A WOMAN'S SOUL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12555, 22 April 1904, Page 3

A WOMAN'S SOUL.

BY CHARLES GABVICE,

Author of " Claire," "Her Heart's Desire," "Her' Ransom," "Elaine," "Nell of Sliorne Mills," "A Coronet of Shame," "The Story -of a Passion," etc.

CHAPTER XXVIII. ENGAGED

On this occasion, at least, the society papers did not lie! Lord Cecil Neville and Lady Grace Peyton were engaged! If some marriages are made in heaven, certainly some other matches are made by the gossip-mon-gers, and this was one of them.

If anyone, had told Cecil Neville that in a few short months he would, though having lost Doris, have proposed to Lady Grace, he would have laughed the prophet to scorn;' and yet propose to her he did.

Prom that eventful morning when he had received, as he thought, irrefutable proof of Doris' faithlessness and treachery, and been rescued from imprisonment by Lady Grace, a great change had fallen upon Cecil Neville. Life had lost its savour, and the days that used to pass so swiftly, with pleasure at the helm and youth at the prow, hung like lead upon* his hands. Time, which most of us find too short, dragged terribly with him. Do what he would, he could not drown the memory of the beautiful girl whom he had loved so passionately, and whose image seemed engraven upon his heart. Morning, noon, and night her presence- seemed to haunt him. He went about as usual for a day or two, but the old amusements the clubs, where he was always so warmly greeted; the dances, which never seemed complete successes without "Cissy" Neville; the river parties, and four-in-hand excursions, in which he was always the leading spirit, all seemed tame and spiritless, ana though ho laughed as usual, and tried to hide the wound which he had received, his friends noticed that he seemed preoccupied and gloomy; and when he found that they observed it, and that he was sitting silent in the midst of the carnival of pleasure, like the ghost-haunted man in the ballad, he'suddenly took his fishing-rod and went off to Norway. He had met Lady Grace frequently since the morning she had come to his rescue, but they had only exchanged a few words at meeting and parting as he felt that he could not talk as if nothing had happened, and on the night before his sudden departure, he had only said a few concise words of farewell.

"Going to Norway?" she said, in a constrained voice. "Yes?—well, I think that is the best thing you can do; it is all very stupid here in London!" and she had given him Iter hand, and let her magnificent eyes rest on his for a second or two with a look that would have impressed him and set him thinking if he had ever given thought to any other subject but the faithless girl who had jilted him. If anyone had told him that Lady Grace had gone home a. few minutes after parting from him, and shut herself up for a couple of days, reappearing, looking pale and weary, * it would never have occurred to him that her sudden disappearance had been on his account.

He went to Norway, and though be thought of her now and again with a gratitude which made him miserable —for he could not see how on earth he was going to repay her the money she had so generously paid for him—he was too much occupied with recalling Doris to think much of this other beautiful woman. He ought to have been happy in Norway, for the fishing Mas good, and he was lucky, but the big salmon did not bring him the satisfaction they used to do; and he was sitting one evening in the room of the rather rough inn at which he was staying, wondering what lie should do with himself next, aud'whether it wouldn't better to go and bury himself in South Africa, or volunteer for the next of our little wars, when he heard his name mentioned. There was a party of young men staying at the inn, and they occupied the room next to his and divided from it by the thinnest of partitions, through which their constant chatter and laughter filtered day and night to worry him. When lie heard his name, he woke up from a reverie in which he was wondering whether Doris was happy, and whether she ever thought of him and those days in the Barton meadows; and, remembering that listeners seldom hear any good of themselves, he took up his pipe, and was walking out to smoke in the open air, when it seemed to him that he heard Lady Grace's name also. Thinking that the speakers might be friends of his and hers, he waited a moment, then sank back into his chair, his face scarlet, his brow dark with a heavy frown—for this is what he heard:

"I tell you, it's an absolute truth," said one of the young follows. "I had it from a most reliable source. The lady in question was seen leaving Lord Neville's chambers alone and unattended—"

" Nonsense! Lady Grace—Lady Grace, of all women in the world!— alone to Lord Neville's chambers ! You must be mad, old fellow!"

" I'm not mad !" retorted the first, speaker, " and I wish to goodness you wouldn't bellow out her name; I carefully avoided mentioning it; these walls are no thicker than paper, and you can't tell who may be on the other .side."

"Oh, it's all right," said the other; "but come, you know, the story is as thin as the partition ! Why, no woman would do such a thing unless she were utterly reckless of her good name.''

"I daresay not," said the first, still as coolly; "but perhaps the lady in question happens to be reckless where this gentleman is concerned. Anyhow, I had it on good authority, and 1 happen to know it is an undisputable fact. Why, man, it was all the talk when I left London. It is said that she is head over ears in love with him

"Phew!" exclaimed one of the others, "that makes it worse. If she was guilty of such an indiscretion, all I can say is 'she must be very much in love! Lady Grace "Do shut up!" cried the first speaker. " No names, remember!"

"Well, well, the lady in question is one of the best known women in society, and such a report, would mean social ruin to her. Where did you hear it? (.Jive me your authority."

The first man seemed to pause a moment, then in a- voice too low for Cecil to hear, said:

" I don't mind giving it to you ; I heard it from Spenser Churchill!"

"Then you may swear to its truth ; that man never makes a. mistake!" responded one of the young fellows. "Well, I'm awfully sorry. Lady—the lady is always very kind and pleasant to me, and I think her one of tho loveliest creatures in tho world. As for Lord Neville—well, if he can remain quiescent while this story is going about, and does nothing to contradict it or set it right—all I can say is he is a very different man from what, I have always understood him to be. Where is he now? I hear he has come a regular cropper in money matters. I saw him a little while ago, and'he looked awfully down on his luck."

" Oh, he's gone abroad, I believe," replied the other.

Lord Cecil sat perfectly still for a minute, his brain surging, his heart beating with mingled fury and consternation; then, with his pipe still in his hand, he got up and knocked at the door of the adjoining room. Some one opened it, and Lord Cecil, with a slight bow, stepped in and stood before the group of young men, who .stared at his now grave, pale face, inquiringly. "1 am sorry to disturb you, gentlemen," he said; "but it: is only right I should tell you that I am the occupant of the next room, and that I have heard every word you said!" " There exclaimed the young fellow- who had started the conversation, in a tone of vexation and reproach: "1 told you so! I said the partition was like paper, and that someone might be on the other side, and you fellows wouldn't believe me !" . ,

"Yes; 1 have heard every word," said Lord Neville, sternly; "and as I have, the honour to be a friend of the lady of whom you were speaking, it is my duty to tell you. that the man who whispers a word against the reputation of that lady is a liar.

They sprang to their feet as a body, and stared at him with angry surprise ; but Lord Cecil put up his hand to command sileuce. " Hear me out, please. You may, not unnaturally, demand to know why I should take upon myself to champion this lady's cause. I do so because I hope to have the

honour of being that lady's husband. My name is Cecil Neville; that is my card. 5 ' He did not toss it melodramatically, but courteously placed it on the table before them. "If any of you consider that he is affronted by what I have said, I shall be happy to afford him any satisfaction he may think necessary." With a slight bow he was leaving the room, when the young fellow who had been the first speaker, said: " One moment, Lord Neville, if you please." Lord Cecil stopped, and stood 'facing them, with a stern countenance. "If anyone is to blame in this matter, it is myself, and I am ready tc give you any satisfaction you may require but 1 think'it right to state, frankly and freely, that 1 did not mention the lady's name, nor was I aware that she was engaged to you. I. will say, also, that I deeply regret that I should have mentioned the subject at all. But I spoke the simple truth when I said that it was a topic of common rumour: and I may add that it will give me great pleasure and satisfaction to contradict the report whenever and wherever I may hear it repeated." "I thank you,"' said Lord Cecil, simply, and with a grave bow that took in, all of them, he turned and left the room.

An hour later .was on his way to England.

By whomsoever spread, this report was in circulation— he could not contradict it! Lady Grace had been to his rooms alone and unattended, and it was his duty as a gentleman and a man of honour to protect her. Ho had heard, with a, scarlet face, the words of the young fellow who had said that Lady Grace was in love with him, and though he did not believe it—for had she not herself said that it was not so?—it was his duty to propose to. her. He reached London at noon, had a bath, and allowed his valet to clothe him in the regulation morning attire, and went straight to the Peytons' house. ° The footman told him that Lady Grace was out, riding in the park. _ "I'll wait," said Lord Cecil, and he went into the drawing-room. He paced up and down the Turkey carpet, looking out of the window, and staring at the ornaments on the mantel-shelf. Among them was one of the fashionable cabinet photograph frames, with the portrait covered by a curtain. In absence of mind he drew the curtain aside and saw a portrait of himself.

With a sudden flush he let it fall, as the door opened and Lady Grace entered. She wag in her riding-habit— the garb which set off her perfectly graceful figure to its very best advantage. As she entered, her mature and majestic loveliness struck him fully for the first time, and he remembered with a sudden vividness the words of one of the young fellows at the Norwegian inn. Yes, she was one of the lovliest of society women! She started perceptibly at sight of him so much so that she dropped her whip. He sprang forward and picked it up for her, and by the time ho had given it her—fewmoments though the action required—she had recovered herself.

"Lack so soon!" she said, giving him her hand, small, and white, and warm. "This is a surprise! Don't the salmon bite, or rise or whatever you call it? Or has it rained all the time, and have you been bored to death? I'm afraid you'll be bored just as much in London, for everyone is leaving " i "The salmon were all right," he "said still holding her hand.' "I came back because I wanted to see 3-011!" "To see me?" she said, her eyes flashing into his for a moment, and then drooping. "Well, you were just in time, for papa and. I were off to the Continent," " Then I have just come in time." he said. " Let me give you some tea: sit. down " she said, and gently tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly. "Never mind the tea, "Lady Grace" he said, with something of his old light-lieart-edness. You shall give me— refuse me —a cup after you have heard what I have to say." "And what have you to say that is more important than tea?" she retorted, in a light tone, which was belied by the quiver of her litis.

" I have come to ask you to be mv wife " he said, quietly. She put her "left hand to her bosom and her beautiful eyes dilated. If jo v always killed, then Lady Grace would have fallen dead at Lord Nevill's feet that momentbut it is sorrow and not joy that kills, and instead of falling she leaned towards him with a tremulous sigh. It was almost too good to be believed! Spenser Churchill bad told her that it would come, but she had always doubted it; and now— had come! He was hers. Hers!—he, whom she had grown to love—the man for whom she had plotted and risked so much, even her good —was hers ! It was a proud, an ecstatic moment; no wonder she prolonged it. "What do you say?*'he asked, still holding her hand, his grave voice as much unlike an ardent lover's as it is possible to imagine ; and yet it was like music to her! " I know I am not worthy to win so great a prize. but I will do my best to make you happy." " And— you love me?" she asked. It was a dangerous question, but she was a woman, and longed to hear the magic words which every woman loves to hear from the lips of the man she loves. He paused imperceptibly. "Who could do anything but love you, dear Grace!" he replied. "'Will vou be my wife? I will try and make vou happy, indeed I will! What do yon'say?" * Her soft, warm fingers'closed* on his, and she leaned towards him involuntarily. "If you are sure"—she murmured—" if you are sure vou want me to sav 'yes'—" "Indeed I do!" he. responded. "I have come ail the wav from Norway in the hope that vou Mould."

"Then I will say—'yes!"' she breathed, and her head sank upon his breast. "You will be good to meCecil?"

"I will be good to you." he responded. and he put his arm round her and kissed her in lover-wise, but not—ah, not!—with the passionate kisses which he. had rained upon the lips, and eyes, and hair of Doris Marlowe!

(To bo continued daily.)