The Story -Teller.

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume X, Issue 954, 21 October 1891, Page 4

The Story -Teller.

A MAGNETIC AFFINITY. (Continued.) II A photograph will give the regulari'y of set Features, bat never tbe magnetic mobility of a changeful face. And then Lord Devoy derided the clumsiness of pi ivate inquiry agents. 1 Hush/ exclaimed Lady Devoy gently ,■« we cannot discuss it now. I hoar Sybil and Gerald coming/ Then Devoy rose from the table, and was presently heard driving away to town. And so the season passed, with all it? hopes and its fears, i<s aspira tions fulfilled, its illusions shattered, an * country booses begm to be filled again. Deemster Court itself male great preparations for entertaining a shooting party m. September ; when, shortly after the family's arrival from London, an event occurred that put a stop to all festivities and cast a gloom over the entire village. This was the sudden death of Lady Devov from heart dieense. At the close of a fatiguing day as she walked upstairs she fell, and died two hours later m her daughter Sybil's arms Lord Devoy had gone abroad n week before, nnd, though summoned imnudiately,.arrived barely m tin c to pay the lust sad rites to the woman who hud been such a true hearted wife to him. After the funeral he closed Deemster Court and moved the family to his Scottish estHte, when, having installed a maiden aunt, he later returned to the Continent. ii ■ . i • HI. A year bail passed awny, again the aeaeon was beginning, and people w\pr«» once more burning up for their nnnaul distractions. There was the hew play that peop'e talked about so much, ' The Viscount's Victim,' at the ''popular Beau Monde Theatre, aad grod. Society, wondered hugely whether it wag quite proper to countenance such a 3tory on tlte stage, and so, of course, went m shoals— just to judge for themselves. And then to • ward the middle of the season, when people were feverishly ready for newer novelties, came the annomccment o p a great and wonderful play about , to be produced at the fashionable Babylonia Theatre, and the debut of a youthful actress straight from the distinctive tuition of foreign schools of acting. A great play, a realistic drama of psjebological interest, that the critics wrote dubious diatribes about. 'The play was too real,' wrote one" 'We don't want life as it is, but life as it ought to be.' said another^ and so on. Each dog wagging its tail a different way, but all barking m unison. Society people got fearfully puzzled over its title, l The Mistress of Lepni,' because if;Leorii%as merely a place it didn't matter ; but if a man, then they would boycott tbe daring playwright, and severely refuse to attend the play — at least, not more than once, just to sea if it was true what they surmised. It was June, and Basil Bradleigh was m town ; he. had heard of Lord Devoy's return from 2 Germany, and had called at his club, but, had failed to find him m. . / As he walked along Piccadilly with a friend, an old brother officer, they stopped by a shop with photographs m the window. 4 There's the new actress,' remarked his friend. ' You ought to see her ; she's superb/ 'Who is she?' ( Nina Mertelle. There are all sorts of rumours about her ; they say she leally lives m the luxury she as ably portrays on the stage. She drives to the theatre m a perfectly appointed brougham, high- stepping horses — all that sort of thing we call good form. Of course, there are all sorts of stories abont her ; lies I dare say, thoogh I know she's deucedly particular • who she knows. I saw your friend speaking to her and congratulating her the first night of the play ; the man you mentioned just now, Devoy.' Bradleigh scrutinised the face more narrowly, and, to his friend's intense amusement, went m and bought the photograph. ' She plays m tie * Mistress of Leoni,' doesn't she ? ' asked BasiL ' Yes. Are you going ? ' 'I shall go tonight.' 'Ah! Bradleigh, I don't tbink you should ever have put off the red coat for the bladk one. Well, I've a whist club party to night, or I'd cheerfully go with you* I've seen the play twice, it's immense. Of course, you know Nina Mertelle enacts the role of the mistress of a foreign Cabinet- Minister, an.J through him she sways the opposition to Governmen measures, or obtains the pardon of traitorous colleagues — a soft, clinging creature, who coos like a dove to gain her ends, cries like a child and vibrates with terrified anger at the mention of Leoni's forthcoming marriage It's the sudden ebange from languor to rage that fetches the people ; and again m the last scene, when she dies, stabbed by herself, exclaiming ' The wages of fin is death ' — that's a sermon as good as you can preach. Go and enjoy it, and come to the club and breakfast with me to-morrow.' That evening, sitting m the stalls, Bradleigh recognised m the actress the fair face of tbe young girl who more than a year ago had glanced at him from a carriage window He watched the play, and felt the magnetic charm cf her actiDg. (Continued m our next issue.)