KILDEE; Or, The Sphinx of the Red House.

Auckland Star, Volume XVIII, Issue 226, 27 September 1887, Page 6

KILDEE; Or, The Sphinx of the Red House.

BY MAY E. BRYAN,

Author of "The Bayou Bride," "The

Fugitive Bride," &c.

CHAPTER XVII.

The setting sun, bursting out below a black band of cloud that barred the west, lighted up Aphrodite Island with lurid illumination. Standing in the ejlare on the sandy shore was a solitary girl's figure—Kildee—looking out wistfully across the waves to the mainland, to tlie roofs and steeples of the town. White-winged sloops sailed in the distance, outlined against the lurid sky. A steamer, outward bound, swept by, trailing her smoke-wreath. More than once a wild impulse came over Kildee to signal one of these vessels and.beg to be carried awayanywhere. But what could she do? Her friends had gone to a distance, and they had never written to. her. Max had not written ; he had not told her good-bye, even. "He is angry with me because I came with my mother, and has cast me oft)" thought Kildee, sorrowfully. Lottie had told her to send letters to them at New Orleans, and she had written to her and to Max time and again, giving her letters to the solemn, taciturn Russian, who with his wife were- the only servants at Aphrodite, and who went to Wallportfor the marketing, roWihg himself in the little boat that was kept at the island. She could not know that these letters were not mailed ; that they were brought back to Mme. Gonzalis, who took them from her pocket at night and burned them leisurely and dreamily at her lamp ; Lottie's fervent little letters to her " darling Kildee" met the same fate. Max did not write because he had been deceived by Mme. Gonzalis into believing that she had taken Kildee away for her health. Wistfully Kildee looked out over the sea —a bewildered pain and longing at her young heart. She was too inexperienced to comprehend the situation in which she found herself, or to know what to do ; but she felt instinctively that it was not good for her to be on Aphrodite Island. Every sunset she walked to the sea-shore, and looked, as now, over the expanse of heaving sea and around at the tiny island that began to seem a cage. When she had seen it first in the glamour of a rosy sunset, it had seemed a little paradise ; it was after the serpent had left its trail. The flowerbeds were weed-grown j.the shrubbery was growing rank ; weeds choked the fountains and grew about tho naked marble nymphs that guarded them. A subtly sensuous spirit pervaded the house inside. The rooms, for all their luxurious furnishing, had an air of disorderly abandonment. "You must find your chief entertainment here, my love," said Mme. Gonzalis, sinking into a rocking-chair, and indicatingthe bookshelves with a slim finger, "for I warn you that you will have no society here. I have no acquaintances in Wallporb ; nobody ever comes here, and I shall be poor company for you. My nervous system is a perfect wreck ; the mineral waters did me no good, and now I shall try entire rest. I will keep my room a good part of the time, and you must amuse _ ourself." She did keep to her room and her bed, too. She never rose till near noon ; then she passed hours in her rocking-chair, reading a novel or dawdling over some fancy work, only getting up to feed her canary and prattle to it, or to fill her lozenge box, or to mix the juleps which she took regularly. She took something else, as Kildee presently found out. She was a slave to opium. '-■.' ~, - , . -i Thus idleness and solitude co-operated with the insidious spirit of the place to create a moral miasma slowly enervating undermining. Kildee felt it stealing over her and became restless and feverish under it ' The island began seem a cage; the sea, at first a deep joy, became a voice of solemn foreboding. She sought in-doors some relief to tho solitude that oppressed her She found only the piano, the superb but tarnished old harp which she could nob play and the pictures and French novels. She did not blush so painfully now when she looked at the pictures. The symmetry of form, the glow of colour appealed to her impassionate sense of beauty. The books she read with wonder and bewilderment. The world they revealed was new to her. They set her brain whirling'; they confused her ideas of right and wrong before so She shook off their spell and went to Mme. Gonzalis. ... " Give me some work, please—something for my hands to do-some sewing or housework ; or may I garden ?" "There is nothing you need to do. 1 prefer to buy clothes ready made. Sophie does not wish her housework meddled with, and you need not do anything in the yard because this place does not belong to me. "Nob belong to you ? Why I thought. — "No- you may as well know the truth ; I am living here only through the kindness of a friend. I have no means— not a dollar of my own in the world. " Not your home ? V v have no means ? Bat you said you had money—a legacy left you." . " Well, it is in law. I must gam a suit before it is mine." "Then let us go away from here and work—earn, money somehow. I can, lam

"Go away, work ? in my weak health— what an idea !" " Let me go, then. I .am strong. Let me go to the city and find work. There must be a great deal to do in such a big hive of people. Let Goff row me there ; lean come often, and bring you what I cam." . "Foolish little dreamer! You couid find nothino- to'do. There are too many anxious, unemployed, half-starved women there now. They would laugh at an ignorant little thing like you. And do you imap-ine I would let you go without me ? It wouid be very improper. Why will you be so restless?" Content yourself here for. the time. Read your books, amuse yourself. I will take care you are fed and clothed." " But I cannot be content; Ido notwant to be content-here in somebody else's house, fed perhaps by somebody else's bounty. Who is the owner of the house, and where is he ?' " He is Carleon, and I do not know where he is. He has other homes, and he travels a great deal. We are welcome to stay here."

" But I do not want to stay here, and I cannot. The place seems like a gaol to me."

" It is because you have such a roving life M-ith those play people." "Oh ! would to Heaven I were with them now," Kildee cried passionately. " They do not seem to share your wish !' returned Mme. Gonzalis, a faint sneer upon her mouth. " You have never heard from them, I think." , " Something is wrong : they have written, I know ; they have not forgotten me so soon." "I do not know. Those stage people are light. Thoir profession makes every feeling seem a sort of play, on which the curtain can easily drop. Mark my words, they will never trouble themselves about you." "1 will not believe it; they are good and true. Lottie loved me, I know; and Max —oh 1 Max has cared for me and watched over me nearly all my life." ■ "He wanted you to play a support to the girl Lottie—his lady-love. He is her lovpr

could see that. He will probably marry her in a little while." " Max Lottie's lover ! Oh, how absurd !' said Kildee, tears of bitter vexation springing to her eyes. "Why is it absurd?" questioned the Spanish woman sharply, her black eyes full on Kildee's face. Kildee could have given no reason. She only said : "Everything is absurd that you have told me about my friends. It seems so mean to look at them in that light. I cannot bear it. I wish they had let me die in the garret." " You are merely learning what life is," Mrs Gonzalis said, coolly eating a sweabmeat from her lozenge-box. "Is everybody selfish and heartless, then ?" " Yes ; everyone," the woman said, with bitter emphasis. " I'll meet them with their own weapons, then !" Kildee cried. "I'll go out in the world and arm myself with selfishness, and fight for and win a place to stand and work in. I'll make Goff take me with him to-morrow. You must not try to keep me from going. I will come back when I have seen what I can do." /

Mrs Gonzalis did nob reply ; but that evening she sent a note to Carleon. It had been his idea to let Kildee stay a few weeks in his home on the island that solitude, the separation from and seeming neglect of her friends, and sensuous influences surrounding her might operate on her sensitive imagination and make her more ready to welcome his society when he should come. He had reasoned subtly. In solitude the mind feeds on it own imaginings, and when these are stimulated by insidiously evil surroundings the whole being becomes fevered. Kildee vaguely felt the moral malaria creeping into her young blood, and all the pure,_ strong instincts of her nature rose against it and urged her to escape from these influences. "I will tell Goff he must take me to tho main shore to-morrow,"' she said to herself, as she stood in the red suuseb illumination, watching the Russian's returning boat. She had seen it a long way off, and waited impatiently for it to approach. She had still a faint hope of hearing from her friends —from Max at least. At last, the boat grated on the sand, the tall Russian stepped out.

" Goff, is there a letter for me ?" •He shook his head. She turned off with starting tears. " Let them go," she mused bitterly. " I will never write to them, never think of them again. Yes, they are light, as she said ; they are heartless. How could they seem to love me so and then so soon forget me ! And Max, who was more than a brother—l must put them out of my thoughts and make a new beginning of life to-morrow. Goff," she said, turning round to the Russian, " are you going to the city in the morning ?" "Yes," he answered gruffly. "I am going with ypu. You go early, I think ; I will be ready." He looked at her without speaking. His stolid stare disturbed her. She did not know that he had been told "she was wrong in her head," and was kept on the island as in a kind of private asylum. He had no intention of doing^ as she said, unless Mrs Gonzalis sanctioned her wish.

The next morning Kildee was vexed to hear that Goff had gone before she ate her breakfast. Something was needed inahurry, Mrs Gonzalis explained, and Kildee was forced to postpone her trip to the main shore. She did not know when the Russians returned. She passed the long, warm afternoon in her room reading. When the shadows lengthened she down to the'shore and stood there motionless, thinking over the vague plans she had been trying to shape for her future. When the sun's red ball had dropped below the water, she went back to the house, and sat down near a west window in the drawingroom. The sunset crimson faded into purple. Shadowy, yet life-like, looked the tiptoe Dante on the wall—naked, passionpale, with eager, lifted arms, to receive her descending Jove. The jasmine scent was overpoweringly sweet, so was the low murmur of the sea winds.

" Oh, if I had some one to share this life with me !" was the unspoken sigh of the girl, whom the sweet, voluptuous idleness stung to a vague unrest. She started up. She had heard a note of music—a melodious quiver of the strings of the old gilded harp, standing in the recess of the curtained bay-window. She stood perfectly still and listened. The strings were touched again ; harmonious chords werestiuck; then they grew into a faint symphony. Through the fringes of the curtains she had glimpses of a black clad arm, a white hand sweeping tho strings. She softly approached the recess, and \v\ien the music stopped she drew back a fold of tho curtain, exclaiming: "Why, mamma, you never told me you could play on the harp !" She started. She had come face to face with a stranger—a man, fair, handsome, with dark blue eyes that smiled kindly on her confusion as he rose, and bending his graceful head before her, begged that she would not let him drive her away.

" If you will stay and read as absorbedly as you were doing just now, I will make no more disturbing noises. This old harp shall be as silent as the one that hung —

"•On the witch-elm that shades St. Filan's Spring.' I only played to see if you were real flesh and bjoqd or a new statue that had been added to my collection in my absence." " Then you -were here all the while ?"

" I came in while you were reading—or dreaming, which was it ? I came home today, at noon, while you weie taking your siesta, and I went to my room to follow your example, for I was worn out with travelling." ■ "You are not the owner of the island, surely ?" "Why not?" "Oh, I thought he was an old, or at least an elderly gentleman." '•'lam elderly," Carleon said, with a smile. " You ?" She shook her head. "Yes, 1 am the owner of the island— Carleon you may call me. I don't come here often. lam a wanderer, but I like to drop sometimes and fold my wings for a little rest. Don*t let my advent put you out at all. Mrs Gonzalis knows my ways. lam quiet old bachelor—as harmless as your pet kitten—if you have one, which 1 doubt. You looked as solitary as Iphigena, standing out yonder on the sea-shore." (" So he was watching me, then," thought fluttered Kildee, marvelling at the fascination of his voice and the sweetness of his smile.) '

" I am afraid you are lonely hore." " Itis lopelysometimes,"Kildeeadmitted. " My mother is not well, and likes to be left to herself."

" Why don't you make this grand lady talk to you ■?"—touching the harp. " I have never learned the magic'word to compel her to speak." " And you would like to learn ?" " Yes, I love music. I can play a little on the violin and the banjo, but I know nothing about the hayp; only I like it. Its sounds make me think of winds and waves."

" It was made out of the soul and form of a sea-nymph, you know. What ? You have not heard the legend ? Listen." He swept his white hand over the chords in the rippling prelude to the " Origin of the 'Harp," then sung it ; the sensuous sweet air according well with his rich deepthroated voice.

"I shall stay on the island longer than usual, this time, 1 think ; willyou let me teach you a little on the harp ?" he asked, running his fingers through his light curls and looking up at Kildee. " Y"ou are very kind, but we are not to be here long—at least lam not." " Where are you going ?" / "J don't know yet— t am, going to gob

something to do. It seems we have no money — only the prospect of some ; so I am going to work and earn a support for "'"You—my child?" smiling in kindly derision. " What can you do ?" " Nothing that is great or grand. lam quite ignorant, but there are many little things _ can do, and do well; and I am quick to learn. I don't dislike to work either, though it is pleasant to do nothing sometimes." ...','_ " If you are spoiling for something to do, I wish you would take my gardener in hand and put him to work getting the grounds in better condition. They are sadly gone to wreck. The shrubbery and flower-beds are nearly ruined. Can I employ you as supervisor ?" ''Employ, Mr Carleon ; you can command our services. We are dependent on you," she answered with a little bitterness in her tones. " I like to think I can command you, but you must not speak of dependence. You are my guests. Mrs Gonzalis is an old friend. And now, if I may command you, will you please have the candles lighted ?" "twill light them," she said, and went across the hall to Mrs Gor.Zil s'sroom for matches. She found that lady restlessly walking the floor. " Come here, Kildee," she called sharply and when the girl approached, she put her hands on her shoulders and looked keenly into her face. "You have seen Mr Carleon, you have talked with him ?" " Yes—mamma. Why did you not tell me about him ?" " Why should I tell you ?" " Why, that he was so—so nice and pleasant." " And handsome ?" " Oh, he is very handsome," said Kildee, colouring under the woman's searching eyes. "He asked me to light the tall wax candles; they have not been lighted since he came. Ought I not to change my dress before tea '!" " Yes ; go, I will light the candles." * When Kildee came to tea in the simple white dress with the short clustering curls bound back with a ribbon, she looked so innocently lovely that a shade of remorse swept over Mme. Gonzalis's face, and she threw an appealing look at Carleon. He answered it with a careless half-smile and a shrug of his fine shoulders. There was a beautiful moonlight, and the three walked on the terrace after tea. Carleon put forth his rare powers of pleasing—his art of varied talk and suggestive silence—of listening with th**t rapt, flattering attentiveness; his low, liquid laugh, his interest in the health and welfare of the being; he wished to fascinate. It was not hard to seem in this case. It was seldom his eyes had rested on anything sweeter than Kildee in her white dress, with the poetry of her nature giving a peculiar, unspeakable grace to her movements and to everything she said. She was so happy at having companionship after her long loneliness. And such companionship ! She listened to him in delight. His ge.ntle, respectful appreciation won her from her shyness and charmed her into uttering thoughts and feelings she had expressed to no one, noteven Max. For not even he seemed to understand her like this sweet-voiced sympathetic stranger, not crudely young and ovorjoyous, but with a shade of melancholy in his polished tones and dark blue eyes. To be Continued.