"If She So Abide."

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 216, 11 September 1900, Page 6

"If She So Abide."

By VIOLA TRYELL,

CHAPTER XVIII. ' _N THE WHITE AND GOLD DRAW-; ING ROOM. j 'She paused, she turned away, she hung Thc h_nak- a o_ gold slid from her hair, the braid „ Slipt and uncoiled itself. Tennyson . It was four o'clock. The little silvery chimes in the Comtesse de Laurent's pet clock had just announced the fact It was the hour .appointed for her visitor, the, Baron le Gendre. , She had chosen the smaller drawing-1 room, upholstered and panelled in. white and gold, as the scene of then meeting. It was more cosy and less formal than the great rose-coloured; Son where she held her great recep- | tions True, the latter was the more .-nTinsmo- But what could impress SJon le Gendre? Certainly nothing that the Comte de Laurent s mansion contained! He counted it all as tood clearly bought, and Louise knew 1 She herself Avas dressed in white and "-old, to harmonise with her surroundings. None knew better than Louise the effect of harmonious colouring. Her gown was of white crepe de chine, made Avith a certain elaborate simplicity. Her slender waist was encircled with a plain gold belt. Ihere was a slender gold band among her golden hair. She looked remarkably dainty and pretty, and Eugene le Gendre, entering the room about ten minutes later, Avas generous enough to acknowledge the fact. "You look like the picture of the Greek slave in the latest portrait of that charming person," he said, bending his dark head and just touching with his lips the taper fingers extended toward him. "Though your shackles are false ones where hers Avere real, poor soul!" "You must give me credit for having carried out the idea so well," said the Comtesse de Laurent, sinking down on a white and gold sofa, and. putting aside her diaphanous draperies to make room for him; "but you are wrong about the shackles, Eugene. They are only too real." The baron sighed a little, feeling he was in for another discussion where he Avould be supposed to sympathise with the Comte de Laurent's fair young' Avife. "My dear Louise," he replied, "you made the choice of your present position yourself, and with your eyes wide open. Do let us drop the matter." "I had no choice at all, Eugene. Hoav could I let my mother suffer?" "Your mother Avould never have suffered as long as my mother and I were alive," responded the baron, "and you Icuoav it perfectly Avell." Lous.ie's present object Avas to gain Eugene /as a lover, since she could not have him as a husband. Every fashionable woman in Paris had a lover, and the Comtesse de Laurent did not see Avhy she should be any exception to the rule. She IoA-ed the man before her in a foolish, selfish kind of way,' and she made up her mind to let him know of that love before the afternoon was over. She would like the whole Avorld to see her handsome cousin bound as a slave to her chariot wheels. Hoav could he resist her charms? Bid not the Avhole world acknowledge her to be iQA'ely, graceful; and fair?) Now that the only woman of whom, she had ever been really jealous—Madame la Marquise de la Yalle —had been removed forever from her path, she felt that she had a fair and open field before her. "You have always been awfully-' sweet to us, Eugene," she sighed, "and I am sure mother is perfectly devoted to you. But she is much too proud to even seek help from any of lier relations." . , Eugene smiled somewhat grimly, remembering certain cheques that had passed between himself and his Aunt Antoinette. But it was not'for him to pull doAvn the pretty castle of fabrications that Louise "had built up about her mother, so he merely observed that he admired a spirit of independence more than anything else in the world. "So do I." said the Comtesse tie Laurent, gazing round at all the pretty things for Avhich she had sold herself, Avith much complacency. "I have always taken that word as my motto. Freedom, freedom, that is what I love. Independence is the very breath of my nostrils." . . " "Admirable . sentiment, Louise!" "I suppose you think I bought my freedom dearly," said the Comtesse de Laurent, casting down her eyes and playing rather nervously with a slender gold chain that encircled her neck. "Sometimes you talk about freedom, Louse, and sometimes you speak of shackles," said the baron, ironically. "I am fettered in a sense, of course, horribly," said Louise, "but at least I have not the grind of poverty to embitter my life." "Quite true," assented the baron, gravely, letting his eyes wander from one costly object to another. "But what I yearn for—oh, so terribly—are sympathy and love," said the comtesse, in suddenly tragic tones, "and even you are failing me there, Eugene." "I, my dear cousin? Have you not a husband to supply you with those two precious commodities?" The Comtesse de Laurent made a -cestui-! of supreme repugnance. " "A husband! What a. husband! Do yo.i honestly think that I should .seek either love or sympathy- from such a man as the Comte de Laurent, -or that he would give me them if I did?" • If ..he So Abide—CX; "Do you want me to interfere, as your relation, in a quarrel between husband and Avife?" inquired the Ibarqn coldly. ■■■~. : . ■-■

(Author of "A Russian Romance," "Master and Man," etc.)

(To be Continued.)

"Quarrel? Who said Aye had quarreled? Certainly not I! We do not see each oilier often enough for that. He married me that I might sit at ibehead of his iable and look pretty. There the bargain ends." "I understood from my aunt that the Comte de Laurent made you an ideal husband," said the baron, still more coldly. "And is that not making an ideal husband, pray? Besides, do you Imagine that after I had decided to sacrifice myself that 1 would make my poor dear mother uncomfortable about it? I have too much pride to let the skeleton out of its cupboard. . assure you." "You are lotting it. prance a good deal for my edification, at any rate," said the baron, in his most sarcastic tones. "You are different." said Louise, m her softest tones, laying a frail Avhite hand, laden with jewels, on her cousin's coat sleeA-e, "and it is to you 1 look for love and sympathy." The baron stirred a little uneasily. He began to wish he had not come. "Bo" you remember," went on Louise, in still softer tones, "that 1 once made a confession to you?" "A confession?" said the baron, in his stoniest tones. «Yes—a foolish, girlish confession— before I married. I Avas asking your adA'ice about it." , "I remember that you did not take the advice," said the baron, grimly removing his hand from the pressuro of the little Avhite. one. under the pretence of brushing off a speck of dust from his coat sleeA-e. 'I, could not. Eugene. You Avere so cold and unresponsive. T had to do the best I could." "1 do not understand you, Louise. "Don't you remember that I —l confessed to'you that I loved a man who was indifferent to me—at least whom I thought Avas indifferent to me?" "I believe you did mention something of the'kind. Girls are always falling in \ove Avith the wrong men." said the baron, in a bored tone, looking at the clock. "But I- have never known Avhether he loved me or not." 'Ah, now I do remember something about the affair," said the baron, cynically. "I believe I told you you had better ask him!" "I Avish noAV that I had," murmured Louise. ' - - • "Noav that it: is too late—like all women," said the baron. "Perhaps it is not—too late," almost Avhispered Madame de Laurent, laying her white hand once again on his sleeve. "Perhaps it is not too lateEugene." "Really, madame," said the baron, turning and fixing her with a glance that made her quail. "I think I must have failed to understand you. Yon. a married woman, tell me that it is not yet too late to declare your passion for another? What, then, has become of the.vows you-made at the altar?" "I do not care," she announced, recklessly, clinging. 110 him in spite of himself. "Why should I keep such vows to a man like that? Why should I waste my youth and beauty on a husband Avho is half in his grave already?. I am young, I am fair, I have a'heart beating in my breast, hor blood, coursing through my veins.^ I Hong for love, for passionate love. For ' the love of the man I adore! I repeat it, it is not too late, for it is you, Eugene, whom I love, you Avhom I adore. Ah, you must have been blind not to have seen it. Why must I go through a living death, bound by vows that were false when uttered? Love ; me a little, Eugene, and I shall be your slave." ... Exhausted by her passionate declaration, she sank back on the sofa and buried her delicate face in the cushions. The baron stood erect and motionless. 'A great and awful wave of repugnance toward the white and gold figure lying on the sofa. A fierce feelino- of resentment sAvept over him that such a one should be of . his own . family and blood. That she should dare to desecrate her Avomanhood by offering him that which belonged m - honlour and in law to apother. Almost unconsciously his thoughts flew back to Irma--o Irma de la Vaile, who, though wedded to one Avho Avas worse : than wicked, had held her proud head hi°_i in her pure Avomanhood. Ah, thank God that there were still such'women in the world. Women who-clung steadfastly to the cross ot duty. even when they well nigh fainted under thf-t cross. Women who were so high and nobl. and pure that ' their very mates were sanctified ; through them. Women who knew how to .endure, how to be faithful how to be silent. Women such as the one before him knew neither honour nor purity- What difference between them" and the painted women of the streets, who sold their honour for a. crust, of bread? Twice he tried to speak, and words failed him. Had she been a man he would 'have 'strangled her Avith his OAvn hands for bringing dishonour on his ancient, name. But she was of his b-cl-d-lt'-ie way. a woman. He. could do nothing. Words rushed to his lips in-torrents, but it seemed to him "that .he: would have choked Hi uttering them,. A blind, suffocating rage possessed him. •';' A thirdVtime he tried to speak.. The words-Would not come.. A dull purple mounted to his cheeks and forehead. The feeling that urges men on to Kill was 'Strong upon him. He clenched his Jia-rids to prevent himself from strangling the very life- out of that fair white'and gold thing on the' sofa The room seemed to whirl, round. A scarlet mist enveloped it, He'made a dizzy movement toward the door. •Once there. Avith his hand on. the lock the turned Avith 'a look of unutterable'scorn and loathing to the slender fijniije on the ciouch.. ?-Do think you should be of our blood!"' he'said, thickly, in a choked and almost inaudible voice, having foupd words at last. "To think---°h-Ood of: Heaven! that you should be of our blood!" He opened the door and stumbled lout. When Louise opened her eye? she found she was alone.