THE EARL'S ATONEMENT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 7222, 10 January 1885, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE EARL'S ATONEMENT.

J , BY BERTHA M. CLAY, Author of "Thrown" on the World," "Beyond Par ion," &c.

. CHAPTER XLIV. FALSE AND TRUE love, "I cannot think," said Mrs. Co one Hudsion, " what made me tell that story. does happen sometimes that a certain orror Beizes one : this did me." ? "It is not pleasant, certainly, said Mrs. Norman, "In my opinion, she threw the vitriol at the wrong person. If he had cease to love her because a fairer face had come between them, why did she not mar the beauty of that face 1" A silent shudder went through the guests, the woman s ace, was so earnest, the light in her eyes so clear. "She would have punished him doubly had she taken the beauty from her rival a face, she continued ; "he would have suffered for his own sake and hers. , , „ " Phvllis I" cried her husband, you do not un» what you are talking about. DC He spoke angrily, and looked annoyed. Agatha felt embarrassed ; there was a sense of restraint over all of them. Mrs. Norman a face was flushed, and a strange gleam shone in her eyes. . " Can anything," she said, " be Dad enough for the woman who comes in between lovers very often between husband and wife; and, because she has au extra rose-tint or a beautiful mouth, blight two lives ? Such a woman ought to be shot I" "I am afraid," said Colonel Hudson, " that if they were all shot the world would be a desert. Women love conquest, and many of them care very little how they make it." Agatha's attention was fixed upon Mrs. Norman's face ; its changes of colour and of expression astonished her. Then Mr. Norman tried to change the conversation and succeeded but Mrs. Norman remained strangely quiet. ... The day afterwarda warm, bright, sunshiny afternoon—while chey were driving through the Bois de Boulogne, Mrs. Norman turned suddenly to Agatha. " What do you think," she asked, "of Mrs. Hudson's story ?" " I thought it most horrible/' she replied, " and I thought also that it was not the beat possible taste to tell such a story at dinnertime." i ■ ■ " Do you think the woman very much to blame ?" asked Mrs. Norman. " I think her worse than a fiend," she replied. "She must have suffered very much to have grown into such a fiend. I suppose she loved him very much, and perhaps had been through tortures of jealousy." "That is. not love," said Agatha. "I cannot think how people can give so beautiful a name to so foul a passion. The difference between true and false love is this —false love knows jealousy and hate, and vengeance and murder ; true love seeks only the highest good of the object beloved. I would not, think of it, if I were you; it seems to have taken hold of your mind." " It is ghastly," said Mrs. Norman. She spoke of something else, but many time 3 during the day she referred to it, and it seemed to be always present with her. A few days afterward in the Siecle they read the story of a very romantic elopement and marriage. "How long will that love last?" asked Mrs. Norman, with a sneer. " For ever, I hope," replied Agatha. " You may hope, but you do not believe," said the restless woman.

And Agatha thought of her own love, which was to last for ever and ever.

" I should think," continued Mrs. Norman, musingly, "that no woman ever loved any one as I did my husband. I . thought him as handsome as a Greek goda. king among men. I worshipped him, and I thought he loved me. Do not turn away, Agatha; there are times when my heart is on fire, and unless I can give utterance to my thoughts I shall die. . Despite my plain face, I was a romantic girl; I wanted to be loved for myself, yet my fortune was so great I was always afraid of being sought for it. I may tell you now," she continued, "that my husband, though well-born and belonging to a good old family— Normans, of Birtonhad no fortune ; an income of two or three hundred a year, and that not regularly paid, was all he had. He cams wooing me ; and when I remember my passionate adoration of him, I wonder that I do not go mad. He did not seem to know that I had any money —he never mentioned it; but aaid how dearly he loved me for myself. I believed it implicity when he praised my poor, pale face ; I believed him, and was happy, aod, in my blind worship, I married him, without any marriage settlement, happy in the thought of his surprise and joy when he found that he had married a great heiress. I must tell you that my fortune waß exceptionally great. My father was not what the world calls a gentleman; he belonged to a profitable branch of the machinery business, and he brought out a patent which made him one of the richest merchants in Lisle. All that he had in the world— lands, money, and everything —he left to me, and I, by my own deed, placed the whole of my fortune in the hands of my husband." Agatha thought of - the diamonds how cruel if they had been bought for another person with her money ! . was happy," continued , Mrs. Norman, "for a few weeks, and then I knew that my husband had married me entirely for my money— he had known all along I was a wealthy heiress—and that he did not love me. I cannot tell you what I suffered—it is three years since - but every moment of the time is branded on my heart as with a hot iron. Then, when I found I could bear my life no longer, I went to him. I knew that 1 could not live without his love. I went to him. I told him I knew why he married me. I knew the whole story—that he had never loved me at all. I appealed to him ; I told him that I knew I was not so fair as other women, but that if my face was plain my heart was full of devoted love for him. X asked him to try to love me. I promised him that I would be everything most kind, devoted, and loving. I asked him to begin a new life; some men would have been touched. He laughed. At first I thought I must slay him—there must be something of the tigress about me— after a time his laughter ceased, and he said he would do as I wished.

" We were happy—ai least I was—for some months. He was kind to me, attentive, took me out, at times spent an evening with me at home, called me by loving names, spoke kindly to methere were times, even, when I thought he loved me. I wan happy. I worshipped him so utterly that one kind word from him, one look, made me the lightesthearted woman in England. I forgave him that he had not married me for love when I found out that he was likely to love me. Ah ! that brief, sweet dream ! they said that I should have a little child, and I fancied that would make him love me more.

" What should you do to a person who came between you and a husband you loved bo well— who came with a beautiful face and glittering hair and wiled his heart from you ?—what should you do, Mies Brooke ?" Agatha looked inexpressibly shocked. "I did not know such things . were," she said. "It is like a new world to me."

"It was a new world to me," she con tinued. Just as I was growing so happy— just as I thought Heaven was going to bless me with a little child, I heard this story—no matter how I knew it—it was true —that & fair-faced woman 'whom he worshipped madly had come between my husband and me. I heard that ho was mad over her beauty— he followed her like a shadow —that he laughed contemptuously at me. Do you wonder that I went mad, absolutely and really madonly for a few weeks, though, and when my senses came back to to me my little child was buried. I found myself looked upon as a person inclined to be very queer and eccentric, and my husband half-admired, half-laughed at "all over Paris for his devotion to the most beautiful woman in it. Do you wonder that I hide my poor plain face and stain it with tears ? I laugh at myself and I hate myself when I think how I have tried to win him back from her. I have tried to make myself beautiful and he has laughed at me for my pains. I live my life yet—l>know that when he is away from home he is with her—that he spends the greater part of his time with herthat he lavishes my money on her. They say also that she in her turn is falso to him. Now What should you do to her?" .. "Nothing," replied Agatha. "There is nothing yera could do which would not lowdr yourself. Those wrongs are better borne in BUence. It is a strange thing the world never takes the wife's side." u he i ha PP ens to bo a beauty," raeered the hapless lady.

"I have told you my story," Mrs. Norman said, "but never a word has crossed my lips to any creature before. I know that you will keep it secret as I have done, and I have told you because I am desperate ; I am afraid of myself. Do you know what it is to be afraid of yourself ?" " Yes, replied Agatha, slowly, "I know it."

"I hope that having told you, and being able to bring my troubles to you, will soften the bitterness of my lot. The moment I saw your face my heart warmed to you; but when I saw how beautiful you were I could not help wondering whether my husband who worships beauty—had anything to do with your coming here. I kuow now how false and untrue such an idea was."

"I am glad that I am of some use and comfort to you," said Agatha. "Ah me! what a different world this is from the one I lived in." Her heart and thoughts went back to the pretty village where the snow-white blossoms hung. " I knew so many husbands and wives there," she said, "but there was never a quarrel, never such horrible treachery as this. If the husband spent a little of his wages, or took a glass too much, there were reproaches and recrimination. If the husband came home and did not find dinner or tea ready, there were more reproaches ; but such horrors as these never entered peoples' minds. Ah Heaven ! give me honest poverty, with its hunger, its thirst, and its cold, rather than such riches as these."

" The world grows worse," said Mrs. Norman, "men prey upon men, and women— well, much of it is their fault. This one of whom I have spoken to you —whatdo think she deserves for coming between my husband and me—what do you think ? If she had stolen my purse, the law would punish her ; if she had stolen my diamonds she would go to prison for it; if she forged my name, to penal servitude ; if she killed me, she would be hung. Yet what are my money, my name, my diamonds, my life compared to my love ! She has stolen my love from me. What does she deserve ?" CHAPTER XLY,

" EOT FOR HER I WOULD HAVE BSEN A HAPPY WIFE."

" Whatever it may be, she will have it in this life or the next," replied Agatha.

" But for her 1 should have been a much beloved wife and a happy mother. Ah, Heaven ! tell mo what she deserves, and she shall have it."

With kindly words Agatha strove to calm her, but tho frenzy of rage and passion was difficult to calm.

Mrs. Norman at times received a few friends ; she did not care much about it, as her husband was seldom, if ever, at home to help her. There were times when she was compelled to issue cards for an " At Home" or & musical soiree, and on this memorable day she had received several guests to a five o'clock tea. Agatha was one of the great features of the entertainment ; her angelio beauty, her sweetness of manner, her lovely voice and finished artistic singing, charmed everyone. She noticed herself that Mrs. Norman spent a great deal of time with a gossiping old dowager, whone puckered, wrinkled face beamed with satisfaction. Agatha longed to interrupt them. Experience was making her wiser ; she began to understand more of the ways of the world about her.

She felt quite sure that the malicious old dowager was talking to Mrs. Norman about her husband ; she knew it from the agitated expression, the changing colour, the clenching of the hands, the wild gleam of anger in the eyes ; she could read the absolute torture that the unhappy lady endured, and she saw that the dowager took great delight in the torture.

She crossed the room. All the music died from her heart at the thought of how women delighted to torture each other. She remembered Valerie, and how she had gloated over her torment.

She overheard just the last words of the dowager as she reached them, and they were, "See her diamonds." Agatha wondered if the purchase at the Palais Koyal had become known. She saw that Mrs. Norman could hardly control herself ; her lips were twitching, her hands trembled. Agatha was frightened for her. She was thankful to have her alone—thankful when the last of the pleasureseeking group disappeared. She went up to her and said, gently : "I -can see that you have had a fresh trouble. Do not believe even half you hear. That mischief-making dowager has been talking to you, and I feel sure that she has in. vented half she said."

That was perhaps, the most uncharitable speech that Agatha had ever made ; but, to her mind, there was something most horrible in the pleasure one woman took in torturing another. Mrs. Norman threw up her arms with a gesture of despair. " Do not speak to me, or follow me," she said. " I must be alone or I shall die." She hastened to her room, and when Agatha, in half an hour's time, feeling anxious over her, went after her she heard such sobs, such passionate cries, as made her very heart grow sick. She thought of herself as she had lain under the myrtle trees, and her heart ached for the anguish of this other woman. To her great surprise Mrs. Norman appeared at dinner. On her face there was little trace of the bitter tears. She was paler than usual, and there was a determined expression about her mouth that Agatha did not like. Mr. Norman was present, but husband and wife hardly exchanged one word. "Are you going out this evening, Phyllis?" he asked, finding that she said nothing to him.

" Yea," she replied concisely, " I am going out with Miss Brooke."

May the humble individual who addresses you ask where you are going?" he said. "Certainly." She raised her head with an air of graceful defiance. "I shall be delighted to tell you. I am going to the Theatre des Italiens. I hear that there is something to be seen there at which all .Paris is greatly amused. J. should like to be amused as well." "It does not take much to set all Paris laughing," he replied ; but Agatha saw his face flush, and he bit his lip to keep back the angry words. " I hear, too," continued Mrs. Norman, in a cold, dry voice, " that the actress Freda is there, and I should like to see her. Madame de Quince was saying here yesterday that her latest lover is a Russian duke, who has spent a fortune on her." His handsome face grew livid with rage, and when his wife saw that, her face brightened up with triumph. "I never took any interest in the adventuress until to-day," she said; "and now I think that the woman who can coax his 'ducats and his diamonds' from a Russian duke is entitled to admiration."

"It would be just as well if you talked about what you understand," said Mr. Norman, fiercely. "If I understand no other question on earth, I am well up in that," she replied. 'Nothing else was discussed by my visitor."

" Singularly good taste !" he said. Agatha saw that she was driving him rapidly to a point of madness. She dreaded a scene.

"I am told," continued the daring woman, " that Paris amuses itself by the jealousy of the beautiful Freda's lovers, but that no one has any chance against the duke."

Mr. Norman rose from the table. " Will you not wait for dessert ?" she said. " I have had quite enough," he replied, sullenly. "If you wish yourself well, I should have no more of that kind."

She laughed— laugh that Agatha thought most horrible. Her eyes seemed to flash rire. She laughed again as her husband closed the door.

" 1 have made him suffer," she said; " but this is only the beginning. Now, Miss Brooke, will you prepare ? I wish to bo at the theatre in time."

And she did not speak again until they were driving along to the theatre.

" We shall see the most famous actress in Paris to-night, Miss Brooke," she said. " Who is she asked Agatha. " Mademoiselle Freda. They say that she has loveliness never equalled. To-night she plays is one of Dumas' tragedies. I should like to know what you think of her." They found a crowded house ; a fashionable audience, everything most delightful; but Agatha's eyes were riveted on Mrs. Norman's face ; it was almost terrible in its hard coldness—like a mask of stone.

Suddenly there was a burst of applause that rent the air—such a greeting as is only given to the queens of beauty and of song. Mrs. Norman gave one start : she smothered the cry that rose to her lips, but her whole figure was convulsed and trembled ; the set, fixed, white look on her face was dreadful to see. Her eyes—glittering, hard and defiant—were fixed on the stage ; Agatha followed their glance. They rested on the beautiful young actress, who stood there bowing to the audience who greeted her bo rapturously.

Agatha trembled in her turn. She recognised the face at once ; it was the same that Mr. Norman wore in his losket, the same superb blue eyes and golden hair. Around the beautiful white neck she saw the diamonds that had been bought in the Palais Royal ; she recognised them—the cross, the necklace : there was no mistake. Then she, too, turned white as death. She was face to face with horrible treachery and cruelty; she knew that those jewels had been purchased by the husband, and with the money of the unhappy woman by her side. A hand clutched hers. " What do you think of her said Mrs. Norman, and her voice seemed like a hiss. " She is beautiful, but it is not a style of beauty any refined person would care for,' was t.he truthful reply. Do you see those diamonds ? 1 she asked again ; should you think they were worth much money ?" • " I could not toll the value of a diamond, said Agatha. "I have beard," continued the unhappy lady, "that the beautiful Freda, as they call her, has the finest set of diamonds in Paris. That must be the set. How they shine ! Ah, how beautiful she is : her skin is like tine white satiu. Look at the colour in her face . it is as dainty as the beautiful pink that lies inside white sea-shells, and her eyes have a thousand meanings ; the mouth, men would call it adorable and give their lives for one kiss from it; and the glittering, golden hair, it is like a mesh for her lovers. Ah, me, ah, me ! what is my poor plain face near that ?" " Worth a thousand times more," said Agatha, and she wondered if Mrs. Norman knew the truth about the diamonds ; if she did, no wonder that she was so enraged. Then the beautiful Freda came forward and began her song. That voice is lost to the world now for evermore, but there wan never another like it. The sound could only be compared to liquid pearls: it was simply ravishing. There was no chance for man or woman who heard it. In its pathos it wrung tears from the hardest hearts ; in its ringing jubilance it brought smiles to every lip. Mrs. Norman turned her haggard eyes to Agatha. " What a glorious voice 1" she said. " Such a woman is a queen by right divine. But Agatha would not agree. "Virtue and grace make a queen," she said ; " a far more royal queen than a voice and a face."

"If that woman lost her beauty," said Mrs. Norman, "she would have no more lovers. No more men would crowd round her ; they would laugh as they turned aside, and say, 'She was good looking once.' I should like to hear them say that about her, Mies Brooke. I am quite sure I am not a bad woman at heart, but I should like to see that dainty voice destroyed. The eyes and the mouth should wib no more hearts away—not one. You will not wonder that I hate her when I tell you that is the woman who came between my husband and me. But for her, I should havo been a happy wife; but for her, 1 should have had a child to love. What does she deserve?"

" Punishment," replied Agatha, "but from the hands of God, not man. Do not think of her."

"Not think of her! Why, she is before me day and night, like burning fire. Not think of her ! I believe that when I am dead my heart will burn with hatred of her." "It is not wise," said Agatha. "Some women have no resource but to submit. I think it will be far wiser to turn all your thoughts and energies toward trying to regain your husband'a love than in hating your rival."

"It is too late," she replied, " far too late ; he will never care for my plain face now that he loves that beautiful one."

"If he were very ill," said Agatha, "which of you do you think he would ask to nurse him, you, or Freda ?' 11 Me, while he was very ill and wanted plenty of attention; Freda as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to admire her." " Why not leave him, if you think so very badly of him, and you are so unhappy ?" Then she was frightened at the tempest she had aroused.

" Leave him !" she whispered ; and Agatha never forgot the sound of that whisper. " Leave him. My curse is that I love him. I could not leave him If I tried. I love him with the fiercest love ; I hate him with the fiercest hate. I cannot live away from him ; I cannot live with him. I am in mortal anguish and torture. 1 can find no peace, no rest, and it is ? all owing to her. She came between us. She pretends to like him to get money from him. She does not love hi in ; love him. I heard to-day that he had given her those diamonds. Do you believe it 1" But Agatha was shocked and dismayed at the glimpse into this tempest-tossed soul— dismayed at her own inability to help her ; and when they returned home, Mrs. Norman seemed even more miserable than she had been before.

CHAPTER XLVI. TIIE JOKE THAT PARIS ENJOYED

Every day affairs seemed to go from bad to worse in this wretched household. The infatuation of Heme Norman for this beautiful Freda was talked about every where. It was the one jest that all Paris enjoyed, Freda's caprices, her whims, her fancies were the sole subjects of conversation. Her caprices were some of them as beautiful as her face. She was just then the object of the idolatry of all Paris—young, lovely, charming, witty, without the least restraint in word or action. Her tricks played upon her lovers were the amusement of all who heard them. She was a mimic queen. She had a large court of admirers. Her jewels, her dresses, her horse# and carriages, made her the envy of half the women in Paris. Mrs. Norman said to herself : " Who could compete with a bright, dazzling woman like this? ' She, too, seemed under a kind of infatuation . She went to theatres now two or three times each week,- and sat mute, dumb, with her great anguish, never saying one word, but drinking in with her cold eyes the radiant beauty of Freda's face. "I wonder," she said to Agatha, as they drove home one night after her greatest triumph—"l wonder what he would do," she repeated, " if Freda were to die?" " He would forget her in a week," replied Agatha. " I wonder what he would do if she had the small-pox, and it disfigured her? Forget her in less than a week," she recited to herself, and did not speak again until they reached home.

' Then, looking wistfully at Agatha, she said :

" If he forgot her, do you think he would remember mo ?"

She longed to be able to comfort that desolate soul, to give her some consolation, to help her ; but she could not say yes to that question. She did not think Heme Gorman would ever tolerate his wife again. In one of the finest stores in Paris, a superb set of sables were exposed for sale. Humour said they had been fashioned expressly for a great northern queen, who, however, preferred ermine, and these were for sale. The price, of course was very high, but then sables mado for an empress, of course, must fetch a great price. It was just possible that the story about the empress was a fiction. It did not render the furs less valuable. Mrs. Norman read of them, then asked Agatha to go with her to see them.

The rich English lady was received with even more honour than some French priuccsscs. There would bo no question of hundreds where she was concerncd. "I should like them, Miss Brooko," she said " The price is enormous, but it is long since I have made a purchase for myself. I will speak to Mr. Norman first, just as a matter of form."

And before night it was whispered among the ladies who cared for such things, that the rich English lady, Mrs. Norman, intended to purchase the famous set of sables. "I have longod all my life for a royal sot of furs," she said, "and it will bo a real pleasure to have those." Agatha was only too delighted to sco her take an interest in anything, so that she talked much about them. Strange to say, on the only day she wanted to sco Mr. Norman particularly, he did not come ; he sent a note to say that ho had a particular engagement, and should not dine at home. " Lmust wait until to-morrow for my furs," said Mrs. Norman. " I need not hurry about them ; being summer time no one else will hurry." In one of the loveliest of the bijou mansions of Paris, a very pretty scone was enacted that same evening. Beautiful Freda had a leisure night, and, as a matter of course, had given a dinner party. Needless to say that Herno Norman was there. When the evening was drawing to a close, and the beautiful woman, her neck, arms, and shoulders gleaming like wjiite satin, lay back in the cosy depths of a crimson velvet chair, her golden, glittering hair and scarlet lips, her bewitching loveliness of features, her brilliant smiles, her

languid grace, her biting sarcasm, all maddened the infatuated man. "Beautiful Freda," he said, let me sit on that stool at your feet for ten minutes, just whilo I tell you how lovely you are." " I know," she said, " all about it; every one tells me ; I need no particular information from you. By the way, Heme, why do you let that disagreeable-looking wifo of yours come to the theatre so often 1" " .1 do not know," he replied.

"You should see to it; it is horribly bad taste of her," panted the beautiful Freda. "She comes and sits there and looks at me as if I were some strange creature. She does not look ; she glares—a sullen, savage glare. If you do not manage bettor than this, that woman will do me some mischief. She looked the other night as though she would shoot me."

'•She would not dare," he replied. I wonder who it is that tells her these things ?" "Every old gossip in Paris will help just a little," she said, laughingly. " May I come to-morrow morning to luncheon?" he said ; "I have heard you invito one or two."

" You must bring a passport," she replied. " And what will that be ?" ho asked.

The set of sables that all Paris is raving about. They say they were expressly ordered for the empress, whose husband presented me with my famous diamond crown." " And I am to bring the sables," he said. "Yes ; you must not come without them," she replied. And that samo evoning, so anxious was he plaase her, lie drove to the furrier's, and sent the magnificent present to her. As a matter of course, it was known before noon on the day following where they were, and Paris enjoyed a wicked laugh to think that the costly furs, prepared for the most stately woman in Europe, had been presented to their favourite actress, Freda. But Heme Norman had hardly reckoned on the cost and result of that present. It was when they met for the breakfast that Mrs. Norman saw him for the rirst time since she had made up her mind about the firs. She knew that almost fabulous wealth was hers ; she never dreamed that ho would refuse her money. " Heme," she said, " I have seen a set of sables. The price is rathor extravagant, I admit, but they are royal furs, and I have set my heart upon them. Will you give mo a cheque ?" No words can express his surprise ; the glass he was just raising to his lips foil almost to the ground. "Are all the women in Paris mad?" he cried. " What have I to do with the women in Paris she said. "I ask for a cheque for the furs. I have plenty of money by mc ; but not quite enough." "I cannot bo teased by writing out cheques this morning," he said, hastily. "It is not teasing you," she replied, "It cannot surely be much trouble to sign a cheque," she said. "You would do it at once if tho ate ward or the cook asked you."

"I have not the time this morning, Phyllis. I will do it to-morrow." " Must I remind you," she asked, " that I am simply asking you for my own." "It is not that at all," he replied ; " how hasty you are, Phyllis. I will sign it tomorrow."

" 1 wish for it now," she replied. "Very well," he said, sullenly, "yon must have it, I suppose. 1 will attend to it after luncheon. How much do you say ?" She told him the price of the sables. " You are ambitious," he said, "to want the furs of an empress." "They will be worth looking at," she replied, with ill-judged bitterness, " which I am not."

"You know beat," he replied. He signed the cheque, gave it fco her, and went out. He did not care to face the scene. She would be sure now to know that he had bought them and given them to the beautiful Freda. He honestly wished himself out of this dilemma, which was about the worst he had fallen into. What a scene there would be. He had known long since, by her comments on Freda, that she was jealous of her, but now ? v

>" He was sufficient of a gentleman to feel very sorry, neither did he forget that it was his wife's money which had purchased this magnificent gift for her rival. All Paris laughed again at the joke ; it seemed to the -Parisians that this English household had undertaken to provide for their amusement. It was certainly a magnifi - cent notion that the outraged wife should drive to the fur store, cheque in hand, for the sables ; it was a finer joke still to know who had purchased them, and where they were gone. Mrs. Norman was disappointed ; but the thing she could not understand was the halffrightened look of the proprietor and the laughing face of one of the assistants. " Who has purchased them," she asked, and she could not understand why an evasive answer was given to her. When she did know, the wonder is that she did not die of the mortification ; it would have been bettor if she had done so.

Of course she knew before nightfall; one of the many friends who hurry with bad news_ came to her and told her. She said little * she tried even to laugh, but none the less deeply had the iron entered her soul, She told Agatha. "What would you do in my place now?" she asked.

" Nothing. I would pass it by with contemptuous indifference." " I cannot," she replied, with dry, tearleas eyes. "I must avenge myself this time."

" Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord," quoted Agatha ; but it was to deaf ears.

Heme Norman did the most unfortunate thing he could do ; ho told beautiful Freda of the contretemps over the furs. She was amused with and then quarrelled with him about it. Handsome Heme Norman's reign with the famous actress was almost over.

Beautiful Freda said to herself that if by using the sables on the stage, she would mortify the wife of the man she wanted now to rid herself of, she would do it. Mischiefmakers repeated it. A determined expression came into Mrs. .Norman's fkco as she hoard it.

The actress kept her word. In one of the finest acts of a play—thp scene of which was laid in Russia —«he had tho imperial sables arranged carelessly around her. And the same evening a dozen different women took the story to Phyllis Norman. She said very little ; she laughed. But there was a look in her face not pleasant to see. The next morning, for the first time since Agatha had been in the house, she went out alone — alone, and so plainly dressad, no one would have known that it was the fashionable Mrs. Norman. She was certainly not herself: her eyes had a wild, strange look ; her face was lividly grey. " Will you go out with mo this evening, Miss Brooke she said. •' I should like to see these famous furs on the stage ; but wo will go in disguise, either in the pit or tho eallery. Are you willing?" "Yes, I am willing," replied Agatha ; but in her heart she wished herself a hundred miles away. [To bo continued.]