IN CUPID'S CHAINS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9491, 21 April 1894, Page 3 (Supplement)

IN CUPID'S CHAINS.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, Author of "Once in a Life," "A Life's Mistake,' " Better Than Life," " On Love's Altar ; or A Fatal Fancy," " She Trusted Him." "Paid For," " Elaine,"etc. CHAPTER XXVL —(Continued.) The man called Harry Richmond burned at bhe sound of her footsteps and looked at her; and as her eyes meb his, Madge had hard work bo repress the cry bhab rose bo her lips ; for there—so it seemed to her— stood her boy-lover grown into glorious manhood. Something in her face—almosb as pale as those of the statues round her—startled him, for his eyes flickered as if under a sudden flash of midday sunlight, and he book half a step forward. Then he stopped and looked from the lovely living face bo the copy in the red clay. " Well?" said Mr. Gerard. A solemn silence which seemed to stifle Madge brooded over the studio. She felt as if she were dreaming. " Ib is very good," said Harry Richmond. " Yes ; ib is like. Io is—" He stopped, and his hand wenb to his brow again. " Will you tell me your name?" he asked ; and his voice, though gentle enough—ib trembled slightly had the peculiar ring of insistence, command, which Madge remembered in Lord Norman's— the boy Lord Norman. She answered with difficulty, for her heart was throbbing with the emotion which this awful rosemblanco caused her. " Yes,"she said. " It is Madge Gordon." " Madge—Gordon." He repeated the name softly, slowly, his eyes fixed on her lace. "Have you ever heard the name before?" asked the sculptor. He started as if he had forgotten Mr. Gerard's presence, then, with an expression so sad and wistful in his eyes that they stabbed Madge's hearb, he shook his head. "No," he said ; "I have never heard ib before." Madge drew a long breath. "I have bold this lady something of your story, Richmond," said Mr. Gerard. " Yes It is a strange one, is ib nob?" he said, with a fainb, grave smile. " Ib is a very sad one," Madge faltered; and the tears sprung into her eyes. He looked at her with the same wistfulness, then stretched oub his hand as if to touch her. "You are sorry for me?" he said, with a kind of grateful wonder. You must have a gentle heart, Miss Gordon. But do not cry, please," he added in a troubled voice. " Ib is nob worth that. Oh, nothing is worth thab. Besides, 1 am —he paused, and the word bhab followed lefb him as if reluctantly—" unhappy." "Miss Gordon knows whab trouble is, and is therefore sympathetic," said Mr. Gerard, stealthily working ab the model quite unremarked by the other two. " She is anxious about her grandfather, with whom she lives alone, and whom she loves

very dearly* He has been very ill is ill still." "I am very sorry," said the deep, grave voice, even more gently than before. "He has been ill? Do you—do you think—" ho paused with a great, strong man's shyness. " Well?" said the sculptor. " Do you think that he would leb me see him? Sometimes sick people like to see and talk with a stranger." Mr. Gerard glanced up from his bust at Madge, inquiringly. ; . She formed a "yes" with her lips. " Miss Gordon thinks thab he would," said Mr. Gerard. A look of pleasure flashed across Harry Richmond's face. " When may Igo ho asked. Madge looked ab the sculptor, and he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. " You may go now, as far as I am concerned," he said, with an artist's brusqueness. " I have finished with you to-day," addressing Madge, "and if I had not, it would have been no use your staying, for your face has taken bo itself as many and as varied expressions as there are motes in a sunbeam. Perhaps Miss Gordon will let you go with her now, Richmond ?" " Will you?" he asked, with suppressed eagerness. " Yes," said Madge 5 "my grandfather will be glad to see you." • He strode across the studio into an inner room, and Madge followed him with her eyes, then isunk into a chair. Mr. Gerard regarded her with a smile rather curious one. " You seem to have taken to each other," he said. "Ab leasb, he is unusually friendly with you. As a rule, he is barely civil to your sex—no, thab is nob true, either, for he is as courteous as a prince; but ib is j cold courtesy, nothing more. You are nob afraid bo go with him ?" I "No, no—oh, no 1" said Madge in a low 1 voice; and indeed there waß nob a touch of fear of him in the varied emotions his presence aroused in her. " You have no cause bo be. As I told you, he is quite sane." " Oh, yes, yes, yes 1" Madge murmured, almost indignantly. "And he is as true and gentle— as a gentleman, and there is nothing truer or gentler." Harry Richmond re-entered the room at the moment. He had washed his hands and face, and changed the blouse for his jacket, and looked simply a gentleman in a morning suit of rough tweed. He stood, hat in hand, erect and patient, courteously waiting till she should rise, and when she did so, he bowed to Mr. Gerard, and opened the door for her to pass out. " To-morrow, if Mr. Gordon be well enough," the sculptor called after her. They went into the street and for a few yards in silence, Harry Richmond looking straight before him, with a lino of deep thought on his brow ; bub that he was nob dreaming or lost to the consciousness of her presence was made manifest presently; At the corner of Hart-street, just as Madge was aboub to step into the road a hansom cab dashed round with all a hansom's recklessness. Out Went Harry Richmond's hand, with the swiftness of a hawk, and held her back. "Thank you," she murmured. " I wonder more people are nob run over bhan actually are." "There are quite enough as it is," he said. "Do you go out alone often ?" She could feel his dark eyes resting 011 her as she answered : "Yes, always. I have no one bub my grandfather, and he is too ill and weak to leave the house." " Quite alone ?" he said, almosb to himself. " You, boo, are alone," she found herself saying ere she knew it. "Yes." He smiled. "Bub thab is different ; I am a man, and can take care of myself." '" And I, too, though I am a woman," said Madge. He looked ab her with wistful admiration, but an admiration very different to that which Madge remembered glittering in the eyes of Lord Norman the night of his return to Chesney Chase. "Yes," lie said, "lean believe that you are full of courage. But, all the same, it is not good to be alone.- I know; I have been solitary so long. I have no friend in the world but Mr. Gerard. He is a fine fellow, is he not Madge assented in a low voice. Every word this strange man uttered seemed to wake an echo in her heart. She found herself longing for him to go on speaking bo her. " How crowded the streets are 1 Do you like London ? " No," said Madge, with a faint shudder. " But it is a grand place, and I can imagine some persona being fond of ib. Bub I know so little of it. I nave always lived in the country." 14 Yes," he said, looking ab her with deep interest. " Will you think me intrusive if I ask where " In Devonshire, at a place called Chesney Chase," she replied, lifting her eyes to his face as if she expected to see him start and exclaim with surprise ; bub after a moment of apparently deep thought, he said, quite calmly : " It) is a pretty name. I have never heard it before." Madge sighed with an unreasonable feeling of disappointment. Why did you sigh he asked, with quick sympathy. Madge Hushed. "I—l do nob know. This is where we live." She opened the door with her latch-key, and he followed her up the stairs. Mr. Gordon was lying back in his chair with his eyes closed. "'E's been asleep 'most all the time you've been away, Miss Madgo —" began Tilda. Then she stopped to stare open-mouthed at the tall handsome stranger. " Lawks, miss —!" Madgo coloured and smiled, " I see you have gob the tea ready. Will you bring another cup, Tilda?" Tilda retired, almosb backward, and Madge flung her jacket and hab on bhe couoh, and wenb bo the fire to see to the kettle. Harry Richmond followed her, and putting her hand back gently, said : ; " Allow me, please. May I?" He lifted the kettle and poured the water into the tea-pot. in bhe mosb approved fashion. " Not too much water at first," he said. Madgo smiled up at him. " You are quite an adept!" she said. "Am I ? Well, I have lived alone so long, you see. Now, ib must stand on the hob for just five minutes, must ib not Let me put it there, please.'" Ho looked round the room. He had not, as Silas would have done, made a mental inventory of ib the moment he entered. " How pretty and comfortable it is !" he said, with a faint sigh ; and, rather to himI self than her : " One would know at a glance that a lady reigned within it. Oh, I beg ' your pardon 1" His eyes fell, and the colour rose to his tanned face. " I do beg your pardon, most humbly. lam so used to talking to myself for wanb of a bebber listener, that—" " There is no need to beg my pardon, " she said, all her being thrilling to the lowspoken words, his deep, musical voice. " See ! my grandfather is waking." The old man stirred and opened his eyes, let them wander from one face to the other unintelhgently for a momenb, then he clutched the chair, and leaning forward, exclaimed, with feeble energy and indignation : "What—what does he do here—Lord Norman ?" Madge burned pale, and putting her arm round him, drew him gently back to his cushions. " Hush ! Hush ! dear !" she whispered. "Ibis a mistake. This gentleman is not Lord Norman. His name is Richmond." The old man glared at the handsome face for a full minute, then gradually doubt book the place of dislike and anger, and he closed his eyes. " I bhoughb ib was Lord Norman. I—l beg his pardon. How do you do— Whab name did you say, Madge 1" , . „ " Richmond— Richmond, sir, said the young man. "I am sorry I startled you. Miss Gordon was good enough to permib me to call on you. I will go now. " No, no !" said the old man, with quavering voice. " Don'b go ; stay, please. We —we have so few friends. Stay. He may stay, Madge, eh ?" , , ~ Almosb unconsciously, Madge held oub her hand as if in appeal, and Harry Richmond inclined his head consentingly. " Whab was ib he called me?' he asked her in a low voice. Her lips quivered. "Lord Norman—Lechmere,' she said, looking up ab him as she knelt) beside the fire bo reach the boast?.

He repeated, the name quite calmly, bab with a slightly puzzled frown. " Bat why ?" he asked. "1— don't know, "she faltered. "He has been ill, and is still weak ; and sometimes he wanders when he wakes suddenly, as now." She paused a moment. " You— you never heard the name before?" "Ofthis Lord Norman— was it?— Lechmere ? " he replied. "No ; never. " . CHAPTER XX.VII. ■* Harry Richmond took up his hab to go, but Madge asked him to stay to tea. They sab down, and she noticed that he was perfectly self-possessed, with the modest calm of a gentleman, and not at all awkward or embarrassed, as an ordinary workman would have been under the circumstances. He was, indeed, calmer than herself, for a wave of strange excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, was thrilling through her. She could feel his dark eyes, with their gentle melancholy, watching her as she poured out the tea,. and her hand trembled, and the colour came and went in her face, accentuating her beauty. "And who is this Lord Norman? I beg your pardon, 1 hare forgotten his name again," he asked. " Lechmere," she replied, with downcast eyes. "lb is a gentleman whom we once knew." "He would nob feel flattered by your grandfather's mistake," he said. "A nobleman would not care to know that a poor sculptor's workman had been mistaken for him." "Are you so poor?" she asked, scarcely knowing what she said, for still the tones of the musical voice startled and confused her. He laughed, evidently not a whit offended by her question. " Well, no; nob if ' poor and content is rich enough,' be true. I earn thirty shillings a week, and that, for a solitary man whose wants are few, is sufficient. I live in a little attic on the other side of the —lodgings are cheaper there—and, as X said, am content. This"—he glanced round admiringly—"is a palatial apartment, luxury itself, compared with it." He did not explain that he lived in an attic and on short commons, because a large portion of his earnings was distributed among his poorer neighbours; bub Madge, who had learned how far thirty shillings will go, divined ib instantly, and her lovely eyes glowed as they glanced at him. "And do you not find it very dull ?" she said. He thought a moment. "Yes," he replied, "very; and mostly when I turn in for the night. While one can walk about—and 1 spend all my spare time on the tramp through the London streets —one can keep loneliness at arm's length. How glad you must be to have someone for whom you can care, Miss Gordon and he looked with a strong man's smile of sympathy ab the worn old man lying dozing in his chair. Madge's eyes grew moist. "Yea, he is all the world to me!" she murmured ; " and I am happy while I have him !" Then he turned and spoke to Mr. Gordon, and ths old man roused a little and answered him ; but it was plain that he had forgotten his name, or how he happened to j be there. _ j Tilda came and cleared the tea-things away, and Madge got out her work ; but it lay forgotten in her lap as she listened to Harry Richmond. He talked of all sorts of things, bub of nothing that was not connected with London, she noticed. He told her about the hard work of the docks, related anecdotes respecting the poor people, his neighbours, explained to her the difference between the various kinds of marble ; and whatever the subject, she found herself listening with an intense, all-absorbing interest. When he rose' to go he looked round wistfully. Is it too much to ask that I may come again, Miss Gordon ?" he said in a low voice. Madge felt a thrill of pleasure, but, perhaps because of that thrill, looked down, and seemed to hesitate. He coloured under his tan. "It is too much," ho said. "Forgive me ! But"—he paused a moment—" you will think it presumptuous of me, but I can't help feeling that we are not quite the strangers our slight acquaintance makes us. I feel as if we were old friends. I fear that now I have sinned beyond even your forgiveness I" "No, no!" she said, almost inaudibly. " And please come again. My grandfather will be glad to see you." He held her hand—it seemed to her that his strong one pressed it, but in her agitation she could not; be sure—and wont. . She sunk into a chair and covered her eyes. No work was done that night. Harry Richmond strode through the lamp-lit streets to his attic on the south side of the river. The blood was tingling in his veins the lovely face of Madge Gordon floated before him like that of a spirit, making beautiful the murky streets, and filling him with a kind of reverential joy and gladness mingled with an aching longing. Was it possible that he had only seen her for the first time that day? Surely not! Surely ho must have known her for a long, long while and had kept her image hidden away in his heart! Mow and again people who passed him stopped and looked after him admiringly, and with a sorb of wonder ; for the handsome face was all aglow with the emotions that possessed him. Presently a child, a little bit of a boy, one of the thousands of waifs and strays that float in the dark tide of the great, the joyous, the sorrowful city, limped after him and begged ; and Harry Richmond, when at last he heard the faint, thin voice, came down from the clouds and picked the child up in his arms; for to night his great heart was overflowing with tenderness. " My poor little man ?" he said in a voice that filled the child with self-pity. "Are you all alone in this great place—all alone and hungry, eh?" " Yes I'm hungry. Give me a penny," said the child, whimpering. Harry Richmond emptied his pockets of their small wealth and put it into the dirty little claw. " There you are!" he said, cheeringly. "Hold on to it tightly. Run home now and buy some supper." Half frightened by such generosity, the waif sped away with bare and noiseless feet, and Harry Richmond strode on, He was full of happiness that was yet not perfect joy—so full that he felb as if the attic were nob large enough for him to breathe in ; so he paused at the door of the gloomy house and walked on. Presently he got his pipe out, and finding himself out of tobacco, walked abstractedly into the nearest tobacconist's to find that he had not a penny left in the world. " Never mind," he said, with a smile, to the shopman; and he pub his pipe back into his pocket quite contentedly. There was no supper when ab last he climbed to his attic; but he could not have eaten if a lord mayor's banquet had been awaiting him. His heart was too full of this new and indescribable something that had come into his life to permit him even to sleep, and ib was dawn before he fell asleep with "Madge" upon his lips. The sculptor's workman, the man who had lost his memory, was in love ab lasb! The nexb day Mr. Gerard senb up word asking Madge if she could go round and sib for him, that he might finish the model; and Madge went round in the afternoon. " Oh, I thought you would have come in the morning," said Mr. Gerard as he opened the door to her. "My paid model is hare— the young woman you have met, you know. I shall have finished with her in half an hour. It is her last sitting." "I will go away and come again ab the end of that time." No, no," he said, anxiously. "Thab means that you will forget all aboub ib. I know you women. Go into the yard and choose what marble you would like. Harry Richmond is there and will help you. He knows as much about it as I do.' In bis eagerness to get back to his work, he almost pushed her down the steps leading to the yard, and Madge, though she would have withdrawn if she could have found any excuse ready, descended. Harry Richmond was working ab a block I of marble, and did nob hear her footsteps or see her until she stood close beside him. Then he turned, started, and in a very unworkmanlike way dropped both malleb and chisel. He stooped to pick them up, and the exertion, slighb as ib musb hare been, made him very red ; then he raised his hab. "Good afternoon, Miss Gordon. You you startled me. I was thinking—l mean I did not expect to see .you, and—"

111111 1 1 1 ' " " Mr■. Gferard has cent me to choose (he marble for my bust," she said, with - a meekness • unusual with ; Madge, and with downcast eyes. . . Harry Richmond nodded quickly and « looked pleased. - • f," " Yes; we will soon do that. Ab least; he corrected himself, "it will need a little * time. .Ib will want consideration." He gazed at her thoughtfully. . "Yes it musb be thepuresb white Carrara —the purest!" He looked round bhe yard, went to and examined some blocks, and presently returned to her with one on his snoulder. Madge looked ab him wibh wide-open eyes. " Is ib nob very heavy 1" she exclaimed. Be smiled as he seb ib carefully down at her feeb. "I'm rather strong," he said, almost apologetically. "There is the piece* Ibis the best in the yard. I will cut it into shape at once;" he caught up the chisel and the mallet. Then he paused. " I wish I could carve ib," he murmured, wistfully "Are you anxious to be a sculptor?" asked Madge, trying to meet the direct gaz4 of his handsome eyes, and failing. " No," he said ; "I never had the desire until now. But ib is a vain desire," ha added sadly. 1 have kepi this block for some special work of Mr. Gerard's ; he will be glad." "Why?" said Madge, innocently. He looked at her, then fixedly at the marble. " His whole soul will be in his statue of you," he said in a. low voice. "He has never done anything better than your model in clay. I looked ab it again this morning. lam going to ask him—" He stopped and bib his lips. "What are you going to ask him? Madge asked. She had seated herself on a slab of stone, her hands clasped in her lap, her lovely face turned up to him. Before he answed he picked up his coat, and signing to her to rise, pub lb on th<j stone. " Oh, no, thanks !" she said. "Do, please," he pleaded. "It Is too hard a seat." With a blush Madge seated herself on the coat. " You have nob told me what you were going to ask Mr. Gerard ?' He held the malleb aloft and looked i straight before him. " I'm going to ask him to let me have the clay model of you," he said, almost timidly. "He breaks up most of them; but I think, I hope, he will give me yours." Madge looked down and was silent for a moment. The strokes of the mallet made sweet music. "Ib musb be very hard work," she said, after a pause, during which she had been ! watching him with a woman's admiration of strength. He thought for a moment. " Yes, I suppose so," he said. "It wa& hard at first. To-day I have to work rather harder than usual." "Why?" she asked, with as much interest as if the fate of an empire hung upon his answer. " I was late this morning," he said. " ] did nob sleep until dawn, and I have to make ud for lost time." She also had nob slept till dawn. Their wakefulness seemed to create a sympathy between them. "Do you often get tired she asked, her dark eyes lifted to his face. He laughed. "Never, or scarcely ever," he replied. "I am very strong, as I said. How is Mr. Gordon to-day ?" "My grandfather is just the same," sh« answered. "I was afraid that my visit had disturbed him," he said. " Oh, no," she replied. " Then I may come again ?" he almost murmured. " Yes," she said. He worked on, talking as he worked, and Madge had grown quite unconscious of the flight of time, when Mr. Gerard appeared at the top of the steps and called to her. : sS$" Bring that block up here Richmond l* he cried. [To be continued.]