JUST A GIRL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXII, Issue 9991, 30 November 1895, Page 3 (Supplement)

JUST A GIRL.

jjy CHARLES GAUVICE, ,r ,f i'The Outcast of tho Family," "Queen i if" " 111 Cui,l ' s cluills '" "Better Th ' ' Life," " 0,1 Love's Altar; or, A Fatal Fancy," "She Trusted Him."

CHAPTER X. it ,„ TRAfFOBi) went down with Lord Sel'o to belfayre nest day. During the •* ruev of a little over five hours, Trafford )0U very thoughtful-he was never at any 111 very talkative, though ho could on ocLion bo as bright and light-hearted as os' voting men—and sat in his corner of Hecarriage with « magazine in his hand; "i the page did nut RCti turned very often. Marry -Mi" Chotwynde I lb was a mo*tjjoUg sentence. It meant so much. Sue men regard marriage lightly; they look upon it as a necessity, a duty, more or , " 1,-i«ant, which has to bo performed— 1 tkiL-'s an end of it. But Trafford, m" ii" of Trafford, was rather different to the ordinary run of men. With him, marV„ w.iS a sacred thing, and a marriage rl ''~,,vi; love a hideous business. Ml i,' J, , lV i'l 1 have married where lie pleased, i „ ',u' i have asked Ada Lancing to be his . - They had known each othor since *'"'ihoid-'she h.td called him more than !, ririull play, her husband. He was 0 ' w inan, without an ounce of vanity, u'lVj inspected that she loved him. But ~ |,\a known all along that a marriage ' l .i, \la Lancing was impossible. s'e w;i a the .laughter of a Scotch peer, V- a- lie was proud—and to those who !';! I .Ki.-t acquaintance M'ith Scotch peers tjjjj «iil say a great doal. li l'satfjid had been a wealthy man, if he I i iu.ii-e.-fcd or was going to inherit one- • r-t.tn of the wealth that used to flow into rr.e lVo;/.<yxo offers, ho would have asked a,111.. i 'icing to ho his wife long ago. 'I'H.i'a ?he and ' 10 knew that itwasimu';,., ;i; „l both of thorn must have fore'ten th.it sooner or later Trafford would

hme 1 > marry money. B.it lie had never had tho inevitable fact |)'will homo to him so plainly until last m . iIL " Lord Sclvaino had, so to speak, union the steel home. J! ,r r y Miss Chetwynde 1 ir'atiord recalled her as he gazed at the h,.'f tint he certainly was not reading. He ' ,i;ii not deny that she was very beautiful; iv.ieoil. lie w.is ready to admit that she was fie Liveliest girl he had ever seen. ' L Mil Selvaine had said that she was rimming; ami Trafford had not been in.jt)!c 10 the charm of Esmeralda's perfect 5-;. unconsciousness and freshness. An at-tiiu-ihicre of the mountains, of tho wide, tree valleys whence she had come, seemed to .urn-miid her. Her very movements, the turn u: her head, the gestures of her shapely hand, were eloquent of tho free, untramiccied life which she had lived. The frank, can lid eyes looked up at him from the printed page, and seemed to look reproachim'y, as if she knew the nature of the fordi'i bargain he was advised to offer her. Atter all, it was very easy to say " marry Miss Ciienvyixlebut was it so easy to ac-c-iaplish? 'Would she marry him? He was a man of tho world, and knew that there wire very few women who would refuse an offer of his hand, though it contained a coronet with the jewels missing; but prlwps the girl from the wilds was one of

ilii'je tew. He threw the magazine away from him, anil looked wearily out of the window.

Lord Selvaine glanced at him pensively. lord Sslvaine never read during a journey, ami was far too wise to bore himself and his sunpaiiion by straining his voice in an nipt to talk through tho rattle of the train. He smoked an occasional cigarette, ami passed a, portion of the time in peaceful slumber. Looking at him, one would have imagined him to be the most innocent and unsophisticated middle-aged young gentle--111.-1:1 in the world; but his acute brain was hard at work, and it is scarcely too much to say that ho was following every train of thought 00 it passed through TrafTord'e mind. , He was the master mind of the Belfayre j.-imily, and had always guided its destinies since he was quite a young man; but it was not very easy to guide Trafford, and Lord Selvaine did not underestimate the task he had undertaken. He had been very c.ireful not to mention Miss Chetwvnde's i.ime that morning, and he looked as placid and serene as if he were quite unconscious <f the problem which his companion was taming over and over in his mind. When they reached Belmont, which is about four miles from Belfayre, they found a heavy barouche and pair, wi'.h its full implement of liveried servants, awaiting them. They were received on tho station with a respectful attention which was as nmked and as freely offered as if they had been royal personages. The stationmaster fluttered forward, the porters hurried after the luggos*.), and the footmen stood at the carriage door to assist tho illustrious travellers to alight. Lord .Selvaine received all this obsequious attention quite easily as if it were his due; but Trafford, although he had been used to it all his life, always found it rather irksome. He got out of the carriage l.iiai Jed, and nodded to the saluting porters and servant.;, and looked at the heavy chariot with an expression of distaste. " 1 think I'll walk, Selvaine," he said. Do," «aid Lord Selvaine, cheerfully. " I', wiii give you an appetite. I've a good mind to accompany you, but"—with his little sinil-.—" I've a better mind to ride." Tiatlord walked off with his easy stride, and Lot Selvaine, as the carriage rolled by, waved hi? hand with a pleasant smile. The Mad (ro'u the station to Belfayre is one of the rao«t beautiful in England. It runs tl<r.>'.iL'h leafy lanes, with bank? npon which the ferns grow as luxuriantly as if they wrry in Lady Blankyre's conservatory. AlVr .1 mile or two it emerges from the ;anc u:i.l crosses a heath almost Scotch in

.i* extent and colouring. Beyond the heath, the road climbs a hill, im iiie brow of which stands the great house ;r palace of Belfayre, its white vastness landing out so conspicuously that it dominates, but not vulgarly, the whole Scene.

On the left of Trnfibrd lay the sea shining »? blue as a sapphire, and rolling softly in upon the sands of Bolfayro Bay. 0" the J rit;ht, stretched for mile upon mile, meadows and uii'l;, park and meadows. The village lay behind Bolfayre. Every inch of the land for miles, the golden nil,* beneath him, the soft) undulating hiii.«, the rtd cliff'', all belonged to the great duke— the money-lenders. Every inch of the village, every house, cottage, innit might almost be said, every man, woman, end child — belonged to Belfayre—or the money-lenders. Xu\v and again a shepherd, or a small farmer, or a woman with a little child, or a boy with a sack, met. him, and they one and all knew him, and stood aside to let him pass, touching their haU or courtesy ing with silent respect as if ho were a prince, jud now and again Traffurd stopped and said a ie\Y word 3 in his pleasant, grave voice, and the individuals thus favoured went on their way glowing with pride, to tell as quickly as they could, how they had just met the marquis, and that, he had spoken to them "quite friendly and sociable like." \Vlien he reached the first lodge, an exquisitely beautiful little building, kept with such scrupulous neatness—the ivy closely clipped, the lattice windows shining like diamonds, the stoiio inullions white and spotless, the garden like a toy with its spring flowers—that it looked as if it had been built yesterday instead of a century ago. The lodge keeper's wife camo out and opened the gates and courtesie'd with a subdued little smile as if she were glad to see him, but wouldn't for the world be so disrespectful as to show it. Trafford paused a moment to say a few Words and to ask after her husband and children, then went on bis way. lie walked an ii broad road of carefully laid gravel, rolled and swept until its surface was almost as smooth as marble. Noble elms, carefully tended, formed an avenue whose brunches made nn arch high above his head. Between the trees ho could still catch glimpses of the sapphire sea ; the red deer fled as he approached, a rabbit scuttled across his path. The avenue wound in serpentine lengths, making the ascent to the house easy, and suddenly the great place came into view, It looked like marble as it one in the luniight and the clear air. Since a grateful nation had bestowed Belfayre upon the famous mail who first bore the title, successive owners bad added to and enriched it, until it had become a palace, of ( which England, the land of palaces was

BF§9s)is}!*,f ,o ,i which foreigners, _ and Araoricans—who are nob eager'pilgrimage, : road opened : out into a 1 vast semi-circle, from 'this" rose' a flight of white marble step 3 which led to the wide 't«rrape I '!"'fifip l, of marble, upon which stood marvels "of statuary collected at fabulous cost from the ancient homes of art. h ''"' The palace rose from the terrace, and was nob unlike a Greek temple in its' grand severity The doorway, flanked "by the long line of tall window?; was almost as vast as that of a cathedral, and was fronted by a porch of carved marble and a peristyle of such beauty that travellers always found it difficult to pass it, even for the treasures of art which were enshrined in the house beyond. TralTord stood 011 the torrace and looked round gravely and sadly at the magnificent scene. It was all so splendid, so eloquent of powor, and woalt.li, and human greatness; and yet what a mockery it was 1 The (lower, tho wealth, the greatness—where were they ? If they had not already passed, they were swiftly passing away. lie entered the vast hall. Coming from tho bright sunlight outside, its vastisess lighted only by a great stained window, seemed almost grim. Tattered flags hung from tho vaulted roof; figures in the actual armour worn by his ancestors in many a battle stood round tho hall; against the panelled wall hung portraits of famous— and infamous—Belfayres. Statuary gleamed ghost-like at intervals, its whiteness relieved by stately palms ranged round the pedestals. Ancient weapons were arranged in trophies here and there, awl reflected the light from tho stained window and the firo of great logs which, though tho day was warm outside, burned in tho open marble fireplace. The floor was of polished wood, with here and there upon it an Oriental rung, like a spash of colour spilled from some gigantic palette. A gaunt deer-hound rose from bofora the fire and came majestically toward Trafford and thrust its long nose in his hand. Two footmen in the dark-claret livery stood, almost as statuesque as the figures in armour, at tho bottom of tho stairs, waiting to receive the marquii and his commands. " Is the duko down ?" ho asked. " Yes, my lord," was the reply. '' His grace is in the library with Lord bolvaine. Trafford went) upstairs, preceded by one of the footmen, who opened the door leading from tho corridor to the suite of rooms always set apart and kept in perfect readiness for the marquis. They were amongst the best and stateliest in the bouse, as befitted tho future duke and master; but although they were magnificently and perfectly appointed, it may be hazarded that Trafford was quite as comfortable m his much smaller and more modest chambers in the Albany. His valet, who had come down in the same train, and riddon on the boxseat of the barouche, assisted his master to change his clothes; then Trafford went downstairs and into the library. It was the smallest of the reception room?, but as wonderful in its way as tho stateliest of the saloons and the huge dining-room. The walls were lined with book-casos of rosewood relieved by ormolu and Wedgwood plan ; some of the volumes were priceless, and the library, as a whole, was a famous 01 A firo was burning, and beside it, in an easy-chair, reclined tho Duke of Belfayre. He was tall and very thin, with snow-white hair and a perfectly colourloss faco lined by innumerable wrinkles. With his clean-cut. features, his long whit# hands, his air of perfect reposo and gracious benignity, lie looked every inch a duke. Ha had been singularly handsome, as was Trafford; and there was a strong resemblance botween father and son. One noticed it in the expression in the eyes, 111 the movement of the brows, but, more markedly, in a certain turn of the head. His grace was listening with a genial ' courtliness to LordSelraine, and as Trafford entered, the wrinkled faco beamed with a soft smile, and holding out. the white hand he said, in a musical voice which echoed that of his son : "Ah, Trafford, how do you do? lb is very good of you to come down. he vaine too"—he gavo a little bow to Lord belvaine _" very good of you both. You must have so much to do in London, and London can ill spare you, Selvaine. You are looking well Trafford. Selvaine tell mo that the season promises to be a very busy one. You begin much earlier now than wo used to, and I think you continue it longer. You find the country looking well, Trattorcl • "Yes, air," said Trafford. ' And yon are quite well, I liopo ! ... " Quite, quite 1" said tho duko, cheerfully. " I am not quite so strong as I used to be, bub one must nob be surprised at that. Gome and sit here;" he motioned to a seat beside him, and Trafford sat down and put his hand on the arm of the duke s chair. The old man laid his own hand upon his son's strong one and patted it. ' l bit glad you and Selvaine have come down, trafford ; indeed, I was on the point if asking Lihas to write and ask you to do so; for I wanted to talk to you on a matter of business. "Yes, sir?" said Tsafford. " Yes," said the duke, with a kind 0 placid eagerness which one sees displayed by a child at the prospect of a new toy. " I have been thinking a great deal lately of that scheme with the famous architect— I am ashamed to say I forgot his name ; it began, if 1 remember rightly, with a r the scheme which he laid before us respecting Belfayro Bay." . , Trafford glanced at Lord Selvaine, but that gentleman did not remove his eyes from the fire, but leaned back in his chair as placidly impassive as if tho matter to be discussed wero either of no importance 01 no interest to him. , . , , " If you remember," continued the duke in his soft voice, and with the same smilo and manner, "that, gentleman made an elaborate plan for transforming the bay into a watering-place." . ... " 1 remember, sir," said Trafford, 111 his deep voice. ~ c •• He had the whole thing perfoctly elaborated, and drew plans which flowed quito plainly how admirably adapted the position was for the chango which he proposed. I was looking at the sketches the other day; in fact, 1 have been studying them most closely, and it seems to mo that the whole thing could be accomplished quito easily. " 0 have only to build an e.planado along the front of the centre of the buy, to construct a pier at the western end, and to erect some I -.mt.ihln ImiHfts in terraces upon the rising

ground behind." . , . fiord again glanced nt his uncle, and again Lord Selvaino refused to respond, bat continued to gaze blandly at the lire. The duke leaned back and resumed, moving ma white hand to and fro. " They Would form a crescent, don't you see? A large hotel could be placed in the centre, or it might bo erected at the eastern etui. There, in a nutshell, you have the scheme; and it certainly seoms to mo an admirable one in every way. Most admirable and ingenious ! It would considerably enhance the value of the property ; but Ido not attach *0 much importance to that as to the fact that it would provide labour for a very large number of desorving people, and would provide another place of recreation and pleasure for the many worthy and excellent persons who delight tospond their leisure by the sea." "And the cost, nil'?" said Trafford,

quietly. " The co3tsaid the duke, easily. "It was estimated, I boliove, by the talonied gentleman who formulated the scheme. I have no doubt the coat, would be largo, but" —with a smile—"l do not see why that should be any obstacle. Similar developments hare been made on other estates, and I imagine that what Levonshire and Radovan have done we can do." " Certainly, cortainly,"said Lord Solvaino, blandly. "I am ho glad you agree with me, my dear Solvaino," murmured the dulse. " Your judgment is always so excolleut, I might say infallible." Lord Solvaino Rive the minutest bow. "The cost," continued the duko, "was, if I remembor lightly, several hundred thousand pounds; let us say somewhere about half a million. That is of little consequence." "Quite so; very little," said Lord Selvaine. "It is the result we must consider. I wish you and Trafford, my dear Selvaine, | would consider the matter. Holby"—(Mr. ] IJelby was the steward) " has the plans, 'and ■ shall go over them with you, If you think the proposition a good one, pray let it be proceeded with at once. I should like to see it done." . " We \yill," said Lord Solvaine, "Thank you very much," murmured tlio duke, as if the trivial project were now

.»»"»« *•••"' " ' Satisfactorily laaficM. "Pitf yop notice tulips, my dehr Tr®ff<>rd, as you came across the terrace ) I think they are more beautiful than usual. , And f want you to go Into the third orchid house beforp diprier, if you have time. ' I (jot 88 far yesterday and it 'seemed to me— I may be wrongthat they weep rather crowded. If this is so,' vie must have new houses built. I think they shQuld be much larger than the old ones.' Will you give the instructions, if they be necessary ?'' . ' "Certainly, certainly," sad Lord Selv'aine, answering for Trafford, who lQp<te.(} gqujMy a tjia carpet. The duke patted Trafford's hand. ■ " It is a shame to trouble you with business, Trafford, directly you arrive, bub I sometimes think that Helby is scarcely— scarcely as energetic as lie used to be. Ive an idoa—ib may be ervonoous— that the stablos, for instance, are nob as well kept up as they should be. As you know, we have always made a point of—of filling the stalls. You are fond of horses, I know, Trafford, and I should be deeply grieved if you were to find it necessary to complain of a scarcity or the quality of the horses. Will you please go over the stables tomorrow and look into the matter ? " Yon, sir," said Trafford, as cheerfully as he could, ' , . , , The duke continued chatting about the estate and town gossip, always with the placid serenity and simple, childish satis* faction, In the midst of their talk the door opened | and a young woman came in. i To be continued on Wednesday next.)