LADY GAY'S PRIDE.

Auckland Star, Volume XX, Issue 290, 6 December 1889, Page 3

LADY GAY'S PRIDE.

THE MISER'S TREASURE.

By Mrs Alex. McVeigh Miller.

CHAPTER XXIV,

Sir Floyd's twisted ankle keeps him confined the next day and the next to the house and his sofa. Two longer days he has never known. The pain in his ankle and the revengeful thoughts in his mind goad him almost beyond endurance. As ho lies there surrounded by piloa of newspapers, which he lacks the patience to read, his whole thoughts run upon his enemy— this daring enemy, who has ventured upon his grounds in defiance of him, and escaped again from the terrible revenge Sir Floyd's relentless hatred would have taken if be had caught him.

To add to his "weariness and ennui, his daughter keeps her room, declaring herself prostrated by her accident, and compelled to woo solitude aa the Only antidote for her nervousness. Lord Annesley and his friend have gone up to London. Weariness and disgust of life seize upon the baronet like ' an armed man.'

'Go up and ask my danghter if she feels well enough to come down and read to mp awhile,' he cells his attendant, petulantly, on the second day. 'I cannot listen to your droning any longer. Your sing-song put 3 one to sleep.' The attendant hastens to obey, rather glad than otherwise to go. His toaster's perturbed mood, his petulance, bis impatience, his capriciouSness, are hard to bear by even the meekest of servants just now. Sir Floyd yawn?, rolls his handsome head on its eilken pillow, and his dark eyes wander aimlessly around bhe large and lofty room, with it 3 black oak paneling, its crimson velvet hangings, and dark, rich Persian carpet bhab is so .soft and thick ib gives back no echo to the footstep. Handsome paintings by the old masters adorn -he walls, bits of exquisite statuary glimmer whibely on the lofty marble mantel, and on the carved brackets. _ A bronze clock, a masterpiece of art in itself, ticks oub the long hours with its monotonous voice : a Parian marble vase, filled with freshly cub flowers, diffuses an intoxicating fragrance through the room. A small cabinet organ, in a richly carved case, fills a niche ab one end of bhe aparbmenb: the 6unshine glimmering through the laco curtains, and the low fire burning on the hearth, add their quota to the cheerfulness of Sir Floyd's reading-room. But he is bored and chafed beyond the power of inanimate things to remedy. As he lies there, with his white aristocratic hands clasped beneath his head, the rich silk dressing-gown, with its elaborate embroidery, knotted above his waist, he is a miserable man. A few moment* of impatienb waiting and then a timid tap upon the outer door. ' Come in,' he calls, ' come in, my Lady Gay!' •My Lady Gay.' That is his pet name for his beautiful daughter—used so constantly and fondly that others fall into the habit too. The more formal ' Miss Elmer' is seldom heard in the household. ' Lady Gay'seems to suit the beautiful, graceful girl so well thab the title is given her without dispube or cavil, Bub the heavy door slowly opening, admits, nob • my lady/ but a tall and graceful figure, in heavy, lu.treless black, an unbecoming lace cap oh the well-poised head, green glasses before the apparently weak eyes—Mrs Jones, my lady's toaid ! She .tops within'the doorway and looks hesibatingly over at the handsome, rfecumbent figurerot the i_?alid. 4 1 sent for my daughter,' Sir Floyd cries, out, impatiently. 7* You are—' • Her maid—Mrs.ones, Sir Floyd.' Sir Floyd starts.,; Something in the low, well-trained, and softly - modulated voice touches a chord in.his memory. This is the first time he has. fcoticed bhe new maid. Where has he heard such a voice before ? 'Well ?' he asksjttfter a moment of puzzled thought. ' Lady Gay wishes to be excused. Sho has sent me to read to you.' ' You !' The baronet's tone is surprise and slightly tinctured {with annoyance. The woman shrinks nearer to the half-open door of which she holds the handle. • Yes, Sir Floyd, 1 the tone even lower thab ab first. * I sdmebimes read aloud for her, and she think! 1 might fill her place this once.' « Very well. Cs__e in, and close the dOor. Sib down—there, in thab arm-chair.' Mrs JoneS obeys'in silence, turning her green glasses on hisface with an air ot expectancy. She is trembling as if Wibh a nervous chill, but she holds herself so steadily that he does nob perceive it. ' Now, then, look through that pile of 'papers and get the 'Times.' Rfead Lord Derby's speoch for file—his last one in the House, That is, if you are a good reader— are you ?' She lifbs her head from bhe pile of papers and.looks ab the handsome, bored face. • Your daughter thinks so, Sir Floyd,' she replies, in that calm well-brained voice of hers thab more and more strikes that chord of memory in his heart, like a haunting dream of something in the past, halfforgotbon now. ' Very, well, I shall be glad if you can, though I did nob know tha. lad ies'-niaids had much braining that way. Try the speech, anyway, Mrs —Mrs—what V ' JoneS, Sir Floyd.' 'Ah I yes—try bhe speech, Mrs Jones ; I am listening.' The paper rustles in her hands a moment, she dears her throat, nervously folds down the page, and begins* while the baronet, closing his eyes, prepares to listen tp the first sentence, after which he has no doUbt he wilf bid her put down tho paper and go. Little Gay is the sweetest daughter in the world, but, oh, the silliness of sending her maid to read to him! *

Bub the first senbencegoes off all right, likewise bhe second; the third is even better. The slight tremoiir in her voice at first ceases, the clear, welt-accented words gather sbrengbh and force. Sir Floyd, lisbening with positive reluctance ab firsb, suddenly finds himself pleased and inberesbed., The woman is a fine reader,, certainty. The brillianb speech of bhe brilliant orator does nob suffer in the rendition. The charm of bheorator's bhoughbs and thecharm of fche well-bred, half-familiar voice of the woman holds his interest as if by magic. Half unclosing his languid lids at lasb, he looks at her wonderingly.

She sifcs easily in bhe great v.lvefcarrn -chair her clear, well-cut profile < burned toward him. It strikes him like her Voice, wifch a half-pained sense of familiarity. The sbraighb, Grecian nose, the short, full upper lip, the softly rounded chin have a yOuth and beauty of their own, strangely afc variance with the huge green spectacles, fche grey hair, bhe ugly cap, and sbraighb severe, black dress.

' Who is she like f he asks himself un-1 easily. ' inhere is an odd familiarity about her. Her face is well-bred and handsome. What are her eyes like,? They musb be large and dark bo accord wibh, her face. How ugly bhe specbacles are—and the cap 1 Then bhe brilliant peroration of my Lord Derby rounds smoothly to its close. Tho clear voice pauses. Mrs Jones looks across at the listener. Her green spectacles soem to ask mutely : ' Have I pleased you, Sir Floyd ?' The baronet nods a gracious assent,to the unspoken query. '* You haVe rendered ib very well, Mrs JOhes. lam obliged to my Lady Gay for lending me your voice awhile. Will you try something else V

' If you will tell me what to read,' she replies. ' Make your own selection,' he answers. • I am dull and enmiye, and almost afcjrbhing, so bhab ib be well read, will inberesfc me.'

And bo his great surprise and satisfa'ctiOa she selects the very things he would have read himself. Sir Floyd is surprised and pleased. Hor talent has beguiled one dull hour at least. ' Perhaps I have monopolised you long enough, Mrs Jones. I am your debtor for a very pleasant hour. Where have you learned the arb of elocution so well V

Mrs Jones's green specbacles regard him calmly over bhe top of her paper. ' I have received a good education, Sit Floyd. I have been a governess for many y.ars. This is my first venture as a lady'smaid,' she answers, quiebly. ' Is ib nob strange thab you should resign bhe bebter position for—oh, I beg your pardon,' he checks himself abruptly as if speaking to a lady. ' I have no right to intrude upon your privabereasons. I thank you very much for the service you have rendered me, Mrs Jones.' She bows and rises silently—tall, stately" rather — quaint-looking, in her oap and glasses, yeb with an indefinable gracefulness in her movements, of which slio seema serenely unconscious, while ib clings to her subbly like fragrance to a flower. ' Stay —' he breaks out, dreading to be lofb alono wibh his vexing thoughts. ' You said you had been a governess, MWi Jones ?' ■. ' Yes,' she answers, tranquilly. ' You play, bhen, of course. You 868 tha organ bhere. Will you play for me V She moves across bhe room and sitdown ab the instrument, running heY Blender fingers lightly over the pearl keys. ' Is there anything you would prefer for me to play ?' she askß listlessly. ' I wonder if you can sing,' tho baronet? says, half to himself. 'Indifferently,' she answers. A slight pause. Sir Floyd is watching the figure on the organ-stool. The cap and glasses seem incongruous. Naturally we associate youth and beauty with >._,« thoueht of music. 'Sing something, then—anything you like, obly leb ib be gentle and low—a love song, if you like—somebhing that Will soothe a restless heart.' Unconsciously he sighs. Unconsciously she echoes the sigh. Then he drops his handsome head back on the cushion, and shuts his eyes. He has a fancy that the music will sound much better if he cannot see the»obnoxious cap and glasses of the talented and taciturn lady's-maid. He watts A little, the silence unbroken save by the soffc rustling of the music sheets as she burns them hurriedly in quest of a song. Presently, without warning, & Cry Of almost human pain sobs along the Organ's keys, a voice of wonderful depth and compass, yet subdued to the softest cadence of human passion, breaks into pathebic Song. Ho hushes his breath bo listen. Ib Is *AS sad as earth as sweet as heaven.' I'm wearing aWa'. Jean, Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean, I'm wearing aWa', Jean, To the land o' the leal. There's na sorrow there. Jean, • There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair, Jean, In the land o'thb leai. The words falter away Into silence. The grave, quiet woman who has poured her sad heart's pain inbo words for a moment, rises abrupbiy. 'You will excuse me, Sir Floyd, I—l cannob finish; my voice is .00 Weak from the reading.' She crosses to the door. Sir Floyd Elmer has he tries to stand, his _abs strangely pallid, his eyes staring at the Ye* breabin'g woman. It has flashed over Mm with startling.abruptness that b^et whose familarity lias puzzled him so, is like that of his child's mother—this false Woman who had blighted his life! '•■-.. 'Ethel,' he breaks oub in a sudden tempest of passionate wrath. *My Gbd, is it you ? Surely you would nob dare V Mrs Jones, wibh her hand 6h the doer, turns her eyes upon him With an uncomprehending sbato. 'Did you speak, Sir Floyd?' she ask* branquilly. Ab her quieb air of surprise and her $i-fiS} severe aspect he catches his breath as if she had literally ? thrown cold water.upon him.' This is ribb the woman to whom he lisbened with his eyes shut singing the old Scottish air with a heart-break in her passionate voice. *

'Yes. Tell my daughter I am indebted bo her for her kindness, and hope she may be well enough to visit iH6 td-__or.sw7' She boWs and goes. Sir Flbyd Sinks back upon his silken cushions, bis lip curled under the dark moustache in i. kind of impatient sel.-sco.fct. • ; ~ 'I believe I was ttiad fOr a mbWet... How* like, how like her Voice was td __y false wife's while she wa* s&gteg *«Th& Land o' the Leal."'

(To be Goniiivueti^