Sylvestre’s Secret

Evening Star, Issue 20116, 5 March 1929, Page 3

Sylvestre’s Secret

[Au Rights Reserved.]

By Alice M. Diehl

CHAPTER XVII. t'ORT) SYIjVESTHK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM. To Madge, still palpitating, uncertain, unconvinced by the arguments adduced by Julian to bring her to fall in with his ideas for a speedy and clandestine union, Lord Sylyestro’s • speech, “ I have had very bud news. To me, more than bad,” was a nervous shock. She cried “OhI” faintly—it was more like the whin© of a suffering animal than the pained exclamation of a human being. - Tell me!” ‘‘You must not bo distressed, dear; you can yourself do much to help, if not, indeed, almost everything,” he said, in caressing tones. He was seated opposite Madge in the cosy, wellfurnished room which was called “ his lordship’s sitting room.” It was the private sanctum out of which ho had given orders he was not to be unearthed except for exceptional demands upon him. “It is only this; I have heard from the chateau that no further news bars been received of your father, and that the effect of the anxiety and suspense upon your poor mother has been such that the French physician has grave fears—thinks her in such a precarious state that you ought, if you wish to be a true daughter, to join her as soon as possible. Don’t interrupt, Julian! You will have the chance to show your boasted devotion to Marguerite. I should not approve of her travelling; with the sole escort of Dr Hayward, who must also start as soon as possible. But with two squires, it is a different matter. Marguerite will take her maid, and while she and her maid travel in a sp.cial cabin, you and Hayward will arrange as you please.” Madge crimsoned. Julian was speechless for an instant, then, in a choked voice, ho muttered his readiness to comply. Madge hardly understood what he was saying, her brain was awhirl. Once more her outward life had suddenly shifted in kaleidoscopic fashion. A few days before, her mother had been better, her father’s return was hopeful. Then, in a flash, ho thought of the poor mother—perhaps on her deathbed. “ Oh, cannot I start at once? I don’t mind being alone,” she began, but Lord Sylvestre, bis main point gained, interrupted. His arrangement was the right one; they must start together. “ While your mother remains in danger, 1 am sure all other feelings and thoughts but the desire to help her will remain in abeyance,” he gravely added. “ She wants Dr Hayward; she believes in him. So all foolish jealousies and bickerings, silly loves and hates will, I am sure, be waived by yon, dear child, you, my good Julian, as well as by Hayward, who will be in here directly. You, Marguerite, had better give orders about your _ packing at once, and order your maid to see to things. You leave here at 5 precisely.” Madge swerved giddily as she rose in obedience, but mutely refused Julian's arms with a sadder glance of her eyes than he had as yet seen there. Tie turned, stirred to a warm feeling of indignation, as he closed the door upon her. “I cannot understand it all!” he hotly cried. “ One day the poor child is told one thing, the next another; it is enough to scare her out of her >vits!” “My dear cousin, truth must be told ■—the truth which is stranger than Action,” said Sylvestre, with a weary smile and a sigh which sounded as if lie was greatly bored by life. “ But surely now is the time for you to show this boasted love of yours. You have a fair field in which to secure your liege lady and win her from the old love. Oh, yes! You must put up with that, you know! Hayward was first favourite, nnl would have remained so, for she is not capricious, but that he was fool enough to fall foul of that adored father of hers. By the way, I have no i longer any doubt. Bolcombo is either dead or has purposely disappeared.” “But why?” Julian leant up against the mantelpiece, frowning. Ids hands in his pockets. He looked as ho felt—perplexed, even suspicions. Lord Sylvestre shrugged his shoulders. “Because, my dear hoy, of all the fantastic, eccentric creatures horn into this world he is, perhaps, the most iantastic and eccentric—that is the only explanation that I can see,’ ho replied. “I do no not pretend to understand tlie abnormal in nature. But that, I think, is Hayward’s knock.” “1 am off,” said Julia, looking round as if trapped. “ Can Igo through your dressing room. I don’t want to sec the fellow——” “ Well, if you want to squire Marguerite, I am afraid you will have to see a good deal of the ‘fellow,’” said Sylvestre, gazing after bis heir with a peculiar expression, as Julian, his hair ruffled, his hands in his pockets, strode savagely into his adjacent dressing room. Then be tiptoed after him, and satisfied himself that the doors were safely closed upon this cousin and heir of Ids before ho opened to admit Hayward.

V t V • V Mrs Hamblyn was returning from her domestic duties with the housekeeper when, entering the drawing room where she had left Eve and Lady Fosgrave working, while Sir Hugh read ‘ The Times ’ to them, she found Lord Syivestre talking, and an air of suppressed agitation about the group, which prepared her for the news that all was wrong again across the Channel. “Oh, poor, poor Marguerite!” she cried. “Arid—Julian and the doctor —they are going, too—why, when yon and Sir Hugh leave ns, dear, we shall be quite by ourselves—three persons in this big house!” Sir Hugh and Lady Fosgrave were leaving on the morrow. Eve, who was genuinely concerned, went up to Madge’s room. She said little to the pale, saddened girl, hut much was expressed by her loving kiss and embrace her unobtrusive help. There was a hush about the great house that day. Madge lunched in her room, Eve keeping her company—and there was a certain depression about the luncheon party in the big dining room. At S' o’clock, tea having been served in the hall, the big green motor car and Lord Sylvestre’s little white car came to the door. Madge appeared in hat and cloak, followed by Eve, and obeyed her guardian by mounting to the second seat in the white motor. Then Julian, Hayward, and Sir Hugh—who was going to “see them off”'—packed themselves into the tonneau of the green car—Madge’s maid had accompanied tho groom driving the Inggagecarfc—the green car streamed off through the park, Lord Sylvestre took his driver’s place on the little white car, which' be drove to a nicety, and tlie three I--lies stood watching before tho massiiJ old doorway.

Kexfc (lav i’ - ? T -ijraves returned to oil f >' way to pay other

'Author of ‘The Montamor Case,’ ‘The Marriage of Penore,’ etc,

I visits, for they were much in request as complaisant and cheerful guests, who were not bitten by the captious, fault-finding craze prevalent among their fastidious class. “Wo shall be dull!” eloquently said Mrs Hamblyn. She hardly relished the prospect of what she considered would be practically a tete-a-tete with Sylvestre, for whom—why, she hardly knew—she had begun to conceive an inexplicable feeling of mingled awe and vague distrust. But Eve only gave a smile. “Oh, motherkiu, how could anyone bo dull where cousin Sylvestre is?” she almost reproachfully said. “Well, my love, if he were not so very clever—anyone can see ho is that —I should describe him as a downright dull old bachelor, and an old bachelor is duller than an old maid!” returned her mother, glancing curiously at Eve, who always brightened, not only when Sylvestre appeared, but at any allusion • to him—indeed, at the very mention of his name. Had any suspicion arisen in her mind that it might bo a case of attraction between May and December? in the earlier days she had fancied that Eve indulged in hero worship, the hero being her cousin, and that there was an expression in Sylvestre’s eyes sometimes when he gazed at her child in seeming absence of mind which she saw then only—at no other time. If Sylvestre were addicted to the subtle self-deception of those who have rags of conscience still left, lie had never attempted" to hide the passion for Eve, which for long had been the mainspring of his conduct and actions, from himself. Ho had now come to the point of readiness to do, or forego, any mortal tiling which stood in theway of his possession of her. Even Ids' undoubted affection for Madge, the child of Ids adoption, was weakened by bis intensified, devouring love for his sweet cousin.

Sylvesfcrc had never seemed quite so joyous, so almost boyishly hilarious, as when lie was left alone with Eve and her mother. He daily drove them out, either in one of the motors or behind a now pair of perfectly-trained carriage horses, long drives to see the various beauty spots of the neighburhood. Then ho played chess with Eve or walked in the gardens with both ladies, or with his love alone. Mrs Hamblyn remarked upon it. “I hardly know him in this humour,” she said ,watching the effect of her words upon her child. “ I wonder what the reason of it is?” “Why should he not be happy when he has done nothing but make other people so?” returned Eve, colouring deeply. Then the crimson faded rapidly; she was pale as the white roses she was arranging in a. frail Bohemian vase to bo put on a table where Sylvestre placed the books he was reading. Her mother said no more. But the fourth day after Madge’s departure with her escorts Lord Sylvestro was taking tea with the mother and daughter on the terrace, when old Jones brought him a telegram, and Mrs Hamblyn, who had fallen into the habit of watching her extraordinary host, noticed a change of countenance. What was Sylvestre’s expression as he held the slip with a hand that shook, and said, “Ho answer,” to the waiting butler? She decided that she had never before seen that terrible look on mortal face. It was—yes. she would not deny it to herself—like that of Lucifer in a great religions painting, where that fallen angel was depicted watching a battlefield. Was it triumph? Yes, if triumph was a savage emotion. But the expression was past and gone before she could make up her mind—and Sylvestre, the telegram pocketed, became his wonted cheery self, overflowing with urbanity. But as soon ns ho had taken his tea, ho left them with a few words. “I am going to put Nimrod through his paces for an hour or two, I will tell you what I think of him when me meet at dinner,” lie said. Nimrod was a magnificent specimen of a hunter he had admired when buying his carriage horses, and he was having him on trial. Eve had been with him to inspect the beautiful creature that afternoon, when, as they stood with the somewhat anxious groom in the loose box. he declared his intention of exercising him each morning before breakfast. Why, then, she asked _ herself, tins sudden, unpremeditated ride? Jf she could have seen that small, insignificant slip of paper he had tucked away in Ins pocket she might have guessed the reason of his change of plan. For the words carelessly written by the telegraph clerk were ominous: “ She died an hour ago.” CHAPTER XVI! I. “ .v m,umu;.urn’s chamhek.” Sylvestre felt as if those words were burning themselves into his soul, as he left the beautiful old house and went through the gardens to the stables. The stableynrd was large, squarestables, coach-houses, garage enclosing three sides, while on the fourth, wnere a high brick Avail completed its isolation, an old horse-chestnut shaded the well-kept cobbles. Stone mounting steps by the outer door pointed to the antiquity of the place. A groom m shirtsleeves with sleek hair and turnedup sleeves was hissing away as he polished some harness just outside an open door. He stopped, sainted, and came forward as ho saw his master enter. , „ Tr , . . ... “ Nimrod, mTordP Had him out this arternoon, and ’e was that fresh. But I took it out on ’im. Safe for your lordship to ride? I should sav, certinglv, ’F come hack quiet as a lamb. Nimrod hardly justified the flattering allusion, as he curvetted and wriggled, “a beautiful, sleek, black, slender--1 imbed creature,” thought Sylvestre, as he assisted the groom to saddle him. And when lie essayed to mount, and the horse as soon as lie was in the saddle, reared, then galloped off as if possessed by the foul fiend himself, his rider set his teeth and told himself he Avon Id “ take it out of the horse and of liimself as Avell.” He alloAved the nervous creature his will ; he gave him his head, and, with the curb on a finger ready for emergencies, he enioyed the rapid flight through the air. . . . Along the road, then, swerving to the left, uphill across the slope until Ransomc Common was reached, Avith its Avell-known “ride,” a clearing of some 12ft Avido, leading to _ the highest point, here a circle of Avind-bloAvn Scotch firs Avas a landmark to the surrounding country. The black horse took the hill gallantly, if Aviklly, and, reeking Avith sAveat, seemed contented to subside into an amble when they reached Hie summit. Sylvestre felt relieved. The fierce excitement he had endured Avhen he read that telegram, which had hurt him to suppress, had abated snmeAvbat. But as he reined in the black horse and, taking the telegram from his

pocket, gazed at it almost fondly—for to him it was the order for release—such a flood of joy seemed let loose within him that ho longed to shout, to sing, to thank .something, somewhere, for Jus freedom. “ Free! Free! After all those years of bondage!” ho muttered, as he walked Nimrod quietly down hill. “ It makes one feel delirious with relief! Free—and with so much at my command.' Oh, Eve, Eve, my beloved, if you only knew! I am certain you would pity me.” As ho neared home both ho and his steed in a more ordinary humour, he resolved to secure his happiness at once. “Why should ordinary conventions be a bar when the circumstances are so extraordinary, so transcending all human procedure?” ho asked himself. ‘ No! t have waited too long.” He left Nimrod at the stables, with strict injunctions as to his welfare—for the horse which had companioned him in his fierce emotions he had determined to keep—and went at once to his dressing room. Aided by his valet, in the quarter of an hour before the dinner bell rang he was in his evening suit, the calm, complacent host. Dinner passed pleasantly—Sylvestre was always interesting when he chose, thought Mrs Hamblyn, her slight anxiety since the arrival of the telegram and the betrayal of that awful expression on bis fine features allayed, as bo seemed so ‘very much himself,” as she termed it. And Eve—Eve was frankly in the seventh heaven of the enjoyment of what, but for her mother’s presence, would have been a tetc-a-tete with her idol. As it happened, it became a complete duologue. “1 want you to give me some music, Eve, to brush away tho cobwebs,” said Sylvestre. as Mrs Hamblyn rose after dessert. “ Let ns have our collce on the terrace—then you can charm my savage breast as I smoke my cigarette.” So he followed the two ladies through the great drawing room, fully Ightecl as if fifty people instead of a family party of three were expected there, upon the flagged terrace with the balustrade covered with climbing roses, and after Eve had consumed her one tiny cup of black coffee he persuaded her to retreat to the piano. It was a lovely evening. The sun, sinking behind the tall trees in the park, had flooded the western sky with rich gold and crimson. Tiny cloudlets of a dark lilac were poised, like flags streaming in the wind, before that Jake of gorgeous colour. Above the glory the sky was pale green, where one star was shining brilliantly, herald of the approaching darkness. Sylvestre had been born as romantic as eccentre. Bitterness and deadly ennui had both been his. But, as he now leant back in the deck chair Mrs Hamblyn nodding over the evening paper on the other side of the; coffee table, and sweet plaintive strains delighting his ears as Eve within played softly, one after another, his favourite pieces. “It is exactly the place and time to secure her for my own,” ho thought. “ Wait till to-morrow? Why should I? I am so absolutely happy—happiness will make me young—she will not miss the youth in me——” As Mrs Hamblyn’s head fell hack on a cushion, and he saw she was undoubtedly dozing, ho rose as quietly as possible, and stepped into the drawing room through the open window. Eve saw him, and there was that in liis face which set her heart beating. She averted her head and went on playing, in the night, when she had lain awake, sleepless because of thoughts and emotions bo had awakened in her, she had wondered whether ho could, would, ever care for her enough to speak; but now that she instinctively knew that tho hour iiad come she flinched. She shuddered slightly as he drew a chair near, and, seating himself, said; “ Go on, dear, it is lovely.” Before lie. spoke ho wanted to revel in the sight of her young beauty, to satisfy hs longing eyes, before his other senses had their turn. As she went on playing, her head bent, bo revelled in her exquisite profile, with its delicate nose, soft, full lips, and rounded chin, in the graceful curves of her slight, •svelte figure, in the curls and plaits of red-gold hair, and in the purity and innocence which was always her atmosphere. Then suddenly she stopped playing and wheeled round on her stool. “ I cannot go on—l never can play with anyone watching me; it makes me as nervous as a cat,” she said. To Ids inward satisfaction he saw she was pale. There was a scared look in those bine eyes be had loved since be first saw them in the child’s face in Venice. “ Then you shall not play any more,” he indulgently said. He felt superior, now that she had shown emotion. “ Eve, 1 want to talk to you, and I want you to be utterly true with me, to answer everything right out of your good, dear heart, so that no shadow of doubt may rest between ns. AVill you? ” “ Answer questions? ” She gave him a scared look. “ As far as 1 can i will,” she half-reluctantly replied. “ Oh, but I will not ask you auythink you cannot answer,” he assured her. “ To begin with —tell mo what you think of me”’ “ Oh ! ” Ho saw she was surprised. “ But ” —she hesitated —“ that would take so long. Do you know, I was only thinking to-day that if J were clever enough to write an essay about yon, it would make a good-sized volume. You seem hardly to bo one man, do you know? J often feel as if, could you be divided into parts, yon might make a dozen. Do you understand? ” “ Hardly,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and nursing his knee. The interview promised to be more complicated, and, perhaps lie might say, more interesting, than he had expected. “ Explain. Do you find contradictory traits of character in me? ” She hesitated. Then she drew a long breath. “ Yon want me to say things straight out?’’ she desperately said. “ So—l must. You are so clever, so kind, I feel that you have had a past -—many adventures —yet you never tell anyone anything. You have travelled, yet do not speak of your travels.” She stopped short, and glanced timidly at him, clasping the hands in her lap so tightly that the delicate knuckles wore ivory white. “ Do you think, then, that I have had unsavoury experiences? Something like the villains in plays and story books? ” His voice had a mocking sound. “ Oh, no! ” she exclaimed, anxiously. “ Nothing of that sort! How could I think anything about you but what would be natural? And for you to be anything but good and generous would be unnatural! No; I. meant that you are so unlike an old bachelor—it seems as if you must have been married! You will forgive me, won’t you? ” “ I asked for the truth, dear, and I have certainly got what I asked for! ” he ret" necl, still with the same suggestion of banter. “No; there has been no Mrs Julian Annesley, senior! Julian has to produce that lady, and, as you know, there has been no Lady .Sylvestre since my mother. Come! Tell me! You feel my past life a secret from you; well, my greatest desire is that there should be no secrets between yon and me. Will you come with me, dear? ’.’ I can show you now, here, what has been my lifework. AVill you come? ” He stood up. “ Where? ” she asked, her eyes wide with perplexity. He seemed more puzzling than ever. -“ My work is in my rooms,” he said..

“ It' you will come with me now, 1 will show yon.” She rose and allowed him to hold her hand lightly, caressingly, as he led her from tfie big drawing room, through the corridor, across the hall, and along the passage running the length of the west wing where she had never been, knowing that his “ offices ” were there. Halting at the first door, he opened it, switched on the electric light, and invited her to enter. “ You have not been here yet, though I hope you will be in and out many times in the future,” he said. “This is my desk where I. do my accounts. There is a great deal of business to be done by owners of estates. Then, you see all those pigeon holes in those shelves? The papers and letters that pass through my hands—well, to use a trite phrase, ‘ their name is legion!’ And now, are you prepared to invade a Bluebeard’s chamber?” He gave her a curious look. While he smiled, there was a suspicion _ol doubt, so she fancied, in the expression of his eyes. “A Bluebeard's chamber?” She raised her eyebrows. “ Beyond that door of communion, tion lies the explanation of my past life,” he said, taking her chill, limp hand, and gazing Tito her eyes. “If you will glance at my rooms, you will know!” “ What?” she asked. Loving him as .she did, she was startled. Vague recollections of tales she had read, notably that of Irving’s ‘Spectre Bridegroom,’ troubled her. “Come, and you will see, and will judge for yourself!” he said, and without releasing her hand, which he held with his left, with his right hand he unlocked a door, which evidently was the one opening upon other rooms of his suite. “ One moment to switch on the light,” he said; and Eve, wondering, as he dropped her hand, saw that the room beyond was a vast chamber. That was all she saw through the narrow doorway. But when he led her into the chill, bare chamber, guiltless of furniture, with strange shapes looming in the obscurity, and a coffin on trestles confronting her, she gave a cry. “Oh! A coffin!” she wailed, suddenly losing nerve. “It is nothing to be afraid of, darling!”- lie passionately said, casting aside all reserve, and encircling her fondly with his arm. “ Eve, my love, you wanted to know all about me—come and see!” (To be continued).,