A WOMAN'S SOUL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12522, 15 March 1904, Page 3

A WOMAN'S SOUL.

. BY CHAEI.ES GABVICE, Author of "Claire," "Her Heart's Desire,", "Her Eansom," "Elaine," " Nell -.of --. j ' Shorne Mills," "A Coronet of ' Shame," ..." The Story of a • Passion," etc.. SYNOPSIS 01?' PBEVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapter I The chapter opens with ths intro- ! duction of a young and beautiful lady in the appearance of some distress. She is an actress, and . finds herself staged for the character of Juliet. Her name is Doris. Marlowe. She is afraid of being unable ■ to . do justice to tho character given her. - Her friend, known as old Jeffrey, .tries- to meet her objections . ns well as possible.' While her friend went-■• to tho . theatre, he asked her : to go to the fields and compasc herself, taking " Borneo ! and Juliet" with her. On reaching the green fields ' she sat. down by a brook, .but her thoughts would ! not centre up»n her book, and in her wandering thoughts she mused on tho mystery of her life. Being, so : far as she knew, without parents, and < having only old Jeffrey as her friend, counsellor, 1 and teacher, she woadercd at the circumstances of ' her life. She had beou educated and trained both mnsoially' and otherwise beyond the rank of meet ! women, and while thus musing on her past, she ■! heard thuds as of horse's feet, and a rich voice singing "Tho Maids of Merry England." A hedge separated her from the field in which the singer ; was riding, until he recognised her presence, 1 when ho made his horse leap the hedge, and both fell sprawling on the ground close to where she was sitting. '. -■■■. » Chapter IL— horse was the first to recover his feet, but the rider lay still and motionless, and his face was of a, deathly pallor. The first impulse of Doris ' was to run for assistance, but as she l«oked at the face, she (bought life was not extinct, and blood was flowing from the wound on the brow. She wetted her handkerchief in the brook and bathed the blood from his face, and in ] the course of time he showed signs of returning • consciousness. After a time he became himself again, apologised for the annoyance he had caused her, and by and by was able to leave, after telling her that he lived with his uncle at the Towers. CHArTRR lll.Doris Marlowe returns h»me from the green fields, where she had the adventure with the dismounted horseman. She found his name on the handkerchief he left behind him, and above the name was a corsnet. The name haunted her and would not go from her mind, try all sho could. Rej turning home late, she met old Jeffrey, who in- | formed her that the demand for seats in the theatre f was great. She was doubtful about ; her ability to i act the part of Juliet, but the old man encouraged her. He told her her dress had been received, and after trying it on and exhibiting herself in it beforo him, he hecaine greatly oxcited, said she was very beautiful, that she looked the part to perfection, and in his excitement called her "Lucy, Lucy!" which surprised Doris, bat she asked no explanation, as she knew that none would be forthcoming at that time. At last she was persuaded to go to bed, and when she did so she dreamed of Cecil Neville, the gentleman whose wounds and bruises she had attended to during the afternoon. CHAPTER IV. AT THE) TOWERS, Cecil Viscount Neville rode off at a gallop at first, but presently he pulled the' horse up into a walk, for he wanted to think. Something had happened besides his tumble that afternoon to " shake the soul of him," as Tasso says. The blood was ' coursing through his veins at racing pace, and his heart was beating violently with a new and strange emotion. It seemed to him that he had been in fairyland. , ; , Just as Doris had taken out the handkerchief and looked at it to convince herself j that she had not been dreaming, so ho put his hand to the cut on his forehead to help him to realise that imagination had not been playing pranks with him. fie had seen beautiful women; in the language of his world ho had had some half a dozen of them at least" pitched at his head ;" but this one— He stopped the horse, and recalled her face as it had looked down upon him when he came back to consciousness. " I thought I was dead and that she was an angel!" he murmured, his face flushing. "There neV"br were eyes like hers! And her voice! And I don't know her name even! And I may never see her again! I must, I must ! And I might have ridden over that beautiful creatureshe might have been lying there instead of me!' he shuddered. "I ought to have killed myself, clumsy, awkward idiot!" But she forgave me, yes, she forgave me!" and he tried to recall, and succeeded in recalling, every word she had spoken. "I wonder who she is?" he asked himself for the hundredth time. "Why didn't I ask her her name? No, I remember I could not I—l never felt like that before, never! I felt actually afraid of her! I've half a .mind to ride backwould she be angry, I wonder? I didn't thank her enough. Way, I behaved like a fool! She must have thought me one !' I'll ride back and beg her to tell me who she is. I must know!' and he was about to turn the horse when the clock in the Towers solemnly chimed the hour. • :\. .-;;" ' He started and looked at his watch. " Dinner time," he murmured, " and it's a mortal sin to be five minutes late! No matter, I must go back," and he swung round. Then he pulled up again. "No; she will not like it! Itit will seem as if I were forcing myself on her, and after all her goodness to me! But not to know her name even!" and, with something between a sigh and a groan, he put the horse into a gallop and rode toward home. ' Fortunately for the horse she had struck her knees upon the bank, and was uninjured, for Lord Cecil hadwith unusual indifferencequite forgotten.; her, and it was ! not until he had ridden into the courtyard I of the Towers, and met the surprised stare , of the groom who came forward, that he remembered the animal. " I've had a tumble," he said. It was my fault, not Polly's >• Give her an extra feed and wipe down," he added, as he patted her. " She isn't hurt, I'm glad to say. "But you are, my lord, I'm afraid!" said the groom. '•'■ ;" ■■''" Not a bit," said Lord Cecil, with a smile, and he hurried across the courtyard, and up the stone steps to the, terrace.. The long walk, laid in Carrara marble, and running the whole length of the house, was perfectly empty, and everything was suspiciously quiet. " They've begun dinner," said Lord Cecil, with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's unpleasant I don't know my uncle very intimately, but I have a shrewd suspicion that he is the sort of man to cut up rough ! Well, no, I don't suppose he would be rough if I' burned the place down, but he'd be unpleasantly smooth." > He hurried along, past a long line of windows, screened by their curtains, and then past one through which the light came in innumerable streaks of colour— was the ! stained oriel windowand at last reached ; the great hall. ! A groom of the chambers, attired in a dark purple livery that looked almost like a court suit, came forward with something like solemn gravity. "I'm late, eh?""said Lord Cecil, and his clear, young voice, musical as ir'Sras, sounded large and loud in the solemn, subdued air ot the place,\ ' ' > " Dinner has been served twenty-two minutes, my lord," was the grave reply. "Oh! hang the two minutes." said Lord Cecil, "I.sha'n't be long." And he bounded up the stairs, apparently to the amazement of the official -'and. a couple of stately footmen, who looked after him with surprise. It took him some two or tjiree minutes to reach his room. The Towers was a huge place, but which, huge as it was, the marquis only dwelt in for a month or two once in three or four years—he had so many other and larger places— Lord Cecil found his valet waiting for him. ' . "Look sharp, Parkins," he said, slipping off bis coat. "I'm awfully late. Has the marquis inquired for me?" "No, my lord," said Parkins, as he set about his ministration with quiet celerity.- " Mr. Scobie, the butler, did mention that his lordship never waited for anyone." j I'm glad to heai it," said Lord Cecil. I " It's bad enough to spoil one's own dinner I without ruining other people's. All right? I What are you fumbling at?" "I was trying to hide the cut on your forehead, my lord." ■■■ ,-'«''.," ."Oh! never mind that, said Low Cecil, impatiently, and he hurried down. j The groom came forward with stately step : and led the way to the dining-room and opened the door slowly, as if it were the entrance to the Court. ~;..-.-■ .;' It was a magnificent room, so large that it had been found necessary to curtail its dimensions with screens and curtains, the last' of crimson plush with heavy bullion fringe. The table was loaded with a splendid service of plate, and at the head of it sat the Most Honourable the Marquis of. Stoyle, Earl of Braithwaite and Denbigh, of Scotland, Baron Barranough of Ireland, ; Knight of the Garter of England, etc. . He rose with majestic courtesy as Lord Cecil entered, and the -fight from the deli-cately-shaded lamp, falling full upon his face and figure, made a picture of them calculated to strike the least observant of mor-; tals. : -■"'"■- : '' ..:■' , , . . .i :■'■ ; He was an -old man—seventy-two, the Peerage says, ind that cannot lie, as somebody remarks—but; he was m, straight as an 1 arrow/and save for two lines running from

the.comers of his finely-shaped nose, and a few wrinkles at the ends of his gray, piercing eyes, the face was as smooth Lord Cecil's own; smooth and almost as pale as ivory; every feature as cleanly, cut as if it were carved in ; smooth and cold as ice! and yet, with all its ice-like impassivity, a Vague, indefinite something, not marked enough for an expression, which always riveted .a stranger's gaze, and made him uncomfortable. It was not exactly contempt, or hauteur, or dislike, but a commingling of all three, which imported to the • face a quality hard to defiao but easy to feel. It should be added, to complete the picture, that his white hair, worn rather long, was brushed straight back from his white forehead, and that the hands were snowy in colour and of quite feminine shape and texture. | This imposing figure stood upright until \ Lord Cecil had taken his seat, the hard, .': steel-like eyes regarding him with an impassive, ice-like courtesy then sank into its ' seat again. • ' I It was not until he had done so that Lord Cecil was startled by seeing that a third per--1 son was present, for he had been unable : to remove his eyes from the marquis' while they were on his face. Now he saw that between.him and the marquis sat a lady i and Lord Cecil, as Ids senses woke to the fact of her presence was guilty of an astonished stare. It is not given to everyone to meet in one day the two most beautiful women he had ever seen, but this was Lord Cecil's fate. The lady was young, with a fair and per-fectly-tinted face, with dark-brown eyes, and hair that phone like raw silk under the ; mellow light that fell from the candelabra : above. Her % presence was' so unexpected that Lord Cecil might be pardoned for expressing in his gaze something of the surprise he felt. ■ Tho sound of the marquis' voice, low and yet clear, like the sound of a treble-bellj recalled him to himself and his manners. "This is Lord Cecil Neville, Lady Grace," he said, and he just moved his snowy hand. "Cecil, I think I told you that I expected Lady Grace?" Lord Cecil bowed, and the lady inclined her head with a smile. "As we are strangers, and Lord Neville lias probably never heard of me, marquis, perhaps you had better add that I am Lord Peyton's daughter." The marquis bowed. "Of course I have heard of you, Lady Grace," said Lord Cecil. * The dark-brown eyes opposite him grew rather keen as they rested on his face, but for a moment only, then she smiled again. "If I had known that you were here—" He stopped and laughed. " Well, I was going to say that I'd have been home earlier, but the fact is I met with a slight accident and was detained." The dark eyes seemed to flash over him, then fixed themselves .upon the cut on his forehead. „.. , ~ "You were not hurt, I hope? she said. " I see you have a cut on your brow." "No"" he said. "It is~hothing." " How did it happen?" asked Lady Grace. The marquis had not condescended to make any inquirv: indeed, for any sign or interest he might have been stone deaf. " Got pitched over a hedge," he said. . " By a man?" she asked, raising her brows. He "laughed. "No, by a horse. By the way, sir, he said, turning to the marquis, "I am glad to say that the horse is not injured." ■. No?" said the marquis, with slow indifference. " Perhaps that is as well; horses are valuable," "and the tone more than the words seemed to add— men— pecially Lord Cecil Neville— not." s. Lord Cecil glanced at him quickly, but the pale face was set and impassive, as if innocent of any intent to insult. (To bo continued daily.)