A WOMAN'S HEART

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 161, 10 July 1899, Page 6

A WOMAN'S HEART

By MRS EFFIE ADELAIDE

ROWLANDS

CHAPTER XIII. (Continued.)

Justina must go from .them, not only out of their home and care, but out' of all possible contact with their daily life. As yet, fortunately, this ! secret that Molly had surprised so i swiftly was indeed a secret even from j Justina's most intimate thought. The danger to her, therefore, was not so great —the sorrow further off than it j was with Basil. ' Molly's determination was made I while she rose and dressed in the I morning. Basil would be alone with ' her at breakfast, for, though Justina j would have liked, to have joined the meal, disclaiming all wish to be considered an invalid, she was not allowed to descend till quite mid-day. Basil would be alone, therefore, j and Molly would start operations at once. . She did not commence, however, the very instant she met her brother. She made no difference in her usual manner; she wanted above all things I that Basil should never guess how | much she knew of his heart's history. ' She chattered away briskly about I Lord Dunehester, and Basil found. much to say about the young man. 'I think he is improving, Molly. He looks altogether better than he did— less rakish, if I can use the expression. There is any amount of good; in Philip. I wish from my heart that j he could meet some nice girl who; ! would exercise a real good influence j I over the lad, and lead him into the paths of a quiet, honest, respectable, domestic life.' 'I don't fancy Lord Dunchester would care for .that, sort of thing, Bay., At least, not just jret,' Molly j ! answered, balancing her teaspoon on | her finger and watching this opera- | tion with careful eyes and a slightly increased colour in her cheeks; 'ne is such a boy,' she added, almost apologetically, after a; second's pause. 'Dunchester is nearly twenty-eight,' Basil said, taking up a newspaper. 'Time he began to think of calling himself a man.' 'There are some men who are boys all their life,' Molly said, dreamily; then she put her spoon back into her coffee cup and stirred It round, thoughtfully- 'Perhaps he will fulfil' your wish, Bay, and make a match of it with one of Lady Sarto'ris's daughters. I hear they are pretty.' Sir Basil said: 'Perhaps, in a mechanical sort of way; he was reading the paper, and was interested in what he read. Lord Dunchester's matrimonial future had no very great claim on his thoughts. Molly watched him for a moment or two in silence, then she braced herself up, as it were, and went straight into action. 'Well, whether this happens or not,' she said, cheerily, 'it is a matter of very small importance compared with the other circumstances which I hope will accrue from Lady Sartoris'fl visit to this part of the world.' i Basil looked round quickly. 'What do-you mean, Molly?' he asked. 'I am thinking of Justina, dear,' Molly made, answer, very gently indeed. The man's face flushed. 'I can see no connection between Lady Sartoris's visit to Dunchester ! and* Justina,' he said, not very stead-, ily. i 'I think, dear, we ought to see it very clearly,' Molly replied, still more gently. j Sir Basil folded up the news paper I very neatly, and then inconsequently j flung it from him, whereupon it im- ! mediately spread itself out in luxui rious untidiness. j 'Will you explain more definitely jwhat you do mean, Molly?' he asked, ' not coolly, but with a touch of most i 1 unusual temper, and also a touch of something like fear in his strong ! voice. I Molly had some difficulty in keeping lier own voice smooth and in preventing the tears from starting in her eyes. 'I should have imagined you would i have guessed immediately what I I mean, Basil,' she .said, almost sharply, I her restraint making her, voice : strangely cold in her brother's! ears. 'We have arrogated to ourselves a position in' Justina's life which we have, after all, no sort of right to. While she was ill and helpless there was, of course, no chance or no immediate reason for our stepping aside and giving place to others}, but now — now, when Justina has determined absolutely to leave us and go out into the world to earn her living as she earned it before she was taken ill, I consider we should be lacking in our duty as her friends if we did not try and arrange some sort of plan for her whereby she would have the protection of her relations, and 'would not be compelled to be alone,and un- ! cared for in the future that stretches ; before her. This is why I say t rejoice that Lady Sartoris is coming' so near to us, for I hope in a very snort time fto have worked a revolution in her ' mind where Justina in concerned, and ■ |to have pointed out to her ladyship ; her most palpable duty to her dead '■ sister's child!' Sir Basil did not speak for a moment or two after Molly had ceased. He got up and went to the fire, standing with his back to the blaze, his eyes fixed on the carpet at his feet. 'I confess,' he said, when he found himself able to speak: 'I confess your words have come upon me in a great surprise, Molly. I—l feel almost tempted to add as a great disappointment also, for I had imagined you had developed a real affection for Justina, and to hear you suggest so coldly and so quietly that she should throw herself on the mercy of a woman who has managed to forget her with such convincing force, does not assimilate itself with any thought of affection.' • ! 'My dear Bay!' Molly had to rise, too, and walk briskly about the Worn; otherwise she knew she should jßsost certainly break down in her seeming: strength of will and decision. She did not speak for a second or two after that one exclamation; then she began, hurrying out her words very quickly. -

'You are most unjust to suppose I do not care for Justina. I care for her more than I can tell you. It is because I care for her so much that I have spoken as I have done. You know, Bay, dear, the thought of attempting to keep Justina on here with us indefinitely is one that could never be fulfilled. She has made up her mind to.gofrom us almost immediately. What can we say to prevent her? She is too proud to be dependent on any one. She would call our friendship charity, and our charity would kill her. She has work to do which must be done. You know all this even better than I can tell you. Yet you accuse me of being unkind, when I am trying only to do that which may be and should be of use and comfort to the child. There is no doubt,' Molly said, coming to a standstill after a few moments, 'that the proper person to look after Justina is her mother's sister. It is useless for her to hope for aid from Dr. North or his wife; she has alienated herself from them altogether, but, as far as I can gather, there has never been any quarrel with Lady Sartoris, and therefore ' Sir Basil stood in silence. The wisdom of his sister's speech could not be gainsaid, and yet—oh! the unutterable pain of having to realise this, of having to stand quietly on one side and let another minister to this creature, who, out of all the world, was more precious to him than the precious gift of life itself. He had, of course, known that something of this sort would come, but he had also had a sort of unexpressed hope and feeling that when it did come and they would be called upon to hear from Justina her determination to draw herself from their generous care and love, that Molly would range herself on his side, ana in her vigorous, yet tender, way settle the question once and for all by absolutely refusing to let Justina go, however much she might wish to do so. Now, however, it was Molly who was pressing the question even before Justina had said a word, and though this fact gave Basil anger as well as Sain, his strong sense of justice made im see that Molly was only acting as every practical, wise person should act under the circumstances. To keep Justina at Croome Hall for the rest of her natural life was absolutely impossible; to try and prevent her returning to the burden of her toil quite as impossible. To endeavour to lighten that toil, to place her in surroundings that should soften and sweeten the bitterness of her lot, had been all that remained to him to do; and now Molly with her cold, curt common sense, was showing him that even this small pleasure must bo deeded him, since Justina's aunt was coming on the scene, and was without question the proper, in fact the only, person to manipulate this question of the girl's future. It was all full of practical commonaense, but it was all very, very hard; and, strong man as he was,. Basil Fotherglll winced as he pictured up the immediate future with Justina gone out of his life, out of his care, out of the shelter and tenderness of his great love. So strong was the pain that the mere thought of this brought, that Basil could not endure further conversation on the matter. He said nothing to his sister; he only turned from the fire and went slowly away, to fight out the agony that lived in his heart alone and unseen. Molly watched him go, with a mist of tears before her eyes. She knew bo well all he was suffering, and, indeed, her own pain at this moment was little less than his—to know that he was in such sorrow, and yet not to be able to give him one j word of true comfort, one whisper of help or hope! It was a grief greater than any that had come as yet into Molly Fothergill's bright, young life. CHAPTER XIV. It was speedily rumoured about the village that Lord Dunchester was going to entertain a small party at his rather tumble-down, old country house, and that a certain amount of fresh festivities for the Croomehurst I young folk might reasonably be expected. Beatrice Somerset was enchanted at this news. She cantered across the common one morning about three days after Miss Greatorex's visit to Croome Hall, on purpose to entice Learn out for a ride, if possible, and then to chatter and comment on what kind of entertainment Lord Dunchester would give them. ; Learn was writing in her own small j sitting-room when Miss Somerset was announced. She looked very handsome in her morning gown of serge, with silver belt about her shapely waist and neat linen collar and cuffs at throat and wrist. She possessed very beautiful hands —not small,. but well-shaped and of an exquisite whiteness. Beatrice often declared laughingly, and yet with sincerity, that Learn would have inspired the dignity and respect she always received if nothing had been seen of her but those beautiful, white hands. She declined to ride with Miss Somerset, but not ungraciously. 'I am going with the Fothergills to the Dunstanley meet to-morrow, and I want to be quite fresh for that,' she explained. 'Is Molly going, too? How jolly!' Bee Somerset exclaimed. 'It is such an age since we had a good day's hunting with Molly. I suppose Mrs Seaton must be much stronger, then, Learn.' Miss Greatorex frowned almost imperceptibly. 'Between you and me,' Bhe observed, as she sat down again to her writing table and moved her hands about among her papers, 'I don't fancy there has been so very much the matter with Mra Seaton. I saw her the other day; she looked remarkably well, I thought.' 'Oh! did you see her, Learn? I have been longing to know what you would say about her. Isn't she lovely?' There was not much discriminating capacity in Beatrice; at least there had been no necessity for developing it as yet. She was so simple and so fresh and so young that she had no knowledge of the art of dissembling, and though, of course, she was conscious of broad effects, such as pleasure and sadness, still the subtler, the less-de-fined emotions which thronged the breast of a woman like Learn Greatorex were quite unrevealed to her. The sneer, therefore, that had lain lightly on Learns words as she spoke of Justina was quite lost on Beatrice. 'Is she not lovely?', she inquired, with warmest enthusiasm. 'I have never seen any one so beautiful as Mrs Seaton.' 'You have not seen very much, you must remember, my little Bee!' Learn said, with an effort at playfulness, yet with that faint bitterness clinging to har voiae. 'N«, «f e»urst wot,' Misa Swuuswt

agreed. She had seated herself edgewise on a chair, and was beating her habit skirt lightly with her whip. 'Still, after all, there are others who have been nearly all round the world, and they think as I do about Mrs Seaton Papa declares she is a revelation 'to him and Dr. Wyllie says she rei minds him of some wonderful Greek jhead of some very Ion? time ago, and Sir Basil—' , ' Learns hands moved sharply for an instant, as though jerked by an unseen ! force; then they were still, and she was smiling. 'Well, and what does Sir Basil say, eh? Miss Somerset laughed. 'Well, to tell the truth, I don't know what Sir Basil says about Mrs Seaton's ! beauty; but I think I do know what he i thinks. When I was there yesterday I i could not help noticing how he looked at her whenever she spoke or moved; and, do you know, Learn, she did look a dream yesterday. She is so very slight, and she looks so delicate, her face is like a beautiful flower, and, oh! her eyes. I simply cannot take my eyes away from them; they seem to magnetize me!' Learn looked back in her chair. 'Well, I think the sooner Mrs Seaton takes her departure the better, if she is going to have such a wonderful effect as this on our little busy Bee,' she laughed, but not very heartily. 'Oh! she is going very soon; she told ime so yesterday.' 'Is she going to rejoin her husband, or is he coming down to take her away?' Learn made this inquiry in a languid tone of voice. 'Oh! I don't know anything about her husband; I have never heard his name mentioned. I have not thought much about him either. She does not seem a bit like a married woman, she is so young. Why, she looks quite as young as any of the girls here.' 'Have you got any news, Bee?' Learn asked, in a cold, listless sort of way. She was annoyed beyond measure by all this eulogy of the guest up at Croome Hall. She determined to put a stop to it without any hesitation. 'I came to you to know if you could tell me anything. Have you heard, Learn, is Lord Dunchester going to give a ball? You know, of course, his visitors have arrived already.' 'A ball!' echoed Miss Greatorex. 'Poor man, I should think it will be quite as much as he can do to pay his bread bill. You know he is a pauper, Bee.' 'He is very nice!' remarked Miss Somerset, 'and I call him handsome, too, I hope he will give a dance, Learn.' 'What a baby you are, Bee!' In fact it was useless to get cross or to indulge in sneers or sarcasm with Beatrice Somerset; she understood nothing but the bright and pretty and pleasant side of life. She was a veritable child, a 'sunbeam,' as Jasper Wyllie had christened her, in his heart; but for all that she was by no means soulless, or the featherheaded, unintellectual creature that Learn half ■ contemptuously classed her sometimes in her thoughts. 'I hope I shall be a baby a long, long time,' she cried, rising laughingly from her chair. 'Now I must be off, Learn; I have disturbed you for nothing; we shall meet to-morrow at Dunstanley, and I hope we shall have one of our old, magnificent runs. And I am glad Molly is coming; it will be like old &i&*e«i; for although I do "like and admire Mrs Seaton so immensely, ' things have not been at all like they used to be since she haa been at Croome.' She kissed Miss Greatorex lightly, and danced as lightly out of the room. Learn went to the window to watch her mount and canter past. As the pretty vision flashed by, Learn moved back to her seat at her writing table; her brow was clouded, and her mouth looked hard and set. She had passed through many uncomfortable moments in the past three days, and she was now in a curiously restless, and yet at the same time sullen mood. Those faint, vague thoughts that had flitted like phantoms across her brain in the past had incorporated themselves during the days that had just gone into a purpose, a determination, a desire, and an ambition that was little less than a passion. To be Basil Pothergill's wife, to reign as mistress of his home and his position, to demonstrate to her grandmother the fact of this social success, to set aside the question of her future and to emerge from her present chrysalis state in the full splendour, of a marriage with such a man as Basil Fothergill. : Learn hardly knew herself in her new guise. She was or had been so used to meet all the moves in life with a calmness of frigidity, that this storm of emotion that had suddenly rushed over her unnerved her and aroused her anger against herself.

Yet she was true to herself; she was not the woman she had been; one glance at Justina Seaton's beauty, one glance at Basil Fothergill's face when in the presence of | that beauty, had metamorphosed her whole self, had changed her very self Qf selves, as it were. The burning fire of jealousy ran hotly through her veins. The restless fever of love, an unknown sensation to her, now moved her every impulse. ; She had lost her proud, cold quiescence; she dared not let herself imagine a future without those things that had shaped themselves into a passionate desire. To be Basil Pothergill's wife! The very words, if whispered to herself, brought a thrill to her heart, set her pulses beating, high, and yet she knew so well that her path would be no easy one. The man she determined to win was not free to be won as he once was; it would be a long, hard struggle, perhaps, but still she would not falter. The goal for which she worked was a great one; she would not let herself be discouraged even by so formidable an obstacle as the fact, undoubted and impossible to be set on one side, of the living existence of another woman whom Basil Fothergill loved with all the force and truth and,fidelity ot his manhood's heart. No, she would not be discouraged after all; her rival, beautiful as she was, was not a free woman. Why, then, should Learn fear her? Why not put her aside once and forever with the contempt she deserved? (To be Continued.)