MAIDA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11840, 18 December 1901, Page 3

MAIDA.

BY CHARLES GABVICE, t-Hthor of " With All Her Heart." " At. Love's Cost," " Lore, the Tyrant," " The Shadow j of Her Life," " A. Heritage of Hate," etc., etc.. etc. , j j t !

SYNAPSIS'. CHAPTER I.—Tvro sisters, llaiila Slid Ccnie Carrington, are introduced. The former is both beautiful and talented, and assists in the maintenance of the household by the use of her gifts, the father being a not very successful stockbroker. The other girl is sixteen years old, five years junior to Maida; she has rather plain features, a glib tongue, equally busy fingers, and a strong affection for her sister. Ricky (otherwise Richard) Clark, a youth articled to law. also appears on the scene and engages in wordy warfare with Carrie. Amongst other items of gossip lie gives them some particulars concerning a certain Lord Ileroncourt, who has recently come to an earldom, but is in straitened circumstances. having previously led a wild life. The chapter closes with Maiua leaving to fulfil an engagement, at an entertainment given by the Countess ot Gla-sbnry. CHAPTER ll.—M&ida's performance at the entertainment has been a great success. Lord Heroncourt being one of the audience. He follows her on leaving and knocks down a ruffian, who strives to snatch a bracelet off her arm. CHAPTERS 111. AND -Maida is angry with Lord Ileroncourt for the rough manner m which he treated her assailant. She finds that the bracelet- is missing, and concltn.es tbat the pickpocket has made off with it. After parting "'.th Maida. Lord neronconrt discovers the bracelet in the dust- anil resolves to take it to the address given by Maida. to the cabman. On proceeding there he tinus only Carrie at home. CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.) " I iu:c; your pardon," said Heroncourt. "I asked to see Miss Carrington."

" Oh, you mean my sister," said Carrie, thinking, as she spoke, how deep and yet musical a voice the visitor had, and that, somehow, it was as ''distinguished'' as his appearance. Carrie had all the girl 3 liking for good-looking men, and she was struck, though Maida had not been, by the prepossessing character of Heroncourt s face. "Your sister - .'" he said. "I mean the Miss Carrington who played —recitedat Lady olassbury's last night. Ot course Carrie at once guessed who he was, for notwithstanding her reputation for practicality, she was as romantic as' most girls of her age, and was quite willing to jump to the belief that this tall, aristocratic gentleman was the hero of Maida s adventure.

" Yes, that is my sister." she said, with her frank'eagerness. "Were you there. Did you hear her? Did you like sue checked herself, and bit her lip.

'• Yes; T heard her," said Heroncourt. promptly, to spare her embarrassment, "and I liked, admired, her recitation very union. I thought it was wonderful: and everyone else thought so too. Your sister is very—1 was going to sav clever, but that would be a very poor won! to express what I mean; ' talented' isn't very much better. I don't know much about that kind of a thing, but 1 should say she is a genius." Carrie's face was one large smile. '•Oh!" she breathed, her bosom heaving. "Won't you sit down?" He looked round, but every chair was littered ; for. as Ricky said, when Carrie was at work the plaec instantly took to itself the aspect of a rag-shop. She deftly swept a chair clear of its impedimenta, end Heroncourt seated himself.

" Please do not let me interrupt you at Your work." he said, politely, but with that indescribable air of frankness which is the peculiar tone of the high bred; it seems to imply a kind of fellowship, sympathy, of understanding and being understood by the person you address; it- made Carrie s heart warm.

" I suopose that it: was a very great- success last night, then!" sue said. " Very great ," he assented. Without making a mental inventory ox the room and its contents, indeed, -vncjiouv seeming to move his eyes from the girl s xace, he sa\v°that- though the room and the lurmiure were comfortable enough, thev indicated that poverty which is qualified as " genteel." As he looked at Carrie ne felt that he liked her. It was evident that.she loved her sister and was proud of her. "Yes Miss Carrington created a. furore, as it is called. It was impossible to remain unmoved; and we were all carried out of ourselves for the time. \ our sister has a "teat future before her, Miss — Carrie," stud Carrie, beaming at him. " Oh, how nice it is to hear it said by someone who was there to ear ', J course," throwing her liair back, v know it at home. If you heard her playing and reciting when she is alone, wit-u only me to listen to her you would think her still greater than she is." "I've no doubt," he said. " A large and sometimes stupid audience would always be a check and embarrassment; but-,' as i said, your sister's future must be a very great- one, Miss Came. . There v.'as a pause, and Carrie, while apparently busy with her sciss is. Lan over liim"out of the comer of her eyes; and the more she saw of him the more she liked him. . " But I ought to tell you without any further delay why I presumed to call upon. Miss Carrington "this afternoon. You may be aware that she had the misfortune to lose her bracelet- last- night .'' Carrie's lips expanded with a grin, re- , vealing her white, even teeth. " That's a nice modest way of putting it," she said. "Oh. she told me ail about it; how the man stole her bracelet, how you came up at the critical moment • like the hero in a novel—and how she, she" There was no resisting the mischievous smile in the girls eyes, and Heroncourt laughed shortly but rather ruefully. "Yes," he said, "I lost my head and made a fool of myself. I was going to say that 1 don't often do it— my head, I mean— Miss Carrington called _ out as if she were hint, as she was, and Carrie's eyes glowed, and she nodded at hint approvingly. —" And you' knocked the man down. Quite right! So should I have done if 1 had been a man and had been there; but of course Maida. went for you. She naturally would, as you'd know it you knew j her." She's got a heart as tender as—— a piece of putty. She'd let anyone rob | her rather than'see him hurt; and you did hit him hard, didn't you?" I'm afraid so," admitted Heroncourt; " but I was very sorry for it, as I told her, and she was gracious enough to forgive me." " Oh, yes, she'd forgive you," remarked Carrie. "She'd forgive a Red Indian for 1 scalping her." ] "1 hope she was not hurt,' said Heroncourt; "was not upset by the shock sometimes a lady suffers afterwards from such an encounter." "Oh, no," said Carrie, smiling. "She was very much distressed about the man, but she slept like a top and she's been out- shopping. There was no harm done. She's sorry she's lost her bracelet and so am I. for I gave it her, and bracelets are not frequent in our family." " There's no cause for regret on that account," he said. "I had the good luck to pick up the bracelet soon after I had parted from your sister ; here it is. Carrie sprang to her feet with a cry of girlish delight. " You dear, good man ! she exclaimed, just as she would have exclaimed at Ricky. "The bracelet! Oh, how pleased Maida will be! She thinks more of that stupid thing—" As she spoke the door opened and Maida entered. She stood for a moment regarding the two. Her face had been slightly Hushed by her w.iik, but the flush grew deeper as her eyes rested upon Heroncourt, and their * expression became cold and almost resentful. "Maida, this gentleman has found, brought back your bracelet, explained Carrie. " He' found it after you Had gone—" She stopped, her glad young voice arrested by the coldness in Maida's face. Maida' took the bracelet, but did not put it- on her wrist. "It is very kind of you. 'I hank you very much," she said. Her voice came like a douche of cold water upon C arris's enthusiasm, upon I Heroncourt's subtle and imlf-UQCOUicious pleasure at her presence.

"Not .at- all," lie said- saying the only tbir.g a man can say und£r the circumstances. " I am very glad I found it. 1 am also glad to hear "that- you are none the worse for last night s unpleasant occurrence, Miss Carrington." -Thank you, 1 am quite well." responded Maida, as coldly as before. " I am very glad to get my bracelet back. It was a present from my sister. ' "So "she has told me." lie said. " I count myself very fortunate in being, by the merest chance, able to restore it to vou. I must not intrude upon you any longer. I ought to have sent it by post, perhaps; but I was anxious to know how you were. Good day —good-bye.'

He was gone, leaving Carrie to stare at Maida. as she walked to the chair by th? table which he had occupied, and, sitting down, gravely fastened the bracelet round her wrist.

"Well, of all the monsters of ingratitude—" began Carrie. \ Maida raised her head. Ho should not have come here." she said. "He was quits* right—he .should have sent it by post. Wait. Carrie; you are younger than i am—you don't know the world even as well as I do. This gentleman—he is no doubt someone of consequence, perhaps someone of rank—he ii not a fitting acquaintance for us. ' Carrie uttered an exclamation of impatience and chagrin. Oh. Maida. what idiots we are We do not know what he is, what his name is! We have let- him b o without asking join. And we shall never know now—

"It does not matter in the very least,' said Maida. "We do not- want to i **e him again: why should we'' Hush! '•here is father coming up the stairs. Do not tell hint, please. He would only be worried and annoyed. You know how careful 1 am, how careful 1 must be. to avoid making chance acquaintances— She broke off as Mr. Carrington. came in. He looked pale and worried ; his tall hat was drawn over his brows more than usual, the hand that held the little black bag gripped it- lightly and nervously. " You are back early, father, said t :.r-

" Yes, yes," he said, hurriedly and nervously. "I—l have come tor some papers. I. shall have to return to the office at once."

" Is anything the matter, father'.'" asked Maida.

Matter?'' he repeated. " —no—well, yes ; things are going badlv in the city, and shares are dropping rather unexpectedly. I sha'n't- be able to dine and go to the theatre with you to-night: but lUcky must take you. Yes—yes! 1 wish you to go. Things may be better to-morrow." He took some papers from his desk, kissed- them both, and left '.lie room. When he had got- outside be drew a long bteath and set off wearily, with a mechanical gait, towards the city.

In most of the houses the business was done for the day, but ho climbed to his small and poky office mi the third t'mr of one of the houses in Oolman's-street, and, tilling his hat on the back of his head, sank into his chair, and, spreading some papers before him, began to make some calculations., The room was hot and stuffy, the. motes from the dust danced in the sunlight which pierced the grimy windews as if it were, mocking, by its joyousness and brightness the care-laden man. There was no blind to the window, or Carrington would have drawn it and shut out the- sunlight which tormented him.

For more than an hour he bent over ?'is desk making rows of figures: adding up here, subtracting there; every now and then something like a groan escaped his lips, and he wiped the drops of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his large hand.

He was so engrossed that he did not hear footsteps on the stairs, did not- hear them approach the room, and the knock at the door made him start and look lound apprehensively. He sat still for a moment or two, and muttered:

"They can't know already?' The knock cams again, and instinctively smoothing the lines from his face and forcing an expression of ease, he said as carelessly as lie could: ' Come in!"

The. door opened and a man entered. He was a middle-aged man, short and thick set, in dress something like a •dolor a maritime clerk, for he wore a darkserge suit, with a coat like a pea-jactet. His face was round, his eyes were blue, with an almost childlike expression; he wore side whiskers, and his head, revealed

.;s he meekly took off his hat on entering, was almost bald. His whole aspect was ordinary and commonplace.

And yet this commonplace man, who stood meekly and patiently in Carrington's doorway, was going to influence, going to change, Maida Camngt-on's life.

(To be continued on Saturday next.)