THE SOWERS.

Press, Volume LII, Issue 9300, 28 December 1895, Page 2

THE SOWERS.

44 Am I to live alone?" asked Etta, sudlenly finding her voice. 44 That is as you like," answered Paul, perlaps purposely misunderstanding her. 4 ' You iro at liberty to have any friends for companion you wish. Perhaps—your cousin." 44 Maggie?" 44 Yes," answered Paul. For the first time since he had entered the room his eyca were tverted from Etta's face. 44 She would not live with mc," said the Princess curtly. Paul seemed to be reflecting. When he loxt spoke it was iv a kinder voice : 44 You need not tell the circumstance ivhich has given rise to this—arrangement." Etta shrugged her shoulders. 44 That," went on Paul, " rests entirely with yourself. You may be sure that I will tell no one. lam not likely to discuss it with any one whatsoever." Etta's stony eyes softened for a moment. She seemed to be alternating between hatred of this man and love of him—a dangerous state for any woman. It is possible that if he had held his hand out to her she would have been at his feet in a wild incoherent passion of self-hatred and abasement. Such moments as these turn our lives and determine tjhem. Paul knew nothing of the issue hanging on this moment, on the passing softness of her eyes. He knew nothing of the danger in which this woman stood, ot the temptation with which she was wrestling. He went on in his blindness, went on being only just. 44 1f," he said, "you have any further questions to ask I shall always be at your service. For the next few clays I shall be busy. The peasants are in a state of discontent verging on rebellion. We cannot at present arrange, for your journey to Tver, but as soon as it is possible I will tell you." He looked at the clock, and made an imperceptible movement towards the door. Etta glanced up Bharply. She did not seem to be breathing. " Is that all ?" she asked in a dull voice. There was a long silence, tense and throbbing, the great silence of the steppe. 41 1 think so," answered Paul at length. " I have tried to be just." " Then justice is very cruel." 44 Not so cruel as the woman who for a few pounds sells the happiness of thousands of human beings. Steinmetz advised mc tc speak to you. He suggested the possibility of circumstances of which we were ignorant, He said that you might be able to explain.' Silence. 41 Can you explain ?" Silence. Etta sat looking into the fire. The little clock hurried on. At length Etta drew a deep breath. "You are the sort of man," she said, 44 who does not understand temptation. You are strong. The devil leaves the*strong in peace. You have found virtue easy because you have never wanted money. Your position has always been assured. Youi name alone is a password through tho world. Your sort are always hard on women who— who—What have I done, after all?" Some instinct bade her rise to her feet and stand before him, tall, beautiful, passionate, a woman in a thousand, a fit mate for such as he. Her beautiful hair in burnished glory round her face gleamed in the firelight. Her white fingers clenched, her arms thrown back, her breast panting beneath the lace, her proud face looking defiance into his—no one but a prince could have braved this princess. 44 What have I done?" she cried a second time. " I have only fought for myself, and if I have won, so much the greater credit. lam your wife. J have done nothing the law can touch. Thousands of women moving in our circle are not half bo good as I' am. I swear before God I am " " Hush !" he said with upraised hand. " I never doubted that." " I will do anything you wish," she went on, and in her humility she was very dangerous. ," I deceived you, I know. But 1 sold the Charity League before I knew that you—that you thought of mc. When I married you I didn't love you. I admit that. But Paul, oh, Paxil, if you Were not so good you would understand." Perhaps he did understand, for there was that in her eyes that made her meaning clear. He was silent, standing before her in his great strength, his marvellous and cruel self-restraint. " You will not forgive mc ? " For a moment she leant forward, peering ing into his face. He seemed to be reflecting- " Yes," ho said at length, " I forgive you. But if I cared for you, forgiveness would be impossible." He went slowly towards the door. Etta looked round the room with drawn eyes : their room—the room he had fitted up foi his bride with the lavishness of a great wealth and a great love. He paused with his hand on the door. 4 ' And," she said with fiery cheeks, ' 4 doe. your forgiveness date from to-night ?" 44 Yes!" He opened the door., ** Good night." he said, and went out. (To be continued.) i~»——»»w~—■—«—■»— — —; —l»

She heard Paul come to his dressing-room. She heard his deep quiet voice reply to some t question of his valet's. Then the word 44 Good-night" in the same quiet voice. Tho j j valet had gone. There was only the door , ! now bctweon her and—what ? Her fingers | were at the throat of her drossing-gown. I The soft lace seemed to choke her. Then Paul knocked at the door. It was « coming. She opened her lips, but at first , could make no sound. 44 Come in," she said at length, hoarsely. She wondered whether ho would kill her. She wondered whether she was in love with | her husk-iad. She had begun wondering that lately; she was wondering it when he - came in. He had changed his dres3-coat for a silk-faced jacket in which ho was in the habit of working with Steinmetz in the qxiiet room after the household had gone to bed. i She looked up. She dropped the brush, and ran towards him with a great rustle of her flowing silks. 1 44 Oh, Paul, what is it?" she cried. She stopped short, not daring to touch him, before his cold, set faco. 41 Have you seen any one ?*' she whispered. 44 Only De Chauxville," he answered, "this afternoon." 44 Indeed, Paul," she protested hastily, 44 it was nothing. A message from Catrina Lanovitch. It was only the usual visit of an acquaintance. It would have been very strange if he had not called. Do you think I could care for a man like that ?" "I never did think so until now," re- £ turned Paul steadily. " Your excuses accuse you. You may care for him. I do not know; I—do—not—care." She turned slowly and went back to her chair. Mechanically she took up the brush, and shook back her beautiful hair. " You mean you do not care for mo," she said. "Oh, Paul, be careful." Paul stood looking at her. Ho was not a subtle-minded man at all. Ho was not one of those who take it upon themselves to say that they understand women—using the word in an offensively general sense—as if women were situated midway between tho human and the animal races. He was old-fashioned enough to look upon women as higher and purer than men, while equally capable of thought and self-control. He had, it must be remembered, no great taste for fictional literature. He had not read the voluminous lucubrations of the modern woman-writer. He had not assisted at the nauseating spectacle of a woman morally turning herself inside out in three volumes and an interview. No—this man respected women still; and he paid them an honour which, thank heaven, most of them still deserve. He treated them as men in the sense that he considered them to be under the same code of right and wrong, of good and evil. He did not understand what Etta meant when she told him to be careful. He did not know that the modern social code is like the Spanish grammar—there are so many exceptions that the rules are hardly worth noting. And one of our most notorious modern exceptions is the married woman who is pleased to hold herself excused because outsiders tell her that her husband does not understand her. 44 1 do not think," said Paul judicially, "that you can have cared very much whether I loved you or not. When you married mc you knew that I was the promoter of tlio Charity League : I almost told you. I told you so much that with your knowledge you must have been aware of the fact that I was heavily interested in the undertaking which you betrayed. You married mc without certain proof of your husband's death, such was your indecent haste to call yourself a princess. And now I find on your own confession that you have a clandestine understanding with a man who tried to murder mc only a week ago. Is it not rather absurd to talk of caring ? " He stood looking down at her —cold and terrible in the white heat of his suppressed northern anger. The little clock on the mantlepiece, in a terrible hurry, ticked with all its might. Time was speeding. Every moment was against her. And she could think of nothing to say, simply because those things that she would have said to other 3 would carry no weight with this man. Etta was leaning forward in the luxurious chair, staring with haggard eyes into the fire. The flames leapt up and gleamed on her pale face, in her deep eyes. " I suppose," she said without looking at him, " that you will not believe mc when I tell you that I hate the man. I knew nothing of what you refer to as happening last week: his attempt to murder you, I mean. You are a prince, and all-powerful in your own province. Can you not throw him into prison and keep him there? Such things aro done in Russia. He is more dangerous than yon think. Ploase do itplease—" Paxil looked at her with hard, unresponsive eyes. Lives depended on his answer. 44 1 did not come here to discuss Claude de Chauxville," he said, " but you and our future." Etta drew herself up as one under the lash, and waited with set teeth. "I propose," he said in a final voice which made it no proposition at all, " that you go home to England at once with—your cousin. This country is not safe for you. The house in London will be at your disposal. I will make a suitable settlement on you, sufficient to-live in accordance with your titleandposition. Imnst a3k you to remember that the name yon bear has hitherto been an unsullied one. We have been proud of our princesses-Mvp to now. In case of any trouble reaching you from outside sources connected with this country, I should like you to remember that you are under my .protection and that of Steinmetz. Either of us will be glad at any time to consider any appeal for assistance that you may think fit to make. • You will always be the Princess Howard-Alexis." Etta gave a sudden laugh. 44 Oh, yes," she said, and her face was strangely red, "I shall still be the Princess Alexis." 44 With sufficient money to keep up the position," he went on with the cruel irony of a slow-spoken man. A queer twisted smile passed across Etta's face-—the smile of one who is in agony and will not shrink. 44 There are certain stipulations which I must make in self-defence," went on Paul. 44 1 must ask you to cease all communications of whatsoever nature with the Baron de Chauxville. I am not jealous of him—now. I do not know why." He paused as if wondering what the meaning of this might be. Etta knew it. The knowledge was part of her punishment. "But," continued her husband, " I am not going to sacrifice the name my mother bore to the vanity of a French coxcomb. You will be kind enough to avoid all society where it.is likely that you should meet him. If you disregard,my desires in this matter I shall be compelled to take means to enforce them." 44 What means?" 44 1 shall reduce your allowance." Their eyes met, and perhaps that was the bitterest moment in Etta's life. Dead things are better put out of sight at once. Etta felt that Paul's dead love would grin at her in every sovereign of the allowance which was to be hers. She would never get away from it, she could never shake off its

Br Heotht. Setok Meekimak. Author of " With Edged Tools," &3. CHAPTER XXXlX.—Husband aot> Wife. .Karl Steinmetz had shown the depth of ids knowledge of men and women when he commented on that power of facing danger with an unruffled countenance which he was pleased to attribute to English ladies above all women. During the evening he had full opportunity of verifying his own observations. , _L Etta came down to dinner smiling and imperturbable. On the threshold of the drawing-room she exchanged a glance with Karl Steinmetz; and that was all. At dinner it was Maggie and Paul who were silent. Etta talked to Steinmetz —brightly, gaily, with a certain courage of a very high order; for she was desperate and she did not show it. At last the evening came to an end. Maggie had sung two songs. Steinmetz had performed on the piano with a marvellous tonch. All had played their parts with the brazen faces which Steinmetz in his knowledge of many nations assigned to the AngloSaxon race before others. At last Etta rose to go to bed with a little sharp sigh of great suspense. It was coining. She went up to her room, bidding Maggie good-night in the passage. In a mechanical way she allowed the deft-handed maid to array her in a dressing-gown—soft, silken, a dainty triumph in its way. Then, almost impatiently, she sent the maid away when her hair was only half released. She would brush it herself. She was tired. No, she wanted nothing more. She sat down by the fire, brash in hand. She could hardly breathe. It was coaiino-