A WOMAN'S HEART

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 162, 11 July 1899, Page 6

A WOMAN'S HEART

i*By MRS EFFTE ADELAIDE

ROWLANDS

CHAPTER XIV. (Continued.)

Lord Dunchester lost no time in coming over to Croome Hall to consult Molly on the question of the entertainment he should offer to the inhabitants of Croomehurst.

The day he called happened, unfortunately for his plans, to be the day of the Dunstanley meet. Molly, at Justina's eager request, finally agreed to go with Basil to this meet, but she had gone under much protest. 'You will be so dull. I don't want to go,' she had declared, and Justina had answered with a touch of imperativeness that enhanced her loveliness :

'You shall go; Basil wants you, and as for me, I want you out of the way. I am going to have a long day at my work.'

'Impertinent!' Molly cried, laughingly; but her bright face clouded over a.t the mention of this work. Despite her brave attack on Basil, despite her brave determination to do nothing to stand in the way of Justina's plans, Molly found her position a very hard one to carry out, and as the time passed and she felt the moment draw nearer and nearer for Justina to announce her departure, Molly's heart grew sadder and sadder. If she had not learned to love Justina for her own sweet sake, there was the fact that Basil loved this girl, and that gave her a place in Molly's heart apart from anything else. But with her own love added to all the rest, the future was indeed a bitter and hard one to have to face.

Justina, knowing- nothing- of the struggle going on in Molly's mind, was eager to get once again to her work. She shrank from the thought of leaving her.friends, and even more still of the pain she must give them by going, but what else lay before her? Her strength was returning slowly, and as vigour crept back into her frame, so came also the yearning desire to get to her task to try and Work off'that mountain of dishonourable debt which Rupert's cruel shame had left on her shoulders. • She watched Molly go this day with a smile and a sigh. 'Only a few days more,' she said to herself, as she was alone in the quaint, pretty drawing-room. She had unpacked the volume of her old manuscript, and it lay before her in a great pile on the table Molly had spread for her use. 'It will be hard to go, and yet I must—l must.' She sat for a long time thinking, her face shaded by her hand. She winced even in her thoughts as remembrance of her husband's last cruel act, his desertion of her and the method of that desertion returned to her mind. She shivered as' she realised what a terrible, miserable trial must have been hers if her long illness had been endured alone unaided by Basil and his sister. There had come into Justina's heart a great horror, a greater contempt for •the man she called her husband. To know he was gone out of her life, out of all chance of daily contact with her, was in itself a relief' that had something of joy in it, and yet beyond this relief there lurked a nervous fear. She dreaded she knew not what she was only certain that fear cf Rupert and his future actions must be with her all the time. The words Lord Dunchester had spoken the night he had dined at Croome about the man St. • Leger had awakened this fear in all its fullness.. There was nothing to connect her husband with this chance companion the young Earl had met in Paris. On the face of it it was highly improbable Rupert would" have remained in Paris, or, indeed, anywhere, so close to England, having always the possibility of being traced and discovered, either by her or through her, so clearly before him; and yet, despite this, Justina's heart had given a painful throb of fear and dread when Lord Dunchester had, in a few light words, sketched out a sort of picture of the man whom he called by the name of St. Leger. The picture was one that fitted exactly to the. character of Rupert Seaton, or to any one of the type of men with whom he had been so intimate the past year. Justina grew cold as she let her: imagination conjure up all the possibilities of mental anguish that thought and knowledge of her. husband's nature aroused so easily. Should she ever know a day's real peace? While he was with her it had been bad enough, but with him gone from her, put of reach of her influence, thrown into a section of the world that would encourage and help him in the. cultivation of his viciousness and dishonourable dealings, who could say what further shame might not yet come upon her through him? Big, hot tears rolled down the girl's pale cheeks as she sat there thinking. .'"•''-- -.„ , 'If it were all over and done with, she said to herself, wearily. In .such a moment as this all the pleasure, the real' happiness brought to her through the sweet, true friendship she possessed, seemed to vanish altogether; she remembered nothing but her troubles. 'And I must meet Aunt Margaret and submit to her questioning and her probings and her criticism. Oh! that will be even harder to bear than all,' she added, after a little while. _ Work was not easy to her in this mood. She left the table and moved about the room to . distract her thoughts. She found herself gazing aimlessly and mechanically at all Molly's treasures, and at last, when she awoke out of the curious, blurred mental phase into which her brain often fell after excessive working or too great a strain of anxiety, she found herself standing looking down on a big portrait of Learn Greatorex in all the panoply of her court garments. A picture of a regal, band-

some, queenly young woman whose magnificence nevertheless gave a sudden chill sensation to Justina's quivering and deeply moved heart.

'And for her there will be happiness, the truest, sweetest, happiness a woman could ever hope to know in this world. No shame, no dishonour, no desertion; wife to a man who has the heart of a king, the soul of an angel. Oh! I envy you. I envy you, Learn Greatorex! Your heart will never be torn with anguish as mine has been. Life will be fuill of sunshine and sweetness for you. When you are Basil's wife you—'

She moved abruptly away from the picture, and suddenly put her two cold hands over her trembling lips, as though to hush the cry of pain that would have escaped her.

The agony passed after that instant, but it left its trace, and Justina realised the full truith of what had happened then—realised that sorrow in a new and a sharper form must be added now and always to the burden of trouble and biterness which,, as Rupert .Seaton's wife, it was her lot to bear.

Love with all its majesty, its power, its passion of sweetness and joy had come suddenly into her heart—love for one she must never love; love that, having shown her its exquisite beauty, its divine power for a single instant, must be torn ruthlessly from her heart and set aside from her forever, to be won and shared by another woman.

CHAPTER XV. If Justina could have studied her own pride's sake she would have left Croomehurst before her aunt —Lady Sartoris—an-ived as guest and chaperon to Lord Dunchester's house party. She did, indeed, make some suggestion of this to Molly only the morning of the day that was set apart for the meet of the Dunstanley hounds. It was the first spoken word she hud given touching her determination to go. Molly was, as we have seen, prepared for this decision, and yet, "despite . her quiet acceptance of it' in Basil's presence a pang went through her heart as she. heard the girl announce her departure, and as she looked on the very slender, absolutely delicate frame of the speaker. To Justina's gTeat relief Molly made no sort of vigorous protest to the decision, but all the same she would not accept it immediately. 'Wait just a little while longer—till Christmas is well over". I am not going to say all I should like to say, Justina. There are some things which are too strong for argument or pleading, and you and your will are one of these things. All I ask is that you should wait a little longer. You are not very strong, remember. Dr. Wyllie told 'me yesterday- you would want care for months to come, and —' Here Molly broke off. 'I want you to be here when your aunt comes, Justina,' she said, gently, after a moment's pause. 'But that is just what I do not want,' justina answered, with a touch of passion in her voice. 'Molly; you don't know what it will mean to me —a meeting with Aunt Margaret now.' 'I think I do, darling. Basil and I are not without relations, though, fortunately for our peace of mind, we have established a coolness with most of them. In the old days, before Uncle William died and Bay came into the titleT- can assure you I was nearly worried into my grave by a a variety of country cousins and interfering uncles and aunts, and yet—' 'And yet, Molly?' Molly bent forward and kissed Justina. She was arrayed in her wellcut riding habit, and very neat and charming she looked, the likeness to Basil being emphasised wonderfully by this masculine garb-. 'Blood is thicker than water,. Justina,' she said, very tenderly, 'and there are some cases where own's own kith and kin is an absolute necessity in one's life.' 'Charity is always hard, but charity from one's relations!' Justina broke off with a shudder. Remembrance of the horrible time she had spent under her uncle's roof just after her father's death was full of bitterness still; not even the misery of her mistaken marriage could' wipe out that bitterness. 'Charity,' Molly cried, hotly; 'but, my darling little Just, why will j you apply such a word to your- J self? From whom do you desire; or expect to receive charity? You are, thank heaven, able to dispense with all such things. It is not for such a humiliating suggestion that I urge you to cultivate a friendship with your aunt. It is because I want you to feel you will not be utterly alone in your brave, hard life; that you shall have some one who will be a kind of protector and counsellor combined. You know the world perhaps better-than I do, Justina; therefore you will see the value of what I have . just said.' 'Must I consider the world before my own feeling 3?' Justina asked, wearily, sadly. 'You must, undoubtedly, although there might be one who could afford to set the world at defiance.' 'And why they more.than me, Molly?'' ' . Molly's reply was to turn the speaker round and put her face to face with a mirror. 'Read my answer there,' she said, pointing to the lovely reflection most quietly. /■••■<' Justina blushed and th__. paled and then sighed. 'No doubt you are right, dear,' she said, as she turned away, 'but it will not make it any easier for me to ask a favour of my aunt. She does riot approve of me. She has studiously avoided me for so long there can be such a poor pretence of friendship between us. Aunt Margaret hates everything that is unconventional and BoI hemian. She —she objected very j strongly to my marriage, and now—' | Justina paused for an instant. It was ! the first confidence she had made to l Molly as yet on this subject; 'and now, when—trouble—and dishonour have come to me through this marriage, she—' But Molly had checked the speaker. She flung her arms about Justina's neck. Trouble has come to you indeed, my dear, dear loved friend, btit dishonour—Justina, why do you use such a word? It. hurts me— hush, I don't want to hear any more. The story, whatever it is, is your secret. I can guess a little at its burden. There is bitterness and much anguish. There is a remembrance of wrong, but nothing you could tell me would ever let me permit you to share in that wrong. Another's evil doing is not yours. You are the bravest and sweetest and purest creature in the world. And now, having relieved ;my feelings a little,' Molly added,

breaking into a laugh that was full of tears, 'I will go and puft on. my hat, or Bay will be furious with me for being late.' She had dropped a farewell kiss on Justina's brow, and had vanished | even as she spoke. i' It was the remembrance of this lit- ! tie scene that had started the painful train of thought in Justina's mind when she had carried her work into the drawing-room and determined to spend two or three hours looking into and over it. From one sad thought to another was an easy step, and thus when she had found herself standing looking down on that splendid picture of Learn Greatorex, her angmsh had broken loose unconsciously, and in her grief she had confessed to herself a secret and a new sorrow which appalled her by its magnitude at this the very birth moment of its existence. She moved away from that pictured face; -it seemed to mock her with its sold dignity, its proud queenliness; robbed her of all courage and resolution of thought; it awoke within her feelings such as had never come to her before; it made her tremble with a weakness that was not the heritage. of her illuess. She was prostrated by the knowledge that had revealed itself to her in the last few moments. She quivered as though some unseen person or thing had struck her a violent and cruel blow. She felt frightened, oppressed, almost obliterated, by the force of this new pain that had come so surely into her heart. As she stood there before the fire, staring into its red-hot bosom in a fixed, unseeing way, there came the sound of horses' hoofs on the avenue outside. As Justina realised this sound dimly the door of the drawingroom was opened and the Earl of Dunchester was announced. T must apologise for this visit, Mrs Seaton,' he said, as. he advanced into the room, looking much handsomer seen by daylight and wearing a hunting costume than he had done' the night of his dining at Croome Hall, T am afraid I am interrupting you in your work.' Justina,' by a strong effort, mastered the vigour and bitterness of her thought. 'You see how busy I am,' she answered, holding out her two pretty little hands with a gesture significant of their idleness, 'but I am afraid, if you are come on a visit to Miss Fothergill or Sir Basil, you are doomed to be disappointed—they are both away hunting—all Croomehurst seems to have gone to this particular meet to-day.' 'All except me, and I have been there, which is an Irishism,' laughed the young man, lightly. T had the misfortune, however, to lame my mare at the start out, so there was nothing to do but to turn back, get another mou f nt and ride across country later on to see if I can pick up any stragglers on their way home. The possibility of joining the run is out of the question now, as you can imagine". All, this, however, will not explain, Mrs Seaton, why I am here inflicting myself .on you and boring you when youi want to be at work. If you want to blame, anybody, you must blame Miss Molly; it was she who sent me here. She called out to me to come and bring you her love and that you were to be. sure and not work too hard, and she added, she hoped I would do my best to amuse you for half an hour, which I am afraid,' the Earl said, with a rather rueful expression, 'will not be very successful.' 'How kind she is! How good! How full of thought!' Justina said, tears coming for an instant into her beautiful eyes; then she smiled at Molly's messenger. 'And you are very good, too, Lord Dunchester, to lose your chance of joining the run simply to give me pleasure. lam quite sure, had you not come here, you would have picked up the rest of the field I quite easily.' Lord Dunchester coloured and laughed. '1 do not regret anything,' he said, cheerily. T can hunt any day,' but I cannot always have the pleasure of talking with you, Mrs Seaton.' Justina smiled gently. She liked him; he was boyish and frank, and she quite understood the interest he i had awakened in Molly's loyal heart. 'Suppose you make yourself comI fortable,' she said, prettily. 'No-—I I don't think I shall be able to do any j-work to-day; I shall enjoy a little ■ | chat with you, Lord Dunchester.' It Was the truth she spoke, poor child, for she felt she was glad of anything that took her thoughts i away, if only for an instant, from the bitter sweet channel in which • they would flow now for the rest of ber life. i They drew up two chairs to the fire, s and they talked of many things, but i chiefly of the coming Lady Sartoris and her two daughters, cousins whom i Justina had never yet met. 'They are not half bad girls,' the young man said, with that slangy appreciation that passes for enthusiasm . .now and then; 'but they are not handsome like their mother, nor • clever either. They are good-hearted and very unaffected; the eldest, i Gyneth, will marry well,'. I think. : Anyhow, there is-a man in love with her who has plenty of tin, and I don't i fancy Lady Sartoris will say 'no i when he proposes. I can't quite believe they are your cousins, though. . Mrs Seaton, you—you are so different.' 'My mother and . Aunt Margaret ! used to be considered ■ alike, at .least so I believe,' Justina answered to this. 'Oh, well, perhaps I do see a little resemblance between you and Lady ■ Sartoris, but it is not much.' There was a silence after this which Justina longed to break, but • scarcely knew how to broach the sub-ject-that sight of this young man suddenly revived. : After all, she had absolutely nothing to lead her to suppose that the St. Leger, whom Lord Dunchester had met in Paris, had any connection whatsoever with her husband Rupert; and yet, something, she could not tell what, seemed to link this unknown man. in a firm if vague manner to that one who had treated her so cruelly. It was the Earl who at last introduced the very subject which" was occupying Justina's thoughts. T am sorry to say 1 cannot induce my friend St. Leger to join my party. I am awfully' sorry, because he would have made everything so jolly. He ; can turn his hand to anything—-a:j splendid sportsman, a good whip, dances like the wind, can't be beaten at billiards, and sings and plays like an angel, or, rather, I should say, like a real good musician.' 'He must have plenty of energy,' Justina said, smiling a little forcedly,

Somehow this catalogue of accomplishments, though it did not tally by any means with Rupert's capabilities, had, nevertheless, a doubtful sound in her ears.

She had heard something of the same kind of thing uttered with enthusiasm by Rupert in those first days of acquaintance with the gang of dissolutes and gamblers who had eventually, been his ruin.

T don't believe St. Leger ever goes to sleep,' Lord Dunchester made answer, laughingly, to Justina's last remark. Certainly, if he does do so he don't choose the night for sleep. Yet he must have some rest, otherwise he could not be so fresh and lively all the time.'

'Is he" very handsome?' Justina asked, urged on, she could hardly tell why; to probe the matter still further.

'Uin—-so—so—-yes, handsome; I suppose, in a rather bold, coarse style. Oh! there is no doubt St.. Leger is not quite the right thing ; I don't fancy there is much blue blood flowing in his veins, and I should not be surprised to hear that St. Leger is not his own particular name ; but for all that, the man is amusing, and I daresay he would have had a success if he had come down here as I wanted him to do.' Justina paused a moment or so. The picture he had drawn of this man called up all the repugnance, the weary hopelessness with which she had met those 'soi disant' friends of Rupert, who had been so successful in drawing him away from her influence and launching him on his career of infamy. Visions of sweet, pretty, happy Beatrice Somerset and others of the young girls she had seen since her arrival at Croomehurst arose to confront the thought of this man, and as she sketched quickly in her mind the possibility of one or another of these simple, unworldly girls won easily by the smart bearing and fascinating manner of such an one, she shivered, for there were very, very few women, Justina knew, who would have been able to bear with such a fate as had fallen upon her. The force of her. thoughts urged her to speak. ' 'Perhaps it is as well your friend did not come, Lord Dunchester,' she said, not very steadily. 'Success to him might have meant sorrow to others. I—l have met this kind of man you describe, and I do not think they carry much good about with them, however handsome and fascinating they may be.' Lord Dunchester looked at her for an instant rather curiously; then he remembered that she was a young wife, living apart from her husband, and though no word of explanation had been given him, he understood as much as though the whole of Justina's pitiful story had been laid before him. 'No doubt you are right, Mrs Seaton,' he said, quietly, 'and, after all, I should not have been surprised If St. Leger had not been a failure down here; he is essentially a town mouse, and the country would not be much in his line.' And. after that the conversation drifted on to other things, and the subject was dropped ; but there would come a day when both would recall it absolutely, and would marvel at the presentiment or unconscious knowledge that had made Justina speak as she had'done about this man. (To be Continued.)