SERIAL STORY.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLVIII, Issue 90, 18 April 1914, Page 3

SERIAL STORY.

PURPLE AfiO fits: mi*. (By Lillias Cainpbeii Davidson). [ALL RIGHTS 11ESERVED.] CHAPTEIt XVIII. • '■'Poverty's unconquerable bar." ■ —J. Beattie. ■•- "Rosamund, ,tbis is Mr Wynn-eta-niey." Of course it \va*s! Hadn't jthey.both seen him cross the-rose-j screened terrace, and were they not both posed to receive him? "My daughter. Do find yourself a seat/ as he stood uncertainly. • 'Sit down, Rosamund! You fidget me blocking the light from the window." Rosamund sank into the little sofa - wiuh its covering, oi striped flowered old brocade. Slid would, more aptly have described the gliding grace 'of her movement. It KesmeU to VVynnstanley that he had never known till he watched her what the poetry of motion meant. Hers was rounded, perfect—a hymn in every step, a oantata in her daily life, lie watched ; her transfixed. He could nob help it. "It is cooler over here." she murmured, and at the sound of her liquid full tones Wynnstanley's ears thrilled, "These windows let so little air in.' One's people didn't seem to need air in the dark ages." That gave W'ynnstanley his opening. "Would you ; like them made bigger?" he asked, eagerly. "It could-easily be-done, 1 should think. Shall I speak to Mr Norton about it; Then lie saw that he-Tiad made a faux pas, and could have bitten out his tongue for it. Mrs Belversdale stiffened slightly. "Oh, thank you! I shotrrd regret very much having anything meddled with. It would ruin the beauty of the old walls. And I cling to their present look from old associations. I j keep everything just as it has always i been; thanks." Her tone conveyed a distinct reminder that she had supreme right over' her part of the plate. Wynnstanley faintly colored with vexation. ■'But how kind of you. to think'of it!" exclaimed -Rosamund. "I think ■it was sq thoughtful of you! Of j course, we love the old walls, 'and I everything about the place, But mamina•''doesn't .-mind the 'lack cf fresh air, and I do. p'p ahove, where | you are, .it is considerably fresher than we ever get it here, you see!" The glance that met his was sweet, ■ magnetic, inviting. Bo sweet, so S inviting in its -flashing, smiling friendliness that Wynnstanley sat transfixed by it. There was that in her manner/ her voice, her intimate j .smile, which boldly eaid: "I like you. We shall get on together. Gonie'and I look at me nearer!" The blood'rushed to his head and : seemed to sing in his brain with the ■ sudden emotion that flooded him. He could riot take his entranced gaze from her. It was her texture, so to-speak, that captured him, held him dumb, nnd enslaved. H?r exquisite fineness, the delicacy of her finished .beauty, • the alooi air of a porcelain, ■top dainty, too costly to be brushed by the fingers ot common earth. It all filled him with an awod admiration that approached amazement. He answered a few of Mrs Belvensdale's remarks and questions, not knowing what his tongue committed itself to. All the while he was M-atclung, watching, feeding his gaso with her beauty, her grace, like the elusive mist-like grace of ths swaying smoke- She .took his mind from, all- ', else. ""Presently she got up, with her smile—that fascinating, enchanting smile again. "Shall we go outside for a little?" -site asked. "I feel it dreadfully hot in here. Wouldn't you like to see the roses?" \ ' ' And she stepped across the threshold with bhe step of a young Greek goddess at play,, the filmy scarf she wore floating .behind her like a signal of invitation. .He was on Ills' feet and after her in the same second. ' : They sauntered • down the stonepaved terrace together. She pointed him out the roses j her eyes with their airchly-^tibtle- invitation, their veiled allurement j glancing up into his own, as she turned a bloom from its stsm in her graceful white fingers, and held it- for him to admire. In Ireland they have a name for her look. They call it with aptness the "comehither." ■ When: a woman puts the "come-hither" on a man she beckons him with half-retreats, / with halfapproaches, into the spell of henenchantments. Wynnstanley had never, been in Ireland, knew little •of •the Irish?. •If he had, he might | have recognised and classified'something of" that day's experiences. They talked, or to speak more accurately, Rosamund talked, in that soft, alluring voice of hers. He listened. She told him how she had come to Revelly iis a little child. "The only, only home I ever had, or ever remember." She spoke with a long catching sigh of her uncle's ruin, and the sword that fell wlion they had to give Revelly into.the hands of strangers. "Not that I am not glad it "is you —not chat horrid old rough Mr Whitney, now!" she said, swaying a little towards him, till he caught the scent of the viokt perfume that hung round her like a faint breath, and his brain, was intoxicated. "But it lis odd, oil the same, isn't it? to be ■ living down here, in these few little I rooms, when once all the place was ,|our_own. We liave had to get used jto it. Oh, never lvmul,'we won't I talk of it! It can't ir,.terest-y<m ! ; Tell me about yourself. Rave" you (taken- the hunt? Are yon p''-3*erving j better than that old horror'"did?" O jj When Wynnstanley tore himse'f j away—the sight of the great clock { over the staibles' gave him a pang of | c 055 stern ati on as tic cin.ught a glimpse ;of it in his retreat—he'walked "on. air, ':-so to speak. Never, never in all his ;' visions_ of life, h.-ul lie '-.met a woman i like this one! Never had he exuectod : a mediocre work! to -"hold anytime like Rosamund Bolvevsdale in it. ;He walked in exultation, for her voico { was in his cars still, coaxing, pleadj ing. suggesting. j What did it suggest? He was a ! fool to think it, to harbor the idea ) for a,n instant. Tot it did seem as \if she liked him. incredible as it 3 sounded. She, what was she—and .; he himself! Yet she had begged, him:to come "again- soon when they'parted, j lot Lor hand linger in lr's'wli-en he : held it at parting, and had give7i him i another ..of. tho^e long, "intimate ;" appealing looks that sent his- brain i reeling. ■He went back to his own big dwell- ! me feeling himself s\. brute to own it :. while they pined in that meagre corner of it. And in his faarfc was ; something .pricking, pricking. .That | brushed-away suggestion of Norton's —"Why don't you marry? You . ' ought to marry !" He had impatiently shoved it aside

| then. It had seemed aJien to-him. i But then—-then lie had never set eyes ] on Rosamund Bolversduile! 5 "Well?" said her mother in a tone of inquiry as Rosamund floated in ; over the threshold of the open 3 window. "Well, have you dispatched, him? A sort of noble savage from ; the Wild West, eh r Poor ilevelly! ! Is it never to have a. gentleman in it | again? There seems a doom on it!" ' "Oh, ho isn't so bad!" Rosamund i opened the hand she filled full of rose ? leaves as she walked and chatted with , Wynnstanley. The petals fell to the j iiiatitiingiof.jblie floor with a flutter ..of i pinlt and white wings, like a cloud ;of butterflies. "Of course, he looks j ratheir like the grocer's young man— • but he's handsome in his own way. ' And he goes to a decent tailor. I i dori't know that he wouldn't be quite jas presentable as most ■mushroom i millionaires, if you gave him time and j advantages." 1, "Rosamund! Surely you're not—" 1 Her mother turned round in her chair \ in spite of neuritis in the neck, that ■■! took its sharp revenge the next second. "Good heavens! My poor :\ iieck! You'can't mean it?" ly' "I never mean anything till I j-choose to.'say so." Rosamund's voice was languidly amused. "But if I ! did, 1 shouldn't have to exert myself. ! After all, it would be nice to be back lin Revelly, really, wouldn't it? And 1:not have to live in the bottom of the rturret, like under-servants. Revelly, I:and heaps and heaps of money to keep ] it ui^, and do what one liked with! I Poor Uncle Arthur never had a I chance, had he. Poor gentlepeople ! ought to be lethal-chambered. They're j better out oi'it. But if one had the i.ti'.oney, and —.and ReveMy—the man ; wouldn't really matter, w rould he? \ _'You've always said loye in a cottage tjdidn't pay after the first week: I I agree with jou.- % You were always a i.sensible woman!" -'-.•. Wynnstanloy found to his wonder. I that"'he was not bored that night. , I He had too much, to think of, as he S sat and", smoked in the small study. He had; craned from the oriel till he had satisfied himself on a point that had wakened his interest. Yes, he could see the reflection of the light i'rom their -windows on the stone pavement of the terrace where the roses grew.- He stood and watched ' fuvd watched, a« a, mariner watches the red glo^- of; the lighthouse. It filled hint.with h strangle" feeling of home, somehow—that ■ light below; there. He was not so lonely now as ho used to be. There were other j.presences, other voices, in his old, I ga-iint, greot house, though avails divided them. • i Then, as.he stood there watching, the notes of a piano were struck, flicking out upon the hushed, night like the breaking of' some spell. They. •smote and struck, and' shattered the silence. A good piano. He had a ■'musical.ear, though lie could neither sing nor play a note.' But he loved music. Ho had sometimes thought a_ gramophone would be company in ; his solitary evenings. Not;, as he stood, holding his breath in his intensity of eagerness, a voice rose and swelled, mimgling with the I vibrating notes, flooding the roseladen air with added sweetness. It was Rosamund's voice, whose else! He sprang to the recognition, as if they were souls long parted, just once more encountered. She .. sang as -deliberately as she moved—there was rzTaee in her yong as weir as delicate RW^etness. To the listener above, breathless at the open oriel window, his cigarette flung' down and burning its red end out, as if he-challenged it to''pollute and--'spoil.•that exquisit«- melody, that rose-scented- night;: to Wynnsianley, holding his breath!,- clutching the side of the window-frame, it seemed as if the harmony came from the augels in heaven. To ears less bewitched, the situation might have had more similarity to the song of the sirens, or the call of tho mermaids. . . • He had not to complain of monotony any longer. The morning • brought a delimit of realisation. ■ What' could he <10, how should » he :- .make an.'excuse to get down to the .rose-terrace'again, and talk with her "^r-look at her? v"He need not have troubled himself. He 'had om.ly to sit still and let all •that bo done for him. In his ignorance of life and of the kind of woman who gets what she wants,' he | had no idea, .that any step thai was -.13.0*; his own step could be taken in i 'the matter. He was to enlarge his experiences. He was finishing his breakfast when a little noto eamo to him on a salver where the Revel!y arms still lingered. Old-Whitney had always had itAirider , consideration to erase all those pomp and circumstances of -a former owner and substitute his own stamp. He had only, been delayed by the doubtas to what he should substitute. He wasßiiy or asking a benijrn College j of Heralds to fake up a fictitious connection between himself and some totally unconnected people w3:o bad one® had ai-nis conferred on them. Tlie common trick of the new-rich was too transparent for his comI "inerciail .shrewdness.. And a mono- ! gram looked womanish. Initials were bald. So the Revelry arms-stayed on, 'for want of aiiiything better to supplant them. "Dear Mr Wynnstanley." the little note ran. "Mamma begs me to write for her. It pa^ns her 'so to write for herself. She will be so glad if you will come to'tea'with ■u-s this afternoon. You were so kkid in suggesting things to add to our comfort yesterday that you see ' we are brazenly going to -avail onri selves'of your aoodrt-ess. You mnst ! just any no, if you think we are too j exigeaitte," Y\'yn;!>;taii?lc-y had-no idea, .whp.t that mighi bo. _Bu he went on with his ■ rfaduig \\ rhat could-they ask too 1 'nuch of him ? The\ who were the j real owners- of Revoily. They, who I wonkl be reigning tßiere still but for | .the spite of fate ?..nd the unTiierito-rl | "risfortune of others. He would 1 h^.vs. slir.rrcl liis income v/ith. them, I >n liis eager impulse of generosity. j. Not yet had tie dared to frame the I !!'ought thnt that partition mi.aht be offec-terl in another way. Ho hnd not ' vtt reached that pitch of audacity, oKcept in his day-dreams, a^d then h"; banished it lilce a profanity. (To be Continued.) The Primate-'of New Zealand has [ received a c'onimunioation ' from ' Bi.shop Tuttle. of America, intimating that lie ,-has in hand the duty • of. selecting ■ and appointing some i representative-. Bishop of the Church ; in. the United States to come to Tsew Zealand in 1915 for the centennial celebration "of the introduction of . Cni'istianity into this country. Bishop NWill is personally much pleased to receive this letter, inasmuch as •it recalls to his mind the fact thait in ; 1.870 he was _ associated with Bishop Tuttle h\ laying the foundation-stome . of the first Christian" church in the Mormon City.