LOVE’S BOND MAID

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 1 September 1926, Page 8

LOVE’S BOND MAID

CHAPTER. 10. “1 must •say,” declared Airs. Gk* eslia m-Bio wire cnipliaticallVj i ‘thatEgypt is one of the most over-rated countries 1. ever went to—what with fusty l temples, the heat, and those dreadful camels, .1 wonder J ever survived.” ...

Muriel did not reply: She had not lived for six months now with her mistress without knowing .that she. greatly preferred the .sound of her own voice to anyone else’®. Since they had left Barlach Castle, Mrs. Gresham-Browne had 'been travelling from place to place, “campaignings” It was an, understood thing by tins time ,although no mention of it was ever made. But though a-.certain distinguished officer in Cairo .had evidently' been attracted by the gay widow, who went to the .best hotel and seemingly had a plentiful supply of the “almighty dollar” he had suddenly grown unaccountably cold—probably The result of certain, enquiries and investigations—and had ended in, becoming engaged to a, fat lump of an Aineri can gild who had a, fortune in a dry* goods .stores. No wonder that Mrs. Gresham Browne hated Clairo, and thought military men very bad form, and quite too horribly conceited! As for Muriel, she had accepted her lot- as Mrs. Gresha m-Bro w ne’s companion, and a: young person to be kept very much fin the background. She was quite willing to he the latter. The men she met at the various: hotels did not interest her. Involuntarily she compared them with David Grey, and. found them wanting. It made her nervous and ill at ease when they paid her bald compliments and stared her out of countenance, much as they might have done had -she been Madame’s lady’s-maid instead of her companion. Mrs. Gresham-Browne was well contented with her “find” as she called Muriel. The girl dressed dowdily and yet looked a lady—an excellent combination in -a companion who was; a trifle too> pretty for her post. Ar,d then no one could accuse her of being a flirt or evincing the least wish of poaching on Mrs. -Gresham-Brown’o preserves like that horrid Eva. Dawson, who had actual! ydared to dress more stylishly than her mistress, and succeeded in catching that most- eligible of confirmed bachelors, Sir Henry Dalrymple. So Muriel was petted in private and -snubbed in public, and remained delightfully apathetic to both t reatments. “My dear, you are a, perfect treasure Mrs. Gresham-Browne had delightedly. “So different to EVa, who was perfectly man-mad, and so horribly fast.” The’ virtuous rote suited Mrs. Gresham-Browne at times'. But the long months, had dragged wearily to Muriel, 'although she was not without enthusiasm for the beautiful places through which they travelled. She would have loved to have gone mountain climbing in Switzerlaml, and exploring the strange and woderful temples of Egypt, but Mrs. Gresliam-B-rowe’s one idea, of travel was hotel life, and she kept the girl closely to her side. And all the time there had come no line, no war dof news from Barloch Gastle, nor indeed could there be, seeing that Mrs. Gresham-Browne, having failed. :in. Iher enterprise, had finally shaken the dust of -Scotland from her feet and had left neither address nor duo behind her; and Muriel too- shy and. different to .dare write had accordingly suffered :in, silence.

Yet the- little episode, the half-open-ing of that mystic door through which the . strange, intoxicating radiance of love had gleamed, had left her, as it closed, more -forlorn) than- ever. It is true that Rachel still wrote. Poor Rachel! Muriel felt drawn -to her in sympathy’ more closely than.' ever, although of course :it was quite impossible that she could have -ever loved Uncle Roger as she loved David, the erv thought of whose name set herpulses throbbing so- painfully. OF Uncle Roger, too, there had come -no word. He -had gone- a.s he had come into her -life, suddenly, silently—yet how differently. Sitting alone in her bed-room, -she would dream: over that old quiet , life at Bailowe Court, which, seemed so. very; very far away. How Granny had welcomed the wandered back, how implicit had been her trust in his l reformation, and how that trust ha dbeeit betrayed. And vet the girl, whom- Roger Arinitage’.s isini bad' left to bear- the buffets of a: liar dworld and unprotected, had more pity than 'anger to bestow on him. It was not Uncle Roger from whom her thoughts shrank in loathing but John, Merries, the man: who- had lured her -uncle on to hi® ruin, whilst he himself looked on and unscathed. “Here we -are,” said. Mrs. GreshamBrowne briskly, as the’ monotonous 'throbbing of the train -suddenly ceased, bringing Muriel back from, a, far land of dreams and memories. “Here we -are at Oa-nnes, my dear, you had better look out for the Hotel Mimosa car, and when you have seen seen about the luggage you can como UP-” By this time 'Muriel had got used to her duties though the thought- of entering the big hotel alone , filled her with shy anxiety, yet she braced herself to face the inevitable, -smilingly telling herself that if there were many people in the: lounge they would probably -take -her for the maid. Ale-antimei -she could not but look with admiration at the beauties around her. It was lier first visit to the Riviera, and -she gazed 'about eagerly noting everything from, the golden glory of the mimosa trees to the darkeyes beggar children who -ran behind in -a cloud of dust cl-amouring for a sou. The lounge was, -as .she had feared, full of fashionable folk, for it was the tea hour -and a perfect- -buzz of voices rose from the many little tables around. Mrs. Gresham-Browne was still upstairs, -arguing with the. manager as to the price of rooms. Muriel, glad to escape the scrutiny of curious eyes, followed the man into- the lift and -wa.s speedily whisked on to another floor. Here ishe found Airs. Gresham-Browne having her hair -re-iarranged by Louise, who had laccompa-nied her mistress, and exchanging her travelling hat- for a more becoming creation. “What an age you have been.” was her greeting to Muriel. T ‘f wanted to change my, frock, but it’s too late ripw. Very tiresome, bub never mind, one really heeds a- man. with one if ono is to travel wit bany comfort at all. . Women are -always -pushed -a.side. That -i« right, Louise, a little more forward

BY May Wynne. Author of “For Faith and Navarre,” “Mistress Cynthia,” “The Spendthrift Duke,” etc., etc.

so —-pretty hat isn’t it Muriel? Do you think :it isuits me? I thought it did. Well, come on down to tea-, .never nund about washing, no one will look •at. you, ad I’m simply dying for « cup otter my .arguments with that iniquitous man. Fifty francs ta: day for this absurd little room ! It’s ruination. I foresee that a. fortnight at the Hotel Mimosa, will istretch, any purse .strings to the limit. L .shall wear the white and gold tea-gown to-night Louise, and the fillet for my hair. Gome on Muriel dear, I positively am dying lor my tea:.”. She .slipped her arm affectionately through Muriel’s as they went downstairs together. There 'wasp a pleasant excitement in. the opening of every new campaign; and Mrs. GreshiainBrowne was in deadly earnest ow, seeig that the account- at. her bank was dwindling .alarmingly an -dth-ere were o. more funds to be- paid in. It .was to be her grad coup, and success was .a ecessity. She was quite aware that the Hotel Mimosa was the most extravagantly expensive hotel in or around Cannes, besides beig the newest and most luxurious .and for this reaso she had chosen, it. 'No noe but. millionaire isor the richest of the .nouveau x riches could .stand such prices and they were the -people-she needed to meet. There was an effective little pause as she stood at the foot of the staircase with her band still resting in, Muriel’s arm, whilst she glanced round obviously in. .search of a vacant table, yet with keen observance of those already occupied. ' “The one near the window,” she murmured in Muriel’s ear, “close to where that dear, old grey-headed man is sitting.” she drew the girl forward am .she spoke and .advanced boldly to the table. “Tea for two,” she .smilingly told the waiter, and leant back in, her chair with a. faint sigh of fatigue. “Charming lounge,” she observed presently. “And what sweet, children.” Half .a dozen over-dressed, children were being dragged along by . their respective nuriSes in search, of loud parents. “Will you. take cream in your tea?” asked Muriel, handing her her cup. “No thanks—.no, no toast, some bread and .butter please.” She had roused herself to take it and inadvertently .allowed her glance to. fall on the “dear old grey-headed man.” He was returning the glance in full whilst he slowly picked hi steeth with a small gilt tooth-pick. Mrs. 'Greslia.m-Browne did mot shudder. The -shab-biness- of. his brown suit and \ general “I’m-a-fash.ion-to-myself’ air proclaimed him. emphatically to be a, millionaire. She had smiled the faintest, smile upon hint as she sank back .amongst the cushions. “I’m. .sure we shall, have a. delightful time here,” she said -in her most dulcet tones to Muriel. “Just look, that baby is choiring itself with ia: match-box, how dreadful.” An, irrepressible smile broke over Muriel’s face, she was in a. world of shaos and play-acting, but what did it matter? Lookers-on- see most of the game, .and as long as .she Avas 1 allowed to creep .away to her niche, she felt that she could almost enjoy the Hotel Mimosa. (To he continued.)