Chapter 11. First Words.

Otago Witness, Issue 2069, 19 October 1893, Page 39

Chapter 11. First Words.

A month later Laura Ingram was sitting, one sunny day early in the afternoon, at her easel in the National Gallery, copying with no unequal hand that masterpiece, to thote who love his kind, "A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society."

She was sketching the grand head, the proud, sagacious eyes, and was so absorbed in her work that she never noticed that she had attracted the attention of a young man — not one of the students — who was standing a little behind her watching her supple f'mger3, and admiriDg the profile of her face.

This girl in black, with her fine form and re3olute expression, seemed to this young man to be unlike, somehow, any other of her sex that he had ever seen. He had looked on fairer women, but Laura Ingram, with her clear brown skin and straight dark brows and clever eyes, was to him as one apart. He stood behind her unnoticed for a few minutes, and then moved on, glancing carelessly at the other groups of students, and stopping to admire a picture here and there, for he was a great lover of arr, and then he returned to watch the stranger painting the noble dog.

She never raised her head. He was in front of her now and could see her full face more distinctly, and he read there as he looked with those keen eyes of bis that there was a shadow on her heart. He saw her lips quiver once, and an impatient sigh, which she checked, rose on her lips. She interested him greatly. He was a student of human nature, and this clever face caught his fancy. He began speculating about her in his mind. Was she a love-lorn damsel, he asked himself with a smile, or did some husband of her youth lie in his untimely grave ?

He lingered about the galleries till closing time came, and he watched the black -robed figure still, and saw her consign her canvas to one ofjthe attendants, and then put on her hat, fasten some rich fur round her throat, and leave the gallery. He made haste to follow her. She descended the steps outside, still without looking round ; she" hailed a cab, and she was gone.

" But next students' day I will see her, I suppose, if I come — but what folly it i.«," he thought, and he smiled cynically. He was tall and dark, with a face some might call good-looking, some plain. A powerful face, thin and lited and pal<% and yet he was young — perhap3 seven-aud-twenty at the utmost, and he looked a man of strong feelings and masterful will. He walked round one side of Trafalgar square — he was goiug to meft a friend at one of the hotels in Northumberland Avenue — but still this girl's clear-cut, proud face haunted him.

" I must find out who she is," at last he decided, and when be made up his mind about anything hs was not one to change. Accordingly the next students' day at the gallery found him once mora in the vicinity of Laura Ingram's easel. Again he looked at her graceful bent head and oval cheek, which he could f-eo from where he stood, but again with the uame results. She took not the slightest notice of him, in fact never noticed him, and the effoot of this vras that he became rr.ore anxious still to see something more of her.

The wr.y he effected this must now bs told. On the third working clay after he had first seen her Laura found on her arrival at the gallery ou goiog up to the picture she was copying that another student had al&oset up his

easel there, and was apparently busily engaged in copying the noble dog. He was a dark youug man, ami he said something courteous on the attendant placing Liura's easel that he hoped he was not in her way. Sbe answered gravely and courteously alto that he was not in the least, and then without another word settled to her work.

An hour passed, and she never once looked at anything except the picture and her canvas. The dark young man also worked, and made a quick and masterly sketch, but he also found time to look very often at his handsome neighbour. But she was apparently unconscious of this, and at last this had such an irritating effect on his temper that he rose hastily, and either by design or accident passed 30 close to Laura's easel that he touched it, and Laura naturally looked up.

" I beg your pardon — a thousand pardons," he said. "I am ashamed of my stupidity." " You have luckily done no harm," answered Laura with a smile. " I hope not ; may I look at your work 1 " " Certainly."

The young man stood for a few moments and looked at Laura's copy critically. Then he looked at the girl herself.

" You are an artist I perceive," he said. " I wish to be one, at least."

" Then your wish will toon be realised. This is a splendid copy as far as it has gone, and you have chosen a fine subject."

" II is one that interests me," said Laura, looking also critically at her work, and moving a little back so that she could get a better view.

" You are a lover of animate then, I presume, and of dogs in particular 1 "

" I love and pity all animals ; their wrongs are one of the miseries of my life."

" Well, I own to a strong desire to lay a horsewhip over the shoulders of some of the brutes who 'JUI-treat them. But I am stopping your work. I trust you will forgive my awkwardness in accidentally touching your easel."

He raised his hat as he spoke, and Laura bowed gravely, and ihen he moved away, nor did he return to his easel while sho was there. His face had rather interested her ; it was so strocg, so intellectual, and his eyes were full of thought.

" I wonder if he is au artist ? " sho reflected, and before she left the g&llery she went round and looked at his unfinished sketch.

Every line told how well he knew big work. Laura began to be dissatisfied with her own copy after looking at his.

" I wonder if he will finish it," she thought, and a day or two later she found that he intended to do so. She found him, in fact, at work when she arrived at the gal'ery, and he took off his hat aud bowed when Laura approached her easel. In common courtesy she returned this, and thus an acquaintance was established between them. But he did not intrude on this. He saw this proud, self-contained girl was not one to rush lightly into an intimacy with a stranger. He allowed her quite time enough to get accustomed to him; to exchange a few words with him, and not to be afraid that he would encroach because she permitted him to speak to her.

And thus gradually the barriers wero broken down between them, and still they did not know each other's names. But one day he asked her rather a personal question.

" Are you a Londoner 1 " he said. Laura shook her head. "No," she answered. "I come from a country town in the Midland?."

"A country town," he repeated, smiling; " and what; is life like in a country town '/ " " Dreary and stupid in the extreme — afc least I thought so."

"The young ladies, I presume, make an idol of the enrate."

" There was not even that source of amusement at my country town, for the curate was married." " Then what did you do 1 " " I tried to do a lot of things. I tried to write, to paint, to sing. I never meant to remain in the place. I had no interest there, except" " I presume some relative, some parent 1 " "Yes,"" answered Laura, and the young man, looking at her, saw her face suddenly grow pale ; "my father lived there, and at bis death I came here."

" Forgive me if I have mentioned a painful subject."

Laura did nofc answer. She bent her head lower over her canvas, and her lips quivered, but she made no other sign of pain or grief. Then presently the young man began to epemk of other things. He asked what she had written, and if she had had anything published. " No, I have not," said Laura. " Have you tried ? " " Yes, I have tried." "It's always difficult at first; I wonder iE I could help you ? I know a fellow who is editor cf one of the society magazines ; in fact, I know two men who have some influence. Shall I try?"

" It is very kind of you, and I should feel very grateful. Of course an introduction is so much."

" Not always," answered the dark yourg mac with a smile. " But will you bring ono of your stories here- — I presume they are stories that you write 1 " " Yes." " And I will try to find a landing placa for ifc. If you write as well as you paint you will do."

" I shall be very pleased if it is so, for it is necessary I should do something to earn my own living," added Laura with a sort of proud humility.

The young man made no remark on this communication. He breran to talk of literature, and Laura perceived he was well and extensively rea.3, and that his taste was good.

" I ought to tell you my name," he said suddenly, "it is Woodland— Kalph Woodland. May I ask yours 1 "

"I am called Laura Ingram," answered L-rnra wi4i a quick blush.

"Then, Miss Ingram, if you will bring me one of your stories on Fiiday I will see what I ca>i do with it."

"Thsnk you very much. And now I think I must go."

" Let me escort you outside, and first °ive your work in cbaige. It wag raiuing %remendoubly when I came iv." " But I am giving you so much trouble." " Not at all. Ah, here is the fellow who

will take care of your picture. Now we can go."

They walked through the galleries together; Laura, like all yourg authors, naturally anxious to please anyone who was going to try to dispose of one of her stories. And when they got outside they found it was blowing a tempest, and raining in torrents, mingled with sleet.

" What a fearful day," said Laura ; " I must get a cab."

" No, let me drive ycu home in my brougham ; it ia waiting dow.n there. You would get wet in a cab."

" Oh, thanks ; but I would rather go in a cab."

" Let me over-persuade you. Come," and lie offered her his hand to assist her down the wet and slippery steps, and a=i he did so a neat and "well-appointed brougham drew up at the base. But Laura shrank back. " Indeed, I would rather go in a cab," she said.

" Ob, no, let me hand you in. Where shall I drive you ? "

"I lodge in Middox street, off Regent s'reet," answered Laura, who was beginning to be afraid of thus being taken possession of against her will.

" Maddox street," cried her companion to the coachman, who touched his hat.

"Yes, Sir Ralph," he answered.

Laura heard this, and looked round inquiringly as she took her seat in the brougham, but "Sir Rilph " made no remark. He drove her to Maddox streel", talkiDg quietly on the way, and when they arrived at the house she directed him to, he left the brougham and handed Laura out.

" By the bye, I may as well give you my card," he said, as they stood a moment or two on the pavement together after he had rung the house door bell.

" Thank you," eaid Laura, as he produced ln's card case and placed a card in her hand. Then he took off his hat and re-entered the brougham, and was driven away.

When he had disappeared, and as Laura entered tbe narrow passage of the house, bhe glanced at the card she held. On it was engraved :

SIR RALPH WOODLAND, BART., Ratiiboubne Hall, YORKS.

There was also his club in town, and so at length Laura knew who her acquaintance actually was.

"Sir Ralph Woodland," she repeated over as she entered her small back sitting room, for though &he was living in what is called " a good neighbourhood," her apartments were by no means either large or luxurious She had gone to this house because she had once been there with her father, and she had written to the people who kept it when she wished to leave Suffold, as they were the only rooms she knew anything of in town. She had told them she wished for two small rooms, and she had certainly got them. They both looked back, yet she paid highly for them, and was beginning to consider that she had better seek out a cheaper home.

" Woodland 1 " Where had she heard the name 1 Suddenly a flush rose to her face, and her hands began to tremble. In a corner of the room stood the brass-bound escritoire which had formerly been her father's, and which she had brought with her to London. She sought her keys ; she opened it with strange interest, and once more drew out the letter whio'i her father had left her to be read after his death.

Again she opened it, and almost the same look of horror and pain spread over ber face as when she had first read the dead man's words.

Woodland ! The name occurred more than once in the closely- written pages ; a name loaded with bitter execrations by the writer. " Bat for this scDundrel Woodland," Laura read in one line. "'1 he accursed Woodland only met his just reward," in another. Laura turned faint and cold. Could this dead Woodland be any relation of the live Woodland from whom she had just parted ? It might be ; there was at least a doubt, and this doubt filled Laura's heart with a strange dread shrinking. "I had better not see him any more," she thought, " and yet"

He was the one acquaintance she had met in town ; the one among the vast multitudes by whom she was surrounded. She had felt it inexpressibly dreary when she bad first arrived ; almost bewilelering this rush of human life which knew no end. And then Sir Ralph Woodland had offered to try to find her an opening for her literary work. It was throwing away a chance which might not occur aga^n if she did not see this young man any more. And, moreover, she liked him. There was something in his cle\erface which took her fancy. At all events it ended in her gcirg to tbe National Gallery on Friday as they had arranged, carrjiog the MS. of what she considered her btst story with her.

She was disappointed not to^find Sir Ralph Woodland in his accustomed place, and &at elo-^n to her ensel with a somewhat chill fetl'Dg ia her heart. She looked round more than once, but still he did not appear. Sno was beginning to think he did not mean to come whon she heard a quick footfall near her, and looking hastily up she saw him fctandicg by ber side. Laura was conscious that hhe blushed, and that her manner was confused.

"Good morning, Miss Ingram," said Sir Ralph holding out his hand. " Well, have you brought the story ? "

"Yep," answered Laura, with some nervousness.

" That i 3 right. I asked my editor friend to dinneryesterday for the purpose of softening his heart."

Laura pmiled brightly

"You may smile, but we are all influenced by these small attentions, even wheu we perc;ivy their motive. My editor doubtless siw thiough mine, as I had rever asked him io dircer before; yet it made him more 'j, ni >1. He proroi&ed, in fact, to read your .-Lory, ''nd to cocf-idor it favourably — if he could."

" Ah — it he coul 1I " paid Laura quickly. " I'hpre is fW/.vys 'if,' you koow, in th*,s« things. But." and he; glanced at Linn's copy as he &poke, " jm have not been working vry hard to day, I see ? "

"No, indeed, I have not; I hav;> been U.hikSrsg— well, of ihe fa'.o of rr y ot^rv." " Suppo«e you take a holiday to-day, theu,

and let us walk together through the galleries for a while." L-jura felt it would be wiser not to go, but the temptation proved too strotig for her. Shp, however, hesitated, but Sir Ralph, in that masterful way of his, did not seem to perceive this. Ho led her from gallery to gallery, pointing cut as tbey went what most struck his fancy. He was clever. There was a sort of graphic picturesqueness in bis phrases which pleased Laura's ear*, though he aimed at no effect. He had travelled, and spoke of what he had seen easily and well, and altogether was undoubtedly an agreeable companion when it pleased him to be so.

The time passed swiftly for Laura, but suddenly she looked up quickly and eagerly in his face.

" Have you," she said, with a sort of nervous anxiety in her voice which she could not suppress, " ever been in India 2 "

" How strange thit you should ask me that question," answered Sir Ralph, smiling. "Is there anything Oriental in my appearance except my dark skin 2 Yes, I have been in India ; my early days were spent there, but on my fathei's tragic death I returned to England."

" Tragic 2 " repeated Laura, in a low, sharp tone of pain, and her face paled.

" Yes. He was supposed to be murdered — but it is a painful subject ; let us change it."

Laura said nothing more. Bat her interest in the pictures and her companion's conversation visibly flagged, and a few minutes lafer sbe proposed to leave the gallery.

"I will see you home, then," said Sir Ralph quietly; and he did, though Laura scarcely made any answer to this offer, and spoke but little on their way to Maddox street. But when they reached it their arrival thare created quite a little sensation.

Two young ladies were looking out of tha drawing-room windows of the house wheie Laura lived, watching their luggage beicg carried in, for they were new arrivals, and when Sir Rilph and Laura neared the door they both instantly recognised Sir Ralph.

" Why, Patty," cried one, "'there is Rilph Woodland ! "

" So i"; is," answered the other excitedly. '■ Who is the girl, I wonder, he is with 2 See, she is coming in here. Can she live here 2 Really, this is very funny that we should see him on the very first day ! "

"He is noi corning in ! They are shaking hands. Well, we must find out all aboutthat girl."

(To be continued.)