QUEEN KATE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9617, 15 September 1894, Page 3 (Supplement)

QUEEN KATE.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, Author of "In Cupid's Chains," "Once in a Life,' "A Life's Mistake," "Better Than Life," "She Trusted Him," etc., etc

CHAPTER VIII.

Kate reached the house unobserved—at east by Curll— went up to her room with the stately grace which Curll always associated with her, and began to dress quickly, for the bell had already rung, and she was late.

And as she dressed, quite unconsciously for a time she sung to herself in a low voice, so low that she did not know that it reached as far as the terrace where the man she " hated" was lounging and thinking of her. Then, suddenly, she found that she was singing, and, frowning, ceased. Strange to gay, she was unusually long over the choice of a dress ; but she selected, after much thought, a soft silk— Kate's dresses were soft and "drapey"—of a light crushed strawberry colour, with an edging of delicate lace that seemed to make still more delicate the white throat that ros-e from it. The sleeves were short, and left the exquisitely moulded arms—not fully rounded yet—to view. And she was a long time "doing" her hair, too, though, as a rule, ic was wound into a coil by a turn or two of the slender fingers. Did she know, I wonder, how lovely the face was that looked out at her from the glass ? Perhaps she did ; for a little sigh, arising from what thought she knew not, came from between her parted lips, and she turned away with a faint blush, as if ashamed of the fleeting vanity which attacked her for the first time in her life. She waited until the dinner-bell rang before she went down, and was passing directly to the dining-room, when she saw Curll's tall, black figure in the drawingroom as she passed, and, of course, had to go in. Curd had been waiting for her, obviously waiting, for he came forward with repressed eagerness on his handsome face. " I am 60 glad to see you, Miss Ammondale," he said in a low voice. "I have been afraid all the afternoon that you had caught cold, that you were ill." As he spoke he bent slightly over her, as a man bends over the woman whose— whose good-will he is anxious to obtain. lb is a little attitude which becomes some men, and ib became Curll especially. Few women can resist it, and young men are hereby recommended to try it. Bub on this occasion ib was nob successful. Miss Ammondale drew herself up, and looking straight past his lefb ear, answered, with marked coldness and reserve: "Thank you ; I am rarely ill, and never take cold. Is my father nob down ?" Curll became erect in a moment and drew a lonp breath, as a man might who had jusb received over him a bucket of cold water. What was the matter? What had he done ? Was this the same girl who, only a few hours ago, had thanked him in broken, melting accents for saving her life, who had— almost—let him kiss her hand? He looked as he felt, confused. • "Sir \incenb? No; not yet." Sir Vincent entered as he spoke. "Ah! I'm late," he said. "Give Kate your arm, Brendon." Curll offered his arm; she jusb rested her finger-tips on it, and they went in to dinner ; and Curll felt the small fingers thrilling through his arm as he got through his soup, feather-light though their touch had been. With the appearance of a dish of trout, Sir Vincent broke into congratulations. " You must have had splendid sport this morning," he said. " This is one of the finest trout I have seen out of the stream. Which of you caught it ?" Kate maintained a profound silence ; bub as Curll glanced he saw a faint shade of colour in the clear ivory of her beautiful face. , , . " Both of us," he said at last. " I hooked ib and Miss Ammondale landed ib." " Then you shall both have a piece," said Sir Vincent, quite merrily. " I hope you gob Captain Brendon to show you a wrinkle or two, Kace ? He is a capital fisherman, of coarse." ...,,.,.. -. "Yes," she said, with delicate irony, "Captain Brendon was good enough to teach me one or two things." Curll reddened under his tan. " Miss Ammondale is an admirable fisherman," he said. "I should never have landed this one. without net assistance."^

Even this did nob melt the ice with which she had surrounded herself, and with an almoßb audible sigh Curll went on with his dinner.

Sir Vincent, after the manner of men of his age, began to tell fishing stories which he had heard. They were as old as the hills, and full of the most awful blunders ; bub Curll listened with as much grave respect and interest as if he had never heard them—and correctly—before, and laughed in all the proper places. Bub Kate did nob laugh or even smile. She appeared not to be listening even, and Curll began to fret and chafe inwardly. He was nob a bad-tempered man— fact, a lady of his acquaintance had once blandly informed him that his temper was the only good thing about him—but he felt worried and harrassed.

He had begun to feel as if the smile of this slim girl with the dark-blue eyes were all the world to hira, and her frown too terrible for endurance.

What had he done since bhe morning, he asked himself, bhab she should treat him with such marked coldness ?

The dinner came to an end without her thawing, and when she had lefb the room— withoub even a glance ab Curll, as he opened the door for her and stood erecb watching, hungering for even a bow—he went back to the table, poured out a glass of port, and drank ib almost savagely; and he sab quite silent while Sir Vincenb balked, instead of laughing and talking freely, as was his wont.

Sir Vincent noticed his preoccupation and soon suggested an adjournment to the drawing-room. Kate, who had been sitting idly nursing her hands and thinking—of Captain Brandon, caught up a book as they entered and commenced to read —upside down. Sir Vincenb strolled out on the terrace and lighted a cigarette, and Curll was about to follow him, as Miss Ammondale did not even raise her eyes. Then he thought ho would make one more abbempb to break down her reserve. How would it be if he asked her straight out whab he had done?

So he wenb and stood beside her, and looked down at her. She raised her eyes, with seeming self-possession—the "maiden calm" which is so very, very deadly to the other sex—and Curll little guessed that her heart beab fast as she looked up ab bhe tall figure towering above her with hie hands clasped behind his back, looking so big in his soldierly squareness and erectness thab she felt as if she were a midget going to be swallowed or crushed at any momenb. " Miss Ammondale," he said, speaking in a voice too low to reach Sir Vincent, and yeb rather stern, "will you tell me what ib is I have done to offend you ?" The lovely eyes opened up on him with a kind of mild surprise. "Offended me, Captain Brendon? Nothing thab I'm aware of," she said, bub coldly enough. " I'm glad," said Curll; " I was afraid that I had; it would not be difficult, I know."'

"Oh! do you usually offend people?" came the retort, in an innocent tone. " Well, not always ; ib all depends. You see, I'm rather rough and ready, and though people who know me don't mind it, or pretend they don't, or have gob used to it; still other peoplel mean"he didn't know how to say" You are so exquisitely delicate, so like one of those rare shells that break at a touch, so fine and fragile, that I may seem a bear to you," and of course she wouldn't help him. She just looked through him with shining eyes, then returned to her book. But Curll was nob going to be beaten so easily. He still stood, tall and erect, as if on sentry-go, trying to think of something to say. Then by good luck he, remembered the foreigner. " Oh, by the way," he said, «' I saw my friend, the Italian, again —if ho is an Italian."

" Yes ?" she said, with thab palpable affectation of interest which is more snubbing than the most marked indifference. " Yes, I saw him— I fancied I did— just as we were coming into the house this morning. He seemed to me to be hiding ; in fact, I'm sure he was hiding. He was skulking among the laurels; and when 1 went up to him, he disappeared mysteriously." She did not seem at all interested. "Yes? I think it must have been your fancy. Why should he, or anyone, hide in the laurels?"

"I don't know," said Curil. "lb does sound unreasonable, doesn't ib?" " Yea," she assented, coldly. " You must have seen one of the servants."

" Perhaps. Have you got one who is a tall, thin man, with a sallow face and a black moustache, a fellow whose eyelids go down when he smiles, A kind of Mephistopheles in ordinary clothes?" "No," she said, with a smile that was a trifle contemptuous. "If we had, lam sure we should discharge him ; unless we intended opening a theatre, and wanted someone to play the part of the villain." " Very well," said Curll; " then it was a stranger, anyhow." " Yes ? Perhaps he came to sell some things to the servants, and did nob like to be seen by any of us. Men do come round with books, and jewellery, and that kind of thing." Her eyes dropped to her book again, as a polite hint bhab the subject was exhausted and he was dismissed. Then suddenly she said :

" Have you told my father about this man that you have seen, or that you have seen him again ?" " No," said Curll. " Then, please, do not," she said, quietly; '• my father is rather excitable and nervous. He might fancy all sortsof things—burglars, for instance."

"I won't say a word," said Curll. Bub if he hoped to melt her by his prompt acquiescence, he was disappointed. " Thanks," she said, and returned to her book.

Curll looked down at her for a moment. Her loveliness, combined with her coldness, half maddened him. Any man who reads this will understand, though a woman couldn't, if she tried ever so hard. He was concious of an almost irresistible desire to take her up in his arms and crush her to his heart, crying, " I love you ! 1 love you ! Why do you treat me so?" and yet he knew that if his life had depended upon it, he could not have dared to touch her with the tip of his finger, or utter one word of his mad thoughts, for with the love thab was growing and growing within his heart, burning brighter and brighter, like aflame, was mingled a reverence and an awe which was so new in his experience of women that it puzzled and bewildered him. He waited a moment to see if she would deign to look up again or speak to him. She wanted to ; she felt as if the dark eyes, with the brows knit about them, were drawing hers up to them; but she fought hard, and succeeded in looking like a beautiful statue— a crushed strawberry frock of soft, clinging silk— and Curll, gnawing ab his moustache, went out to Sir Vincent on the terrace. "Did you ask my daughter to play or sing ?" said Sir Vincent. "No; I didn't venture to do so," replied Curll, rather grimly. Sir Vincent looked in at the window. *• Sing for us, Kate; it will sound delightful out here in the moonlights." " I'm sorry, but I've a cold, father," she said. And yet she had declared thab she never caught cold. Curll's frown deepened, and he tugged at his moustache. His heart was aching with a strong man's love—his first real love. Well, he would go on the morrow; nothing should persuade him to remain. He would go away and forget her. He'd go to-night if there were a train; then, suddenly, he started. He had remembered that he had gob his pockets full of Sir Vincent's money —the money he had won •the preceding night. What on earth should he do with it? He couldn't offer to give it back. A glance at the pale, delicately cut face, with its definite suggestion of pride and aristocratic hauteur, told him that such a proposal would not only not be entertained by Sir Vincent, bub be very bitterly resented. While he was pondering over the difficulty, he heard the rustle of a dress in the draw-ing-room, and the sweet, clear tones of Kate's voice called out to them. " Goodnight, father. Good-nighb, Captain Brendon."

Sir Vincent went to the window to receive her kiss, and Curll bowed; then she was gone, and the lights seemed to have been suddenly extinguished and the moonlight) to have grown dim.

Sir Vincent lighted another cigarette, and smoked in silence for a minute or two, then his eyes began to wander, and his hands to grow restless and pick at the edge of his dress coat; and presently he said, with an. uneasy little laugh;

" Whab do you say bo a little ecarte? You musb give me my revenge, you know." Curll frowned ab bhe moonlib lawn. Whab could he say or do ? " I don'b care aboub playing," he said, relucbanbly. "The facb is, I'm nob much of a gambler." Sir Vincenb looked mildly horrified. Ib is a way gamblers have when anyone ventures to mention bheir peb vice. "A gambler? No, no— I," he said. "Bub—well, a hand ab cards wibh a friend—well, I enjoy ib, I must confess. Bub do as you like, my dear fellow. Whab tuck you had last night! I hope ib will change tonight." "All right," said Curll. "Come on, bhen." Sir Vincenb led the way to his study, lighted the candles, and arranged the cardtable.

" We will have some champagne," he said. " I fancy that there was boo much salt in the fish sauce. lam very thirsty." The butler brought some champagne, and the two men began to play. Curll felb desperate. He was doing the very thing thab would increase Kate Ammondale's hatred of him, he knew. And yeb, whab could he do ?

Well, he thought he could do one thing : he could play badly, lose back the money he had won lasb nighb, and then decline to play any longer. As before, the moment he had gob the cards in his bands, Sir Vincent's manner changedthe glitter cams into his eyes, his face grew waxen, his lips drawn and fixed.

Curll looked round the room, feeling as if he would give half he possessed to be outside; then, with a sigh, he leb his eye rest on a portrait of Kate Ammondale which hung on the wall opposite him. Ithad been recently painted, and was a striking likeness, and ib seemed bo him as if bhe lovely eyes were looking down ab him reproachfully.

The artist had tried to flatter her, and had failed, bub he had managed, somehow or other, to catch a hint of the nameless charm of the beautiful, girlish face, with its suggestion of womanliness, and the picture fascinated Curll, and drew his eyes from the cards to it, as if ib were alive, and Kate Ammondale herself.

" That is a good portrait of Miss Ammondale," he said, almost unconsciously. Sir Vincent glanced at ib vacantly. " Yes, yes ; painted by Sir John Vilray. Ib is your deal."

Curll dealt and played—played badly and losb, and kept the game up until, to his relief, nearly the whole of the pile of money had shifted from his side to Sir Vincent's. A fainb flush had crepb into Sir Vincent's face; his lips were still drawn, but were tremulous, and a kind of mechanical smile creased his cheeks. . Then, suddenly, as Curll made a blunder that would have disgraced a schoolboy. Sir Vincent looked suspiciously across the table at him, and the flush disappeared, leaving his face yellowish white.

" ¥ou don't care for ecarte," he said, " or —or you are playing badly on purpose. Bub bhat"—with a catch in. his breath— is impossible, of course. I beg your pardon for suggesting such a thing." "Certainly. No, no!" said Curll, colour-

ing. Sir Vincent's finely-pencilled brows came together. " Leb us try something else," he said. "No, no," said Curll; "we'll stick to this."

He didn't fancy the gambling of cubbing for highest; ib savoured of bhe racecourse or a common gambling den. They conbinued, and though Curll did nob dare play wrongly, bhe luck ran againsb him and he lost. There remained now only a small pile of notes and gold at his side— he fancied aboub two or three hundred pounds.

Now, he knew that if he losb this, as he wanted to do, Sir Vincenb would nob be satisfied, but that he would insist upon giving Curll his revenge as Curll had given Sir Vincent his.

He lighted a huge cigar and drank a glass of champagne, and wondered what he should do. He looked at the picture. The eyes gazed down at him reproachfully and yet tenderly, with the inscrutable expression which Kate's eyes had worn when she had taken her hand from him, and murmured " No, no ! "

He should probably never see her again. The thought was like the grip of a cold hand on his heart. What would he not give for that portrait which Sir Vincent had spoken of so lightly and indifferently ! As the desire for ib arose, an idea struck him—an idea that sent the blood spinning through his veins and made the room dance. He rose, drawing a long breath. " Are you tired?" said Sir Vincent, with acute alarm and disappointment. *' In is nob late ; we had better play on for a little while longer." " No ," said Curll; and his voice sounded hoarse and strained.

Sir Vincenb watched him with feverish eagerness. " For another half hour," he said, coaxingly. Curll leaned his hands on the table. "See here, Sir Vincent," he said grimly; " I have a prejudice against winning my host's money." Sir Vincent laughed nervously. "My dear Brendon, whab nonsense ! I should have no dislike bo winning yours." "I know you wouldn't—l mean that thab is a differenb thing. No, I won't play again, unless we play for love." He scarcely knew whab he was saying. Sir Vincenb glanced unconsciously ab the champagne bottle; but he reflected thatCurll could not possibly be drunk. But then, what could be the matter with him ?

" For love, my dear Brendon !" "Well, then," said Curll, "for—for something that is not actually money." His eyes wandered round the room, and ab lasb settled on the picture. " I will stake bhis"—he laid his hand on bhe pile of notes and gold—" againsb thab portrait."

Sir Vincent looked ab the portrait and then at Curll, and his face grew pale. Ib was like a mask, a waxen mask. " That portrait!" he said. " Are you mad ? My dear fellow, I—l don't understand !"

Curll reddened and passed his hand across his brow. He began to think that he was indeed mad. The eyes of the picture looked down at him.

" I —l bee your pardon," he said. " I have no right ; don't let us say any more ;" and he began to sweep the pile together. Sir Vincent watched him with knit brows and compressed lips ; then suddenly he laughed. "Why not? After all, why nob?" he said, as if to himself. " Vilray can paint another, and I may nob lose." Curll stood silent and motionless, as if he were jusb waiting on Fate. "Yes, I may nob lose. "lt ! B—it's a strangefancy, but—well, well,"hislipsmoved with almost incoherent words, but Curll caughb them— " Kate need not know," Sir Vincent was saying to himself. "No; she need not know," said Curll. " If I win I will leave the portrait until you get another painted ; bub if £ win, this one must be mine when the other is ready to take its place; this and no other." His voice was grim and determined, his eyes flashing. Once more he asked himself if he were mad.

" Very well," said Sir Vincent with a nod. He looked up at the portrait and laughed, the laugh of the confirmed gambler. " Very well. We are playing for Kate !"

As he spoke the words, Kate herself reached the door. lb was half-open, bub the openintr was screened by a velvet curtain. She could hear the voices, but could nob see the speakers. Her hand was upon the curtain to draw ib back for her entrance, when her father's words smote her. In very truth it might be eaid that they smote her, for she shrunk back, as if from a blow, and leaned against the side of the door, clutching it as if for support. They were playing for her— her. Her brain reeled, her sight failed her. All a pure, proud girl's spirit rose in indignation and protest. They were playing for her as if she were a horse, a dog. For her, Kate Ammondale ! And one of the gamesters was her own father.

She leaned againsb the door, her bosom heaving, her breath coming in shorb gasps. She wanted to rush in and stop them, but she could not move; the blow had been too sudden, too heavy. She felt as if her blood were Sowing slowly and her life ebbing away. And so she stood motionless, as a slave waiting for the sentence of life or death; or, far worse, waiting to see which man should bo her master.

She heard the soft fall of the cards, the low voices of the men as they called the game. She could not speakher tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth— nob move.

Than suddenly she heard her father exclaim in the low falsetto which his voice took when he was in the gambling fever. " She is gone ! You have won her !" She heard Curll Brendon draw a long breath, and, rising, push his chair back. "No, no!" he said, hoarsely. No, no ! I—l cannot! We ought nob bo have done ib. We will say I have losb and you have won."

Then she heard her fabher rise and push bis chair back.

" Captain Brendon, have you any reason for supposing thab I am nob a man of honour ? You have won; the stake is yours, let ib be whab ib may. To auggesb bhab I should be desirous of wibhholding ib, or wishing to take it back, is to impute dishonour."

She heard Curll stride across the room, and the sound of his footsteps awakened her from her trance-like incapacity of movement;

With her head bowed in her hands, she •staggered uprighb and sped like a ghosb from the spot. (To be continued.]