HER MARTYRDOM.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 206, 3 September 1897, Page 4

HER MARTYRDOM.

BY BERTHA At. CLAY.

Author of "Beyond Pardon," "The Duke's Secret," "A True Magda- , len," '"Dora Thorne," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXI.

"Angela, I want yon. Come to my room with me."

And the giri followed her mother into the room where she had promised to make the most foolish will that was ever drawn up.

The boudoir was looking its brightest. It was nearly the end of May now, and the room was filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and the. sun, shining in brightly, touched the golden head of Lady Laura and the fair face of her daughter.

But Lady Laura's eyes were filled with tears and her face was pale. She seemed to have lost much of her bloom and radiance. "Angel, come and talk to me," she said. Then the tears that filled the usually bright eyes fell, and Lady Laura Wynyard burst into a passion of weeping. "Oh, Angel!" she sobbed; "I am so unhappy! I must speak to you. 1 am so unhappy that 1 fear I shall die." And before another word was uttered, Angela knew to what her mother referred, and she realised that the sorrow she had always foreseen was about to fall upon them. "Come and comfort me, Angel,*' cried the hapless lady. "I am in sore distress. My dear, you said, not once but often, that the Captain did not love me, and that he was going- to marry me for my money. Did you mean it. Did you believe it?" ]f her mother had taken her warning at the time, Angela would have been grateful, and would have persisted in all she then said. But the fatal knot had ben tied, and there was nothing for it but to make the best of it. "You must not remember what I said then, mamma, darling. It is useless recalling the words now." "But, Angel, you said that the Captain did not love me because he loved Gladys Kane. Oh, my dear, was it true—was it true?" "I hope not, mamma." she replied. "It is of no use thinking of such things now." "I cannot help thinking of them, and must speak of them, or my heart will break!" she sobbed. "Oh, Angel, you love me so truly, can you not see how I suffer." Angela drew near and kissed the pale sad face. "I will comfort you and help you all I can, mamma," she said gently. "I am so unhappy, Angel," said her ladyship; "and yet I cannot bear to tell you why. It seems like treachery. But 1 have borne it in silence until I can bear it no longer." "Perhaps, darling mother, I can guess what it is that distresses you." "I almost wish you could, Angel. It would save me the pain of telling you." Angela bent her fair face over her mother's head. "I do know," she whispered. "You; are unhappy because of, Gladys Bane.' "Heaven knows I am, Angel; so unhappy that I cannot go on bearing this -pain-much longer!"

Angela was too noble to say, as many in her place would have said,

"I knew it would bo so; I told you so: I warned you." She only kissed, with added love and tenderness, the face of the beautiful mother whose martyrdom would be, she knew, so terrible.

"Tell me," continued her ladyship, "have you noticed it? Have others remarked it? Tell me all, Angela; do not keep anything from me. Is it spoken of, gossiped about?"

"I cannot tell you. I have not heard it mentioned, mamma."

Then you have noticed it yourself?" cried Lady Wynvarcl.

"I could not help seeing that the captain spends a great deal of time with and pays great attention to Gladys Rane. But then, mamma darling, they are very old friends, and it is quite natural that they should have much to say to each other."

"But, Angel," sighed the sorrowing woman, "when he is with her his whole mind and soul are absorbed in her. Yesterday, when he was talkingto her, I went up and spoke to him. I spoke three times before he heard me, and when he did he started as though he had only remembered that I existed. And, Angel—l am ashamed to tell you—l am quite sure that he was holding- her hand. I saw it plainly. If he loves me as he professes, better than all the world beside, why should he sit holding- another woman's hand?"

"The captain does what no one else would think of doing-," said Angela. "He is not to be judged by ordinary rules, for what would be a breach of etiquette on the part of another is a privileged act when done by the captain. Besides, he has a caressing manner that is natural to him."'

"He looked so angry because I interrupted him,"' added her ladyship. "He seemed so impatient to be gone, and barely answered my question; and, Angel, when he looked at Miss Eane his eyes were full of love. Ah, me, my darling-, they have not the same look for me!"'

■ Angela did her best to comfort her unhappy mother.

" Perhaps," she suggested, " they were talking about something particular, and did not wish to be interrupted."

"But I ought not to be considered an interruption," she urged. "The captain should not have anything to say to any lady which his wife might not hear."

"Perhaps it was something" about one of their old acquaintances."

"Ah, no; he was talking to her of himself! Iknew from the expression of his face. And, Angel, that is not all. I have been very unhappy for the last three weeks, I begin to notice that people smile when thej- are together, and that when the captain enters a room where she is everyone seems to make way so that he may reach her side. That seems very strange.'

"Nothing is strange in this deceitful world."

"Oh, Angel, I know it is cruel and treacherous of me to talk in this way of my husband, but my heart is full, so full that it mtist break unless I tell you of the sorrow that is wearing it away. I cannot help seeing, Angel, that" lie is changed 'toward me. He seems to be tired and tcr^i always now when he is with me, and is irritated by my least caress. Angel, it must be a terrible thing when human love dies."

"True love never dies, mamma," she answered, gently.

"If ever my husband's love for me dies," said Lady Laura, with the calm of despair, "I too shall die!"

And Angela, knowing- all she did, could not find words with which to comfort her. She knew well enough that the captain had no true love for his wife, and that his passing fancy was long- since dead. Her only wonder was that her mother had 'not perceived this before."

"I am not one of those women who could be careless regarding a husband's love. I could never even bear to see mine too attentive to other women; and, oh, Angel, how can 1 now bear to see him devote himself so entirely to another?"

"We shall not be here much longer, mamma, darling ; the season will soon be over ; and when he is away from here he will forget all about her."

"But that will not benefit me if he has ceased to love me !" cried Lady Laura. "Oh, Angel, can it be possible that men so soon cease to love '?"

"Not good or true men, mamma ; only men who are fickle of purpose and light of heart can do that," replied Angela. "I could never be one of those patient, self-sacrificing women who endure any and everything at the hands of the man they love. You know, Angela, I have been so loved always and .so petted ; your dear father was always so gentle and kind to me."

"There could never be another man like my father," said the girl, proudly ; that is impossible." Lady Laura trembled : her face had grown pale and troubled. "I think," she added, after a pause, "I shall speak to Vance about it. I shall tell him that his behaviour makes me unhappy, and he will perhaps change." Angela "knew that her mother's pleading words would make no more impression on the captain than a wave of the sea would upon a wall of rock, and she tried, therefore, to save her from pain. "1 do not know whether it would be wise, mamma," she said. "Perhaps this is but the careless resumption of an old friendship, which would become more if you evinced any dislike or jealousy of it. I am not sure that it would be wise to speak."

"I must, Angel, for 1 can no longer endure the anguish of mind I am suffering. You do not know how full of pain and distress the last few weeks have been to me. See" — and her ladyship pushed down the slender bracelet of gold that encircled her wrist —"see, Angel; I am growing thin. I cannot sleep at night, while my mind is tortured with doubt and dread in the daw I dream of that girl with her dark, winning face beckoning him away from me, and he goes always. Comfort me, my dear ; tell me mine are but nervous fancies. Ah me, I know they are all hard, bitter truths ! There can be no comfort for me."

"My love is a comfort," said Angela, impulsively.

"It is, my darling-; but it is a different thing. Do not think I undervalue it. I cannot live without the entire, devotion of my husband's heart, and now 1 fear his love is slipping from me."

"We are going to Italy in September, mamma, and there will be no Gladys Kane there to cause you pain,"' said Angela, comfortingly.

"Is she so much more beautiful than 1 am, Angel '?" asked Lady Laura. The girl looked at her mother's graceful figure, her golden hair, her white, slender neck, her blue eyes and lovely features. Could any women be more, beautiful ? The dark, fascinating face of Gladys Kane rose before her.

"It is no question of more or less beauty, mamma," she replied. "You differ as a red rose from a white one. She is not one whit more fair than you."

"Then it is not by her beauty that, Vance is attracted," said Lady Laura. "1 —1 wonder. Angel, if I were to try to be brighter, to amuse him more— [ begin to see that men require a great deal of amusement —would that win back his love ?"'

Angela's heart sank when she heard the simple question. She knew so well that her step-father had never loved her mother, and that now the fleeting fancy was dead, nothing her mother could do would win the love she coveted.

"You are always bright and beautiful, mamma." she said. "Any one who could not be happy and contented with you deserves neither happiness nor eorjtenl."

But though she tried to speak cheer fully, Angela's heart was heavy with dread of the coming sorrow.

(To be continued.)