A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET

Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 259, 8 November 1897, Page 6

A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET

■ By LAWRENCE L. LYNCH, Author of "Shadowed by Three," "-A ■" Slender Clue," " Dangerous Ground, "Madeline Payne," "A Mountain " Mystery," "The Diamond Coterie," " Romance of a Bomb Thrower," " Out of a Labyrinth."

r-rs 9 ~" CHAPTER XVIII,

•A WRONG AND A MYSTERY AND A

MAN SHE LOVES.'

When Sir Felix Wyntoun opened his eyes in the morning after his interview with Max Talfourd and found himself waking to a medley of remembrances not exactly pleasant, his first thought was of La Belle Fabrice. How would the morning- find her ! Would she see him to-day? And ■would the hour, the very earliest, most -unconventional hour for calling at her hotel, never come? At least he might see Madam Congreve, for next to Fabrice his thoughts went most naturally to that amiable woman, avlio was in some so£i»«a connecting link between himself and the object of his admiration. But at breakfast a note from Max Talfourd was put into his hand. He opened it eagerly, anxious at once for his friend and glad of a diversion. It \va,s as follows: — My dear Wyntoun,— I am under a new cloud, but one which I hope will soon turn its bright side toward roe. I may not see you. to-day. In truth, I think I would better not. I trust all to you as we planned it yesterday. And one thingmore: Will you kindly wire to your friend Ferrars, or in such way as you think best find out by cable if Ferrars, is in London, and at liberty? I leave it to you to say as 'much or as little as you think fit. Let me hear the result at once. I remain at home today. ■•.,.. , f ..-,. ,■ : . Yours, j . ; ' TALFOURD. P.S.—Will you breakfast with me here to-morrow? MAX. . It was this note that sent Sir Felix forth that morning with a new animation and a business-like air that was quite 'American.' Soon this message was speeding Londonward to one Lord Louis Barham, George-street, Hanover Square: Is Ferrars in London and disengaged? What address and for how long? ■ •• • ■ WYNTOUN. To this message the answer came promptly.: Ferrars in Germany. Can't be got tinder seven days. At your service. BARHAM. This message, with an explanatory note, -Sir Felix sent at once to Max Talfourd; and then turned his face toward the quietly splendid apartments of La Belle Fabrice. Madame Congreve alone came forward to receive him. There was a new %6k of anxiety upon her face, as she put out her hand, and he'fancied as he took it a look of relief also.. Their, greeting was a silent one, and when he released her hand, Madam Congreve sank again into the seat from which she had risen to receive him. Sir Felix glanced all about the room, as if to make surer the disappointment plainly visible in his lace. 'Sit down,' said Madam Congreve, at last. 'I am glad that you have come; glad of this opportunity. Fabrice has gone out.' 'Gone out?' he echoed. 'Then she IS ■'—- — 'Oh, she is well; quite well. But —.' She laughed nervously. 'I really do not know how to say it. Somehow, I feel as if our positions, yours and mine, have been reversed. I am coming to you for counsel, and advice, perhaps.' 'To me.' The anxiety deepened in his face. 'What is it?' 'I don't know what it is. I only wish I did. It's about Fabrice, of course.' 'What of her?' 'Listen. I am going to wash my hands of all this, I must; it's too hard a position—l can't fill it. Sir Felix, I am afraid I must advise you to give it up.' Again she laughed nervously. *I do not suppose you will listen to me now, or rather, that you will not heed me any more than you did before. But you shall not blame me for anything that may go ill in the future. I am going to tell you just ■what has happened since—since you left us yesterday—you and Mr Quin r lan. By the way, Mr Quinlan left his compliments and that basket of roses at. the door, half an hour ago.' She indicated by a gesture a gilded basket of Marechal Niels upon a little table near him; but he did not turn his head. 'You were going to tell me ' 'Yes, and I'll get it over. Fabrice came out of her faint almost immediately, and locked herself in her room straightway. Something in that newspaper troubled her greatly; it mu3t have been so. She took it with her, when she left the room, and she dMofoot appear again last evening. Several times her maid went to her door, but was denied admittance, and we could not help.from knowing that she was in great trouble. We could hear her sobs. She was moaning and walking the floor. Finally, she admitted me. It was as if she could not bear to be alone any longer. But she would not talk to me, and I could not comfort her. I had never seen the child in any but her merriest moods. Her distress went to my heart, but I was powerless to help her. Finally, •when it was almost morning, she sobbed herself to sleep upon my shoulder. She paused and a flush came into h<M^ cheeks.

'All I know of her trouble is the little I could guess from her disjointed murmurings in that sleep.' Again she paused, her embarrassment evidently increasing. 'I have always said, and always believed,' she went on hesitatingly, 'that Fabrice was heart free —that there was no one—' She checked herself as Sir Felix suddenly arose and walked to a window that overlooked the street.

'Go on,' he said, hoarsely, as he stood with his back toward her.

'But—but, tliere is some one, somewhere whom she loves—whom, she longs for, It is not a parent, for Fabriee is an orphan and brotherless. It may not be a lover. I can't repeat her words,' she floundered on. 'But they were strange—too incoherent to comprehend. But there is a wrong and a mystery—and a man she cares for—somewhere.'

She paused; there was a slight movement of the muscular shoulders, but otherwise no sign from Sir Felix that he heard.

'This morning,' Madam resumed, 'she was awake before me, and at her desk. She wrote half a dozen letters, and then destroyed them. But at last one was written that seemed satisfactory. When this was done and folded, she rang for some envelopes from the hotel office, and put her letter into one oi these. She was quitecalm this mottling, but very silent and sad. When her letter was finished, she prepared to go out, and by the time she was ready she was looking' quite eager, and somewhat excited —and so pi'e^ceupied. There, Sir Felix, I have told you all —all but this: 1 must tell Fabrice that I have told you all these things. You see my position else'?' Sir Felix came slowly away from the window and resumed his seat near her.

'Tell her,' he said. 'It is best.' For a moment both were silent, Madam plucking listlessly at the tassel fringe thtit depended from the arms of the cftair she occupied; Sir Felix sitting with his head bent upon Ms hand, his fair face in the shadow. At last he lifted his head, and there was a world of anxiety in his honest English eyes. 'You have been very good,' he said. 'I had no right to ask so much oj£_you. Somehow—' and his boyish smile broke through the gloom of his countenance, 'in spite of my liberal tendencies, don't you know, 1 feel awfully glad that you are an Englishwoman.'

'And an actress !' There was a shade of bitterness in her tone. 'Do you include that fact in your list of things to be thankful for ?' 'Come now, Madam Congreve, that's too bad of you. Were you not an Englishwoman, ■a. gentlewoman, first —before you were an actress ?' 'I' am an Englishwoman and a gentlewoman still, I trust,' she said. 'And as an Englishwoman, I have asked myself over, and over how this is to end — your attachment for Fabrice. Suppose she returns your regard ? I know no more of Fabrice than I see from day to day, but I know that she is proud with the best, the only pride that is safe for a woman—the pride born of self-respect. And tliere is your mother, Sir Felix, and your sisters—'

He threw back his head impatiently 'I wish I had only my mother anc my sisters to dread. Why don't yoi mention my father ?' 'Because I happen to have heart that the Marquis of Bolton is as radical as his son.' 'Well, my mother is one of those good and wise women who believe ir letting1 a man follow his chosen path way. Mind you, she is as thoroughlj an aristocrat as can be, but she would be shocked at the mere thought of questioning1 the movements of the Marquis of Bolton, even when she could not admire and sanction them She would acquiesce, .because Lore .Bolton is—Lord Bolton.' 'I am English enough to comprc hend. Arid Lady Bolton is certainly an exceptionally desirable mother.' 'Undoubtedly. Well, my sisters you will remember, have had tin advantage of being reared by sxich f mother. They may sticlc, just a' first ; I won't say it's impossible But in the end, Lady Louise, that'? my eldest, and she's a bit poetical will- ask, "Is she pretty and fond o1 books ?" And Lady Flo will onl t > want to know if she's jolty, and noi afraid to take a seven-barred gate Lady Flo's no end of a good girl, anc pretty, too. But she's just a bil horsey and counts a hunt ahead of r ball.' Madam Congreve smiled am nodded. 'I know the kind,' she said. 'Anc when it's enthusiasm, and not aiVec tation, they're the cream of Englisl girls.' 'When I want to reprove 3113 younger sister,' he said, with a slow half smile, 'I tell her she's too out spoken for her own good, and for r girl. Pardon me, Madam, but may '. know when she will be back '?' 'I suppose you mean Fabrice ■?' 'Of course.' 'She did not tell me her intentions. 'And she went alone ?' 'Yes.' Sir Felix arose and took up his hat. 'We were to drive to-day, later. Did she speak of this ?' 'Not since yesterday.' 'Then I shall call for you as was arranged.' He turned, and she arose and walked beside him to the door. There he hesitated. 'Tell me,' he said ; 'advise me. I want to speak to her. I want to understand—at least, I want her to understand me. Will it be too soon ? Is it the wrong time ? Ought I to wait ?' Madam Congreve sighed. . 'I am truly your friend, Sir Felix, he said; 'yours and hers. But I cannot advise you further. I wish yon all good. I will aid you when I can But I am sick of all this mystery, I dare not put my hand upon a thing so sacred with my eyes bandaged, You must rely upon yourself. Youi own tact and frankness will serve you better than I can. Only, be patient, ] beg of you; patient and charitable.'

He took her hand and bowed low over it.

'Thank you,' he murmured. 'I appreciate all that you have said to me.'

(To be Continued.)