glanced at him in impotent rising wrath. What it cost him to preserve even a show of self-control the fiery old soldier alone knew.

"You do well," he cried, his blue eyes afire, "to taunt me with my impotence. If I were a wiser man and a less indulgent father, by heavens ! you should go, and that quickly ! But I have never refused Katherine anything yet, and I am not going to begin now. She has set her foolish, child's heart on you, sir, with your cursed womanish beauty and Italian song-singing, and she shall not be thwarted — by me. She shall marry you if she wishes it — she shall never say /came between her and the dearest desire of her heart. Take her, Gaston Dantree," he arose, " and may an old man's curse blight you if ever you make her repent it ! "

Perhaps somewhere in his hard anatomy Gaston Dantree

THE SECOND WARNING.

65

had an organ that did duty as a heart, it smote him now. He held out his hand to the passionate old soldier.

" So help me Heaven ! she never shall. As I deal by her may I be dealt with ! "

He spoke the words that sealed his condemnation. In the troubled after-days, it was only the retribution he invoked then that fell.

CHAPTER VII.

THE SECOND WARNING.

EFORE the expiration of a week, it was known to all Castleford — to all the county families of the neigbor- hood — that Miss Katherine Dangerfield, of Scarswood Park, was engaged to Mr. Gaston Dantree, of — nobody knew where.

Had any other baronet's daughter so far stooped to disgrace their code and their order, the county families would have stood paralyzed at the desecration. Being Miss Dangerfield, nobody even wondered. It was only of a piece with all the rest. What could you expect of a young person — the term of lady would have been a misnomer — of a young person with some of the best blood in Sussex in her veins, who persisted in scampering over the downs and the coast for miles without a groom ! — who treated her venerable father as though he were a child of twelve, who wore her hair streaming down her back at the mature age of seventeen, who called every Goody and Gaffer in the parish by their christian name, who was quite capa- ble of speaking to anybody without an introduction, who knew every game that could be played on the cards, and who talked slang ? What could you expect of a demoralized young woman like this ? The Dangerfield lineage was unexceptionable — there must be a cross somewhere, a bar sinister on the mother's side ; it was a wild impossibility the old blood could degenerate in this way,

Who was Mr. Gaston Dantree ? The county families asked this question with intense curiosity now, and found the answer all too meagre. Mr. Dantree himself responded to it with that

66

THE SECOND WARNING.

perfei t, high-bred self-possession which characterized him ; and everybody had to take his own account, or go look for proof.

" I am an American — a Southerner, as you know," Mr. Dan tree had said ; " my native State is Louisiana. I am that famous historical personage, ' the son of poor but honest parents,' now and for many years dead. By profession I am a journaUst ;

I am connected with the New Orleans P . An unexpected

windfall, in the way of a small legacy, enabled me, six months ago, to realize a long-cherished dream of mine and visit England. My leave of absence expires in two months, when I must either return to New Orleans or — "

Here Mr. Dantree was wont to break off if Miss Dangerfield were present, with a profound sigh and a glance that spoke lexicons.

Squire Talbot, of Morecambe, with whom Mr. Dantree had come down to London, and with whom he was still staying, when brought upon the stand in turn and cross-examined, could throw very little more light on his guest's antecedents.

" Deuced sorry, now. Sir John, I ever did bring the fellow down," young Mr. Talbot said, the first time he met the bar- onet, pulling his tawny mustache with gloomy ferocity ; "but how the deuce could I tell Miss Dangerfield would go and — no, I mean Dantree, be hanged to him ! — would go and make love to Miss Dangerfield ? I put it to yourself — now could I, Sir John ? I'm deuced sorry, and all that, but I don't know a blessed thing about him except that 'he's a jolly good fellow,' as the song says, tells a capital storj/, sings like an American Sims Reeves, and can punish more champagne of a night and rise none the worse for it next day than any other fellow " — Squire Talbot pronounced it feller" — " I ever knew. I met him first at a dinner at the Guards' Club, then at a Sunday breakfast at Lord Leaham's — invited to both these places, you understand, to sing. He knew lots of newspaper men — wrote flimsies himself for the sporting journals, and when I asked him — con- found it ! — to run down with me to my place in Sussex, he ' '^nsented at once. And I am deuced sorry. Sir John," reiter- ated Squire Talbot, going over the same ground again ; and I hope, whatever happens, you know, you'll not blame me."

" I blame nobody," the old baronet answered, wearily ; " these things are to be, 1 suppose. I shall write to New Orleans and make inquiries concerning the young man ; I can do no more. Katherine is infatuated — pray Heaven her eyes may not be opened in my day I "

THE SECOND WARNING.

67

Mrs. Vavasor was perhaps the only one who heard with un- alloyed satisfaction of Katherine's sudden engagement.

*'What did I tell you, Sir John?" she said, triumphantly. "What do you think of my powers of divination now? It's rather a mesalliance, isn't it? — for her father's daughter, rather a mad affair altogether. But, dear child — she is so impulsive, and so self-reliant, and so hopelessly obsti — no, that's not a pleasant word — so resolute and firm, let us say, that remon- strance is quite thrown away upon her. Let us pity her, Sir John, rather than blame ; she comes by all those admirable traits of character honestly enough — inherited from her mother. And when is the wedding to take place ? "

She threw her head back against the purple-velvet cushions of her chair, and looked at the moody baronet with maliciously sparkling black eyes.

I don't ask merely from idle curiosity," Mrs. Vavasor went on, as the badgered baronet's ansv/er was a sort of groan ; " I inquire because the knowledge influences my own movements. One week before the day fixed for the wedding, I receive from you, my kind benefactor, that check for ten thousand pounds — a very respectable haul, by the way — and I shake the dust of Scarswood off my feet forever. My reception by both host and hostess was, I must say, of the least cordial, and I am made to feel every hour that I am a most unwelcome interloper. Still, I bear no malice, and not having any of your sang-azure in my veins, my sensitive feelings are not wounded. Perhaps a dozen years spent at Baden and Homburg does blunt the finer edge of one's nerves. I trust the wedding day will not come round too speedily — I really like my quarters here. My room commands a sunny southern prospect, your wines are unexcep- tionable, and your cook for an English cook, a treasure. Don't fix the happy day too near, Sir John. Dearest Katherine is so impetuous that she would be married next week, I dare say, if she could."

"I wish to Heaven it were next week, so that I might be rid of you ! " Sir John broke out. " You bring misfortune with you wherever you go ! Mrs. Harman, you shall leave this house ! You sit here with that mocking smile on your face, exulting in your power until it drives me half mad to look at you. Take the enormous bribe you demand — I have no right to give it you, I know — and go at once. What object can you gain by remaining here ? "

Now, that is an unkind question. What do I gain ? The

68

THE SECOND WARNING.

pleasure of your society, and that of Miss Dangerfield, to be sure ; the pleasure of being hand and glove with the gentry of this neighborhood, who, like yourself, rather give me the cold shoulder, by the way. I wonder how it is ? — none of them ever saw me at Homburg that I know of. I suppose the brand of adventuress is stamped on my face. No, Sir John ; not one hour, not one second sooner than I say. shall I quit Scars- wood Park. If the wedding is fixed for next week, then I leave this; if for this day ten years, then I remain that long. I dare say I should find life slow, and the character of a respect- able British matron of the upper classes a dismal life ; but still, I would do it."

He stopped in his walk and looked at her. The bold eyes met his unflinchingly. "Well, Sir John?"

" Harriet Harman, you have some sinister design in all this. What have you to do with Katherine's wedding day ? What has the child done to you that you should hate her ? What have I ever done that you should torment me thus ? Is it that at the last hour you mean to break your promise and tell ? Great Heaven ! Harriet, is that what you mean ? "

Her steady color faded for a moment ; her own, with all her boldness, shifted away from the gaze of the old man's horror- struck eyes.

'*What I mean is my own affair," she said, sullenly; "and I do hate Katherine for her mother's sake, and her own. You needn't ask me any questions about it. I mean to tell you all one day — but not this. I want money, Sir John, and that promised check, of course, my poor little purse replenished. See how empty it is ! — and all my worldly wealth is here."

She laughed as she held it up, all her old audacious manner back. Two or three shillings jingled in the meshes as she held it out.

" I want to replenish my wardrobe ; I want to pay some bills ; I want — oh ! millions of things ! Fill me out a check like the princely old soldier you are, and I shall get through the day shopping in Castleford ; I will amuse myself spending money, while Katherine amuses herself listening to Mr. Dan- tree's fluent love-making. He's rather a clever little fellow, that son-in-law-elect of yours, my dear baronet, and I don't think he has given us his whole autobiography quite as it is known in New Orleans. I don't say there was anything par- ticularly clever in his wooing the heiress of Scarswood, because

THE SECOND WARNING.

69

any well-looking young man, with a ready tongue and an ele- gant address, could have done that^ and my own impression is that Miss Dangerfield, like Desdemona, met him more than half way. I'm ready to wager the nuptials will be consum- mated within the next three months. Now, that check, dear Sir John — and do be liberal ! "

She rose up, and Sir John, with the look of a hunted animal at bay, filled out a check for a hundred pounds and handed it to her.

"A sop to Cerberus," the widow said, gayly; "do you know, Sir John, I haven't had so much money at once for the past five years ! How fortunate for me that I met Colonel Dangerfield and lady that eventful day fifteen years ago in the hospital of St. Lazare 1 And what a comfortable thing to a poor little widow a great man's secret is ! Thank you. Sir John ; my toilettes will do Scarswood credit during the remainder of my stay."

And Mrs.* Vavasor kept her word. The faded silks and shabby laces, the Palais-Royal diamonds and soiled gloves were consigned to the lowest depths of oblivion and the widow's trunks. And silks of rainbow hues, stiff enough in their rustling richness to stand alone ; cobweb laces of marvellous price, w4th the glimmer of real jewels, made the little woman gorgeous. If she painted, she was past mistress of the art ; and none but a very expert female eye could have detected the liquid rouge that made her bloom so brightly, or that the sparkling radiance of. her bright black eyes was the ghastly brilliance of belladonna. Sir John's one hundred pounds went a very little way in his visitor's magnificent toilet, and that first " sop to Cerberus" had to be very speedily and very often renewed. In her own way, she spent her time very pleasantly — tossing over purchases in the Castleford shops, making agreeable flying trips to London and back, driving about in a little basket-carriage and biding her time.

All things are possible to the man who knows how to wait, my dear Mr. Dangerfield," she said one day, to the baronet's moody nephew. " I suppose the same rule applies to women. Don't be impatient ; your time and mine is very near now. I have waited for nearly eighteen years, and here you are grum- bling, ingrate, at being obliged to stand in the background for that many weeks ! How is it that we never see you at Scars- wood now ? "

She picked up the Castleford attorney on one of her drives.

70

THE SECOND WARNING.

Since the night of the birthday party, Mr. Peter Dangerfield had not shown his sallow face, colorless eyes and mustache inside the great house.

"I don't think you need ask that- question — yoit^ of all people," the young man answered, sulkily. What the deuce should I do at Scarswood, looking at those two billing and coo- ing? They say marriages are made in Heaven — I wonder if this union of a fool and a knave was ever made in the celestial regions ? In the infernal, I should say myself."

"My dear Mr. Dangerfield, aren't you a little severe? A fool and a knave ! Would Katherine have been a fool, I wonder, if she had accepted you the other night ?

*' * Oh, my cousin, shallow-hearted, O, my Kathie, mine no more ! '

Don't be unreasonable, Mr. Dangerfield. You are as poor as Mr. Dantree, and — if you will pardon my telling plain truth — not half a quarter so good-looking. And then, she is not mar- ried to him yet."

" No, but she soon will be. It is rumored in the town that the wedding is fixed for early January. It's of no use your talking and chaffing a fellow, Mrs. Vavasor ; the wedding day will take place as sure as we sit here, and the next thing, there will be an heir to Scarswood. In the poetic language of the Orientals, your talk of the other night is all ' bosh.' It is ut- terly impossible that Scarswood should ever fall to me."

Mrs. Vavasor laughed in hei^ agreeable way.

" Impossible is a very big word, friend Peter — too big for my vocabulary. See here ! Will you give me your written prom- ise that on the day Scarswood and its long rent-roll becomes yours you will pay me down ten thousand pounds? It's a tol- erable price, but not too much, considering the service I will do you."

He looked at her darkly, and in doubt.

"Mrs. Vavasor," he said, slowly, "if that be your name — and I don't believe it is — I'm not going to commit myself to you, or anybody, in the dark. I am a lawyer, and won't break the law. You're a very clever little woman — so clever that for the rest of my life I mean to have nothing whatever to do with you. If you had a spite at anybody, I don't suppose you would stick at trifles to gratify it. But I'm not going to become accessory to you before the fact to any little plot of yours. If

THE SECOND WARNING.

71

Scarswoocl ever comes to me, and I repeat, it is impossible it ever should, it shall be by fair means, not — foul."

Mrs. Vavasor lay back among the cushions and laughed till the echoes rang. They were in the streets of Castleford, and passing pedestrians looked up and smiled from very sympathy with that merry peal.

" He thinks I am going to commit a murder ! I really be- lieve he does ! No — no ! Mr. Dangerfield, I'm not a lawyer, but I respect the majesty of the law quite as greatly as you do. I've done a great many queer things in my life, I don't mind owning, but I never committed a murder, and I never mean to, even to gratify spite. Come ! you're a coward, 77iofi ami, even though you are a Dangerfield ; bat if you promise to per- petrate no deed of darkness on the way, will you give me that ten thousand when you are lord of the manor. Yes or no ? just as you please. Sir John will, if you won't."

" I wish I understood — "

"Wait ! wait ! wait! You shall understand! we are draw- ing near the Hall. Is it a promise ? "

" It will be a fool's promise, given in the dark — but yes, if you will have it."

Mrs. Vavasor's eyes sparkled with a light this time not de- rived from belladonna.

" You will give me that promise in writing ? "

" In anything ; it is easy enough to give a promise w^e never expect to be called upon to fulfil. If through you Scarswood Park becomes mine, I will willingly pay you the sum you ask."

" Very w^ell, then — it is a compact between us. You fetch the document in writing the next time you visit us, and let that visit be soon. You can surely bear the sight of our lovers' raptures with the secret knowledge that they will never end in wedlock."

" If I thought that," between his set teeth.

" You may think it. I know that of Katherine Dangerfield which will effectually prevent Gaston Dantree from marrying her. Ah! Speak of his Satanic Majesty and he appears. Be- hold Katherine Dangerfield and the handsome lover her money has bought ! "

They came dashing out from under the arched entrance gates, both superbly mounted, for Mr. Dantree had the run of the Morecambe stables. Remarkably handsome at all times, Mr. Dantree invariably looked his best on horseback, and Miss Dangerfield, in her tight-fitting habit, her tall hat with its sweep-

72

THE SECOND WARNING.

ing purple plumes, and wearing, oh, such an infinitely happy face, was, if not handsome, at least dashing and bright enough for the goddess Diana herself.

Look," Mrs. Vavasor said, maliciously ; " and they say perfect bliss is not for this lower world. Let those who say so come and look at Katherine Dangerfield and that beautiful creature, Gaston Dantree — the very handsomest man I ever saw, I believe, and I have seen some handsome men in my lifetime. Real Oriental eyes, Mr. Dangerfield — long, black, lustrous. And he bows with the grace of a prince of the blood."

The equestrians swept by. Mr. Dantree doffed his hat, and bowed low to the smiling little lady in the basket car- riage. Miss Dangerfield' s salute was of the haughtiest. Some feminine instinct told her her father's guest was her enemy, despite her sugary speeches, her endearing epithets, her cease- less smiles.

" I hate that woman, papa ! " Katherine more than once burst out to her father. " I hate people who go through life continually smirking. If you told her black was white, she would say, ' So it is, my sweetest pet,' and look as if she be- lieved it — little hypocrite ! I detest her, and she detests me, and she makes you miserable — oh, I can see it ! now what I want to know is, what's she doing here ? "

And Katherine stood before her father, and looked for an answer, with her bright, clear eyes fixed full upon him. He had shifted under the gaze of those frank eyes, with a sort of suppressed groan.

" I wish you would try and treat her a little more civilly than you do, Kathie," he answered, avoiding his daughter's searching glance ; "you were perfectly rude to her last night. It is not like you, Kathie, to be discourteous to the guest that eats of your bread and salt."

" And it is very like her to play eavesdropper. I caught her behind a tall orange tree listening to every word Gaston and I were saying. I merely told her 1 would repeat our conversa- tion any night for her benefit if she was so determined to hear it as to play the spy. She is an odious little wretch, papa, if she is your friend, and I don't believe she is. She paints and she tells polite lies every hour of the day, and she hates me with the whole strength of her venomous little soul. And she looks at you and speaks to you in a way I don't understand — as though she had you in . her power. Papa, I warn you ! You'll come to grief if you keep any secrets from me."

THE SECOND WARNING.

73

" Katherine, for pity's sake, go and leave me alone ! I in her power ! What abominable nonsense you talk. Go ! walk, drive, sing, amuse yourself with your new toy — the singing man — anything, only leave me to read my Times in peace. I begin to believe Victor Hugo's words, 'Men are women's play- things, and women are the dev — ' "

"That will do, papa," interrupted Katherine, walking away in offended dignity. "You can say things quite bitter enough yourself, without quoting that cynical Frenchman. Mrs. Vava- sor may be Satan's plaything, for what I know. Of that you are naturally the best judge. How long is she to force herself upon us in this house ? "

"/don't know. She will leave before you are — married" — the word seemed to choke him — " and, Kathie, child, I do wish you would try and treat her with common civility — for my sake, if not for hers."

" And why for your sake, papa ? I hate doing things in the dark. What claim has she upon you that I should become a hypocrite and treat her civilly?"

"The claim of — of acquaintance in the past, of being my guest in th ^ present. And, without any other reason, you might do it because I desire it, Katherine."

" I would do a good deal to oblige you, papa ; even to — well, even to being civil to that painted, little, soft-spoken, snake-eyed woman. She has eyes precisely like a snake, and is to be trusted just as far. Papa, what is it she knows about my mother ? "

" Your mother ! What do you mean ?"

"Just this — that she has some secret in her possession which you are afraid she will tell, and the secret concerns my mother. She is trading on that secret in forcing herself into this house, for you dishke her as much as I do. Sir John Dangerfield, only you won't own it. I am to be kept in the dark, it seems. Very well ! I don't want to pry into your mysteries, only you can't expect me to shut my eyes to what goes on before them. That woman has some secret which you are afraic she will tell, and you pay her large sums for keeping it, and that secret con- cerns my mother. Don't look so thunderstruck, papa! I won't turn amateur detective, and try to find it out, and I will be as civil as it is in human nature — such human nature as mine — to be ; only don't try to pass off that creature as an old friend or anything of that sort. And get her out of this house as soon as you can, for all our sakes." 4

74

THE SECOND WARNING.

And, when Miss Dangerfield walked out of the room in of- fended majesty, Sir John was left to enjoy his Times as best he might after learning his sharp-sighted daughter's discovery.

Katherine turned in her saddle now and looked after the pony phaeton and its occupant.

" HoAV I do dislike that woman, Gaston ! " she exclaimed. And you're an uncommonly good hater, ma belle^^ Mr. Dantree answered, coolly. "You can love, but you can hate also. In the blissful days to come, when I am your lawful lord and master, it shall be my Christian endeavor tD teach you bet- ter morality. I know several people whose enmity I should prefer to yours."

" I could never be an enemy of yours, Gaston — never ! Do what they might, I never could hate those whom I once loved. My likes and dislikes come at first sight. I detested that woman fi om the moment 1 set eyes on her."

" Feminine instinct, I suppose. There is no love lost be- tween you, darling. I've caught her looking at you at times when she thought no one was watching her, and — well, it wasn't a pleasant look, either, to give or receive. She smiles a great deal, but it isn't a very mirthful smile, and she's the sort of woman to present you a dose of strychnine and a kiss together. What does she do at Scarswood? An old friend of his, I think Sir John said. He didn't look at her in a very friendly manner, by the bye, as he said it. She is a most unwelcome intruder, it is easy to be seen, to Sir John as well as to you. Why, then, does he not give her her cong'a ? "

"Ah, why, indeed," Katherine repeated, with a frown ; " I wish some one would tell me why. There is some secret un- derstanding between them that I can't fathom, I wonder if papa ever committed a murder, or a forgery, or some interest- ing crime of that sort, and that this little human cat has found it out, and holds the secret like the sword of Dam — what's-his- name — suspended over his head by a single hair. That would be like the plot of a modern novel."

" Like the plot of a modern novel, perhaps, but not in the least like Sir John Dangerfield. Still I think you're right, Kathie ; there is a secret understanding, and if that under- standing relates to a crime, I don't believe Sir John ever com- mitted it. The dear old dad doesn't over and above like me, my darling : still he's a game old bird, and never did mortal man or woman wilful wrong in his life, I'm positive. Doesn't our florid little widow often allude in an odd sort of way to

THE SECOND WARNINQ.

75

your mother, Kathie ? Now, it strikes me the secret — for there is one — involves her."

" I think it very Ukely, indeed," responded Katherine, " and I told papa so only yesterday."

" You did ! And what did he say ? "

" Nothing satisfactory — only lost his temper — a chronic loss with him since Mrs. Vavasor's advent. He used to be the dearest old love, but he's become completely demoralized since that woman's been in the house. She always talks as if she had been an intimate friend of my mother's, and papa fidgets, and winces, and turns red and pale by turns, and never says a word. Mysteries may be very interesting," said Miss Danger- field with a frown, " but I'd rather have them neatly bound in cloth than live in the house with them. One comfort is, she is going to leave Scarswood before — "

Katherine blushed, and laughed, and broke off.

" Well, ma belle, before when ? " Before — oh, well, before we are married ! Now, Gaston — on the pubUc road, sir, don't / It's all very well to know that the sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children, and all that, but it's nowhere in the catechism, that the inconvenient friendship of the mother shall, and I devoutly wish our visitor in Joppa ! I never saw my mother that I can recollect. I never heard papa speak much about her, and everybody tells me I don't look the least in the world like her — I don't look like papa either — Colonel and the late Mrs. Dangerfield were both handsome. No, I don't want a compliment — not even your eyes, Gaston, can make me out other than sallow and plain. And," with a little droop of the head, a little falter of the young voice, " I never wished in all my life as I have wished to be beautiful since — I have known you."

" My dearest Kathie," Mr. Dantree said, poHtely, struggling with a yawn, "for a very sensible girl, as girls go, you can talk precious nonsense sometimes ! Sallow and plain ! I confess I should never have found it out if you had not told me. You don't want to be cast in the mould of the stereotype British young lady, I hope, with a face like a pink and white wax-doll, and a head more hollow. I can only say if you had you would never have bewitched me."

" Gaston," Miss Dangerfield said, "do you know what they say in Castleford — what Mrs. Vavasor says about you ? "

" Not at present," answered Mr. Dantree, widi his custom-

76

THE SECOND WARNING.

ary imperturbable saiig f7'oid^ " nothing good though, I'm quite certain."

" They say — it is almost an insult to you to repeat it — that it is not Katherine Dangerfield you love, but the heiress of Scarsvvood."

She looked up to see some outburst of indignation — to hear an indignant denial. But Mr. Dantree only smiled be- nignly.

You don't think that is news to me, do you, Kathie? Of course, they think — why shouldn't they — I would myself in their place. My dear child, you are seventeen and haven't seen much of life — I'm seven and twenty and have seen it in all its phases. And I tell you no poor man, such as I am, ever married a wealthy wife yet, that the same wasn't said. He may love her with the passion of a second Romeo — it will make no differ- ence. She is rich, he is poor, and it naturally follows he must be a mere mercenary fortune-hunter. There were people in Lyons, perhaps, who said Claude Melnotte only wanted Pau- line for her fortune, until he proved his disinterestedness. Of course they say I'm a fortune-hunter and adventurer — I would be very greatly surprised if they did not. Your father thinks so — Mrs. Vavasor, knowing how she would act in my place, thinks so — your cousin Peter, furious with his late rejection, thinks so. But you — Kathie — my darling — " he bent his pa- thetic liquid dark eyes upon her, " you surely do not ; if you do — then here — this moment bid me go, and I will obey."

" Gaston — what nonsense ! If I beHeved, would I be at your side now ? I should die if I doubted you."

Mr. Dantree laughed a little cynically.

"No, you wouldn't die, Kathie. Broken hearts went out of fashion with Paul and Virginia and our great grandmothers. You'd not die, Kathie — you'd forget me in six months for — what you could easily find — a better man."

Mr. Dantree was right, it would have been very easy to find a better man, but Katherine Dangerfield was seventeen, and the glamour of a melodious voice, of Spanish eyes, and a face like some Rembrandt picture was upon her, and her whole heart was in the words.

" I would never forget. When I forget you — true or false — I shall have forgotten all things earthly."

Something in her tone, in her eyes, moved him. He lifted one of her hands and kissed it.

"I am not half worthy such love and trust as j^^ours. I am a

i.

THE SECOND WARNING.

77

villain, Kathie — not fit to kiss the hem of your garment. My life has been one long round of

* Reckless days and reckless nights — Unholy songs and tipsy fights.'

But I will try — I will — to make you happy when you are my wife. And the sooner that day comes now the better. Miss Dangerfield," resuming his customary careless tone, " are you aware it is beginning to rain?"

It had been a fitful October day — now sungleams, now gray gloom. Katherine looked up at the sky, and one great drop, then another fell upon her face. The whole sky was dark with drifting clouds, and growing each instant darker. The storm which had been brewing all day was close upon them.

" And we are five miles from Scarswood, and in five minutes the rain will descend in torrents. Gaston, what shall we do ? I had rather not get drenched, papa will scold."

" And I had rather not get drenched even without a papa to scold. Drenching includes influenza, watery eyes, and a ten- dency to talk through one's nose, and is not an interesting com- plaint. Can't we run to cover somewhere? You know every- body in this neighborhood. There's Major Marchmont's yon- der— aren't those the ivied turrets of Marchmont Place I behold through the trees ? "

" Y-e-e-s."

" My dear, I understand your hesitation. The gallant major did his best to snub me the other day, but I'm of a forgiving turn and don't much mind. I think I could endure that old officer's grim looks more easily than the raging elements on the open downs. Shall we make for Marchmont ? "

" No," said Katherine ; " if you can endure Major March- mont's insults, I can't. We can do better than that — we can go to Bracken Hollow."

" With all my heart. Where is Bracken Hollow ? "

" Not a quarter of a mile off". This way, Gaston, or we shall get the drenching after all. The place belongs to my old nurse — she came with us from India, and papa gave her the place to end her days in, and to get rid of her ; she and Ninon, my maid, led a perfect cat-and-dog Hfe. Quick, Gaston ! Good gracious, what a deluge ! "

The rain was falling in torrents now. Ilderim fairly flew be- fore it — and Mr. Dantree followed his leader. They were close

78

THE SECOND WARNING.

to the coast ; far away the white foammg sea heaved its dull booming on the shore mingled with the rush of the rain.

" Here we are ! " Katherine cried : and we have got the drenching after all."

And then Gaston Dantree looked up and beheld Bracken Hollow.

A long, low, black-looking house, lying in a sheltered green hollow, close to the shore, the brake or bracken growing thick and high all around, and tall elms shutting it in. An eerie spot, with the eternal thunder of the sea close down below the cliffs ; a lonely spot, with no other habitation near.

Gaston Dantree was in no way a superstitious or imagina- tive man, but now as he looked, that chill, creeping feeling stole over him — that impressible shudder which makes people say "some one is walking over my grave," thrilled through him.

A ghastly place enough, Kathie," he said, leaping off his horse ; " a murder might be committed here and no one be the wiser."

" A murder once was committed here," Katherine answered ; " a terrible murder. A young girl, no older than I am, shot her false lover dead under those funeral elms. They took her, tried her, condemned her, and hung her, and they say those ghostly lovers keep tryst here still."

Gaston Dantree still stood by his horse, looking with extreme disfavor at the black cottage, at the blacker trees.

" A horrible story, and a horrible place. I don't know why, but if you'll believe me, Kathie, I feel afraid to enter that house. I'm not a coward in a general way, and once, out West, slept a whole night in a room with a dead man, a fellow who had cut his own throat, without feeling any particular qualms about it ; but I'll be hanged if I want to enter here. If I believed in presentiments now, or if there were such things, I should say some awful fate was going to befall me at Bracken Hollow ! "

Gaston, don't be a goose, and don't be German and meta- physical. Some awful fate will overtake you at Bracken Hol- low, and that speedily if you don't come in out of the rain — an attack of Inflammatory rheumatism."

She skurried with uplifted skirts into the low porch, and her lover slowly followed.

Katherine knocked loudly and imperatively at the door. She's deaf, poor soul," she said. " It's the only one of her

THE SECOND WARNING.

79

faculties, except her teeth, that she has lost. Are one's teeth one's faculties, Gaston?"

" Yes, my dear, and extremely important about dinner-time. I can't say I envy your ex-nurse the cheerful spot in which she is spending the lively remainder of her days. Ah, the door opens. Now for the presiding witch of Bracken Hollow. Bracken Hollow — there's something ghostly and gloomy in the very name."

A tall old woman, hale and erect, with iron-gray hair and preternaturally bright eyes, held open the door and looked stolidly at her two visitors.

" How do, Hannah ? Get out of the way, you hospitable old soul and let us in. You needn't mind if you're not dressed for company — considering the weather we won't be fastidious. Any port in a storm, you know. This is Mr. Gaston Dantree, Hannah. You've heard of him, I dare say."

Old Hannah reared herself a little more upright and trans- fixed the Louisianian with her brilliant little eyes.

I've heard of Mr. Gaston Dantree — yes. Miss Katherine, and I'm glad you've brought him to see me."

" You don't seem to be very cordial about it then ; you don't say you're glad to see him."

" I'm not a fine lady. Miss Katherine — I don't tell polite lies. I'm not glad. You're going to marry him, they say — is it true?"

^' Well, yes," Katherine laughed, good-naturedly, " I'm afraid it is. You pity him, nursey, don't you ? You took care of me a decade of years or so, and you know what he has to ex- pect."

" I pity you ! " old Hannah answered, with a second solemn, prolonged stare at her nurseling's lover ; "I pity you ! Only seventeen, and trouble, trouble, trouble before you."

It was not an easy matter to stare Mr. Gaston Dantree out of countenance as a general tiling, but his eyes fell now before old Hannah's basilisk gaze.

" Confound the hag ! " he muttered, turning to the window ; " what does she mean ? "

Katherine was fond of her old nurse — too fond to be irritated now by her croaking.

Don't be disagreeable, Hannah," she said; ''and don't stare in that Gorgon-like way. It's rude, and Mr. Dantree is modest to a fault. See how you put him out of countenance. Sit (^own here, like a dear old thing, and tell me all about the rheu-

8o

THE SECOND WARNING.

matism, and what you want me to get you for the winter ; you'll have lots of time before the rain holds up."

" The rain is holding up now, Kathie," her lover said. " I knew it was too violent to last. In ten minutes it will have ceased. Come, we can go."

He could not account to himself for his feverish haste to leave this place — for the sudden and intense dislike he had taken to this grim old woman.

I'll go and see to the horses," he said, and smoke a cigar in the porch, while you talk to your nurse."

He quitted the room. Katherine looked after the graceful figure and negligent walk with eyes full of girlish admiration ; then she turned to Hannah.

Isn't he handsome, nursey? Now confess; you're sixty or more, but you like handsome people still, don't you ? Isn't he just the very handsomest man you ever saw in all your life ? "

" He's rare and handsome. Miss Kathie," the old woman said, slowly ; rare and handsome surely. But, my little one, don't you marry him. It's not the face to trust — it's as false as it's fair."

" Now Hannah, I can't listen to this — I really can't. I thought you would have wished me joy, if nobody else. Everybody says horrid things — nothing is too bad to be said of Mr. Dantree — and all because he is poor and I am rich — fort- une-hunter, adventurer, false. It's a shame."

"It's the truth, my bairnie. Be warned, and draw back while there is yet time."

Miss Dangerfield arose with calm dignity. It wasn't worth while losing one's temper with old Hannah.

" Good-by, nursey — I'm going. You are disagreeable to-day, and I always go away immediately from disagreeable people. I shall send you those flannels, though, all the same. Good- by."

She was gone as she spoke. The ram had nearly ceased, and Mr. Dantree was waiting for her impatiently. His dusk. Southron face looked strangely pallid in the gray twilight of the wet October evening.

" Come, Kathie ; it will rain again presently, and night will f-^U in half an hour. The sooner we see the last of Bracken Hollow the better."

" How frightened he is of Bracken Hollow ! " Katherine said, laughing : " like a child of a bogie. Why, I wonder ? "

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS. * 8 1

" Why, indeed ? Why do you hate Mrs. Vavasor, Kath- erine ? She hasn't given you any cause — yet.

"'I do not like you, Dr. Fell, The reason why, I cannot tell.*

I can't tell you why, but I never want to see Bracken Hollow again."

She looked up into his face. What a darkly moody expres- sion it wore ! It half-spoiled his beauty. And all the way home, through the chill, rainy gloaming, old Hannah's words rang like a warning in her ears : False as fair — false as fair 1 "

CHAPTER VIII.

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

R. DANTREE dined at Scarswood, and rode home- ward through the wet darkness somewhere before mid- night.

It had been a very pleasant evening, and the Louis- ianian was in the best possible spirits as he rode back to Morecambe. The day was drawing near when a more splen- did abode than Morecambe would be his — when he would reign supreme at Scarswood Park.

" The governor can't hold out very long now," Mr. Dantree mused. "After thirteen years of hill-life in India, his liver can't be the size of a walnut — and then, he's apoplectic. Your short-necked, florid-faced, healthy-looking old buffers are always fragile blossoms ; it's touch-and-go with them at any moment. And he's taking his daughter's engagement to my noble self desperately to heart — he's been breaking every day since. I wonder what's up between him and the little widow? It wouldn't be pleasant if she should turn out to be a first wife, or something of that sort, and at his death produce an interesting heir or heiress and oust Mrs. Dantree. It looks suspiciously like it; she's got a strong claim of some kind upon him, and he's more afraid of her than he ever was of the savagest Sepoy out yonder. I wish I could get at the bottom of the matter, before I commit myself further and slip the ring over Miss Dan- gerfield's finger. Not that it matters very greatly — neither

4*

82

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

matrimonial nor any other fetters ever could bind me. It may all turn out right, however, and I may reign grand seigneur of Scarswood. Rather a change in a few months, for a penniless penny-a-liner. Marie's the only drawback. If ever she finds this out, there'll be the devil to pay in New Orleans."

Miss Dangerfield had been rather surprised when on enter- ing the drawing-room that evening, after her wet ride from Bracken Hollow, she found her cousin Peter playing chess with Mrs. Vavasor. It was the first time since their quarrel that he had entered the house. She went over to him with the frank, girlish grace that always characterized her, and gave him her hand.

" Welcome back to Scarswood, cousin," she said ; " I began to think you had quite deserted us. Is it to the claims of kin- ship or to the fascinations of Mrs. Vavasor we owe the present visit, I wonder ? "

A little of both, Kathie, and a cousinly desire to offer my congratulations to the future Mrs. Dantree. I wish you both every happiness."

He did not look at her as he said it, and something in his voice struck unpleasantly on Katherine's ear.

"You are very good," she said, a little coldly. "May I overlook your game ? Who is going to win ? "

"I am of course. We come of a race, Kathie, that always win."

But Mr. Daugerfield was mistaken.

" Check ! " Mrs. Vavasor cried, sharply and triumphantly, a few minutes after. " Your race may always win except — when they have a Vavasor for an enemy."

Katherine's eyes sparkled.

" Try again, Peter," she said ; " a Dangerfield never yields ! "

" I fear I must ; I am no match for Mrs. Vavasor. Ah ! here is Dantree — lucky dog ! I must go over and congratulate him. It's not every day a poor devil drops into eight thousand a year and the finest place in the county."

" Katherine dear, suppose you try," Mrs. Vavasor gayly ex- claimed, " and vindicate the honor of the Dangei fields. I play chess pretty well, but who knows — you may become more than a match for me."

" Well," Katherine said coolly, " I think in the long run I would. I have a great deal of determination — obstinacy per- haps you might call it — and when I make up my mind to do anything, I generally do do it."

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

83

" Such as marrying a handsome tenor singer. Don't be an- gry, Katherine. Mr. Dantree is worthy of you, I am sure. Now, then, for a pitched battle between you and me, and woe to the conquered ! "

There was a sneering defiance underlying her words — a sar- donic gleam in her black eyes that Katherine understood. There was more at stake than a simple game of chess ; they looked at one another steadily for an instant, then began the game.

The two gentlemen approached. Peter Dangerfield took his place behind the chair of the widow ; Mr. Dantree leaned lightly over that of Kathie. They stood like two seconds watching a duel, and neither spoke. A profound stillness filled the long, velvet-hung, lamplit drawing-room, in which you could hear the light faUing on the cinders in the grate, the ceaseless beating of the rain on the glass. Which would win ?

The widow, it seemed. In the gleam of the lamp-light there was a flush on her cheek that was not all rouge, a sparkle in her black eyes, not belladonna. She wore a wine-colored silk, decollete, and her plump, white shoulders and arms shone like marble ; the rich, ruby-red jewels flashed on her fingers, on her neck ; a bracelet of fine gold and rubies encircled her wrist, and a crimson rose nestled in the shining, luxurious blackness of hair. All crimson and black — with a fiery intensity of pur- pose flushing her face — and that peculiar glittering smile of hers on her thin lips. Gaston Dantree thought of some beautiful Circe — some fatal siren come on earth to work ruin and dark- ness.

" And yet, after all," he thought, I believe in my soul Katherine is more than a match for her. How coolly — how thoroughly calm and self-possessed she sits, not one pulse beat- ing the quicker — while the eyes of her enemy are on fire with her devihsh determination to win. In a long-drawn battle of any kind between these two, I'd back the heiress of Scarswood."

Then more and more absorbed in the game he forgot even to think. He bent over until his crisp black curls touched Katherine' s cheek. She glanced up at him for a second — her still face brightening — a faint color coming in her cheeks.

" A, drawn battle is it not, Gaston ? " she said, " and a true Dangerfield prefers death to defeat."

Mrs. Vavasor saw both look and smile, and a savage resolu- tion to win at all hazards possessed her. She knit her straight black brows, and bent to the game, her Hps compressed in one

84

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

Straight red line. She hated Katherine at that moment with an intensity she had never felt before. How coolly she sat there making her moves, with a face of marble, while she was thrilling in every vein with a fever of excitement. And how she loved that man behind her, and how happy she was in that love.

And to her mother I owe all I have eveT suffered — the sin, the sorrow, the shame ! Pray Heaven they may fix the wed- ding-day speedily, or I shall never be able to wait ! I wonder how I have waited all these years and years. Ah ! a false move, my lady, a false move. The victory is mine ! "

But the exultant thought came too soon. Katherine' s move, made after long deliberation, certainly looked like a false one — the widow answered in a glow of triumph. A second later and she saw her mistake — Katherine' s false-seeming move had been made with deliberate intention. Her eyes flashed for the first time — she made a last rapid pass and rose conqueror.

" Checkmated ! " she cried, with a slight laugh of triumph. " I knew I should vanquish you in the end, Mrs. Vavasor ! "

Dinner ! " announced the butler, flinging wide the door, and Miss Dangerfield took the arm of Mr. Dantree and swept with him into the dining-room.

"You did that splendidly, Kathie," he said; "you have no idea how proud I am of your conquest ; and she was so sure of winning. She hates you as those little venomous women only can hate — do you know it?"

" Certainly I know it," Katherine responded with supreme carelessness. " I have known it eter since I saw her first. She hates me and could strychnine me this moment with all the pleasure in life."

" But why, I wonder ? " said Mr. Dantree, " you never knew her before she came here — you never did anything to harm her?"

" My dearest Gaston, it is not always the people who have done something to harm us we dislike most. We detest them because we detest them. Mrs. Vavasor and I are antagonistic ; we would simply hate each other under any circumstances. How bent she was on Avinning that game, and I — I should have died of mortification if she had."

" Take care of her, Kathie ! that woman means to do you injury of some kind before she quits this house. Whether it be for your mother's sake or your own, doesn't matter — she means to harm you if she can."

Katherine threw back her head with an imperial gesture.

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

85

Let her ! I am not afraid. If it comes to that, I may beat her at her own game, as I did five minutes ago. She can't take you from me, Gaston," with a Uttle gay laugh — can she ? Any- thing else I fancy I can bear."

He stooped and answered her in whispered words, and Kath- erine's face was quite radiant as she took her place at the table.

Mrs. Vavasor followed with Mr. Dangerfield. She had risen from the table and taken his proffered arm, quite white for an instant through all her rouge. He saw that pallor beneath paint and powder.

And you are beaten after all, Mrs. Vavasor, and by Kath- erine Dangerfield ! Your game of chess meant more than a game of chess — is it emblematic? She's fearfully and won- derfully plucky, this cousin of mine. Will she come off vic- torious at other games than chess, I wonder?"

She looked up at him for one moment, and all the passion, the rage, the hatred, smouldering within her, burst forth.

" I'll crush her ! " she cried in a furious whisper. I'll crush her ! And the day is very near now. This is only one more item added to the long account I owe her. She shall pay off all — the uttermost farthing, with compound interest."

^' And stab through hi?n,'' Peter Dangerfield said darkly ; " the surest blow you can strike is the one that proves him the traitor and fortune-hunter he is. I believe in my soul it would be her death."

" I shall strip her of all — all — lover — father, name even. I will wait until her wedding-day and strike home then. When her cup of bliss is fullest and at her very lips I shall dash it down. And, my brilliant, haughty, high-spirited heiress of Scars- wood, how will it be, with you then ? "

Sir John was in his place — a darkly moody host, amid the lights, the flowers, and the wines. Mrs. Vavasor was even in higher spirits than usual. Mr. Dangerfield was talkative and agreeable, Katherine was happy, and disposed to be at peace with the world and all therein, even Mrs. Vavasor. She loved, she was beloved — all life's greatest happiness is said in that. For Mr. Dantree, he was simply delightful. He told them in- imitable stories of life in the Southern States, until even grim Sir John relaxed into interest, and after dinner in the drawing- room sang for them his favorite after-dinner song, " When tlie Winecup is Sparkling Before Us," in his delicious voice, that enchanted even those who hated him most. The piano stood

86

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

in a shadowy recess down at one extremity of the long' room — Katherine and he had it all to themselves. Mrs. Vavasor was busy with some flimsy feminine handiwork. Mr. Dangerfield sat beside her, turning over a book of photographs, and Sir John lying back in his easy-chair, kept his eyes closed as though asleep. His face wore a worn look of care — he was watching those two shadowy figures at the piano, and as he listened to this man's voice, so thrillingly sweet, as he looked at his face — the lamplight streaming on his dusk Spanish beauty, he scarcely wondered at Katherine' s infatuation.

*' Fairer than a woman .and more unstable than water," he thought, bitterly, " and this is the reed she has chosen to lean upon through life ! My poor little Kathie, and I am powerless to save you — unless — I speak and tell all. Heaven help you if this man ever finds out the truth."

"Sing me something Scotch, Gaston," Katherine said. She was seated in a low fauteuil, close beside him, her hands lying idly in her lap — her head back among the cushions. It was characteristic of this young lady that she had never done a stitch of fancy-work in her life. She was quite idle now, per- fectly happy — listening to the howling of the October storm in the park, and Mr. Dan tree's exquisite singing.

" Sing something Scotch — a ballad. If I have a weakness, which is doubtful, it is for Scotch songs."

Mr. Dantree heard but to obey. He ran his fingers lightly over the keys, smiled slightly to himself, and glanced half-mali- ciously at the girl's supremely contented face.

" How well pleased she looks," he thought. " I wonder if I cannot change that blissful expression. ' Many women have done me the honor to fall in love with me, but I don't think any of them were quite so hard hit as you, not even excepting Marie."

He played a prelude in a plaintive minor key, wonderfully sweet, with a wailing understrain, quite heart-breaking, and sang. His face changed and darkened, his voice took a pathos none of his hearers had ever heard before.

" A weary lot is thine, fair maid — A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid

And press the rue for wine. A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,

A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green No more of me you knew,

My love ! No more of me you knew.

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

87

" This morn is merry June, I trow.

The rose is budding fain, But she shall bloom in winter snow

Ere we two meet again ! He turned his charger as he spoke

Upon the river shore — He gave the reins a shake, and said :

* Adieu forevermore,

My love !

Adieu forevermore.'"

It died out faint and low as the last cadence of a funeral hymn. And then he glanced at Katherine. He had changed the expression of that sensitive face cruelly — it lay back now against the ruby red of the velvet, as colorless as the winter snow of which he sang. He arose from the piano with a laugh.

*' Kathie, you are as white as a ghost. I have given you the blues with my singing, or bored you to death. Which ? "

She laughed a little as she rose.

" Your song was beautiful, Gaston, but twice too sad — it has given me the heartache. It is too suggestive, I suppose, of man's perfidy and woman's broken trust. I never want to hear you sing that again."

It was late when the two gentlemen bade good-night and left. Mrs. Vavasor took her night lamp and went up the black oaken stairway, her ruby silk trailing and gleaming in lurid splendor behind her.

" Good-night, Kathie, darling — how pale and tired the child looks. And you didn't like that divine Mr. Dantree's last song ? It was the gem of the evening to my mind — so sug- gestive and all that. Bonne nuit et bonnes reves, ma belle " — Mrs. Vavasor had a habit among her other gushing habits of gushing out into foreign languages now and then — " and try and get your bright looks back to-morrow. Don't let your complexion fade for any man — there isn't one on earth worth it. A demain I good-night.

" * A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, No more of me you knew.

My love. No more of me you knew ! ' "

And with a last backward glance and still singing the ominous song, brilliant little Mrs. Vavasor vanished.

Mr. Gaston Dantree rode back to his temporary home at Morecambe in very excellent spirits. What an uncommonly good-looking, fascinating sort of fellow he must be that all the

/

i

88 A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

women should lose their heads for him in this fashion. Surely the gods who presided over his destiny must have been in a most propitious mood when they created him their bright partic- ular star.

"I've always heard it is better to be born lucky than rich, and gad ! I believe' it. / was born a pauper. My mother vended apples in the streets of New York ; and my father — well, the less said about him, the better. He bequeathed me his good looks, his voice, and his — loose-fitting morality. Un- til the age of eight, I ran wild about the streets ; then my pretty face, and curly head, and artistic way of singing ' Oh, Susannah ! ' attracted the attention of Mrs. Weymore, rich, childless, senti- mental, good-natured, and — a fool. I was sent to school, tricked out in velvet and ruffles, kissed, praised, petted, flat- tered, spoiled by all the ladies, young and old, who visited my foster mamma; and, by Jove ! they've been at it ever since. Then at sixteen came that ugly little episode of the forged check. That was hushed up. Then followed the robbery of Mrs. Weymore's diamonds, traced clearly home to me. They would not overlook that. I inherited my light-fingered pro- clivities from my father as well as the good looks they praised ; but they wouldn't take that into consideration. Then for four years there was the living by my wits — doing a little of every- thing under heaven. Then came New Orleans and my new, and, I flattered myself, taking cognomen of Gaston Dantree, my literary ventures, and their success in their way. And then after three years more came old De I.ansac and Marie — poor little Marie. I thought I had found the purse of Fortunatus then, when, lo ! the old fool must up and get married. And, as if that weren't enough, there must follow an heir, and adieu to all Marie's hopes and mine. Then I crossed the Atlantic to try my luck on this side the pond, and I believe I've accom- plished my destiny at last, as lord of Scarsvvood, at eight thou- sand a year. I believe I shall be a square peg, fitting neat and trim, into a square hole. Katherine's a drawback — exact- ing, and romantic, and all that bosh — but everything as we wish it, is not for this world below. The old gentleman will go toes up shortly. I shall take the name of Sir Dantree Dan- gerfield, sink the Gaston, and Uve happy forever after."

Mr. Dantree was still singing that ballad of the faithless lover as he ran lightly upstairs to his room. He threw ofl" his wet overcoat, poked the fire, turned up the lamp, and saw on the table a letter.

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

89

Now a letter to the handsome tenor singer was not an agree- able sight. Letters simply meant duns or else — He snatched it up with an oath. This was no dun ; it was something even worse. It was superscribed in a woman's hand, and was post- marked New Orleans.

" From Marie, by Jupiter ! " he exclaimed, blankly. " Now, how the dev — ah, I have it. It came to my address in London, and the publishers have forwarded it here. Shall I open it, or pitch it into the fire unread ? Deuce take all women. Can they never let a fellow alone ? What a paradise earth would be with- out them ! "

He did not throw the letter into the fire, however. He threw himself into an easy chair instead, stretched forth his splashed riding boots to the blaze, and tore it open. It had the merit of being brief at least, and remarkably to the point :

New Orleans, Sept. i6tli, 1869. Gaston : — Are you never going to write ? — are you never coming back ? Are you ill or are you faithless ? The last, surely ; it would be in keeping with, all the rest. Does your dead silence mean that I am deserted and forever ? If so, only say it, and you are free as the wind that blows. I will never follow you — never ask aught of you. No man alive — though he were ten thousand times more to me than yoii have been — shall ever be sued for fidelity by me. Come or stay, as you choose ; this is the last let- ter I shall ever trouble you with. Return this and all my other letters — my picture also, ifl am deserted. But, oh, Gaston ! Gaston ! have I deserved this? Marie.

That was all. The woman's heart of the writer had broken forth in that last sentence, and she had stopped, fearing to trust herself. Mr. Dantree read it slowly over, looking very calm and handsome in the leaping firelight.

" Plucky little girl ! " was his finishing comment ; " it is hard lines on her, after all that's past and gone. But there's no help for it, Marie. * I have learned to love another — I have broken every vow — we have parted from each other — and your heart is lonely now,' and all that sort of thing. I wonder if I ever had a heart ! I doubt it. I'm like Minerva, a heart was left out in my make-up ; I never was really in love in my life, and I don't want to be. Women are very well as stepping-stones to fortune, fame, ambition ; but for love in the abstract — bah ! But poor little Marie ! if I ever did approach the spooney, it was for her ; if I have it in me to care for anything or anybody but myself, it is for her."

And then Mr. Dantree produced a little black pipe, loaded

90

A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS.

to the muzzle, struck a fusee, and fell back again to enjoy him- self. He looked the picture of a luxurious Sybarite, lounging negligently among the cushions before the genial fire.

" And I know she'll keep her word," he muttered reflectively. " No breach of promise, no avenger on the track in this case, Gaston, my boy ; all nice and smooth, and going on velvet. That's a good idea about sending back the letters and photo- graph. I'll act upon it at once. A married man's a fool who keeps such souvenirs of his bachelorhood loose about. And Kathie isn't the sort of girl either to stand that species of non- sense— she's proud as the deuce, as becomes the daughter of an old soldier, and as jealous as the devil ! "

Mr. Dan tree arose, and crossing to where his writing-case lay, unlocked it, and produced a package, neatly tied up with blue ribbon. They were letters — only a woman's letters — in the same hand as that of to-night, and in their midst a carte de visite. He took this latter up and looked at it. It was the face of a girl in her first youth, a darkly piquante face, with two large eyes looking at you from waving masses of dark hair — a handsome, impassioned face, proud and spirited. And Gaston Dantree's hard, coldly bright brown