THE MARQUIS

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIII, Issue 215, 10 September 1902, Page 6

THE MARQUIS

By CHARLES GARVICE, Author of " His Perfect Truat," " Her R*asom," " Her Heart's Desire," "A Wasted Love," " Elaine," " Leslie* Lojaltiy," eta

CHAPTER XIV.

Constance stood for a moment or two as if in a dream, staring at the book as if she expected to see it rise from the table and vanish into thin air.

Then she ran to the door and called to Mrs. Mervyn, and told her all that had happened. "And now I shall be able to stay!" she said. "It is for that reason, as much as any other, that I am so glad. Do you know how poor I am —or was, for three pounds a week'are riches! I was so poor that I should have only been able to stay a very, very short time? And now I must go to work at once. I must go and buy paper and pens, and—oh, my brain is in a Whirl!" She put on her liat and jacket, and made her way to Westboume Grove, purchased some foolscap and other writing materials, and came back all eagerness to begin. She set to work at once, and wrote away, copying the marked passages, and hardly stopping to drink the cup of tea Mrs. Mervyn brought her. She scarcely understood a sentence, as Mr. Thompson had fully counted on, or she would have known that the most elementary botanist could not possibly find any use for such passages. But she was happy, though her lingers acEed and her eyes turned,^ for was she not keeping thaj dreadful wolf from the door who, once he enters devours without mercy? At last, after Mrs. Mervyn had been in once or twice begging and imploring her to desist, Constance dropped her pen. It was past midnight, and panting for a little fresh air she went to the window and opened it a few inches. As she did so a man who had been standing °» *f opposite looking up at the house, started, and, turning his head aside, walked, quickly away. Constance scarcely noticed him, and if she had done so she would not have recognised in the tall figure with its faae half concealed by the upturned coat collar that of Kawson *£%. morrow, directly aiter breakfast, she was setting to work again but while she was arranging ' hfr papers, Mrs. Mervyn came m and laid her hand on her shoulder. ge"Oh why tacrt?" exclaimed Constant must get on, you know,' alh^ai ae^fd woman !«***>£ sadly £n that lovely face with its e% Totms morning," she said. "You will make yourself ill. You were Siting till quite late last night At this rate you would be worn out^in a aay or two, and then- You must go out for an hour, at any rate. Will you do as I ask you, to please me, Miss Grahame?" Constance laid her pen down wit* a wistful glance at her paper. "Yes I will," she said. "I would do a great deal more than that to please you, who have been so kind to me, Mrs. Mervyn, though I am not in the least tired." "Not yet, perhaps,* 1 said the wiser woman, significantly. "Go into the park and take a good walk, and when you come back you will-be fresh, and will be able to work twice as well. Constance knew that it was good advice, though she followed it reluctantly enough. A great many people were m tne park, and she paused now and again in her brisk walk to look at the riders in the Row.

Was it days or months, or years, since she rode "beside the marquis and AtoI; sines she lay senseless in. the shepherd's hut? What were they saying of her at the castle? What was he thinking- of her? She thrust the question from her as firmly as she could, and, timingherself exactly, got back to Mrs. Mervyn's at the end of the prescribed hour, and fell to work.

In the afternoon Mrs. Mervyn persuaded her to take another rest* and Constance walked through some of the large thoroughfares, and looked at the shops; but her mind was fixed •upon the past, as it always was excepting when she was at work. And bo it came to pass, as it always does, that she flew to the work as a positive relief; but even while she was writing the face of the marqnis would sometimes rise between her and the printed page, and she would hear the echo of his deep musical voice. And at times a strange sadness fell upon her; a yearning so vague and shadowy that she could not analyse it. But it was dangerously like an intense longing to see that face and hear that voice again.

It was a lonely life! Day after day passed with scarcely a break in the work, excepting that of a walk in the park or a talk with Mrs. Mervyn. She read a little, but the books seemed vapid and tame beside her own experiences. She began to feel a craving for something, she know not what; she thought of Arol, and longed with an intensity of longing beyond all words for the sig-ht of his face, the sound of his loving prattle. The loneliness was telling" upon ncr, as Kawson Fenton had calculated it •would. She was paler and thinner, end there was gradually creeping into •the lovely eyes, like a shadow, an expression of sadness and apathy. The end of the week came, and the results of her toil were apparent in

the pile of carefully-written sheets. "I almost think I have earned my three pounds!" she said to Mrs. Mervyn as she showed her the heap of paper. Mrs. Mervyn smiled sadly. "Thirty!" she said in her subdued voice. "You have been working too hard. I knew you would." "JSTo, no," said Constance, eagerly. "I wanted to show Mr. Thompson how much I could do. I do hope he will come to-day. If he should not —" . She turned away with an impatient, The mornincr passed. . She would not gq out, in case her employer should arrive during her absence, and all the afternoon she sat and waited. Had lie forg^ottexi the day, or had she misunderstood him?

Mrs. Mervyn brought her up a cup of tea as the evening closed in, but Constance could scarcely find voice in which to thank her, and when after a few words of encouragement, she left the room, Constance paced upi and down, feeling utterly dispirited and sick at heart. Suddenly she heard a knock at the door and hurriedly getting- her papers together, she stood and waited, her heart beating fast with the reaction of hope.

Mrs. Mervyn came in. "A gentleman—" she began, but Constance interrupted her. "Oh, let him come up, please. I am so glad!" "But it is not Mr. Thompson," said Mrs. Mervyn, doubtfully.

"Then it must be some one from him," exclaimed Constance, after a moment's sinking of the heart. "Did he say? Did. he srive you his name?"

"No," replied Mrs. Mervyn. "He only said he wished to see you on business."

"Then,he as from Mr. Thompson." said Constance, eagerly. '.'Please send"

him up."

Mrs. Mervyn went down aerain: a moment or two passed, and the door

opened

Constance looked up, then started back with a low cry, for there stood Kawson Fenton.

(To be continued daily.)