A WILFUL Ml AID.

Auckland Star, Volume XLII, Issue 194, 16 August 1911, Page 10

A WILFUL Ml AID.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, AUTHOB OF T/aiVi"," "Elaine," "Her Ransom," "My Lady Pride," "A Woman's Soul," etc.

( HAPTKR lll.—(Continued.) "Lei ine advise vou io go in for our n;i , .i.-ii'-. Lord* Neville," ho says. -'. .ihinu' like them fur an invalid. By th, wn\\ if there is anything special you v:i i iii the »:iv of diet, you must ment;-, i ,i. In fact, yon understand, I hope, t. , : you will do just as you please while j.. i are with us. We are quite prepared to humour any amount of invalid w m:s.'' Lord Neville -miles. "1 .i ai not much of an invalid, and I hj ~.. l have no whims." he responds. "l:i a few days 1 shall be quite equal to on-.-tliiug. There is something exhilarating in the very air in this place." •■The purest air In the world," says Mr. Harrington, with the sublimest convi. tion that he is speaking the bare truth. "I'll undertake to say that before you have been with us many days, vou -.'.i1l feel as strong as a giant " "And equal to two slices of junket," ?.<-,-> Lord Neville, with a smile. A- :i rule. Mr. Harrington rises from the table with the girls, but to-night, o;;; of consideration for his guest, he has a bottle of port brought in. and Philippa and I',-irrie prepare to leave the room. lord Neville rises and opens the door for them, and Philippa. who has lost all her -runes-,, pauses a moment. Will you take tea or coffee, Lord iN'eville?"' she asks. "Kilher, thanks," he says. i 'arri- marches into the Irawing-room, nn.l llings herself on to the sofa. -What .1 'harming young fellow," says Th linpn. approvingly. -| call hi in odious." Retorts Carrie, ".lust a type of the modern aristocrat — ri nceited. supercilious, self-sufficient. Tt fc ms as if it were almost too much trouble for him to speak to us " "lII' talked a great deal to me," rein i rk'-'l Philippa. "Did he?" -ays Carrie, with a fine pretenre of ignorance. "1 dare say. il" . otililn't sit with his mouth shut out of common decency. lam glad he did nol a,tempi to talk to me."

"You —you play exceedingly well, don't you, Lord Neville?'' he says, with illconcealed surprise. Lord Neville makes a little gesture of dissent. "No,"' he says; "I play mostly by ear, and often very faultily." "Oli, please play something else!" says Philippa, as he rises from the musicstool. He resumes his seat, and plays this toimo a soft' serenade of Chopin, and Carrie is trying not to wag her head to the air. when there comes a knock at the door, and a short, thin, man enters. It is Lord Neville's servant; he has a salver in his hand, and upon the salver lies the buff-coloured telegram envelope. The man stands motionless as a statue, with his eyes cast do"wn on the carpet, until his master has finished, then he goes uj) to him. delivers the telegram, and noiselessly disappears. Lord Neville holds the telegram in his hand; and of course all eyes are fixed on him for the moment, though the next Philippa looks aside and Carrie stares up at the ciling. "How is this?" he says, quietly. "I thought no telegrams were delivered after eight o'clock," and he glances at his watch.

•<.. must he be. I should think." snys P'ailippa. "Anything more uncivil than Tour two remarks to him T don't think Inm cognizant of. And. upon my word. Carrie, I don't sop what ho has dono to deserve it. U'\onri being called a child and an enfant terrible in his own heariiis" ( .irrio flushes. "His very presence here is tin ofTenee tn me." she says, quickly. "He will be a nuisance and a bore—to me. at least. I've mi doubt you will lind him amusing p'iniiih. Von can talk botany, as you d.il : Uis evening." "I thought you weren't listening," says rhiiippa. smiling. To this retort Carrie deigns no reply, sive -iiih as can be expressed by a flushr icck and a pout of the red lips. Per--1 aps. as her voice is singularly clear and penetrating, it is well that she remains silent, as the two gentlemen at that moment enter the room. "I find Lord Neville prefers tea to jort. rttiflippa,'' says Harrington with a smile. 1..->r• 1 Neville crosses the room, and stands beside Philippa's little table, his white hands clasped behind him. and repr.rls her with that absent look which ( ■. rrie resents so deeply, and of Carrie takes not the faintest notice until Philippa pours out the tea; then he takes a < up and carries it to the sofa and offers it to Carrie. "No, thanks." she says, coldly, glancing at the cup and not at him. He inclines his head with the same im-pa.-sivencss, and keeps the cup for him-

I'liilippa stares at Carrie. The afterdinner cup of tea is Carrie's favourite refection, and she is going without it rather than take it from Lord Neville's hand. Philippa's soul misgives her. If Carrie's intends to prolong the game, Lord Neville will have rather a hard lime of it, for Phihippa knows by experience what an extraordinary amount of exasperation Carrie has at command. '"Anything going on in town?" asks Mr. Harrington. •'Nothing more than usual," replies Ixird Xeville —"births, deaths, and marriages. There is a great deal of sameness in London life." He speaks with an increased amount of weariness, and turns to a portfolio of engravings as if he dislikps the subject.

Carrie notices, as he lifts the plates from the ca.se, that his hands are beautifully shaped, and as white as a woman's —whiter than her own, burnt by the afternoon sun.

Mr. Harrington, who has had a hard day. sinks back into his easy-chair, and, under cover of the newspaper, drops into a peaceful doze. Philippa looks from Carrie to Lord Neville with a feeling of dismay. Carrie, she knows, will not come out of her shell, and she herself, alone, will have to entertain his lordship.

Perhaps Carrie will, at least, condescend to play for them! "Will you give us a little music, Carrie?" she asks, but rather hopelessly.

"Quite impossible," says Carrie, promptly; "the rectory children have pulled all my fingers out of joint; and besides. 1 don't feel the least musical this evening." Lord Neville does not make any polite attempt to persuade her; instead, he looks down at Philippa. "Will you not play, Miss Harrington?" "1 wish I could!" says Philippa, most truthfully. "My musical education has been sadly neglected; in fact, my sister has absorbed all the musical capacity in the family." He looks steadily at the beautiful fa■•(■. set in its most haughty and "standoff" expression, gravely, curiously; then he -ays. quietly: "Perhaps you -will allow me to make an attempt?"

•Pray do!" say 3 Philippa. "I beg your pardon for not asking you: it didn't ;v - ir to me that you might play." Most men play some kind of an instrument nowadays," he says. He goes to the piano in his slow, self-possessed fa-bion. ami seats himself, then remains riotioliless for half a moment, as if pon- ■ I "TT-nir what lie shall play; then he i '-ikes a chord and glides into a sonata •if Mozart. Philippe.'* face shines with delight ns, with almost perfect touch and expression, he renders the exquisite piece of music; Carrie leans back and tries hard -not to look as if she were enjoyintr it, but it is too difficult a task, and ane is obliged to turn her head aside to hide the pleasure that .glow* in her eves. Sue understood now whv the hands jrere so white and b*ai»ttfuuy formed; tri<-\ weie the hands of a musician' Mr. Harrington -wakes ■ with... a ''start and stares at-tie ptoypr^..^;.

"Our nearest telegraph station is Maltfield." says Mr. Harrington. "Three and a half miles off. I expect it has been lying there for some time, waiting till some one came this way and delivered it. Our postal arrangements are extremely primitive, and we are quite satisfied if we get the newspapers two days after publication, and our letters a day and a half after they were written. But pray open your telegram. Lord Neville." "With your permission, thanks," he says, inclining his head. For the life of her, Carrie cannot keep her eyes from straying towards his face. He opens the envelope slowly, indifferently, and unfolds the hideous pink paper: then Carrie sees his face (urn paler even than its usual colour, then a deathly white, and his lips quiver spasmodically. Evidently that simple-looking telegram has struck him a blow. Only for one moment, however, does he permit the signs of his emotion to be visible; the next he looks up and meets Carrie's curious gaze so steadily that, caught in her scrutiny, she flushes crimson and drops her eyes. "There is no telegraph working—from the railway station, I mean —until the morning?" he asks. "No, none. Maltfield is the nearest, eight o'clock to-morrow," replies Mr. Harrington. "Thanks." "No bad news, T hope?" inquires Mr. Harrington, srravelv. Lord Neville folds the telegram neatly and replaces it in the envelope before he replies. Then he says quietly, and with a marked increase of sadness and weariness in his eyes. "No. I might say that it is good news." "I'm glad of that." remarked Mr. Harrington. "I'm always disposed to connect telegrams with bad news. I never get one that doesn't contain something that I don't want to hear, and I hate the sight of them. If you want to wire quite early to-morrow, one of the men can ride over before eight, you know." "Thank you," says Lord Neville; but he does not accept or decline the offer definitely. Carrie observes; and he goes and spats himself 'beside Philippa.

"Vou are fond of music?" he says; and though there is not a trace of agitation in his voice, Carrie notices that it is a trifle more srid and weary than before. "Oh. yes." says Philippa : "but we do not often get a chance of hearing such mirsie as vou have given us. Lord Neville. You said that most gentlemen played some instrument: if so. then we must •be in a benighted condition down here in Devonshire! T suppose T musn't ask you to play again to-night?" "If you will excuse me," he says, quietly. "Why, you must .be tired out!" says Mr. Harrington, jumping up. "George! we were forgetting that you were an invalid, and have come down to rest. Come, Lord Neville, you mußt not stand on ceremony with us, but go and come as you please." Lord Neville laughed; it was the first time he had done so, and the laugh lit up his face pleasantly. "Well, I will go," he said. "Goodnight," and be held out 'his hand to Philippa, who gave him hers cordially! "Good-night," he said, turning to Carrie. She put her soft hand forward, and he took. As he did so she started slightly. She felt his hand burn hotly within her cool palm. He just held her hand for a moment, then released it with an inclination of the head, and followed Mr. Harrington out of the room.

Carrie rose and crossed over to where Philippa sat, and dropped on to a hassock at her feet, and clasping her knees, perched her chin on the top of them, and stared thoughtfully irrto the fire. "Well," said Philippa, with a mighty yawn. " so ends what you have contrived to make a remarkably uncomfortable evening, -my dear." Silence; the long, straight lines joining over the delicate nose in deep cogitation. "I have always admired your temper, Carrie," goes on Philippa, in a tone of judicial calmness, " because it is so thoroughly and entirely a bad one; but tonight you have outdone yourself. Never in my somewhat extended experience, have you shown to greater disadvantage If one were to ask Lord Neville's opinion of you, what do you think, if be gave it candidly, it would be?" Still silence. " I imagine that he thinks you are a little mad. No one in their right senses would treat a stranger and a guest as you have treated him! There is one thing that consoles me, and that is that he doesn't appear to mind in the very least. How you could sit there and listen to his playing without uttering a word of common thanks passes my comprehension. He has the touch and expression of an angel." Still silence for a minute then the red lips, closed so tightly, open. "Philippa! I would give half the world to know what was in that telegram." (Continued daily.)