A WOMAN'S HEART

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 158, 6 July 1899, Page 10

A WOMAN'S HEART

v^y MRS EPFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS.

CHAPTER X.

A fortnight made a great difference In Justina's condition. She seemed to grow stronger and better every Lour, indeed, after her arrival at Croome HaJJ. The great kindness lavished on her, the wealth of sympathy and loving1 comprehension she received at every turn, was in itself a medicine of marvellously healing1 power to the young mind and heart that had been so racked and burdened with pain and anguish; and yet there was .something inexpressibly sad to Justina, as she realised the warmth and beauty of the loving1 friendship given to her so generously; it called up in all its misery, all its bareness and ugliness, the picture of the married life, the picture of the terrible, the great mistake she had made; it emphasised her desolate lot; it was like a gleam of bright winter's sunshine, in a place where all outside and about was bleak and cold and lonely.

Her long illness had been an overwhelming misfortune to Justina. Her work had been stopped abruptly, her position jeopardised, and this aftermath of weakness and physical prostration was something almost more than the girl could bear.

She had allowed herself to be carried away from London by her kind friends, but her big, noble heart had gTieved deeply over her indebtedness to these two people. She had no words great enough in which to speak her gratitude to them, yet she could not forget, even for a single instant, the Llack cloud of shame and dishonour "which her husband's cowardly crime Lad hung1 over her head; she could not forget the wrong he had done to Basil Fothergill, and these bitter, terrible memories ate like a canker into the sweetness of the sympathetic friendship that surrounded her, and that at another time would.have been co welcome, so precious to her. Molly's love for her, given spontaneously but most sincerely, was something Justina had never experienced since the days of her happy childhood under her fathers roof.

She told herself passionately, when she was alone, that she should never, never be able to repay even in the faintest degree the goodness and the tenderness that Basil's sister lavished upon her.

In her tarn Justina opened her very heart of hearts to this bright, merry young creature —she gave to Molly all the starved, the pent-up affection of her warm, clinging nature. She could not define or describe the quality and extent of her love for this girl.

It was because of this, because she desired to give Molly satisfaction and pleasure, that she allowed herself to be brought down to Croome. She determined, however, she would not stay there very long—only just a little while—just while the strength "was creeping slowly back into her. xveary limbs—courage and hope and will was infusing itself into her heart end mind.

Jnstina had now one big- effort beJore her—one big aim in her humbled, broken existence. By hook oily crook this money must be repaid to Sir Basil. The evil thing- Eupert had done could never be quite u*ndone, but still the burden would be Jess, the anguished shame diminished, if she conld give back to her friend and benefactor the money of which lie had been so disgracefully robbed. So having this desire living so eagerly in her heart, Justina let herself vait a little longer before starting cut again on her rough, hard path. She wanted to be quite strong, to have no faltering, no falling by the wayside. When once she took up her burden she determined she must go on steadily to the end, working, if need be, night and day, so long as she scraped together this money, which, in her honourable -mind, belonged not to her, but only to the man whom her husband had robbed. The first few days of her stay at Croome were very pleasant and peaceful ones. Justina lived nearly all the t'me up in the charming room that had been allotted her. She was not strong enough to go down the broad, old-fashioned staircase to the other rooms. Molly was with her nearly sill the time, although she was full of business, and once now and again Hiss Fothergill brought up one or another of her friends to introduce to Mrs Seaton and to make an hour pass amusingly.

Justina had, of course, "been charmed with Beatrice Somerset. There was something infectious about the girl's happiness. She was so full of brightness and sunshine, as it were, that she cast a sort of gladness over all with whom she came in contact, and Bee equally on her side was enchanted, with the pale, lovely girl invalid who looked too absurdly young to be already married and settled in life.

Learn Greatorex had not been one of those who paid a visit to the sick room.

It was quite a fortnight after Justina's arrival at Croome Hall that she met Lady Gertrude Greatorex's daughter.

It was a cold, dull afternoon just immediately before Christmas when ■Learns eyes first rested on the girl about whom Croomehurst was never tired of raving and who had lived nor was it comprehensible why all at more frequently in Learns own thoughts than she cared to realise or remember.

Justina was sitting in a cozy corner of the quaint old drawing-room. Sho had on an old gown of a curious dull rod. It was made in a loose sort of fashion, the work, indeed, of her own hands framed in that manner to tie useful and comfortable for her writing. Her soft, wavy brown hair

was massed in one big coil at the back of her head. Her thin, delicate hands were busy -with some kind of: needlework. As Learn was ushered in Justina turned her flower-like face upward, j and the full glory of her sweetest blue j eves was suddenly revealed to Learn.. | Involuntarily, even while she had a \ feeling of dull resentment and.vexa-j tion, as it were, Miss Greatorex ac- j Knowledged to herself the power, the i su.btel charm, of this most lovely, J frail-looking creature. She was, herself, looking her very best.

Lenm always required handsome dressing, and in her winter garb of velvet and fur, with a large picture Lai framing her dark and attractive j face, she was distinctly a distinguishI »•(! if not a beautiful young woman. Justina rose a little nervously. 'Molly—Miss Fothergill is upstairs.' she said, in her voice that was still lew and rather tired in its sound from the effects of her great weakness, j 'She will be hero directly.' j Justina resumed her seat. She was j | conscious of an uncomfortable sensa- j Ition which was exactly what Learn intended to express. I Lenm acknowledged Justinn's words and her presence in her haughtiest manner. She did not sit down, but walked slowly about the room, glancing at the multitude of photographs scattered in every corner. Miss Greatorex's manner was neither genial nor pleasant. It was an intense , relief to Justina when the door opened j j again and Molly's trim figure bustled in. 't Jfbpe you two have made friends,' she cried, as she kissed Learn and led her up to the fire. 'I don't think you ! can either of you want a special introduction. Learn, you know Mrs Seaton well by name, and Justina has heard me speak a hundred times of you and your mother. You must please promise to like one another very much.' Justina gave a faint smile at this, but Miss G'reatorex vouchsafed no sort of recognition. She sat talking to Molly and sending that strange sense of discomfort through Justina at every turn. Tea was brought in, and Molly worked very hard to make the sma.ll party more satisfactory, as it were. Justina was only too glad to respond to the unspoken invitation, but Miss Greatorex sat on, cold and absolutely unsympathetic. By and by, however, Sir Basil came in and then there was a little differ-

ence. Learn sat talking quite pleasantly to her host while Molly and Justina went through the usual amount of dog worship and dispensed cake and tea galore to the animals on the hearth rug. When Learn rose to go, Sir Basil, of course, rose too. 'I will walk back with yon if you will allow me,' he said to her, and Learn was graciously inclined to consent.

Molly went out with them to the hall and saw them start. She came back quickly and knelt at Justina's feet, staring 1 into the fire. 'Learn is a very handsome girl,' she \ said, meditatively. Justina answered, readily and truthfully: 'She is—very.' 'So distinguished-looking — a regal sort of creature,' pursued Molly, still staring into the fire; 'but as cold as

an icicle! | 'She seems rather reserved,' Justina j said, gently. Molly stooped suddenly and kissed one of Justhui's small hands. 'What a dear, sweet thing you are!' I she exclaimed, with no spoken reason j for'making such a declaration at this • particular moment. Then she sat down J on her heels and began pulling the ears of the nearest dog. 'I don't think any one could be very | happy, living always with such a cold j nature as that of Learns, do you, little ' Just?' i Justina coloured faintly, and hey { heart fluttered slightly — why, she ] could not have told. ' 'It is so difficult to judge of a person by their appearance or manner, Molly.' 'Oh, of course, I know that!' Molly j agreed. She was silent again for a i while, during which time the dog whose ears were being pulled rolled himself over and licked her hand. 'All the same, Justina, dear, I don't think I could give my congratulations honestly to my dear love of a brother if he were to do what I have sometimes imagined he may do — make Learn Greatorex his wife. She is handsome and distinguished and aristocratic and < all that, but when Bay marries he ] must marry for his happiness, not for grandeur or high social connections, j and I doubt very, very much if he! could ever be happy with such a woman as Learn.' I Justina sat very still; she made no | answer; there was none to make. Such a subject was not for her to discuss, once she should have a curious, numb contraction at her heart; the sort of foreshadowing of a new pain, something she had never felt beiore, despite all the mental sufferings through which she had passed. She felt a I sense of annoyance with herself, not only for this feeling, but for the sort of objection that came over her as she conjured up a thought of Basil Fothergill's marriage. It was the most natural thing in the world, and except that she must regret deeply and sincerely that unhappiness of any description should come into this man's life —this good, kind, faithful friend. I What Could it matter to her, Justina | Seaton, what woman he elected to | choose for his wife? She asked her-j self this question almost harshly i when she found herself alone a little J later, but somehow Justina did not [ find it easy to provide an answer to it. (To be Continued.)