The Marring of Duleinea.

Evening Post, Volume LXVIII, Issue 62, 10 September 1904, Page 10

The Marring of Duleinea.

"Lady Crodsinßham," announced a footman in deferential tones. Mro. Maryon hurried forward to greot tbo old lady now entering with rustlo of silk and delicate lavender per hi mo dinging about her. A beautiful old lady, somewhat under tho medium height, with Bilvor-whlto hair, a still alight and shapely figure and tho clear blue eyes and soft pink and white complexion of a child j she looked indeed aa though Time hnd paused her by for fifty years. On closer in»pection one noticed that the mouth and firmly moulded chin bespoke an iron will — so perhaps Lady Crossingham had oxercised this quality when doaling with Time and, lilco all other influences in her life, had subdued and vanquished him. Sho wns the central figure of a large family, whose destinies sho had shaped from the orndloj and not 0110 had over questioned her authority ; but her invulnerability had, as wn* inevitable, a weak spot, and - that weakness showed itaolf in her unusual affection for Dulcinoa. Now Dulcincn. was her greatniece, Mrs. Maryon's eldest girl, tho old lady'u prototype, and tho object of her present visit. x "1 am so glad to «cc you, Aunt Agnes," Mrs. Moryon said, lightly pressing a kisa on tho pench-like check. "I wm ju«t going to take the girls to this exhibition of old masters. I an* co glad" — with emphnsis^ — "you came in time to stop us. Of couroe," loading the way to the fireside and bringing forward the straight-backed, hnrd-soattd. chair which was saored to Lady Cressingham, " one most appreciate tie old masters, nnd really Helen begins to paint very creditably, so that I feol bound to educate her artistic- senso " "Naturally," Lady Cressingham replied, seating herself bolt upright and retaining her hold on her ebony, goldhandled stick. "Sense of any land ib a quality that may well be cultivated, f. came about Dulcinea; Helen will keep for a yeur or two." Mrs. Mnryon grew apprehensive. "When w the presentation?" "Next Tuesday, Aunt Agnes." "Then thero is plenty of time to announce her engagement before." "Her — engagement, aunt? "Yea. Wilfred Saxon — Paula's stopson — is going to propose for her, but, naturally, ho enme to mo first. # You know my opinion, Alice, that ' girls should be married straight out of the schoolroom. You were, and look what ft successful career yours has been. Til engage to say that if you had made your own choice you would have been the wife of some younger son and forced to mend your own stockings and eat hashed mutton for dinner. Sentiment is the rum of hnlf the girls j you w«ro very sentimental, I remember, Alice." Mrs. Maryon sighed — sho coukl not deny tbo accusation ; sho was reminded of tho flood of teats nnd protestations whon the news of her engagement to Colonel Maryon wus sprung upon hor astounded senses. In justice to Lad}' Oressingham'o foresight, »he wua bound to admit that hor life had been happy and well-ordered with Goorge Maryon, for whom she felt ft comfortable, wifely devotion, and olio idolised her three lovely girls, m> that- it is quite possible »ho might not have managed so well for hersflf. But Dulcie_[ flor mothor's heart bent rapidly. I= *" "I should lilco to see Dukinea," Lady Cre;singhnin wont on in hor dove-like tones. "Sho always interests nir — t>ho is more like me thnu any one in our family." Dulcinea wn£ summoned) and came at onco. She wm lullor th«a her greataunt bad evor been, but the dear ey«« were the same, the hair («e yet polo gold) was the hair of Lady Gre*singham's youth, and— alas for the old lady s well-ltwd plans I — Duloinea po«MMcd tho samo firmly-rounded chin and dooisivo

mouth. They scrutinised «aeh other a« equaJs. "So you are to ba presented on Tuesday, my child," Lady Creflicingliam said, drawing the girl to a low chair beside her own. Is the gown ready, and what is it Kkor" "I am to bo fitted to-morrow for the lost time, ifc'o the usual thing— chiffon and white rosebuds." Dulcinea possessed also tho m(t, low-pitched voice. The old lady laughed softly, and Mrs. Maryon hastened to add : "It is nn extremely pretty dress, Aunt Agnes; Mme. Estelle has given it her special attention." "I look like Jane Shore," Dulcinea protested, "and sbtiH feel the port, I know." The old lady patted her hand quietly. "But, of coubso," Dulcie went on, "if mothor likes it — why that's everything, and I don't mind being Jane Shore for an hour or two." "You will soon get used to being stared at, my child. Let mo see, how old are your" "I was eighteen at Christmas," "All. — of course. How would you liko to be mnrried?" # "Not at all— unless " with a sudden, sharp pause. "Unless?" Lady Cressingham repeated. "Unless I loved the man I was to marry." "Oh — that would come after, my dear. What about Wilfred Saxon?" Dulchiea looked at her mother, and saw the anxiety in her eyes ; withdrawing her own quickly, she studied tho rug at her feet. "Wilfred !" she repeated slowly. "Why, Aunt Agnes?" "Because Wilfred wishes to marry you." A gleam o-f amusement came into Dulcinea's eyes. "How "funny!" she said softly. Tears nnd protestations Lady Cressingham had expected — n-nd wn« used to — but this wn« war. And she stiffened instinctively, forgetting that Dulcinca was her prototype. "There is nothing funny about marriage," she said, and was sorry immediately becnuse Dulcinea smiled. "I never supposed thero was, aunt." Lady Creseinghnm never felt more liko shaking any one' in her life. Her face flushed and her lips hardened. "Tt is an honour for a man of Wil* j frod's wealth and position to offer marriage to a«y woman." "I should like hia new motor-car," Dulcinca styd irrelevantly. "Father says they are 'confounded smelly abominations,' but I like th<>m." Mrs. Marjron trembled. "Your fiither should bo more careful and less empbitic in his conversation before his children," Lady Crcssingham said very sternly. Then rising : "I must go now, Alice ; I have a friend to luncheon. I shall send Wilfred to ccc Colonel Maryon." "Oh, Dulcie 1 How could you?" Mr». Maryon cried when they were alone, "ITow could you?" When bJic was out of sight of the home, Lndy CrcHsingbnm laughed, and laughed again, leaning back in hor brougham. "Little monkey I" she said softly. "Ho\r I love her; she's worth all tho rest put together, and I'll ace her married well." 'When she arrived at ■ her house in Prince's Gate her guest was already thore, "Mr. Gordon is in the librArj," the butler told her ; and in a little whilo sho joined him there, and at once her whole demeanour changed. She greeted him affectionately as Kenneth, and the tall, soldierly man with the sunburnt face that spoke of long residence under Indian suns, was no less glad to boo her. An unspoken secret lay between those two— the little old lady and tho tail soldier—a secret th'a> had laiu in. hor heart for fifty years, and that Kenneth Gordon had found among his dead father's papers. A little bundle of letters, yellow with a?e, telling of a girl's devotion to a t pennilc»« younger son, breathing undying love and willingness to share his lot ( nnd yet again 10proaching him with indifference and pride, and again the outpouring of a bruised heart on the eve of h«& marriage with Lord CresMnghnm. So they were more like mother and son, for Lujdy Cressingham'a only child had died in) its infancy, and both Kenneth Gordon's 'pa ronts were dead, Like his father, ho was a soldier, poor nnd proud, and so like him in nppoarnnce that a sight of him always awoke the old heartache. He hnd been home from India on leave for three months, and was shortly to return. But the old lady knew he would leave his heart with Duloinea, whom he had met many times, for Colonel Maryon had been his father's greatest friend. Lady Cressjnghatn had watched love chango Duloinea from a child to a woman, and she knew — who better?— the man's pride. That he would never propose to Dulcinea sho knew also, becauso of his poverty and his pride j and so she had prepared a plan to benefit these two that she loved — the tall aoldier ftho was at a son to her, and the girl who was to her as a daughter. She had made a will sharing her vast wealth between them, but she was not going to tell Konnoth Gordon this ; she wanted' — for once^ — to play a. regular orthodox love match. As they sipped their coffee and he smoked, Lady Cressingham said very casually — "You've met Wilfred Saion, I think." "Yes. I lunched with a party that included him only the other day, and have met him eoveral times at Colonel Marypn's." "Hia engagement to Dulcinea will be announced in a few days^ — she is very , young, but rather grown up for her age, and fie is a sensible man, und wealth}' — of course, money is everything nowa. days." "Is that the oreed Miss Maryon ha« been educated up to?" Even Lady Crcssingham wan startled at the extreme bitterness of his tone, nnd a pans shot through her that she should cause nim to look so pained. "Well — no — and I have no doubt there is somo feeling ns well." "I hope so, for Miss Mnryon's future happiness." "How uncomfortable you aro, Kenneth, and as sentimental ns a girl." "Ah, Lady Cressinghnm, you cannot, deceive me — or yourself. Thnnk God, I know you better than to believe you would advocate a loveless marriage." "I have ofton. Love makes such fools of eonio women, und the majority of thorn are fools enough without its assistance." Ho sighed as ho rose to go. "Not going?" she nsked. "Yes, I'm eorry. I onjoy nothing better than a long balk with you, but I have so much to do, nnd my rime in getting short j I have only a fortnight." "At any mte, you will find time to drop in on Tuesday to dinner. Tho Maryons and Dulcinea— *he is to be presented, you know — will bo dining here." Ho knew he ought to refuse— ought never to «co her again — if she was to bo another man's wife. Lady Oiessineham guessed tho struggle in his mind. < "Don't deny me that, Kenneth," she snla. "I may not be here when you come home A/jnin." So he promised. Who could deocribo Dulcinea In hor debutante's gown? Kenneth Goidon drew a quick brea+h when he cume in. She iv»a ii lone in the great drawingrooni ■with Its mirror-pwielM^waUs aivd ita olmndtlicrs of cut glims, and looked as though she hnd just stepped out of iv drwurt. "Now, don't 1 look like Jane Shore?" she *aid in her light, merry voice, makintr him a curte#v

"You 100k — Mice an angel." "Did you ever sco one?" ".Never before to-ni(jht. Miss Maryon, I havo something I must say to you |while there is rimo." "Mamma will bo here in a second. Whnt is il^— k my hair coming down?" Then tho look in his eyes steadied her. "Cannot you guess?" "Yes," she replied gravely. "You saw | my engagement announced this morning." Colonel Maryon'a voice could be heard, , and another, *Wilfred Saxon's. The girl shot one quick, appealing look at the man before h*r, which said «o plainly : "Save me," ll a answered something thnt she alone heard, and then they both turned to meet the others, and Lady Crewiingham coming in, looked sharply at Dulcinca, and was satisfied, for there was- happiness and love in the girl's beautiful eyes, and Kenneth Gordon was beside her. A week later, coming in from her afternoon's drive, Lady Cressinchom was, OT pretended to be, surprised to find Mrs. Maryon in tears, awaiting her. "Why, whatever is tho matter, Alice?" she enquired ; "is Maryon ill, or the girls?" The weeping lady held out a pink telegraph form that told its own tale. It was from Dover. "JDulcinea and T married by special license thie morning. All particulars when we reach Paria — Kenneth Gordon." "What did Maryon say?" Lady Creseingham asked, repressing her amusement. Mrs. Maryon .looked confused. "Well, nunt, of course, Georgo is very plain-spoken, and he — he seemed rather glad, but I am co sorry if it hns offended you. George says Kenneth is the most thorough man he knows, nnd ho would rather wee Dulcip married to him than forty Saxons." "Maryon is the most sensible person I over had to deal with, and you may tell him so from me." Mre. Maryon left off weeping. "You — you approve of it?" she asked timidly. "Tt has be^n the desire of my life." "But I thonpht " "Women of your limitations, Alice, should never think ; they should only accept whnt has been thought out for them. That is why I married you to Colonel Maryon Now you may go, my dear, for I have some l«tt«rs to write." So Mrs. Maryon dried her eyes and went, and the old lady sat down and took out th« hurriedly written note Kenneth had sent her aome hours ago by a messenger boy. The paper fluttered unheeded to the ground -as her thoughts wandered from him to that other man with the troubled blue eyes and tho eunbxirnt face ; the years fell away and he sc«med to ctfcand before her, and she could see in his face that he thanked her for bringing the happiness to hia son's life that h«d lx?en denied to him. And a great peace came to her heart. — Maud Shields, in M.A.P.