THE CANKERWORM.

Evening Star, Issue 11657, 18 September 1901, Page 2

THE CANKERWORM.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BEING EPISODES OF A WOMAN'S LIFE,

BY GEO. MANVILLE FENN, Author of 'Black Blood,' 'A Mint of Money,' 'A Crimson Crime,' 'A Woman T/7art\ Winning,' 'Cursed By a Fortune,'- 'The Master of the Ceremonies,' Etc., Etc. [COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XXVIII. A QUESTION BF, CtTI'lD AND MAES. '• I do wonder that nobody has married her." thought Mrs Lesley, a dignified, hardlooking woman in black silk, with white cap and pocketed apron—a lady bearing the title matronly of " mistress," upon the strength of keeping the keys as housekeeper to the Earl of Inveraigh at his town residence in Holland Park, Kensington. As she thought this she stood looking at Cousin Sophy, grown pleasantly pink and plump, and suggestive of good living and a calm life, as she lay back in a lounge in the handsomely-furnished morning room, her lips slightly apart, her perfectly silverwhite hair unruffled, and her pale lavender half-mourning dress softly heaving as the lady slept. The nap ivas evidently a sudden accident, for Cousin Sophy's hands lay in her lap holding two huge ivory-knobbed pins connected .vith a mass of white knitting, the »puree of which—a great ball of wool—had ■falbn io the carpet and rolled some distance Towards the door. '' She i-; comfortable-looking, and not ?ueh a bad temper," muttered Mrs Lesley. . '' I know she has a nice bit in tho bank, '' »nd yet she keeps single." " Yon wished to speak to me, ma'am?" This aloud ; but it had no more effect apon the sleeper than the cheery singing if a canary in the conservatory, where the ;<ice swuug over a bank of choice flowers. " How fond site is of her forty winks,"' mt'tterd Lesley, as she gave a housekeeper - lik>' glance over the tasteful room, and then went across behind the lounge to give a lift and a sweep to the stamped velvet drapery which hung over a door. 1 " That girl does not improve a bit," she muttered. a.=. after a glance at the table—:i dust-searching glance—she returned 1o her former place near the ball of wool, and ri'ti'jhcd. " Sound as a church. Nothing like being r> o'il maid, without any trouble. I '..'•: know why she should many. If '■ - had children and a. husband who drank -V; wouldn't sl M p |i; <e that. Whcn's she .:-> : 'i:g out of mourning altogether." I won--s"■ i fr's a year ago now. I rather like ; :.' touched to awaken the sleeper, but •" o-.-h- (veked a sigh. " W>.d!. she'll never do any pood to the 1 ".dnnim tra.de," continued Mrs Lesley. " Nothing on her mind. T did think there wax something on with that old Mr Presto; : hut he never comes now." Theie was a louder cough given. "Well, she is fa-st," muttered the house-kc.-p'.T. Tben quite loudly: "You wanted ;':i'\ ma'am?" Cou-i» Sophy started up. raised her knitting, took a sfittch quickly, and then held it up before her face to hide a yawn. " Ah. Lesley." she said. "I did not hea* am come in." " No. ma'am." said the housekeeper. looping down to pick up the great bali of wool ;irul begin winding it, looking very s-vi:rely at the awakened one the while. tnd brLnshiir into her face a faint blush. "I—T think I mnst have been jrtst nod■linz_r.tF. Lesley," she said hastily. "These ovr-ninj parties do tire me so." " "\es. ma'am, thpy are trying." said the h-oiisnke'-per. " Not much evening about "licni. Your wool, ma'am." "Oh. thank yon. Lesley; I did not notice tJmt T. had dropped it." " No. ma'am. You wished to speak to me. ma'am?" " Y<-«, Lesley—about Colonel Davenport's -no;n •• Everything is quite ready, ma'am," said Hie hr-usekFcnor. in a tone of voice which ■■■urf.'"--rod "I know my business, ma'am, without any interference of yours." '"But he is.very particular, Lesley. You • K "e. in India he has been accustomed to have mink.ihs and wallahs to wait upon him ; .<n<: r,ord Irrveraigh says he is sure to b- a little eractrng about his bath and his morning reffee "" " You may depend upon everything being correct. Miss Bressemer," said Mrs Lesley, very sternly now. and Cousin Sophy colored ii little ,nore prnkfy. " Yes, yes: of course, Lesley," she said hastily; "and really I do not."want to in-ti'rf'-TP. You do manage everything so admirably." "Thank you, ma'am," said the housekeeper, with dignity. " But Lord Inveraigh is worrying me a 7iear deal. He is so fidgety about his brother's old friend." " Been in India a many years, ma'am. I believe." said Lesley; and then to herself: ".Mr Right coming at last." " Yes, Leslev; and I'm afraid he will be ■ luireIuire an invalid." " Yes, ma'am; Indian officers often are. Had livers, ma'am." "Oh. yes, Lesley. General Strathley is alwavs having the doctor; but I really think it is more from eating so much curry and chatnev and hot pickley things." " Very likely, ma'am. I have told Morrison to see that the India soy and pickled capsicums arid cayenne pepper are alwavs close at himd. "Ah, that's quite right, Lesley." "And given instructions to the cook to have curried prawns, lobster, or chicken every day as an entree, and a devil for breakfast." " That's quite riarht, Lesley. I know yon will do your best." "You may depend upon me. ma'am." "'Thank you, Lesley. I think that was all I hau to say." Mrs Lesley .stood still and watched the plump white hands, with their dimples at the knuckles, busily working the great wooden pins and producing more soft woollen fabric. "Yes, Lesley?" said Cousin Sophv, looking up wonderingly. "There is something I must say to you, ma'am, if you please, occupying the position yon do in this establishment, and as her ladyship likes every little trouble to be referred to you " "Now, Lesley," cried Cousin Sophy, letting her hands drop in her lap, "don't for goodness sake say that you want to leave." "No. ma'am, I was not going to." Cousin Sophy sighed with relief, and went on with her knitting. " What is it, then ?" she said. " Well, ma'am, if you'll excuse me, and of course it's out of respect and interest in his lordship's household that I say it." " Now, Lesley, please don't bo mysterious. Do pray speak out." " Certainly, ma'am, for mystery is a thin" T abhor. What I wanted to" say was: Have you noticed anything particular send strange about my young lady?" " "Miss Helen? Noticed? Oh, Lesley, and I was thinking she had grown so well and strong again. Don't say she's going to havo a relapse." "Very ill once, wasn't she, ma'am?" "Oh, yes, Lesley," cried Cousin Sophy out in Switzerland : but that's many years ago, and oh—oh, dear me, Lesley, you quite startle me." j " I'm sorry I'm sure, ma'am, but she quite v.ernts me." , «", oh, > d t !? r ?",', , t,icd cou^ Sophy, letting fall her ball of wool again • I " 1 do hope that " ' j I, ma'am," said Leslie, severely i " for you see -she is so young." I ••Lesley, what do you mean?" ." That she seems so strange, ma'am. One day she's laughing and singing about the house, and dashing off those noisy pieces on the piano, and the next day she's as moping and sad as can be." "Yes, Lesley, now you mention it I have noticed that; but tnose are not symptoms of a relapse."

"No, ma'am," said the housekeeper, meaningly ; " not of a relapse. You'll pardon me, I'm sure." " Of course, Lesley. There's nothing to pardon," said Cousin Sophy, who was growing flurried; "but what do you mean?" " Well, ma'am," said the housekeeper, smiling, "you don't think that—you know ?" "I know?" said Cousin Sophy, stiffly; "really, my good woman, I do not know." "Well, ma'am, then I hardly like to tell you." . * "Lesley," said Cousin Sophy, drawing herself up and trying to look dignified. "I am surprised at your daring to utter these hints and innuendoes. I must insist upon your, speaking out. Or perhaps you had better go and say what you mean "to Lady Inveraigh." " Oh, no, ma'am, please; I would rather tell you." "Then speak out, my good woman." " Well, if I must, ma'am, I must; and of course it is only natural at her age. I meant—thinking' about—a, gentleman." "A gentleman!" cried Cousin Sophy; "a gentieman! Really, Lesley, I don't under during which htSv smooth pink-and-wliite face puckered up tift it assumed quite a look of horror, "a child InSe that? For shame!" "I beg your pardon, ma'am, I'm sure," said the housekeeper, quickly; " but young ladies are not now like what young 'ladies used to be when we were young." Cousin Sophy's countenance was a studv, as for a few moments sue remained speechless. Then, ruffling up, she turned upon Loid Inveraigh's principal domestic official quite fiercely. " Really, Lesley." she cried, " vou surprise me ! When we were vouns." indeed! I was not aware that I was old. Of course, I m older than I was." "Yes, ma'am." said Leslev, hastily; "but i.or at all elderly looking, I'm sure." " Let me assure you." cried Cousin Sophv, interrupting the apologetic words, "that you are laboring under a very grave mistake. Lord Inveraigh's daughter has been too well brought up—too much influenced by her ladyship's, and I might say if I liked wi:hout vanity, my example, ever to think ot—er—of—er—gentlemen." . 'You are. of cour.-e, right, ma'am." "I am right, Lesley." " I beg pardon, ma'am, for my mistake." "I am sure I am right, Leslev. Yes ; she does look pale and worried ;" but it is all due to this busy life of the London season; this gomg out to dinner niidit after night and these late parties and "balls." ' " Perhaps so. ma'am." "Of course. See how they affect Lady Inveraigh." ma'am; she does seem lowspirited." "Terribly, at times. Notlring seems to rouse her." "No, ma'am, nothing. I'm sure, if I might say so, it's a good thing for this house that you are here." " Then you may not sav so, Leslev," cried Cousin Sophy, with 'asperity; "'for it's a piece of flattery, and that is a thing I detest." "1 beg your pardon, ma'am." "Granted, Lesley; but you, as his lordship's confidential old servant, ought to be above such petty ways. And there—for goodness sake disguise that dreadful idea about Miss Helen." "Yes. ma'am, certainly." "And you'll see that everything is quite ready?" " Certainly, ma'am ; his lordship may depend upon even-thing beiug as he 'could wish it." " Hush! Here is Lord Inveraigh." Ten years or so had made their mark on Lord luveraigh, but not unkindly. He had grown thinner, greyer, aud more elderly in aspect, but it was only a dry kind of ripeness, and it was with a brisk checrv voice, though fidgety way, that he exclaimed as he entered with a telegram in his hand: " All, here is Lesley! My good Lesley, havo you consulted with Miss Bressemer about Colonel " " Yes, yes, George," cried Cousin Sophy, interrupting him. "I have arranged all that. You can go now, Lesley." "Yes, ma'am," said the housekeeper; and then as she went towards the door: "Oh, you old innocent!" she said to herself. " I believe she means, it. But a pretty young girl of seventeen, and not begin to think about gentlemen! Oh, dear! For a curious unreasoning kind of big babv commend me to an old maid!" CHAPTER XXIX. crrr-m's rum,. Lord Inveraigh went up to Cousin Sophy as the door closed, and handed her a telegram. "There, Sophy, my dear," he said, "his long voyage is nearly over. A telegram from Davenport—and he will be here about twelve." "So soon?" said Cousin Sophy, reading the message. "From Calais." pray, my dear, see about his room." '"Oh, you tiresome old man!" muttered Cousin Sophy. "I would not trouble you so, my dear, but I hesitate about speaking to dear Linda, and I know how clever you are about these little social tactics." "Don't flatter me, George." " Not at all, my dear. It is a fact." "Well, make yourself perfectly easy, George, everything will be ready." "I am obliged to you, Sophy. But you will tell the servants yourself to mind that he is properly attended to?" "Properly," thought Cousin Sophy, as she stabbed her wool. "Oh, I do wish you'd be quiet. Yes, George," she said aloud; "it is all properly attended to." "Thank you, Sophy!" said Lord Inveraigh, seating himself with a sigh of content, and taking up the morning's paper, to hold thoughtfully before him as if reading, and perfectly unconscious that it was upside down. "You see, dear, being a military man, and accustomed to command, he may bo a little exacting." "Yes, George," said Cousin Sophy, and then to herself: "Fond of shouting at people and calling servants names." " Indian officers. often are. It is the heat, I suppose. I think poor dear old Fred said in one of his last letters that his friend was rather exacting and a trifle irritable." " Yes, George ; you read us the letter." " To be sure; I remember now. But where is Linda?" " Upstairs; taking off her things after her constitutional. Helen too." "Ah!" sighed Lord Inveraigh, with a dreamy look of content in his eyes. " She will be down, of cour.se, before Davenport comes. A trifle irritable," he added thoughtfully. "Yes, the climate—l suppose." "Yes, George. I don't suppose he'll have a bit of liver left. Blue pill and black draught," she added softly. " My dear Sophy!" said Lord Inveraigh, half reproachfully. "I beg your pardon, George," said the lady, coloring. '' I only meant that was the best remedy." "I do not understand you, dear." ! " Blue pill and black draught." " You need not say a word about—about —those unpleasant medicaments," said his lordship, coldly; " and Colonel Davenport's health is not a pleasant matter for discussion. By the way," he continued, without noticing his cousin's puzzled looks, "I should like Edward to be detailed to wait upon him." "I told Lesley to arrange with Morrison.

Oh dear me, what a tiresome old man you do grow!" she added, in thought. "That was very good of you, Sophy. What a head you havo! But I should see that he had a bath in his room."' " Now, my dear George, do you thdnk it likely that I should let a. visitor come and stay hero without a bath in his room and on extra supply of towels?" "No, no, no. Of course not. I really beg your pardon, Sophy. But I know that Davenport is very particular. Military men axe, you see. Poor Fred,, as you remember, used, to say so when he was speaking so warmly to his old friend. I should like him to receive a. Very, very warm welcome." " Which of course he will have, George." " Of course, my dear. I have said a great deal to Linda about his being made comfortable." * Now, my dear George, do pray try not to be such an old fidget, and worry dear Linda. Everything that a visitor could expect is provided for him. Do for goodness' sake have some confidence in Lesley and me." "Yes, yes; of course, of course. Ah, Sophy, you relieve Linda of a vast deal of trouble." • " Well," said Cousin Sophy, " that is what I am here for. Then to herself: Bless and save the man, what a fuss about this Colonel Davenport, to be sure." "Yes, yes, my dear Sophy. But I am very grateful, all the same." " Then don't worry Linda any more. Nor ine neither," she added to herself, again sticking a wooden knitting pin fiercely into her ball of wool. " No, no. of course not, my dear," said Lord Inveraigh, rustling his paper. " But Helen does not come down." " She'll be here directly, C4eorge ; and, by the way, I want to have a word or two with you about her." " Sophy!" " She really is not what she should be, George." " ily dear Sophy," cried Lord Inveraigh, excitedly; "you alarm me." " Oh, no, no; I don't want to alarm you. It is nothing much, but she rather troubles me." " My dear Sophy, pray come to the point, ! ' cried Lord Inveraigh. "You are keeping me on thorns. What, do you mean?" " Well, it is this. George. Lesley has noticed it, too. Helen does not seem as she used to be. One day she is all excitement, the next dull and depressed." " lias Linda noticed it'/"said Lord Inveraigh, excitedly. " No, and 1 have said nothing ; for she is so delicate, and I did not want to worry her." " Quite right, my dear ; quite right. But what do you think it is? Not strong since that terrible illness. We must have the best medical advice." " No, no, dear; we must have change. Both your wife iind Helen are- suffering from the reaction after this constant round of dinner parties and *at homes.' They want more sleep. Why not take ns all abroad again?" "Abroad?" " Yes; Switzerland would do." "Of course; yes," said Lord Inveraigh. "Yes, the very thing." "And you will start soon?" '' Well, er—no, I forgot Davenport is coming, you see; and besides, I had been entering into an engagement —a special engagement on Lady Inveraigh's behalf. Really, Sophy, 1 am quite at a loss as to what to do." "Hush!" whispered Cousin Sophy. "Here she is." Then, louder: "Yes. Everything has been done to give Colonel Davenport a wann welcome. Aud he will "Ah, Helen, my darling!" cried Lord Inveraigh tenderly, as he rose to take the hands of the charming petite girl of seventeen who entered the room, looking sweetly iuuocent and pretty, with her delicate complexion and soft, warm color. " Well, papa dear," said the girl, reaching up to kiss him, as he led her to his chair, where he seated himself, while she rested upon the arm. " finished your paper?" " Oh, yes, dear, quite. But Helen, my I child." lie continued, as he looked her. anxiously in the face, " you do not look well." " Papa, dear!" she cried, bursting into a merry laugh, "how can you say so? Why, I never felt so well before. Whatever made you think that?" " There!" cried Lord Inveraigh, angrily. " Now, my dear Sophy, how can you be so unreasonable—so full of vain imaginings The child is perfectly upset, and you upset me with your foolish notions at a time like this, when I am overburdened with anxiety about Davenport's arrival." "What has Cousin Sophy been saying, papa?" " That you and dear mamma both look seriously ill and require change—taking abroad at once." " Oh, papa!" cried the girl, with a look of dismay. " My stupidity, I suppose," said Cousin Sophy, knitting away furiously. "I'm always wrong." " No, no, Cousin Sophy," cried the girl, merrily; ". it is only because you are so over anxious about dear mamma and me. Papa, dear, it really isn't safe even to sneeze when Cousin Sophy is in the room." "Indeed, and why. my darling?" said Lord Inveraigh, holding one of the girl's hands to his cheek. " Because she thinks it's the first symptom of inflammation of the lungs." " Oh, tut, tut, tut, my dear! Cousin Sophy means well even if she is a little over careful. But eT —by the way. my darling, you have not noticed—er—that mamma seems at all unwell ?" " Oh, no, papa. She always has that sad, quiet way. But ill? Oh. no, I'm sure she is quite well. Why, of course, I should have known directly. She never keeps anything from me." " Of course not, my darling; of course not. Then I may be quite easy, you think?" " Yes, yes, papa, of course." "I'm very sorry," said Consm Sophy, knitting away furiously. "It was all my fancy, and I'll try and be more particular and never do so any more." Lord Tirveraigh settled dow.i in his chair, beaming with content, as Helen leaned towards him from tho arm and began to rearrange his tie. "Tell me more about Colonel Davenport, papa," she said. CHAPTER XXX. r/OUNTI'IIFEIT PRESKTTTMKVrS. Cousin Sophy gave a start, aud with open mouth glanced sidewise at the group on the chair. " Well! " she ejaculated, softly. " About Colonel Davenport, my dear? " said Lord Inveraigh, prisoning his child's busy hands and raising them to his lips one by one. " What am I to tell you more than you know, little Helen?" "But tell me again, papa." » " Oh, dear," Said Lord Inveraigh, smilin<* up at the charming young face so near his, " and here have I been thinking my little Helen almost a woman gTown, and she talks still like the little girls who want to be told tho fairy stories over again! Well, let me see; our new visitor is a very gallant officer. All that is noble and brave quite a Bayard—and he has distinguished himself greatly in India." " Old, papa? " Cousin Sophy started again, and her face twitched. "Lesley is right," she said to herself. "Oh, dear me! And that child, too!" "Old?" said Inveraigh. "H'm—no, not old. He was. than your uncle. Middle-aged, I suppose." " And what is he like, papa? " " Well! " said Cousin Sophy to herself, " if I had not- heard it I wouldn't have "believed it." " What is he like? " said Lord Inveraigh, repeating his child's words, as he patted her hands. "Ah, that I cannot tell, my dear. I'm afraid, very much broken by wounds and the climate. He was your dear uncle's closest friend. Poor Uncle Fred was shot as you know, and died m Colonel Davenport's arms. Poor fellow! He, too, was a very gallant soldier, Helen, and w'e must make much of bis brave companion in arms. But there, there, there—we must not show the tired soldier saddened faces. You must be very attentive to him, and do all you can to make him feel "' " Now, George," exclaimed Cousin Sophy, whose countenance for some time jwist had

been a perfect study,. in which . surprise, horror, and anger had struggled for the mastery, " I really cannot sit here and listen to such dreadful things." "Sophy!" . "Oh, it's of no use.for you to be angry. Jt must speak out at once,-for everybody's,! sake. If you ; have any matrimonial ideas " " Sophy!" "I don't care. I will. I say matrimonial ideas about Helen and this old Indian officer, they really must be stopped. These marriages between old and young are shocking." . T " Sophy! '* cried Lord Inveraigh, his voice sounding deep with anger and annoyance, " you really surprise me. Really I " " Oh, very welL There, then, I've done. I only spoke with the best intentions." j "Best intentions, Sophy, often prove to be our greatest foes." " That's wrongly quoted, George," "Never mind, Sophy; but you should really be more discreet." "Don't be cross with her, papa dear," pleaded Helen. "It is all because Cousin Sophy loves me so and wants to take so much care of me." "I know that, my dear," said her father.: "Of course. But she should really be more guarded in her words. For even if I had such ideas " " But you have not, papa," cried the girl, eagerly. "No, no; no, no, my darling • of course not. But I Say, even if I had I might point to the union between her ladyship and myself. Could married life be happier, Sophy?" rt "No, George, dear; of course not," cried Cousin Sophy, hastily. "I was all wrong. I'm growing into a terribly stupid old lady, am 1 not, Helen?" "No, dear," said Helen, creeping behind her, to throw her arms about the soft, white peck, draw tho pleasant face back, and kiss it lovingly in various dimples. "Helen, my dear, how you are rumpling my hair. There, that will do, pet. George, dear, you must, forgive me again." "I do forgive you. Sophy, and we will dismiss this foolish idea. And now as we are alone I want to confide to you a great surprise that I have in store for mamma." Helen clapped her hands, in her girlish delight, while Cousin Sophy raised her eyebrows a trifle; " What an idol ho does make of her'" she said to herself. ( "More diamonds, papa?" cried Helen. 'Oh! do show fhem to mo before she comes." "No. no, silly, child," said Lord Invenugh, patting her cheek. "A present for her that shall show future generations what the sweet lady was like who consented to be an old man's wife and a mother to his orphaned child." Ho spoko in a low and reverent tone drawing Helen towards him, as his words were broken slightly with emotion, and kissed her tenderly. ■ "I, papa dear >" cried Hel6n > «*- cited*}-. Th e first guess: her picture.". Yes, my child,, you are right; her portrait." Cousin Sophy was bending over her knitting, with her hands montionless, her brows knit, and her thoughts off m another direction. "It almost seems," she said to hersell " that I must have given him cause to think something of the kind, or he would never have stayed away so long as this. I don't think he ever did before. Oh, if he did I should die of shame." ' "What do you think, Sophy?" "I—l. George?" she stammered. "I did not speak." "No, dear; about the portrait—Linda's?" "A very nice idea, I am cried Cousin Sophy, quickly, and with a sigh of relief. " Thank yon, my dear Sophy. It is very good of you to say so." "But who is going to paint it, papa deai-?" asked Helen, with a conscious look: "the president?" "No, no, my dear. I believe in encouraging clever young artists." Helen slightly changed color. | "Don't you remember, my dear, how greatly mamma was struck at the Academy with that picture of. a Sea. Nymph—the one. which bore so strong a resemblance to you?" "Yes, papa—l think I remember," said Helen, ,whi}so. countenance grew more and more .conscious. ..■ ! '. "'You must recall "it, my dear; the'likeness was so remarkable that you might have sat for the model." "Which of- course she did not," said Cousin Sophy, listening now to the conversation, while Helen turned away, snatched a book from the table and hastily turned over the leaves. "That picture," prosed on Lord Inveraigh, "was the work of a very eminent young artist—a Mr Archibald Grant. The papers have been full of his praises. I think he is going to rise very high." "Very likely," said Cousin Sophy. "I have noticed that when once the papers begin to talk about a young artist he is pretty sure to grow famous." " Yes," continued Lord Inveraigh; while Helen bent lower over her book, her cheeks burning and a brightened look in her eyes, which intensified as her father went on : "I have bought that picture, for the sake of its accidental resemblance to you, Helen." The girl gave a violent start at this. "Indeed, papa?" she said uneasily, and Cousin Sophy looked at her coriousry and increased her trouble. " You are glad of that, Helen?" "Ye—es, I think so, papa." < "That is right, my dear. It will help a promising young artist, and fill that vacancy on the landing admirably. Bnt of course I purchased the picture "principally for its merits. And now for the surprise." "Is there another surprise, papa?' said Helen, faintly. " Yes, my dear. Mr Archibald Grant has consented to paint mamma's portrait." "Is anything the matter, Helen, dear?" said Cousin Sophy. "Matter? No, no," said the girl, hastily. " She is only taking a deep interest in my project, Sophy," said Lord Inveraigh, rather severely. " Which means that I am not," thought Cousin Sopny. "Well, George, dear," said she aloud, " it will be tiresome for dear Linda to have to sit, but it will be a very graceful present to her. It will be a pleasure for us, too—for we shall all share." "Thank you, Sophy." said Lord Inveraigh, who looked mollified. " I have asked Mr Grant to call upon us, and I shall have the pleasure of introducing him to mamma and asking her consent." As he spoke the portiere was drawn aside, and Lady Inveraigh stood holding the drapery, looking smilingly at the-group before her. She was little changed, tame having dealt very gently with her face, which was beautified by the tender look of sadness in her eyes and the tremulous play of her lips. " My consent to what, dearest?" she said. "Some new plot to snrprise me?" "Yes," cried Lord Inveraigh, rising. "Hah.! Don't move! Excellent! The very attitude, holding that curtain. Why, Helen, my child, the doorway might be the frame of the living picture." " Capital, papa, dear," cried Helen. Then running to Lady Inveraigh's side, she clung to her and whispered : " Oh, mamma, dear, I wish I were as beautiful as you." " And I wish I were as voung and happy as you, Helen, my child."" " Ah, I can hear," cried Lord Inveraigh,

laughing. " Shame] Paying each other I compliments." He joined Lady Inveraigh as he spoke, took .her. hand, and tenderly led her to a seat. ■ ; . .' ._ "But we are betrayed,'- he said.'"The one plotted against has overheard, so the conspirators must confess." "What have you to confess?" said Lady Inveraigh, laying one hand upon, those which grasped the other. "To a great deal of secret plotting unknown to you. • Mr Archibald Grant, my dear, that young artist, has consented to paint your portrait." " Indeed! You wish it painted?" "It would give us all the greatest pleasure if you would consent to sit. I have seen Mr Grant, and bought his 'Academy picture. He was very unwilling to undertake the commission, but I begged so hard that he reluctantly said 'Yes' at last." "Aren't you. well, dear?" whispered Cousin Sophy. " You do look so strange." "Yes, yes, Cousin Sophy. "I am quite well," whispered Helen, pettishly. "I wish you would not be always thinking that I am ill." "Yon will sit, Linda?" said Lord Inveraigh, beseechingly. • "Oh, yes, George, certainly; but not yet." "Not yet?" said Lord Inveraigh, in a bone full of disappointment. " You forget that Colonel Davenport will he here." "By no means, my dear," said Lord Inj veraigh, eagerly. "He will be quite like ! one of us, and to bo candid I have been carrying on my pleasant plot till it is near completion. Mr Grant stipulated that he should be allowed to see you first, and I have risked your displeasure and asked Mr Grant to call here this morning." Helen turned quickly away, now quite pale, but she did not succeed in hiding her emotion from Cousin Sophy, who watched her narrowly, full of imaginings suggested j by Lesley's hints. " Now, look at that V she said to herself ; I " the child is really growing to be a great source of anxiety. Helen, my darling!" " Yes, Cousin Sophy!" cried the girl, tripping to her 'side and laying her hands upon the knitter's plump shoulder. " Now, j what are you thinking, dear? I'm sure you fancy I have a bad headache." . "Let me see*what time it is," said Lord Inveraigh, consulting his watch. " I must not forget my task. lam going to drive to ■ the station to meet Davenport, Linda." |. "Do, dear; it will seem warmer towards him." " Plenty of time. Poor fellow, yes. You remember how Fred mentioned him in his very last letter?" Yes," said Lady Inveraigh, with a sigh; "how he had helped him when under fire." "These soldiers make one think what poor weak lives we civilians live. No noble deeds, no daring acts of friendship." " What is your father saying to Lady Inveraigh, Helen?" said Cousin Sophy, pettishly. "There's that sad, frightened look on her face again—the same as it comes sometimes." "It is only the intensity of expression that she assumes when she is in earnest." I "Then I wish she would not be in earnest, my dear. I often think when I see it that she is going to be ill." s" "Well, I think I will go," said Lord Inveraigh reluctantly, his years of married life seeming in no wise to "have damped the warmth of his attentions to his wife. "Poor fellow," he continued, dreamily; "we must show him the meaning of an English welcome." " Indeed we will dear—for your brother's sake." "Thank you, Linda. I knew I mi-'ht count upon this. It is so sad for a man alone in the world to return after years of absence from home to find no home." Colonel Davenport never married?" "No, my deal-. Fred used to say that he had only one thought—his profession. Well if the Government do their duty to those who fight their battles honor ought to await our friend now he has come home." "I should think that is sure to follow." "I don't know," said Lord Inveraigh rather bitterly. "Kissing goes by favor' Many of our fine old officers are neglected There— % is time to go," he continued, after walking to tlie window to see if the carriage was waiting. " Helen, my dear, One kiss " She ran to him, and he embraced her as if he were going on 5 a journey, instead of to Charing Cross and back. ' "I hardly think it likely," he said, as he walked towards the door with Lady Inver aigh, "but if this Mr Grant should come pray entertain him till I return, Sophv'" ' "No, really I could not," cried Cousin .Sophy starting. "Dear me! I really believe I was nearly asleep."

."Ven- nearly, Sophy dear. Look at them. You are a wicked prophetess of ill—a Uussandra in Holland .f arK. Au revoir. Helen, my darling, if this Mr Grant does

come, you must ask him where he obtained his model. She must be Wonderfully lik» you." . (To be continued.)