AT BEAUTY'S BAR

Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 273, 17 November 1910, Page 8

AT BEAUTY'S BAR

BY ROGER K. WENLEIGH.

CHAPTER XXXIV. Algernon Northcote could never divest imi.oeif of the feeling that Minnie, being his cousin, was his by right, and the slightest attempt of another to claim hi-r always aroused in him an angry, mad jealousy. In war, in peace, in household, in camp, Minnie's image purEued him, woven round b\ - a web of subtle thought too complicated to unravel. Pride, love, hate, and the fear of poverty—not the weakest of human motives—drove him on. He -was desperate —more desperate than his aunt guessed. His renewed intimacy with Minnie, her coldness, varied by a provoking coquetry, had mucldened his old love into a fierce passion, which she might well dread had she known its strength. Lastly, too, a suspicion had touched hun thai, Frank waa still in the neighbourhood, and this fear put a- fire into il=. blood before which law, honour, and runtom would be as stubble. Frank' 3 return to Willoughby meant not only rivalry in love, but utter ruin— a ruin which could only be averted by his be-co-m'mg Minnie.- husband. Around her revolved the happiness of so many hearts that for her sake ho knew hands that hated him would hasten to shower prosperity on his head. Through all the cruel web of his mind, however, there always ran the one dominant idea that lie should be doing Minnie no wrong in marrying her. Hp. thoroughly believed that his wife ■would adore him, and the day would come when she would thank him graciously for taking the«highly unconventional measures by which he intended to promote her to privilege of bearing his name —and his temper. If, too, at this time he half believed, half hoped that Minnie liked him, he had some reason for so doing. Mr. Antony Cridge had found it much to his own advantage to bring back to his master glowing accounts of the 'beaming satisfaction with, which Mies Pemberton received certain notes and messages "which he had delivered to her. It was no part of Mi". Cridge's duty to inform him that these notes were not his. Thus that individual reaped a double benefit from serving two masters, and gathered in s, harvest from both. On the day after the interview in the library to which Lady Margaret had been an unseen witness, she had a stormy interview 'with her nephew, when, without betraying herself, she accused him generally of trickery and deceit. "You and Minnie understand each other," she said, "and you will marry her without my help." "Her aunt will help mc, I suppose?" retorted her nephew bitterly. "No, Minnie may love you as much as she chooses, but once back at Beckleigli you will have no chance of being her husband." "And for that reason you desert mc, under the pretence of some treachery of which I am not only innocent, but utterly ignorant?" Lady Margaret looked at him over her fan in silence, merely shrugging her shoulders at his words. Her persistent disbelief baffled and. annoyed him. "What do you want mc to do to prove my sincerity?" he asked, in anger, tearing his glove to pieces. "You mean what do I demand as the price of my aid," she answered scornfully. "Then I tell you that your bond for the money you .owe mc will not be a sufficient guarantee for your good faith. I must have something more valuable to you even than money. Place in my hands those letters y\u possess of your confederate; Eleetwood, which prove your complicity in the plot Which ruined young Willoughby.". "I shall not do that," he answered quickly. "Why compromise my mother?" "All the greater reason why you can safely trust mc with 'them. It is not likely I should use them to disgrace my dead sister. It is fair I should have some hold on you; I could not put the •bond in force without scandal. And 1 tell you plainly that unless you accede •to my terms I shall send Minnie .back to Bcckle-ig 1 !!." This threat decided him. He yielded, agreeing that the papers were to t>e sealed up .and delivered into her 'hands by the man Cridge on the day 'that he succeeded in 'hie schemes with regard to Minnie. "But it i 3 on condition that I have your help in niy plans," 'he said. "1 'heiird her in the library. She'll marry him without my aid," thought Lady Margaret, "and for her sake I ehall keep the papers—to buy something better for her tlian cruelty." "I give you my carte iblanche," she answered. "Woo and win your wife your own way, and you shall 'have what help is iii my power." In a vexed mood her nephew thanked her, adding: "And if, after my marriage, you should forget what is due to your dead sister's memory, I don't think Frank Wiiloughby will have much appetite if or helping you, for he would know I could take sweet revenge on Minnie if he annoyed mc." Lady Margaret's keen eyes looked him up and down, but she said nothing. "Can you pnrt with that girl Reed for a fortaigjit '!" asked Algy, 'abruptly. ">lhii is anxious to go home, so she tells mc. I met >he.r just now in the hall." "She is perfectly welcome to go altogether, if she chooses. Why did she 6ek»et you as her messenger?" "Well, 1 have known her, you see, ever since she was a child. You'll let her know she can leave?" lias something to do with your plans, I presume?" "Well, yes, she has," (he said, a little uneasily. "I'll tell Tier she can go. I'll keep my word with you. I ■will not hinder any of your schemes. Only do not let mc be annoyed with any further pretences on your gflrt that Minnie is indifferent to you." \\ itii her usual abruptness in concluding li'sr interview wlith Iher ,nephew, Lady Maj-garet swept irom the room in saying this. h^lTV ,1 th ° Old cat me an?" thought afe than TTn ? Sees mole ol Mm" perhap3 knowe H S " 'a**, the hour S o ,P jfi, a3heen J o y ed >i triumph. It mattered utL'T and ' what mean., or c "u7 se of \£° 3^ m b ? I -~, had been led r^t o^^1 acuv a, i IU own . Tlho wom^n tl »Pn« k>v,d <o long with such bitter and a n4v p-:on lv to be his; the rage IS toured of was to bo quenched

Author of "Friends and Rivals," "An Irresistible Temptation," "4. Prolonged Truce," etc

in a fiery sea of love, and this fierce happiness, as it beat hot and fast in his own heart, would be all the greater because of the dire pain it would 'be to the man lie hated. His confidence and his vanity was too vast to allow him to doubt Jiis power to gain Minnie's forgiveness. Even her anger had a -charm for him, for (his voice, liia caresses, would soothe it. The wood fire that Lady Margaret loved burned low upon the hearth, sending up a flickering flame which peered into her face with elfin lights and shadows, while she watched across the gloom the young figure at the window, over which the last glow of the evening sun, as it sank beneath a ridge of piled clouds, shed a lowering light. The sun went down; the flame dropped and died; soon upon the hearth there rusted only a heap of dead ashes, and in the sky a long bar.k of iheavy clouds fast darkening into night. Tims these two 'watched—the young figure dn the paling light of the sinking sun, which would rise again; the old in the shadow of the cold hearth whose (lead ashes could never be and darkness came down upon L-hem within, while without the wind rustled in the tree tops lake the hush! hush! of night as it stood on the threshold of the dying day. A fortnight had passed by, taking with it the summer weather and now autumn chill was in the air and autumn sear upon the leaf. The aged watcher drew her shawl around her with ;i foreboding shivor as darkness, like a mantle, fold upon fold, shut out all but the outline of Minnie's figure from her eyes. "Perhaps it is 'the last time I shall ever see her," she thought. The last time! How strange and dreadful is that last time. We all of us have our last times, ghastly skeletons shut up in that tomb, our heart. Well is it for us when we can strew flowers on these departed memories, and be thankful they haunt us only in tender and loving shapes. "Minnie," said Lady Margaret, as, shading her.brow, she looked across the darkness at her grandaughter, "you are very silent, my dear. Of what are you thinking?" " I was thinking," said Minnie softly, " of home and of my aunt. She is very lonely." This answer hardened Lady Margaret's heart. " She does not care for mc. My loneliness is nothing; she loves only that low woman," thought Lady Margaret. "AVhy should I waste my heart on her? To the end I shall live a solitary forsaken woman; she will not even give mc a thought. She will leave mc to go back to soothe her vulgar aunt, to make her home bright with love, while I shall be left to die alone, without a kind hand to close my eyes. No, she shall not return. Rather than let her go back to that woman, who stole her from mc when she was a«hild, and would. ha.ye loved mc, I would help Lucifer to marry her! She will never love mc now. She is deceiving mc even at this moment. She feigns indifference for Algy, and yet during the fortnight when he has been mostly absent, have I not seen her blush and tremble when that man of his came with his daily letters and messages? And in her long rides lately, why has she chosen this fellow for her attendant unless she cared for his master? How can I resist the proofs I have seen of her affection? And her cousin loves her, and will make her a better husband than he pretends he shall. I am hurting no one then, but the woman into whoso heart I want to thrust a sword. And yet I hesitate. I am very weak to-night." She roused herself and eat upright in her chair, but her lips shook, and. her fingers twitched nervously at her shawl " Minnie," she said again, and the tone of her voice startled the girl, "if I cannot go with you to-morrow to Lady Cartwright's garden party, I think you had better take Brown with you. She is a good sort of woman, and it will be better to have her in the carriage than to drive alone." "Do you feel unwell?" asked Minnie anxiously. "No; but I am not equal to such a long excursion. Crawford Priory is eighteen miles off, and there will be a walk through the meadows to the mine. On the whole, it is too much for mc." " I will give up the party altogether/ said Minnie eagerly. " No, no, I cannot let you do that. It is got up on purpose for you. And Algy will bo there, too; it would be cruel to disappoint him." " What does it matter about disappointing Algy." said Minnie, with impatience. " How false she is!"' thought Lady Margaret, with a sigh, while Minnie's own thought, ac she gazed at her eorrowfully, was, " Oh, how rejoiced I shall be when I can speak." Then she came gently and laid her hand caressingly on Lady Margaret's shoulder. " Never mind. Algy. It is you whom 1 do not want to disappoint. Do you very much wish mc to go to this party ?" Lady Margaret's lips quivered with a nervous spasm, and again her voice, usually so clear, sounded strangely. "Yes, go. You had better go. Minnie stooped to kiss her, saying playfully: "Remember, I go to please you." Lady Margaret seized the young girl's hands, and held them fast in a nervous clasp. "I shall have the respectable, solid Miss Brown as my chaperon in the carriage, and at the party I shall put myself under the wing of Mrs. Stanley," continued Minnie, in the same playful tone. "And I only hope Algy won't attempt to escort mc home, an I object to the tramp of a horse by my side for eighteen miles." Lady Margaret released her hands. "False again," she said to herself, "and cold as ice. Why. this very journey that Algy took a fortnight ago. I heard her pray for a blessing on it. She knows quite well why and wherefore he went. Minnie,' , she said aloud, "why has Algy been away?" "How can I tell, granny ? I never care to know Algy's business." I Lady Margaret began to tremble. The j words seemed so false, and the tone was I so true. ] "Minnie," she said abruptly, seizing I her hands again, "there are moments 1 which come to us laden with our fate. j Such a moment now is this to mc, and i perhaps to you. Tell mc, will you give up 4your aunt? Will you renounce your s I mother's low people, forever to stay with 1 m< |, to cling to your father's mother?" v t^ 0, - re^ rnc d Minnie, quickly. i B J h T St T took ber by surprise, and

Once more Lady Margaret released her hands. She drew her shawl around her with a shiver. :

"Then you go back to that place you call home next week," she said, in cold, clear tones.

"My dear grannie " began Minnie caressingly.

"Give mc an answer. Yes or no." "Yes," answered Minnie firmly. She did not care to say more, lest she should speak indignantly.

The hatred Lady Margaret had so long cjherished against her aunt, and the thousand subtle, unspoken tokens by which she had unconsciously betrayed to Minnie the fact of some compact between herself and her nephew, rendered frankness between her and her granddaughter impossible; otherwise, with a few words of truth and tenderness, the cobwebs now blinding her might have been swept away, and she would have been spared the sharpest sorrow of her life.

"You have said yes —that is enough. I shall speak on the subject no more," rejoined Lady Margaret, "coldly.

But as she spoke she crossed her arras tightly over her sinking and chilled heart.

"I can come again to see you?" said Minnie, timidly.

"If your aunt graciously permifs you. No." said Lady Margaret, in a still colder tone, and as if dismissing a subject not very interesting, "I do not wisli it. When we part now it is forever. I will not expose myself to any intercourse with low people. You must choose between us—your aunt or mc."

"There can be no choice," replied Minnie, flushing with indignation. "My aunt's is my true home, and she, too, is my true mother."

There was a moment's silence. Minnie heard her heart beat in it, and then Lady Margaret said, with much politeness:

"Will you kindly ring for lights?"

This was quenching the spirit of the time with a hammer stroke.

Who has .not felt the bringing of lights at some moments to be like a pall dropped on the heart, burying there the thoughts just trembling on the tongue ?

Minnie rang, and then, with vexed tears in her eyes, she hurried away.

"Order the carriage for Miss Pemberton to-morrow at half-past two," said Lady Margaret, as the servant set down the lamp. Then, as he departed, and the door was closed, her head fell forward on her hands, and her frame seemed to shrivel up in one convulsive shiver. . "Forgotten and forsaken, but at least she shall not forsake mc for her. What if my own heart suffers? I pierce hers with a deadly wound! I shall sit by a. lonely hearth, but I make hers desolate!" (To be continued daily.)