A WOMAN'S HEART.

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 170, 20 July 1899, Page 6

A WOMAN'S HEART.

**By MKS EFFH2 ADELAIDH

ROWLANDS

CHAPTER XXII,

Learn Greatorex, despite the hauteur and seeming indifference with which she had received Molly's rebuke and her few after words of explanation, was consumed with a fire of hot anger, of fierce hatred, of fiercer jealousy, for the girl whom she had attacked so directly and with such deliberate cruelty. Queenlike as she was in a. certain sense with the people among whom she lived, and well used as they were to her proud, unsympathetic bearing, Learn was quick to see now that, despite her high place and the sort of awe she generally managed to infuse about her, she had made a very false move by her last expression of open dislike to Justina. As the rehearsal came to an end, and the groups of young people melted away in the direction of the dining room, where a dainty luncheon was being served, Learn withdrew into a quiet corner and gave herself up to the contemplation of her own. thoughts and of the events just passed. At first she had intended to leave the house and go home, but after this thought had come she dismissed it proudly; to do that was to acknowledge a sort of defeat—of humiliation which she could not endure for an instant. No, however disagreeable it might be, she determined to remain, on throughout the. rest of the rehearsal. She knew that Molly, once her angry had gone, would endeavour by a hundred sweet little ways to efface the impression of the painful episode her miserable jealousy had brought about. Justina also, she knew, would not show the very -faintest change of manner or bearing, all of which, (though it made her sullen anger the greater, induced Learn, however, to see that by remaining she would be doing the best and pleasantest thing for all concerned and chiefly for herself. She had no desire to have a quarrel -with Molly; her whole aim now was to become more and more intimate at Croome Hall—the veil of vagueness had been torn from her plans for the future, and her ambition stood out clear and definite before her. By every means, by every art in her power, by subtley and trickery, if not by fair and open means, she was determined on winning Basil Fothergill for her husband. She knew the game was almost a hopeless one; she knew—how well, how bitterly she knew this!—that so far as she was concerned Basil would not really care if he never saw Iter again. She knew that she stood absolutely in the background, and she knew to its fullest extent the power, the strength, the intensity of the love that filled his heart for this other girl, this creature whom she hated so earnestly, so fiercely. t Yet, despite all this—despite the tremendous odds against her, Learn Greatorex had set her teeth, had clinched her hands, as it were, and had set her foot determinedly on the pathway that was to lead her to the goal on which her proud, tempestuous heart was set. Having this ambition in view, it *vas, and she knew it, a most foolish net most certainly to have attacked Justina in the wanton and open manner she had used just now. She had lost—and she knew this also—a good portion of the hold she had had on Basil Fothergill's respect and liking; she had seen the look that had swept across his face as Justina had stood alone and defenceless, as it were, beneath her bitter and unwomanly Words. Molly had spoken out her rebuke unhesitatingly, Sir Basil had said nothing, but Learn had felt the reproach of his silence far, far more than Molly's quick-spoken condemna-! tion. The glance his eyes had sent to the lovely, delicate creature on the platform who had winced and blanched beneath her insult had gone through Learn Greatorex's heart like a sharp knife, had given her a twofold pain—the pain of knowing this man despised her, and the other pain of realising . she deserved his contempt absolutely. She had been so plunged in the mortification of these thoughts that she had hardly remarked when Basil had left her. A servant had come in search of him, and he had gone out of the room, and afterward the rehearsal had ended and Learn had betaken herself, as before said, to a secluded corner, there to sort out and digest as best she could the reflections, miserable enough, that remained to her from the events of the moment before she was left absolutely alone. Not even her faithful adherent, Bee Somerset, came in search of her. Pee had been, in fact, terribly shocked and hurt by Beam's unkindness to Justina. Gentle and tenderhearted herself to the last degree, she could as easily have tried to commit a murder as to give another such wanton and unnecessary pain as Learn had most certainly given to Justina. The affair left such a lasting impression on the girl that she went into luncheon wearing, for almost the first time in her young life, a silent, unsmiling expression and a look of something like suffering in her pretty innocent eyes. Dr. Wyllie, who made a point of popping in at least once a day at Croome Hall, ostensibly to see how matters were progressing, in reality to have a moment's speech with the fair, laughing little creature who made the sun of life for him, was immediately concerned and alarmed even at this change in his heart's darling. He made his way instantly to her Side, looking a pleasant, manly picture in his rough riding-dress, and under pretext of serving Bee with j some luncheon, speedily drew from ithe girl the reason of her silence and depression.

Bee was only too glad to open her heart to him. She had a reverence for his wisdom only as great as she had love for his nature. It was a relief to speak out all she felt, and Dr. Wyllie, as he listened, understood at once that the episode Bee repeated was likely to have far more bitter and unhappy results than to drive the smile from his little love's face. He had seen, from the very first, that Learn had set the full force of her strong, autocratic nature against this fair and unhappy young creature who had come to Croome Hall.

Dr. Wyllie had little admiration for Miss Greatorex, and he had absolutely no liking. He always feared that she' might influence Bee in some way against him, and, for all his honourable intentions and desires, to stand aside and let the girl be free to give herself to a younger and a richer man than himself, the thought of losing even a shadow of the hold he had on Bee's loving respect was like death itself to him. The fear that sometimes came when he saw how strong Beam's influence was over Bee was not unfralight with pain, too. He had, however, never spoken a word to separate the friends; he felt always that a moment would come sooner or later when Bee would lose at least a portion of her infatuation for Learn Greatorex, and as he sat listening to the story Bee had to tell of the events of the morning just passed, Jasper Wyllie said to himself that this moment, had indeed arrived, and that, desite all her youth and innocence, Bee Somerset would never be able to give Learn the admiration she had bestowed so long and so faithfully. 'It was so cruel,' Bee said, wistfully, as she went over the whole story. 'Poor Mrs Seaton! My heart ached for her. Jasper, you know how sweet and kind and gentle and delicate she is! How could Learn call Iter vulgar? It was so wrong — so very, very wrong! I never thought Learn could have been so unkind, so unjust! I know she is proud, but still—' . ~. 'There are many depths in Miss Greatorex's nature that a little bird like you could never fathom or comprehend,' Dr. Wylhe said tenderly, his face flushing a little with delight at the sound of his name pronounced so sweetly and so unconsciously by her lips. 'She is a very complex character, Miss Bee.' 'Is she? Well, if being so unkind and harsh means having a complex character I am very glad mine is a simple one. Have you seen Mrs Seaton anywhere as you came in? I wanted so much to speak to her. Oh, of course, I. should say nothing about the matter, only I wanted her to feel I was sympathetic and sorcy for her; she is so sweet and so clever! Just think what she has done, and all the time she is working away at her own writings. I call it marvellous. I don't understand how Learn can dislike her; it! seems to me impossible to do anything but admire, and love her. I am sure Learn is the only one who does not do so.

In fact, little Bee could not get over the pain and surprise her friend's action had caused her, and Dr. Wyllie found it almost a hard matter to soothe and comfort the girl. 'It all seems spoilt, somehow,' Bee said with a sigh. 'The rehearsals were going so well, and everything was so jolly and nice, and now—there seems a cloud over all. For instance, neither Molly nor Sir Basil are at luncheon today; and goodness knows where poor Mrs Seaton has gone. I have not seen Learn, either. I rather hope she has gone home. Oh! here is Mr St. Leger,' and Bee brightened up instantly, not a little to Dr. Wyllie's dismay. 'That is better, Mr St. Leger. Please come and sit here. I want to ask you about my song. Lord Dunchester said you thought I ought to sing it in another key. Oh! are you going, Dr. Wyllie? Well, good-bye. If you see my daddy tell him I am quite well. He always imagines if I am an hour out of his sight that something must be happening to me. Good-bye,' and then Bee, catching a glimpse of her beloved friend's face as he was moving away, jumped up hastily and put her hand into his. 'Good-bye, and thank . yon —thank you,' she whispered, in a pretty, shy way. 'I feel ever so much . better since I have seen you; you al- . ways do me good.' , Jasper Wyllie smiled into the pretty . face, and then he took himself to the '. hall, thence to make his way out to . the entrance where his horse was '. waiting. As he was just about to , mount Molly made her appearance. 'Oh, Dr. Wyllie, you are the very i person of all others I want most at , this moment. Are you in a great . hurry? No? Then please come in here. I want you to pr-scribe something for Mrs Seaton. She has had a great shock and seems quite ill. You . know how delicate is she.' There was an excitement, a glow, '. about Molly's face that was some- ] thing unlike her usual .expression. Dr. Wyllie followed her into the | library, not mystified, however, for he imagined naturally he had had the . clue given to him in his conversation with Bee just before. Justina was sitting by the table, her head support.cd on her hand. Her face was ashen . pale, and her eyes were fixed on an open paper spread on the table before . her. A little way off Sir Basil sat at anj other table writing, and a woman of , unmistakably humble origin was standing beside him giving him direc- . tions. I 'Justina, here is Dr. Wyllie. He will, , I know, tell me I am perfectly right ' when I say you are not fit to travel a ' mile, much less attempt to get to LO- -&-■ don and cross the Channel to-night.' Molly put her hand affectionately ■ on Justina's shoulder as she spoke. | The girl moved feebly and answered without looking up, however: T must go, Molly dear; I must—l i must.' Molly looked at Dr. Wyllie. He instantly understood the meaning of her glance, and he also saw instantly that more was at work now than the trouble Bee had told him of. He felt that thrill that comes to all sympathetic natures when they find themselves present at some great moment ;in the life of another. That this was' a great, a sad moment to Justina Seaton he knew without the need of words to tell him so. He put his fingers on Justina's slendei 1 wrist, and his face grew grave. 'Indeed! I must support your decision, Miss Fothergill. Mrs Seaton is in absolutely no condition to travel. I will not answer for the consequences if she insists upon doing so foolish an act. I trust, Mrs Seaton, you will allow me to persuade you to abandon the idea immediately. Your strength is still very limited, and from the beat of your pulse at this present moment I should much prefer to know you were resting quietly in bed to doing anything even of the most moderate degree of fatigue.' Basil had risen as Dr. Wyllie was speaking. .

'You will renounce the idea of going, Justina,' he said, in a low voice, that yet had a note in it that the doctor's keen ear instantly caught as being new in sound. 'Leave everything in my hands. You know 1 shall not be satisfied till I have made the most exhaustive inquiries into—into this matter. There is no need for you to come. You would only be. distressed and saddened at every turn. This is a man's work. You can trust me, can you not? He put out his hand as he spoke, and Justina laid her own small, trembling one in it. She could not speak for an instant, and when her voice came it was hollow and weak, and unlike its usual musical tone. 'Now and always, Basil,' she said, as his fingers closed over her hand; 'now and always, my true, my best

friend.' Basil stood holding her hand for an instant longer, then he prepared for departure. 'Molly, look after her. Keep her here if she will stay; if not, drive her to her home at once. I shall leave by the three train for town, and cross to Paris to-night. I think, Wyllie, we had better give yon an explanation of what has occurred. News has been brought to Mrs Seaton, by this good woman, of her husband's sudden death in Paris a week or so ago. The information, though meagre, seems to bear an authentic stamp upon it. However, to make everything sure, and to be perfectly satisfied, I am going myself to Paris to prosecute the fullest enquiries into the matter. I am sure you will be more than ever convinced, now that you know the circumstances, of the folly and risk probable in allowing Mrs Seaton to bear me company in this search.'

Dr. Wyllie's answer was an emphatic acquiescence to this, and, after a little conversation, in which he promised to pay Justina a visit that evening, he took his departure, and Sir P,asil went out of the room with him.

'1 think I had better make known the fact of my journey and the cause of it. This will make a change of some sort necessary,' the latter said, abruptly, as they went. 'You .have no doubt of the death, I suppose?' Dr. Wyllie queried. He could hardly have told why he put this question. Sir Basil shook his head.

'No,' he said, quietly, 'the papers are most certainly official. I feel sure my journey is not necessary; nevertheless, I must go for her satisfaction. If I were not to go she would, and that is out of the question. Yes, I feel assured Rupert Seaton is dead, and I hope. I may be forgiven if I do not regret this when I think of her. She must be better freed from such a man, though I, who know her nature so well, can be certain that, despite all the evil he has done her, she will never give one harsh thought to his memory however long she may live.' Dr. Wyllie followed Sir Basil into the ball-room. The rehearsal was just beginning again, and the appearance of the owner of the house, with his grave, pale look, gave a sudden sensation of consternation to all present. It was felt all at once that something had happened, and as Sir Basil suddenly made known his information there crept into the mind of each a fear that the news just given would make some difference in the entertainment at Crrtonle Hall, if not an actual abandonment of the theatricals altogether. This was, of course, severe disappointment to all the young folk who had worked with such zest and excitement, but there was one present, sitting apart unseen, to whom the news of Justina's possible freedom fell with the chill and appalling weight of death itself. This person was Learn Greatorex. (To be Continued.)