HER HEART'S DESIRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIV, Issue 10419, 17 April 1897, Page 3 (Supplement)

HER HEART'S DESIRE.

BY CHARLES GAUVICB, Author of "By Devious W.iys," "Just a Girl,' " Queen Kato," " In Cupid's Chains,"" Tho Outcast of the Family," otc, otc. CHAPTER 1.-(Continued.) The gentleman lighted hie cigarette and leaned his elbow on tho table. "You live with your aunt?" ho said, not because he wished to know, but just to make conversation. Klio nodded over her toaciip and munched her cake for a moment before replying. " Yes; I have livod with her for the last ton yoara—she and I alone together." "Then—your parents aro dead?" " My mother is," sho said, quiotly, and witli a sudden swcot gravity in tho lovely faeo. "I wont to aunt when mother died. My father h alive, and I have a brother. He is younger than I am. Aunt adopted me, you know. I had no mother nor sister, and father was travelling about, and—l suppose he was glad to get rid of me. Girls are always a nuisance, are they nob ?'' "I don't know—not always, I ahould think. Only sometimes." Sho seemed struck by the reply, and a faint—a very faint—bluah stole ovor her tace. " Perhaps I am a nuisance to you now ?" sho said. "I have kept you—l didn't think ; but you need not wait. I can find my way to the gate, and aunt may come up any minute. Please do not wait." She spoko quite frankly, without a touch of coquetry or pique, and he answered as frankly: " You are not keeping mo; I assure you I have nothing in the world to do, and it> is very pleasant horo. Besides, I feel in a way responsible for you, and ehould like to see you safe in your aunt's keeping." " Why, what) harm could come to me ?" she asked, with wide-open oyes and a emilo of amusement. " Do you think I ehould fall into the bear's cage, or get run over by tho elephant?" " No; but all the same, I should like to see you safe in your aunt's care. By the way, you did not toll me her name." " Lascelles—Lady Lascelles," said the girl. He raised his eyobrowa slightly, as if he recognised tho name, " And you did nob tell me yours," be remarked, " You didn't nek me," she paid, simply. " It is Deoima Deane. Whab is yours ?" She leaned forward, her chin routing on her now ungloved hand—by no means small, by the way, bub beautifully shaped and with a character of its own—and regarded him with girlish, friendly curiosity. The waiter came up at the moment, and the gentleman pub his left hand in his pocket for hie purse. He had kept hie arm behind his chair daring the tea, and even now he moved it out of eight again quickly and filiulUoil his purse to tho right hand; bub Deciiua's eyes wero sharp as well as beautiful, and she saw the renb in tho sleeve. She forgot all about his name, and exclaimed : " Why, the lion did tear your sleeve! Oh, did it scratch you ?" "No, no," ho said, rather shortly. "Howmuch, waiter!" " Three shillings, sir." "That is eighteen pence each," said Deoima, taking out her silver chain puree, and she extracted a shilling and sixpence, and laid them down on the tablo. The man trailed grimly. It was evident he was the first man she had ever taken publio tea with. uw* - " Put your money back," he «aid, much amused. "Ob, why?" she aelted, with wide eyes. "Why ehould you pay {or me ?" "1 don't know," be taid, "excepting that ib is usual, and that ib would be exceedingly bad form for you to pey for ib yourself.". I

" Now, I can't understand that I l ' she said, with girlish insistence; and just as if ehe were arguing with a school-fellow. " Why should a gentleman alwaye pay for ladies ?"

" Because it is one of the few privileges wo wretched men possess." "That's absurd 1" she laughed. "Besides, we are strangere. And i don't know what aunt would flay. She says that girls should always be independent and— Oh, here she is! Aunt, how did you lose me ?" and she eprung up and caught the arm of the tall lady in grey, who approachod with stately steps and a grave countenance. "My dear JJocima, where—where have you been ? And"—as the gentleman rose and removed his hat—"and who is this?" she added in an anxious under-tone.

Deeima turned a smiling and grateful face toward her late and temporary guardian. " Oh, this gentleman has been helping me to find you, and we could not, though we went everywhere—" Lady Lascelles glanced at the tea-table and then at phe tall and erect gentleman in front of it, with a grave and stern eye. —"Andlwaeeo thirsty," Deeima went on, answering the look, "and he got borne tea; and—well, then you came up. lam sa glad 1 But I should not have been lost, should I? I should have gone to the gate where the carriage was to wait. And oh, aunt, will you pleaso thank this goutloman for taking so much trouble—" Lndy Lascelles touched the girl's arm as an exhortation to silence, and addressed the gentleman. " I am greatly obliged to you for your care of my niece, sir. lam afraid she has given you some trouble. To whom am I indebted ?" The gentleman frowned slightly, as if the question were an unwelcome one. From bis cigarette-case lying on the table he took a card and gave it her. " That is my name," he said, quietly. Lady Lascelles started slightly as she crushed the card in her palm, her face flushing. Hβ bowed as if he understood, his lips set tight, the weary, listless look back in his eyes again. The stately lady became taller and more stately, and with a cold " Good-day," she drew liecima's hand over her arm—as if the girl suddenly needed protection—and was walking her off. But Deeima looked back with a troubled expression in her eyes and about the exprossive mouth, and swiftly releasing her arm, sho ran back to where Lord Gaunt was still standing, a faint grim smile of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I haven't thanked you as I ought to !" ehe Biiid. " Vou were so kind and— and patient! And you showed me the private lions, you know—and lam so grateful —and—oh, pleaso do not be offended with aunt, but—but shake hands 1" She held out her hand, and he took it. He did not press it, but lot it fall, and with another lifting of his liat turnod away. Lady Li\scolles waited with hur lips tightly set, a frown upon her broad brow. " Deeima, come, please," she said. Docimn returned to her aunt's side, but looked rather wistfully after the tall, retreating form of tho man who had beon so coldly treated for his kindness. " Why—why were you so angry with him, aunt?" she asked, just a little piteouely. "He was very, very kind, and —and what has ho done to make you so crnsa J" "iMy doar Deciinu, you must not ask questions which I cannot answer. It was very wrong of you to permit a gentleman— a stranger—to walk about the Gardens with you. And how could you possibly sit there and tako toa with hint I" " I was thirsty," said Deeima, simply. Lady Lascollee almost groaned. " Deeima, you aro nothing more than a child—a mere child. You must never do such a thing again !" "Why not? What harm have I done ?" insisted tho girl. "It is—it is not usual; it is bad etiquette, manners, form, to walk about with a strange man; to tako tea with him is < worse. Any strange gentleman is bad enough; but that man of all men in the wide world !" " Why was it worse to walk about and sit down to tea with him than anyone else, aunt!" Deoima asked. Lndy Lascelles bit hor lip. " Because—my dear girl, you would nob understand—" "But, aunt—why?" " Because he is a bad, wicked man—one of tho most wicked men in the world I" And Deeima was silenced at last. CHAPTER 11. " One of the moat wicked men in the world" meanwhile walked slowly across tho Gardens to the Clarence G'ite, and calling a cab, told the man to drive him to Cavendish Square Stopping tho cab at the house of Sir Jnmoe Starko, he inquired if tho great physician were in, and was shown into the consulting-room. Sir Jainos Starke had just come in from his rounds, and had still got his hat on. He tilted it up with an expression of astonishment at sight of his visitor. " Halloo, Gaunt 1" ho said. " I didn't know you were in England. How aro you ? Sit down 1 Anything the matter?" and as he shook hands, he surveyed the weary, handsome face with the physician's allseeing, penetrating gaze. Lord Gaunt took off hie coat, and rolled the sloove above hie lofb arm. "Just cauterize that), will you, Starke?" he said, quietly. Sir James turned the arm to the lighten arm well made and muscular; hard as iron and smooth ns marble. "Why-what is It?" he said. "A dogbite? No, cat ecriuch ? What is it?" "A lion scratch," said Lord Gaunt, " Got it at tho Zoo, fooling with the cub I brought over. It isn't much; but it felt angry, and, woll—l've soen a nigger or two go mad with blood-poisoning for lees than this." Sir James nodded gravely, and gob the caustic. " It's not like you to come to harm in this way, Gaunt," he said; " you must have been precious careless," " Yes, I was," said Lord Gaunt, concisely. After he had performed the simple operation, Sir James looked at his patient's face and ran a finger on his pulse. Then he shook his head, "Same old came, Gaunt I" he laid, gravely. Lord Gaunt imiled grimly. " Same old game," he eaid, quietly, " Pity I pity I" murmured Sir James. " Can't you do something better with your life than waste it?" " I don't know. I've never nsked myself the question. Perhape I don't waste my life more than you waste yours. It's all a point of view, you know, Starke." "My dear fellow!" expostulated the great physician; " I work—earn money—" —" And I lounge, and laze, and spona it. Who shall say which ie the wiser? Life is only a chance for making mistaken." Sir James nodded sympathetically. " I know. But—but—some mistakes are lived down—forgotten." "Not my kind," said Lord Gaunt, " Done with this arm ? Right. Thanlte." He rolled down his eleeve and put on his coat. "Where haro you come from now?" asked Sir James, regarding him with an admiring and yet pitying eye; for the face and form were handsome and even grand, but the expression of the eye and the mouth was that which make women, when they see it, sigh and grow sad, though they know nob why. "Africa. Think I'm going back. I should have gone before this, but my man, the steward at Leafmore, has been worrying me. Says that the place is going to pieces and that he wants me to go down there. Let it go to piecos! Who carea ? Certainly not I." " Why not go down there, and try and settle down for a time ?" said Sir James. " Look here, Gaunt, you know the old story of the machine that would go too fast." " I daresay. Stopped all at once, didn't it? And you think I shall stop like the machine? Well, why nob? What does it matter f He laughed a grim, abort laugh. "You doctors think life's the most important of all things; that's where you make the mistake. Mo use offering you a fee, I suppose?" The famous phytieian, Sir James Starke, and the famous traveller, Lord Gaunt, bad been at college together, though Sir James was much the elder.

Sir James laughed and shook hie head. "Go down to Leafmore for awhile, Gaunt." " I'll see," »id hie lordship. He took op his hat and held it in hie hand, then be said listlessly : " Do you happen to know a Lady ImnllhP

" Lady Pauline Lascelles, do you mean ?" " I daresay." " Oh, yes; she is a patient of mine. Why do you ask ?" " Oh, for no particular reason. I just met her—met a niece of hers, a Miss—Miss —singular name; I've forgotten it." "You mean Deeima Deane," said Sir James, his keen face lighting up. " Oh, yea —the loveliest, dearest girl in the world!"

Ho laughed and chuckled as ab some private joke. " What the devil are you laughing at f inquired Gaunt, with languid surprise. " Oh, at tho girl," eaid Sir James. " Vou know, or, rather, yon don't know, that she has been brought up by Lady Lascelles on a system of her own—l mean her ladyship's own. Innocence, absolute innocence and purity, combined with a knowledge of everything but—er—but the things most girls know at two-thirds Decima's age." " Ah, does itanswer? ,, asked Lord Gaunt, looking into his hat. " Well—yes. That is to Bay, the eystem has produced the sweetest and most fascinatingnrixture of franknessand innocence; the audacity of a child and the sweetness of a girl j but how it will answer presently, when—when the girl suddenly discovers that she is a woman, we shall see. Have you seen much of her." "About one hour and a quarter," said Lord Gaunt, wearily, " And judging from Lady Lascelles' manner, I am not likely ever to make up the other three quarters." " And weren't you struck with her ?" "The aunt?" " Dash it all, no ! The girl-Deoima I" " Don't know. 'Pon my word, I scarcely noticed her." He yawned and took oub his cigarette case. "Good-bye, Sbarke, I'll think over your advice." " And won't take it?" " I daresay not. Good-bye." He left the house and walked across the park to his flat in Regent Mansions. Men and women — especially the latter —glanced at the handsome, listless face curiously, and now and again the passersby said something like this to each other: "That's the famous Lord Gaunt. Great traveller, and—or—you know." But " tho famous Lord Gaunt" strode on, taking no heed, his oyoa fixed before him. His flat was on the first floor, and as he entered tho vestibule, carpeted with lion and leopard skins, and lined with trophies of the chase, he smolled the scent of a cigarette coming from the library. He pushed the thick oak door open, and standing on the threshold, looked at a man lying full length on the saddle bag couch, Tlio man rose with a smile and a " Halloo, Gaunt!" and Lord Gaunt stood stock still, with a face set and white, and said nothing. [To be continued.)