QUEEN KATE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9581, 4 August 1894, Page 3 (Supplement)

QUEEN KATE.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, Author of '"In Cupid's Chains," "Oncein a Life," "A Life's Mistake," "Better Than Life," "She Trusted Him," etc., etc. CHAPTER I. -'It fa very sad, very; it is most distressing 1" said the Duke of Southborough. His grace was sitting before his writingtable in the library at Rilsby Hall, his hands folded before him, a tone of fretful annoyance in his voice, an impatient and tvorried expression in his face. If the truth uust be told, and indeed it must, though ■he heavens fall, His Grace the Duke of Southborough was a mean-looking man. He was small; with a pinched face, narrow forehead, almost imperceptible chin, washed-out eyes, long nose, and thin, querulous lips. He was dressed in what used to be called a " pepper and salt" morning suit a little too large for him, irore a white necktie, and looked like a jrocer, or a local preacher on a holiday, 3 r a decayed waiter out of a job, or a icuall country attorney who had lost his practice. The room he was sitting in was a fine ne—so tine that it made his meanness ,ppear more marked than it might othervise have done. One felt, as one looked ab ira, that he ought to bo cleaning the rindows, or dusting the furniture, or ar■angiug the book?, instead of sitting in tho '.hair ot the master of the house. The person he addressed presented a emarkable contrast. He was a young Ban, very nearly, if not quite, six feet, veil and strongly made, with a handsome face, and a manner which, though rather too . full of the devil-may-care, was certainly more ducal than the poor duke's. He wa j dressed in a suit of riding-tweed, and it fitted him to perfection. As has been said, Curll Brendon was handsome ; though, if his face had been described feature by feature, it would fail to fill the usual requirements of the word. Its beauty lay in its power, in the expression of the dark eyes, the firmness of* tho lips, the strength of will indicated by the low brow, the wave in the short dark hair. j Women, alas ! never stopped to ask if the nose were straight, the lips well formed, or the colour of the eyes ; they were satisfied, too often more than satisfied, with the waole, and cared nothing for particulars. It i? a way women have. He was leaning, almost lounging, against the 'able—the sacred ducal table—one hand i:i the pocket of his riding-breeches, the other holding the whip with which he now and again mechanically struck his leg. t . The duke was nervous, fidgety, and palpably embarrassed ; his nepnew was perfectly at his ease; in fact, by their manner they might have exchanged places, and the duke have been the person who was being scolded and tho young man, the person delivering the scolding. " It's really dreadful, dreadful !" whined his grace. " i'ou do not appear to have any—any conscience! This is the third, fourth time I have—er—assisted you, Curll, and, it would appear, all to no purpose. I'm sure I don't know what is to be the end of it. You seem to think that f am—er — made of money !" . " That's the general opinion ; hope it isn't erroneous," said the younij man. The duke flushed with angervery just »nger — resentment. "You have no claim on me," he said. "I know that," said Curll, quite pleasantly. "That's what I told my father. No claim whatever ; I told him that I had better send in my papers and clear out to the colonies, or anywhere but he insisted upon my coming down ; made a point of it, c fact, and—l came." The tone of the musical voice was quite pleasant, quite free from offence. The duke shuffled his feet, and looked round the room with helpless impatience. " It's true, I—l am rich," he said, admitting the world-known fact reluctantly; " but I have claims upon me just as other men have; more, for everybody body thinks he has only to ask and to have. There's your cousin Edgar"—Lord Edgar was the eldest son and marquis, the future duke—" Edgar is very expensive and — there are the estates to be kept up, and— and—l often wish I were a working-man with fifteen shillings a week 1" " iou wouldn't like it," remarked Curll, with charming candour. "You would soon want to swop back again, sir; I've never tried ib myself, bub I'm sure you wouldn't like it. Weir'he reached for his hat, which be had placed on the table—" I'll tell my father that you won't shell out. 'Pon my word, if you ask me, I think you're quite right. Why should you? I'm only a distant nephew and, as you say, there are no end of others with claims upon you, while I haven't any." He nodded and smiled with as much contentment as if his request had been granted, and looked toward the door, under which the bright May sunlight was streaming tantalisingly. The duke shuffled to his feet again, and »sked : " What do you mean to do ?" Curll shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, send in my papers, leave the army, and go to the colonies;" he said. "I don't know exactly, what you do when you get there, but I dare say I shall soon find out. There's a mounted police, or something of the kind; 1 might join that, or go in for mining. I'm stroyg enough for any amount af knocking about, you see." "You oughb to be thankful you have retained your strength, considering the terrible life you have led," remarked the duke, in the tone in which he was wont to admonish criminals from the county bench. " Yes, I dare say," said Curll, carelessly; ind as the duke looked ab the strong, landsorae face, the strong, graceful form, ind listened to the careless strength of the uusical voice, an expression of jealous envy :rept over the poor, mean little face; for the duke and his sons were weak, pitiably weak and feeble; and the marquis, Edgar, was at that moment dawdling at the Riviera for " the benefit of his health." "A terrible shocking!" _ he said, querulously. "Your colonel admitted that /ou were the wildest young fellow in his regiment, and it is a fast one, I know. Von can have no conscience, Curll; none whatever." "I suppose not, if you say so, sir," adnitted the wildest man in his regiment. 1 1 never asked lifyself the question. But it's over now, you see, and I shall settle down when 1 get over there, wherever it isand he straightened himself as only i man who has been under the drill•ergeant's hands can, and looked ready to Jepart. The duke took up a paperweight, fidgeted with it, stared at it without seeing it, then plumped it down on the table again. " Well," he said, "I suppose I must help rou again. Mind, I do it reluctantly; I feel ■hat 1 am unwise—" "I am sure you do," remarked the young nan, pleasantly. " Butbut I do ib for your father's sake, »nd—and for the sake of the—family same. I can't afford to have ib disgraced." Curll had listened to the prelude up to :his point with a cheerful countenance, out at the last words his expression changed. The Brendon temper was aroused, the hob brendon blood sprung to bis face, the dark sves flashed. "What?" he said; and, though that was all, ib produced its effect upon the little duke. " Er—er—perhaps I used too strong a word," he said, nervously; "perhaps ib was too strong; though, really, it is disgraceful that a Brendon should—er—what did you say, 'Join a police force?'" ' Curll's face cleared, and he laughed. " Well, ib is nob the commoner garden police," he said. "They are almcsb soldiers, some of 'em better than some I know. And if it was the ordinary police—well" He paused, and smiled again. "Wasn't the first of our family a coalminer 1" The history of the great Brendon family was too well known for the duke to deny tho imputation. It was a simple, solid fact that the first Brendon had worked in one of the mines of which he had afterward become owner, and that it was actually situated in the county from which the auke, his defendant, had taken the title.' But, of course, the duke was annoyed, *nd be pushed back the cheque-book which he had nervously drawn - toward him. His face flushed, and ho glared angrily at the roang man. - ; . * f '; - ' v ' V

" You—you are disrespectful, sir !" he said, with as much dignity as he could command. " I'm afraid I was," said the young man, frankly "bub I was riled. Disgrace isn't a ploasanb; word. V Beg your pardon. Of course, you wouldn't) understand the difference between the common bobby and a Cape mounted police quite sure that I do myself. But there is a difference ; and it's no disgrace, that I can see, belonging to either." The duke drew the all-powerful book toward him again; and filled in a cheque, in a thin, feeble hand," and pushed it across the table. " There !" he said. "There is the money ; bub I must ask you to remember that ib is the lastabsolutely the last which—er—l shall place at your disposal. I do ib for— the sake of your father and the family name, and I trust"—-lie pub on the magisterial manner again, but nob very effectively—" I trust that you will make a better use of ib than you have done with the other large— large sums I have given you;" and ho leaned back and nervously wiped the ducal brow. Curll Brendon took up the cheque and looked at it, and from it to the duke. " Thank you," he said ; and, for the flrsb time, his face and voice were grave and serious. " You are very generous, sir; more generous than I deserve. I'm not sure that"'—he paused a momenb and looked ab the checque—" that ib wouldn'b be better to give it you back, and go to the devil in my own way. But I'll keep it—as long as 1 can." The smile broke out) again, the voice cleared. "Thank you, once more, and good-bye, sirand he held out his hand, with the smile still on his handsome face. &The duke reached out a wrinkled hand. " Won'twon't you stay a little while he said. " I'm sure we shall be very—er— pleased—" "No, thank you," said Curll, with a short laugh at the too palpable falseness of the politeness. "I get back to town. I'm sure you'll be only too glad to got rid of me." Ib was so true that the duke couldn't really couldn'tcontradict him. "Butbut there is no train," he said, feebly, and wishing that there were. "There's one from Hoolsery this evening," said Curll. " I'll borrow a nag of you and ride over. They can send my portmanteau on and bring the horse back; I'll leave it at the inn. But I needn't trouble you with all this ; leave ib to mo. Good-bye." His strong hand closed over the thin, weak one, held it, and pressed it warmly for a moment, then, with a soldier's gait., he left the room ; and, with a sigh of unspeakable relief, the duke sunk back in his chair, and wiped his face like a man exhausted. CHAPTER 11. Captain Curll Brendon wont down tho broad stairs, through the hall, and out by a back door to the stable-yard. On the way ho met one of the housemaids, who respectfully drew up against the wall to let him pass, but with a timidly admiring glance at the handsome face and stalwart form. The captain had only spent four days in the house, and yet he was a great favourite in the servants' hall, and, strange to say, nob only with the womenfolk, bub with the men. He called all the former " Mary," excepting Mrs. Stephens, the housekeeper, a dear old lady, who would have liked to pet him as if he wero a schoolboy ; and he called all the men " George." But though he ordered them about, wanted everything done in a minute, and was beautifully ready with a swear 1 word for them if they were nob sharp enough, they all flew to do his bidding ten times more willingly than they waited upon the duke and his sons. He stopped at sight of the maid and set her heart in a flutter by chucking her under the chin and remarking : "Halloo, Mary ; just tell Mrs. Stephens I'm off; and ask her to have my portmanteau packed. Don't you ever wear ribbons in your cap? Try blue—let me look at your eyes. Yes; light blue will suib you best. Here's a trifle to gob some with." The trifle was half a sovereign; but " Mary" would have been just as " mazed"— "mazed" is Devonshire for "mad"with delight if he had given her nothing but the kind, genial words. Dropping him a courtesy and murmuring, " Oh, th— thank you, captain 1" she sped off to the servants' hall, and Curll passed on. , At his appearance in the yard every man found an excuse for getting near him, and everyone was dying to receive some command—and execute it, which is quite another thing. He explained what he wanted. "Just give me a decent horse, Wilkins — ! the best is good enough for me—and I'll ride him to Hoolsery; then let George drive the portmanteau into the station and bring the horse back. See I'd rather ride than drive, and I rather fancy I shall make a call on the way. How far is Ammondaia from here? Lies on my road, doesn't ib ?" Two or three of the eager listeners hastened to explain . and direct him, and the captain sat on a turned-up stable-bucket and lighted a huge manilla and smoked contentedly as he listened. All right. I dare say I shall find it—if you leave off trying to tell me. Here's something to lay tho dust with." He distributed a handful of silver, and then turned his attention to examining tho horses, which Wilkinß paraded for him, the men listening and watching him b8 if he were an oracle. "That bay's the nag for me. Pub a snaffle on him, George, and girth him up tight, then be can jump about as much as ho likes. Give him a pint and a-half of water with a handful of oatmeal in it, and have him ready in fifteen minutes, sharp. Right I" Then he sauntered back, said good-bye to Mrs. Stephens and the butler—both of whom parted with him with something like emotion, though they had seen him for the first time four days ago—and went into the gardens. On the lawn ,a lad was playing in a listless, molancholy manner with a bloated spaniel. Both looked bored to death, bub at the sight of Captain Curll they woke to an interest in life, and the lad ran and the dog waddled, toward him. " So, here you are, Bertie; I've been looking for you everywhere." Tho statement, though not exactly veracious, brought a pleased flush to the boy's pale, tired looking face, bub ib vanished again as the captain went on : " I've come to say ' good; bye.' I'm off now, old chap." ' " You are going?" said Lord Bertie with a sigh, as ho put his tiny hand into Curll's big palm. " I'm sorry;" and he sighed again and looked wistfully up at the handsome face and now kindly eyes; it was wonderful how kind and gentle the dark eyes could be at times. " I wish you were goingiSto stay." " So do I (God forgive me !) if you'd like me to, old chap ; but I must be off." " Ib will be very dull when you've gone," said Lord Bertie, sadly. " It's always very dull. I wish 1 were a man like you, then I could go too. Do you think I shall ever be a man ?" ! Curll laughed, bub ib was a very gentle laugh indeed. " Rather ! That is, if you chuck those blessed books of yours," and ho kicked at an open volume lying on the lawn. "You I can't expect to grow if you pore and pore over 'em all day long like a blessed worm. Chuck them, Bert, and go in for riding, and football, and cricket." " I will," said the lad, bub nob vory confidently. "I want to grow up and bo soldier, to be like you in every way, Uncle Curll." "Well, be a soldier, by all means ; it's the best trade going," said Uncle Curll ; "but I'd stop there; don't be like me altogether, for I'm a precious bad lob, old I chap." • "Are you said Lord Bertie, without a trace of disapproval. " Why are you ?" "Dashed if I know," said Curll, pulling ab his moustache and smiling rather ruefully. " It's in the blood, I think. Your side of the family's the good 'un,and mine's j the bad. See ' I " I'm sorry. I think," said his lordship —"I think I'd rather be bad like you than , good like father and Edgar, for, you see, you're so much happier and—and jollier." "That's bad morality, I'm afraid," said Captain Curll. : , " Never mind. Don't forget what I say about tho books and— Look here, buy yourself a first-class cricket bab. Tell 'em to give you one of Ayres', and see thab you get ib, as they say in the advertisements he pub a sovereign in the small palm, and shook ib with the manly shake a boy loves. " Mind ! no books, and plenty of riding. - Thab l>easb of a pony of yours is as fab " as a sofa cushion; yon'll have bim so un into the Air out of JUsJit like

I a balloon some day. Good-bye, old chap, and | —and don't) forget;, although you - haven't seen much of trie •— Oh, dash it, don't cry J" .. ' " I'm not—-I'm not '."said Lord Bertie, clinching his hands and trying to force the tears back. " But, oh, Ido wish you were going to stay J" • A few minutes later the captain rode out of the stable-yard as if he were an emperor just setting off to conquer a country or two ; and the men—and maids who watched him from behind the curtains —all echoed Bertie's wish. ' ; The bay was the best horse in the ducal stablestrust Curll Brendon not to choose i the worst!and he and his rider came to I an understanding within the first five minutes. They went along the avenue, and then straight across the moor. Rilsby is the part of Devonshire that lies close to Cornwall. It is a beautiful county. As you pass through it you are reminded of {Scotland one quarter of an hour, of Switzerland the next, and a little while afterward of leafy Surrey. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of the sea—it was as blue as a sapphire this afternoon —and its sullen, sonorous boom comes floating across the moor in a weird, mystic fashion. Some say that this part of Devonshire is really the Eden in which Adam and Eve dwelt; but that is a matter for argument; anyway, it is lovely enough for any paradise, ancient or modern. As Curll Brendon rode on, with a huge manilla always in his mouth, he was rather thoughtfulfor him. I'm afraid that when he informed Lord Bertie that he was a bad lot, he only spoke the simple truth. He was wild, extravagant, utterly reckless, and of no particular use to anybody—excepting Her Majesty's forces ; for he was a fine soldier, and the pride and promise of his regiment, the Red Dragoons. He was thinking of the money he had run through, of the debts ho owed, of the devil-may-care life he had led, and his reflections made him uncomfortable. The very presence of the cheque in the pocket of his fancy "horsey" waistcoat added to his discomfort, though he felt ho shame in having asked for it. What else can a man do who is nephew to a duke, and who has never been taught to earn a penny, bub ask for money ? Besides, in consequence of past transactions between the duke and Curll's father, with which the reader need not be bothered, the duke owed something to Curll's side of the family. There was no shame; but the reluctance with which the poor little duke parted with the money made Curll uncomfortable, though he knew that the duke, who was worth an odd million or two, couldn't possibly feel its loss. But as Curll did nob like being uncomfortable, and the month was May, and tho sunlight and scenery beautiful beyond compare, and the horse a " good 'un," he soon cast his thoughts aside, and grew cheerful again. After ho had been riding for some miles over heathery moors and through deep valleys, through which ran babbling streams, which made him long for a trout rod, he passed into leafy lanes sweet with the scent of honeysuckle and murmurous with bee?, and reached a villago. He drew up at the inn, a tumble-down affair with a thatched roof and the sign of the " Travellers' Rest," and calling to a man who sat half asleep on a bench, gave him the horse. " A feed of oats, and half a bucket of water with the chill off, and wash his legs and rub him down with a wisp of straw and a dry cloth. See, George?" he said. The man stared, grinned, and led the horse off to execute the command in detail —strange to say. Captain Curll entered the inn, and looked round. It was nothing more than a cottage, though large enough for a traveller to rest in. The room he entered was low; there was a settle near the fire, over which the kottlehung on an iron hook, and some plain deal tables and chairs scrubbed to the last point of cleanliness, but hard as the nether mill-stone. The floor was of stone, and decorated in paterns with hearth-stone. Two or three farmer's labourers were on the settle, looking as if they had grown there, and a sheep-dog lay, with his nose on his paws, before the fire. The men touched their hat* as the captain strode in, and pulled their pipes out of their mouths to stare ab him. One—an old man—coughed and chuckled with nervous embarrassment, for strangers—especially such magnificent strangers as Captain Curll—were as rare as angels in the Travellers' Rest. [To bo continued.]