A QUESTION OF QUALITY.

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 86, 13 April 1899, Page 10

A QUESTION OF QUALITY.

A. Eowiands.)

CHAPTER XVIII.

It hcnd been summer time when Edward Jloftus had taken his passage to \ustn-alia, and another summer was • wino-hW itself away before he gave an? sign of returning. Life had been passed in a peaceful fashion by the three wranen who looked and longed for Ms presence once again. Nancy had shared to a great extent m this peace, since scarcely a day came and went that did not see her spend an hour or so with the Loftus family. Indeed, matters would have, gone hardly for the girl during the long weary winter months had she not had this 'small consolation open to her. She -frew slowly to find her pleasantest moments in Edward's home. Lady Alicia had returned to Northchesteir after a prolonged absence on the Continent, cured possibly ox such bodily ailment as had troubled her, but witi> her temper soured and irritated to. a very trying extent; and ■partly fi:om this cause, and partly from the' fact that Mr Baillie was away a preat deal from Summer Lodge during this particular winter, ftancv was called upon to face much that 'was disagreeable and most de-. was' impossible for the girl not to gee that her father was glad of any and every, excuse to escape the Btrained atmosphere of his home. The calmness with which he had suffered for so many yea,r.s his wife's stubborn antagonism to himself and all connected with him, seemed to have left Ralph Baillie completely in these days. Nancy knew that her father had taken Bettine's conduct sharply to heart, and she knew further that her brother's method of life, his extravagance and follies, increased of late to a great extent, were two strong reasons why her father avoided all possibility of argument or discussion with her 'mother; but even her keen sympathy could not grasp the amount of pained humiliation her mother could manage to inflict on the man she herself (Nancy) loved so dearly. It*was new for-Mr Baillie to leave his home for any lengthened time, and' Nancy ■was soon made aware-of the fact that Lady Alicia did not approve of the long and continued absence of the master of the house. There was little, however,, that did meet with Lady Alicia's approval in these days, and Nancy at times found herself physically, as well as morally, exhausted by her mother's perpetual ill temper. . In particular, Nancy's close friendship with' Mrs Loftus and her daughters seemed to give Lady Alicia greatannoyance. She had never interfered with Nancy's intimacy in other days, and had never attempted to prevent ■'he girl from being as frequently with the Loftus girls as she desired to be; hut now she "■■made this a subject of constant contention. With, a certain amountuOf truth she urged that Mrs JiOftus Hid her daughters were treatin" hferself with scant courtesy, since they rarely, if ever, crossed the threshold of Summer Lodge. Under such circumstances,' phe had §aid once coldly to Nancy, 'it appears to me a regrettable matter that you should desire to be so of ten at Clinton Cote; it reflects strangely on your attitude towards myself.' . • 'I have always gone to see Helen and Mary. I make no difference now, mother,' Nancy had answered. 'YetrVthere is a difference now, Xady Alicia said shortly. Nancy coloured and paused before she answered. 'If ray going to Clinton Cote is so very objectionable to you, mother,' she said after this pause —and she spoke, wearily enough—'l will, of course, cease doing this.' 'I do not ask you to make a martyr of yourself, Anne. I am merely pointing but. certain facts to. your notice. Why Mrs Loftus should be so affectionate with you and so discourteous to me is something that I confess I do not easily understand.' 'And yet it is very easy to understand, mother.' . • Lady Alicia had eyed Nancy sharply. 'Indeed! In what way?' 'Mrs Loftus, I think,' ITancy said slowly, 'is inclined to blame you, in a certain degree, for the cause of Edward's unhappinness and long absence. You push me to say this to you, xnother,,' Nancy added, hurriedly. Lady Alicia had ;turned away with knit brows. Never, not even on such an occasion as this, would she unfold the secret feelings of her heart towards Bettine. Nancy could conjecture pretty correctly that her mother detested even the name of Kingsberry's wife; but Lady Alicia gave her no outward clue to the solution of this problem. The affair* of' the Earl and Countess of Kingsberry were never discussed at Summer Lodge. Their name, save, indeed, •when Hubert ran home for a couple of days or so, was never spoken. Nancy had nothing to guide her as to whether her mother approved or disapproved of Hubert's intimacy with Bettini?. It was, however, a comparatively easy matter for Hubert to please his mother in all. he did, and the girl i deemed it quite possible that, however distasteful the subject of Bettine might be to Lady Alicia, she ■would sttft'er it to be introduced by, lier son, and find no objection tq his friendship he reaped any personal friendship \he reaped any personal satisfaction- and advantage. This was but another phase of, that' ill-balanced disposition that would allow all to one individual and nothing to another. .Nancy supported all that she felt was Incumbent upon her to support, but in this matter of her friendship with the Loftus family, she took a line of defiance. ' T intend you no disrespect, neither do I see that 1 can possibly dp any harm, by going to Clinton Cote, tnother;' she said quietly; 'and as 1

find my happiest moments with Helen and Mary. I think I may be forgiven if I try to'be with them as much as I can.' 'You are frank, at least,' Lady Alicia observed.

Nancy had laughed bitterly. 'Frankness is a legacy Bettine bequeathed to me, mother. We have played a part too long—you and I. I think we shall both gain "by a little plain speaking.' After this Lady Alicia made no further effort to prevent her daughter from to Clinton Cote, biit, ns was natural to one so sincere, bo sensitive, and so truly dutiful as Nancy, the pleasure of the friendship was dimmed, and though she continued to see the Loftus girls quite as frequently, she felt all .the time that jarred, uncomiortable sensation of one who was doing something that should not have been done.

On more than one occasion during this long winter old Lady Kingsberry had written peremptorily to Nancy demanding a visit from the girt, birt Nancy had never gone. She was not happy in her old home, but she would have been infinitely less happy back in her grandmother's house, with all the lost joy of those summer days mocking her at every turn. Moreover, there was too much intimacy between the old and the young Lady Kingsberry to insure any pleasure to Nancy.

Just after Easter had come and gone, Peter Callard arrived on a visl* to Mrs Loftus at Clinton Cote. Nancy heard of his arrival and expressed a sincere pleasure at the thought of meeting him again. 'Now you will hear the voice of your lovely new piano,' she said to Helen Loftus, the elder of the two girls; 'it has been dumb all this time, but it will sing at last.' For all the effects of that small house over which Edward had spent so much time and money in the brief days of his betrothal had been brought down to his old home, at his written request, and among the beautiful things Bettine had chosen for the London home of her prospective mother-in-law had been a costly piano —a useless appendage, as it happened, to any place located by either Edward Loftus': mother or sisters. Once or twice, in the grey months of the autumn and early winter, Nancy had opened this piano and had played to herself softly for an hour or so, but her music hurt her nowadays; it brought back too sharply the remembrance of those cosy evenings at her grandmother's when the soft summer wind had swept in through the open windows, and she had sat and played the accompaniments of Nigel's songs. If she shut her eyes she could almost hear his sweet, uncultivated voice crooning out the touching melody of some old Irish ballad, and the tears would come as the notes and words echoed in her ears.

The arrival of a guest other than»a relation was quite an event to the inmates of Clinton Cote, and the coming of Edward's friend was the signal for much excitement with the Loftus girls. It was, of course, obedience to another written wish of the absent one that had actuated them in bringing Callard on the scene; but it would have greatly surprised Callard's hostess, could she have known the magnet that drew the man from his town haunts to be bored considerably in her dull, if. comfortable* country house Nancy did not ride over to Clinton Cote the day after Mr Callard's arrival, but the next morning brought her an imploring line lorom Helen Loftus. 'We looked for you all yesterday,' she wrote; 'where were you? Mr Callard played to us for nearly two hours, but he wants a more cultivated audience. Dear Nancy, you must come to-morrow!'

And on the morrow Nancy went. She did not put on her" habit till she had informed her mother where she was going; and to her supreme sutprise, Lady Alicia made no- objection, either audible or inaudible; on the contrary, she Jeemed interested to hear that Nancy was about to meet Peter Callard- •

'If Mr Callard wishes to call, pray let him understand I shall be pleased to see Mm,' she said; and though she spoke coldly, there was something in her voice and words that set Nancy thinking as she rode slowly towards Clinton Cote.

It was no new matter for Nancy to try and understand her mother, and therefore it was not' surprising that the girl failed to grasp the meaning of Lady Alicia's gracious remembrance of one whom apparently she had not liked too much, when occasion had brought them together the year before.

The afternoon of music that followed after- Nancy's appearance was as a gleam of mental sunshine to the girl. . .

'I have a most Oliver Twistish mood on me to-day. I want more, please, and more, and more still,' she said laughingly to Peter Callard. Smiling- back at her, the man had spun out a whole series of musical dramas and pictures. Nancy had grown very thin and pale in these many months in which he had not seen her. In her riding habit she had a neat air that brought out a faint resemblance to Lady Alicia's hardness, and her face wore a tired look ; yet she seemed to Peter Callard to be sweeter than belfore. She had merged from the stage of a pleasant girl into that of a subdued, and, it almost seemed, a troubled woman;, but in each phase she had that wondrous grace of refinement, that true note of a delicate, sensitive nature that was so lacking, not only in himself, but in nearly all those with whom he came in contact, and that was so won-1 derfully attractive to him.

In his life he met with all that was called beautiful, desirable, and enviable, and it would be false to the truth to say that Peter Callard did not find these creatures as beautiful and desirable as he found their position a source of envy ; yet in this fierce search after.' social success, in his endeavours to be one with and of that fashionable world that signified the only world to him, he was pci Ifectly aware of the vulgarity of the whole thing. That purer mental element that Lad place within him in his music was touched always by contact with Nancy. He would not have been true to himself if he had not been open eyed to the other social and material charms she possessed, but justice compels the fact to be stated that these were of secondary import with Km where she was concerned.

When the moment came for Nancy to wend her way homewards, he went with her to put her on her horse, and she gave him her mother's message. Peter smiled to himself as he heard of Lady''Alicia's desire to see him. In an instant he was whirled back into his old self—his alert, subtle, calculat-

ing" self. 'It will give me much pleasure to call upon Lady Alicia,' lie said, suavely.

What was hidden from Nancy's understanding was very intelligible to him.. Hubert Baillie must have desired his mother to show some attention to a man who was perhaps the only one who could serve him at this particular junction of his affairs. Beyond the fact that Nancy was his sister, Hubert had no value in Callard's eyes; but, being the brother of this girl, he became in a sense important —that is to say, Callard was aware of Bet tine's influence on the young man, and for Nancy's sake alone was prepared to stand between young- Lady Kingsberry and this jmrtieular branch of her warfare with those who belonged to her.

He walked beside Nancy to the big gates at the entrance of Clinton Cote, and he spoke of her brother. • 'I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr Baillie1 several times at Kingsberry Court; in fact, he seems to be always there. He has lost his heart to Lady Kingsberry,' Peter said, in an amused way. ' Not very surprising, for I fancy she is one of the loveliest women of the time —not the best kind of companion, however, for- a young fellow of your brother's calibre.'

'I hope Hubert is not doing anything foolish, Mr Callard?' Nancy said, Imrriedly; 'life—he is very young.'

'Naturally he is,' Peter assented; 'and as such, liable to all impressions ad influences. I don't siippose he is more foolish than most of his kind; but—well! he did me the honour to confide in me, and to tell me that already he had been so unfortunate as to vex your father on more than one occasion since he had joined his regient. The play at Kingsberry Court is very high "at times,' Callard said, after a significant pause. ' 'Lady Kingsberry has a passion for roulette.'

' Nancy looked at him. 'I am glad you have told me this, Mr Callard,' she said, gravely, 'for Hubert cannot afford to play cards. My father has a great objection to gambling of any description.' It was her turn to pause now. 'I did not think,' she said then, 'that Nigel cared about this kind of thing.'

'Oh, Kingaberry has other amusements,' Callard said, half carelessly. His keen eyes were watching the girl's pale face, and at the expression written thereon Peter Callard felt his pulses quicken as sometimes they would do in a moment of doubtful speculation. He saw then that what he had imagined must be impossible was a fixed fact, and that Nancy had given hei? heart to the man Bettine had married.

The realisation of this stung his vanity sharply, and instantly it made her more desirable.

'We must have a long talk about your cousin'to-morrow when I call,' he said as they separated. 'Things are not on the right road at Kingsberry Court, and that is the plain truth, Miss Baillie, and you seem to me to be the one person who might be able to do some little good.' He was looking hard at Nancy, but she was drawing her reins together, and she did not speak, she only smiled, and the smile seemed to him the saddest expression he had seen on any human face. Nancy rode home swiftly. Thoughts and feelings were clanging and dashing together, and the rush through the clear springtide air was a kind of nerve tonic. She could not have told why, but a curious desire seemed to creep over her to escape quicklj i'roin Peter Callard's presence. It startled her to find herself all at once confessing that she ahnos+ disliked this man. It was certainly not a dislike that had been born consciously, for, indeed, up to half an hour before this moment, Nancy might have said that Callard alone had been capable of giving her a spell of real happiness. But now the happiness was gone, anrl a strange distrust, a shrinking Ci'Oir. him, had come in its place. SwHtly enough Nancy knit together Callard's words about her brother wish her mother's strange offer of remembrance. 'Hubert must have need of him,' was what the girl said to herself, and her heart beat quickly. She was fond of Hubert, though he had never been very kind to her; still she was fond of him, and it pained her to think tffat he, too, should be made the butt of Bettine's extraordinary scheming. It pained her, too, to. imagine a widening of the breach between her father and his son.

'I must write to Hubert—write plairfiy. If he is in fresh difficulties I can help him, fortunately, since I have some money of' my own. Yes, I will write to him.'

The thought gave her great pleasure. It was a sort of consolation to her to feel that if she could dp nothing to help one man who was dear to her, she could at least stand prominently in her brother's life. Thinking deeply on this, it seemed to her quite natural to ride into the stable-yard and find Hubert busy inspecting the horsec.Nancy shipped froKi saddle and ran to he*r brother. 'You want me, gave her a careless kiss. 'You have gave her acareless kiss. 'You have come down on business?'

Hubert could lie quite glibly on occasion, and he lied now. 'Oh!' he said, 'I managed to twist myself in the gymnasium yesterday, and they gave me a couple of days' sick leave, so as I was a bit dull I thought I woiild run home and be cheered up.' Which, had Nancy but known, signified, *My mother has told me Callard is staying at Clinton Cote, and as I mean to get him to help me through you, I got leave and came here without loss of an hour.'

(To be Continued.)