A Dream of Love

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIV, Issue 18, 21 January 1903, Page 2 (Supplement)

A Dream of Love

By BERTHA M. CLAY. Author of "AFiery Ordeal," "His Wife's Judgment," "In Love's Crucible," "The, Gipsy's Daughter," "A Heart's Bitterness," " Weaker Than a Woman," "A Mad Love," Etc., ; -.., , .

fff ? ;■"' CHAPTER XL i "I AM TOUR IMPLACABLE FOB!" : Mr Tremayne spent whole days in bis study now, occasionally making sudden and mysterious visits to the city. His daughters had little of his companionship, for he Srefused to leave his music—his dreams, even at meal times. He could talk of little tout his wonderful opera—of fame and wealth; he had suddenly thrown up his engagement at the Elysian and some sharp letters had passed between him and the management of the theatre. He laughed contemptuously, and spoke of his employers as jealous fools. "They now recret treating the great composer as a common servant," he said. "I would have completed my engagement had they treated me with respect. Ha! they will never find another capable 01 .illing my place." The Honorable Frederick Vansitart visited the cottage at least once a week, and his pointed attentions to the suffering Marian were .becoming odious. She had not dared to snub him-to treat him with the disdain she felt—lest her father should suffer, for the fair, smiling face of Mr ..Vansitart could assume the fury and '.wickedness of a demon if his wishes or plans were thwarted. Of late, money had been plentiful, and Marian was one day astonished to find £500 in Bank of England notes lying loosely on her father's desk, during one of his absences in London. The key was in the desk, so she put the notes carefully away, glad to find that the negotiations with Mr Vansitart were prospering—glad for her father's sake. Since that terrible parting from her lover, she had grown thinner— paler, and there were the shadows of a deep sorrow under her eyes. lor a time she had felt that her troubles were greater than she could bearshe had felt that her cross was too heavy. She only told Lillian that she and Athol had parted forever; she assigned no reason—no cause; she begged that the subiect be never referred to again; all was over between them irrevocably. To her father she said not a word.

April changed to May, and May to June. Mr Tremayne had finished his great opera, and it was being printed. He was now dreaming of gorgeous dresses, wonderful designs-multi-coloured, dazzling, the most beautiful, the most bewildering that it was possible for art to produce. He could not think of any men or women clever enough to pourtray the characters of his genius. He wrote in a patronising way to the leading exponents of ihe stage, and was surprised that few of them troubled to reply to him. "Jealousy—jealousy," he said, lnis opera will raise its actors to the very zenith of fame. I have created, and they have only to obey. If ever I tremble for its success, it is because there is a dearth of talent—because I cannot take, every part myself! Marian Tremayne never forgot the beautiful morning when her father fcame to her and told her that his work was finished-the last proofs were revised, and that the rest lay in her hands. "In my hands, papa?" she asked, her pale face growing almost ashen. He never noticed that she had altered—that there was any change in her. He thought only of his opera, and he was surprised that any one could speak or think of anything else. "I think you understand—l know that you do," he replied, pettishly ••Vfter I have done so much I need your trifling help and sympathy. Vansitart will be here to-day, and explain to you. I must get my addition to the overture finished to-day, this is only an afterthought of mine, and it came upon me like an inspiration. I fear my ideas may be imitated—l fear they will. The to put a stop to such a thing." He went away muttering, and a few minutes later the moans of the violin began. In the afternoon Mr Vansitart came, and there was an expectant light in his eyes, a pink flush on his fair face. He was closeted with Mr Tremayne for half-an-hour, and the violin ' ceased. After dinner the musician retired again to his study, and Mr Vansitart followed Marian into the garden.

"You are quite an enthusiastic gardener, Miss Tremayne," he said. "Your sister has told me that you have cultivated all these beautiful flowers unaided. Amid all their beauty you are the sweetest flowier in all this fair parterre."

He looked at her passionately, and she immediately turned toward him, hler face pale, her eyes with a light that he could not define.

"Your father says that he has told you of my coming," he went on quickly, "so that what I am going to say cannot take you by surprise; indeed my actions must have betrayed my feelings for weeks past."

"I understand that you have some business matters to settle to-day," Marian replied, coldly, "and I shall be much obliged to you, Mr Vansitart, if yon will discontinue your meaningless compliments. Ido not like them, sir."

The Honourable Frederick was nonplussed for a moment; then he readjusted his eyeglass and continued:

"If I have vexed you I am sorry, believe me, Miss Tremayne. As for any words being- meaningless, I was never more sincere in my life. I have had but one ambition from the first moment I saw you —I have had but one desire; I want you to bfi my wife. I love you, Marian—love yon as I never loved before—with the whole

intensity of my being. It is chilling to hear you speak of treating it only in a business light; but some day, darling, I pray that you may be able to love me a little in return." "Mr Vansitart 1" The Honourable Frederick was startled by the tone in which his name was uttered. He actually recoiled from before the girl's flaming I eyes. I i__/"y° u appear to consider that jrou

have some sort of right to address me in this way," she said, looking at him coldly and steadily, without so much even as the flutter of an eyelid. "Most certainly; I thought you understood," he replied, reddening with anger. "I am sure that you understood. You have encouraged my attentions from the very first." "I have tried to like you—to be friendly toward you —for my father's sake. You are in some business partnership with him, otherwise I should never have listened to such nonsense which you have been pleased to utter to me." "H'm!" he sneered, a wicked look coming into his bright, steel-blue eyes. 'H'm! Some business partnership? Much nonsense, eh? Miss Tremayne, I hope that your father has not been misleading me, as he is misleading himself. He told me that I had only to speak to yon—that all was practically settled. You must not play fast and loose with me, for Ido not wish to be your enemy. I want you for my wife —to be at the head of my household. I can imagine no other woman so beautiful—so dignified as you, Marian Triemayne. I quite expected that you would consent —that you knew something of the terms between your father and me. There is no business partnership, and never will be."

"But his—his opera!" exclaimed Marian. "I thought that you were to produce it jointly. I am sure he believes so.' '

"Oh, no, he does not, my dear girl. I would not be associated with such arrant folly. Mind, this is not my opinion alone, but the opinion of experts who make it their business to know. His opera is the dream of a madman. It has no body; it is one mass of shallow sentiment; it is a structure of musical gymnastics and miserable whimperings—the production of a diseased brain."

"My poor father!" gasped Marian. "If he were told this," continued Vansitart, "he would only laugh at it; he would say that his critics were mad. When I heard the music I declined to be associated with it; I told him so candidly. But for you—but for love for you—l should havie gone away that night, never to think of this wretched opera again. Your father was inclined to upbraid me, but on the condition that you consented to be my wife I promised not to loan, but to give him sufficient money to enable him to become lessee of a theatric —to produce his hobby himself. He said that there was no doubt about consent, and I believed him, *for you have encouraged me; I will take no denial; I repeat, you have encouraged me; you have known something of this arrangement, and I have been fooled to the (extent of two thousand pounds."

He paused and paced up and down the garden path, his gleaming white teeth set hard, his eyes snapping fire, while Marian listened in the bitterest humiliation.

"I am so sorry, Mr Vansitart," she said, gently. "I did not know of •this money; it must be repaid." "Pshaw!" he interrupted, rudely, contemptuously. "You cannot repay it. Your mad father has spent the greater part of it uselessly already. If you. will think kindiy of me—try to like me, even a little, and promise to be my wife, I will take your word; I will not press you to wed me soon, and your father shall bring out his opera. If he does not, it will kill him.—-I know from what he suffers. If you do not promise to marry me, his death will lie at your door. I do not want your sorrow —yonr pity —your regrets; yoii have been a party to the deception, and if you spurn my offer, my love will be turned to hate —implacable."

"I can never marry you, Mr Vansitart," Marian said, firmly. "I have not been a party to this arrangement- I cannot love you."

"Love will come —love will come later," he went on. "Eemember your father. I plead thus, (because my whole life is wrapped up in you for good or evil." "Oh, do not speak in this way," she said, distressfully. "I can never marry you, sir—never. It is quite impossible. I can believe that my father is mad to make such terms with you. His whole nature has changed since his illness; it 'has affected his brain. I know not what to do—l am helpless. Forget me, Mr Vansitart, forget me- Your money shall be repaid; every shilling shall

"Then," he said, coldly, steadily; "3/ou refuse to be my wife —you. prefer my enmity to my protection—my love?"

"I cannot marry you," was the reply. "I cannot marry yon."

"Thank you," he said, politely, and bowing with his usual grace. "I have done with the billing and cooing; and acknowledge that I have been very successfully fooled. I wonder that I did not see it; but my time will soon come, Miss Tremayne. I am your implacable enemy from this moment; you have made a bad, revengeful man of me, and you have yet to learn what that means. I will not enter your house again; my man shall fetch my portmanteau. I wish you a pleasant good-evening-." (To be continued daily.)

The Chief Secretary's Department of New South Wales is responsible for the issue of a return showing the number of women in the suburban electorates who refused, for various reasons, to allow their names to be entered on the voting rolls. In Annandale—which tops the list —there would almost appear to have been organised opposition to the new movement, for no fewer than 233 women declined to be enrolled. Then there is a sudden drop to 80, which represents the feeling- of the Ash*, eld females on the subiect: Willoughby comes next with 61 refusals, and then follows:—Petersham, 50; Lejchbardt, 48; Canterbury, 19; Warringah (Manly) -, 15; and Gipps, 11. The total number of refusals in these elector* ates was, Aker-dkxre,, 512.