THE MASTER OF ROGERTHORPE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13355, 8 December 1906, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE MASTER OF ROGERTHORPE.

-■BY HARRIET RANSOME.

* CHAPTER I. . - VALEniK dtjval's suggestion. '; ■'Madame wishes to see Mademoiselle . Chris tain." '> . ' There was a slight commotion among the blue-serged inmates of number ten,TAvenue de LTl.ippodrome, as the servant, after makij ing the announcement, withdrew to the lower regions.

What could madame want with the Eii"lish governess of a select Parisian pension? The girls speculated, . while Mademoiselle Christaiii prepared to obey the mysterious summons, turning over in her mind the events of the last few days and wondering wherein she had been at fault.

Christain Carre: was, beyond all doubt, beautiful. Her complexion alone Mould have saved her from plainness, even if her eyes had not been a, glorious shade of brown and had her hair not curled naturally over a low, white forehead. And yet she had come to the pension in I'Avenue- de l'Hippodiouie, two years ago, with one shabby trunk and a letter of . introduction from an affluent brother of madame's, who had amassed a considerable fortune in London ; and to whose children Christain had Occupied the position of nursery governess.

Phillippe Reyne did not think it necessary to mention to his sister that he had fallen in love with the beautiful English girl himself. He had proposed, and, in spito of. his wealth' and kindness of heart, Christain had refused him. The idea of marrying a Frenchman was repulsive to her British instincts ; and, moreover, Monsieur Reyne was a widower, which, in the girl's eyes,""added to his nndesirabtlity.

He-had been kindness -. itself, insisting upon his late nursery governess going straight to Paris, where his sister-in-law kept a select, school; taking with her a letter of recommendation, which Madame Reyne, being a soft-hearted woman, read and complied with

' Miss Carre, had at once been added to the staff of teachers at number ten, and for the last two years had faithfully discharged her duties. About her family and antecedents nia dame had hitherto known, nothing, and cared less. Christain's appearance marked her as a lady of refinement and education, and her employer was content to take her as she found her.

One of the girls, whose father owned a large glove factory, and was very wealthy in consequence, had taken a deep fancy to the young English governess; and, hearing of madame's message, slipped her hand through Christain's arm as she was leaving the room.

"Don't mind what madame says, if she scolds you she remarked,' good-naturedly. "I suppose she wants to give you a wigging—" • ,• _ _ Mademoiselle shook her bright head.

"I can't think how I have erred," she said, ;as she closed the schoolroom door behind her and crossed the tiled hall with a sinking heart. V -■■■>■■,--_••.

"Cheer up!" urged Valerie Duval, giving her companion a slight push toward the door of mad ame"6 sanctum. "I dare say it is nothing, after all!". -

With which parting shot she retired to the schoolroom, and Christain knocked for admission at madame's door. ■ : "Entrez!"

Madame Reyne was seated, reading the contents of. a letter which lay open on'her desk. She motioned Miss Carre to an adjacent chair, and passed the letter across to her, saying: , , , ~.-■.... • ■ , ,; v .

."."Do you ' know the,* writer, mademoi- ■ selle?"' T _I; .."..,.- :.".",.' -'] Christain shook her head, as she read the terse note, which was to make all the difference in her life. '.'.'.':. " Kogerthorpe, Co. Waterford, 22nd May, 189—. "Madame,—lt has come to my knowledge that vou have, under your hospitable « roof, the daughter of an old friend of mine— Miss Carre. Her father, who- owned the property adjoining my own, died while I was away, shooting big game in South America," some four years since, and I. was unaware of his death until I arrived home last week. I now find on my desk, among the letters not to be forwarded, a note from Mr. Carre, imploring me to look after his only child, a girl of about sixteen. By her father's will—which was curiously enclosed in the letter, instead of having been placed with his lawyer—l am constituted her guardian. The • property, such as it was, went to a distant cousin, being entailed; and. 'a? far as I can gather, Miss Carre must have been left entirely penniless. I should have come over to fetch my ward 'myself, but I had the misfortune to break my leg out hunting the day after I returned to Ireland.'and am forbidden to use it for some weeks. Under the circumstances, perhaps you could find a suitable escort for the young ladv, whom I hope to have the pleasure of welcoming to her new home 'as soon as you can make the necessary arrangement*. :■" Believe me, madame. yours very faithfully, :■ , ;- Tbsexce o'Tiioni'K.

,-.;• l'.S.— enclose "a cheque for. primary expenses, and will make good any further inconvenience the removal of my ward must cause you.'" • - - •

. , Madame Revue : watched Chrisiain nar- & rowly as she read the letter to the end. "ft is a very kind note,"' she said, as the gill folded ■ it up ■ and ■ returned it to her. " Very!" laconically. . "I:think I can spare Mademoiselle Iteic- - hardt to take you over to London, and from .'.'.there' my brother would, I am sure, be only too plea'sed to see that you were suitably provided with a travelling companion: for the rest of the journey." ti: "Do you think I- am going to accept the -charity of a complete stranger?" Christain ;'flashed out, unexpectedly. " I would die sooner than be beholden for everything — - to Mr. Terence OThorpe!" ■' "I think that when you reflect upon the matter quietly in the privacy of your own . room you will come to the conclusion that you are an extremely, lucky girl \ to have . such a good and generous friend,'' replied -'Madame Reyne, gravely. " You say you do C. not know Mr. OThorpe; perhaps he will turn out better than you seem to expect." - GM-istain's cheek flushed. - ?hf,:T—told vou wrong—l do know him!" | she said, at length. "He used to come in . and see my father very often, a tall, broad- ■ shouldered, good-natured man, much young- * er than mv father, but—l did nut like—him s at all—"' with a shudder. " I think—he- - drank." ; - - Madame Reyne was a woman of the ;Woild: she was inclined to lake the goods .-•the gods provided, and not inquire too deeply us to the nature of the giver. -Chrisiain hud known Mr. OThorpe years ago, when :. perhaps he bad been a little wild— most young men are. But now, after the lapse Vof time, lie might have altered; his letter '• was a polite one; and she thought it would ...be a pity for her improvident young gover- % ness to miss an opportunity oi securing a good home, at any rate for the present. p- -So.Miss Carre was told that she must be .;. prepared to start for England that day .'week, in the company of Mademoiselle Reichardt. who was overjoyed at the prosit; pect of a holiday in London, and very gracious to Chrisiain; who was the indirect, cause If hi her good fortune. Valerie Duval was sympathetic, when ;f Christain told her about 'her altered prospects. <■ "You will marry him, and live happily ever afterward!" "she said, with a little ' laugh, giving the English girl an all'ection-x.-'atc squeeze. -', "Heaven forfend!" answer.ed Christaiu, | 'fervently. "Terence OThorpe, when last I had Hie pleasure of seeing him, was more than half drunk, and what father could , have been thinking about to make him my guardian 1 can't understand!" "■ : '■■■■-' '. .'-.- -. : :-- : '■•• '■:..'-.- ■'.:-' ■

"Poor thing!" murmured Valerie, "I am so sorry forjyon,,;dear./ If you were my sister how nicest" would he."

Valerie was the only girl of her family, which consisted of two brothers, and heir father; and she often missed the companionship of her schoolfellows when she went home for the holidays.

"I; wish I were anybody's sister, instead of that man's ward!" broke in Christain, miserably. "I have an awful feeling that Terence will want to marry me; and as I shall have no on© to take my par* I expect trouble." .

"It's a pity you aren't married already said Valerie, mournfully; "then, whatever else he did to you, he couldn't marry you!" The other girl sighed. "It's no use wishing anything," she" said, dismally. There is no one who wants' to marry me."

Valerie jumped up suddenly from her chair. ' ..

" 1 have it!" she excitedly cried. "If you will do what I tell you,'you shall be married before you set .sail 'for Ireland, and thus outwit that horrid guardian."

Miss Carre looked astonished, as well she might. , -

"You know my brother Pierre?" went on the French gill, eagerly ; " father was saying only the other day that he wished he would marry and go and live at Lyons, to start a fresh branch of the glove factory there. Well, now, you want a husbandhe wants a'wife; you can marry each other!" Christaiii smiled at the originality of the plot, and shook her head.

"Your father would require me to go to Lyons with your brother, and I must go over to Ireland, at any rate for a while she said.

"Oh, that could be settled all , right. Pierre would tell father that you had gone with him, and you would tell Mr. O'Thorpe that you already have a husband in France. Think of the escape you will have! Pierre is a dear, good boy, and never drinks too much ; while, according to your own showing, your guardian is fast drinking himself to death •

The two pictures thus presented, side. by side, revived all Christain's horror.

" I couldn't many Terence!" she said covering her face "with her hands. " I couldn't!" .

"Well, then, why not marry Pierre?" returned the other girl, calmly. "I can suggest no better plan. If you don't like the plan you had better go away and marry your old beer-barrel of a guardian!" Christain shuddered involuntarily, and grasped the other's hand. I'll marry your brotherif he will have me she said, hurriedly. \

That night Valerie Duval wrote surreptitiously to her brother, with the result that he came to see her a day later. The scheme pleased him mightily ; lie was only a youth of 22, and the prospect of having a bride was an altogether new- excitement for him. The facts of the case were put before him, and with all a Frenchman's chivalry he placed bis hand at the disposal of the English damsel in distress. It did not disturb him in the least to learn that Madame Pierre Duval, .for family reasons, must co to Ireland as won as she was married: neither of them being in love simplified matters considerably for the conspirators.

So one morning at the end of May, very early. Miss Christnin Carre became Madame Pierre.' Duval, and the newly-wedded pair parted quite cheerfully at the door of the notary's office. ■.

Christain, with the help of Valerie, had circumvented all Mr. Terence O'Thorpe's plans. ■' ' ' " A few hours later she took a touching farewell of all the inmates of number ten, and began her journey to Ireland.

CHAPTER II: A MISJUDGED MAX. . Rogerthorpe, the ancestral home for many generations of the O'Thorpes, lay facing due west, looking out on the distant purple mountains. Park-like land, separated - from the • heather-clad hill, stretched as far as the bogs for wnich the estate was famous. They were valuable insomuch as they \ provided a quantity of turf; but there was an element of danger in attempting to cross the narrow path which intersected the wide waste which spread away as far as th'e eye could see. Bog cotton fluttered <on delicate stalks in the passing wind,- and clusters*-of * pink bell-heather flourished in the rich black soil. --';-';--' '••: ■' •" ' '•.-•• '■''' ' -

The house itself was built- in that style of architecture so common in the south of Ireland. " Square, ugly, and painted white, its windows, even l '* let ;in its staring face, looked out on the west; a long flight of broken stone steps led up to the hall door, which invariablv stood open and revealed a big, shabbily-furnished ball, but, withal, expressing the very essence of comfort.

The OThorpes had come down in' the world, as*far as wealth was concerned, in company with their neighbours, but that did not disturb their light-hearted cheerfulness: and the. last of the. family, Terence OThorpe, who had been an absentee for some four years, viewed his neglected patrimony with indulgent eyes. To be sure, some of the ruin which had fallen upon it had 'been' largely his own doing. The curse of the country had laid a terrible hold upon him soon after he came into' possession of the property, and hardly a day passed that did not see Terence OThorpe hopelessly inebriated. What would have been a crying scandal elsewhere was viewed with much leniency in the neighbourhood, and no one had held out a helping or a hindering hand to save him from utter ruin. He was a. "bit of a boy," they said in their easy-going fashion, as he reeled homeward from a fair, but he was "as fine a gintlemaii— God bless him!—as any in the counthry!" Then salvation came to him when things had gone almost too far for reformation. An old Trinity College friend, going to .South America- in pursuit of big game, bosought- OThorpe to accompany him in the quest. Like all Irishmen Terence was a keen sportsman, and tin's proposal made him pull himself together, in order that he might make the necessary preparations, and set out without loss of time.

By degrees, and with an almost superhuman effort, he threw off the horrible thraldom in which he had lived for so long, and on his return" to the old oounlrV more than four years later Terence OThorpe was. an honestly, reformed character. And the reformation promised to be a lasting one, for he threw himself with ardour into all the pursuits and . sports which constitute the life of a country magnate, and times denied to have changed indeed for the master of' Rogerthorpe. It was when he was looking over the terrible;,accumulation of papers Which had poured in during his long absence from home that he came upon the letter which had been written to him by his old friend aud. neighbour, Larry Carre, who, to 'his great regret, had died While lie was away. The letter in question; which ought to have been forwarded to him, was one of the greatest importance concerning the future of the little hoyden whom he had teased and tormented—Christain Carre, the only child of his neighbour. . -.. It must have been some strange fancy of the older man's to leave his daughter to the absolute guardianship of Terence OThorpe. He thought over the matter with a humorous smile in his handsome eyes, after he had sent the letter to the lady with whom he ascertained Miss Carre was. living. What, in the name of wonder, was he to do with a girl-what age? He racked his brains in the effort to settle that knotty point., to his' satisfaction, hut in vain. -.She sTfrely" must be nineteen—or something like that. At any rate, he was her guardian, and it would not be an unpleasant thing to have someone young about the old place.- His thirty-four years had begun to sit heavily upon* his prematurely bowed shoulders. There were streaks of grey in his dark,"crisp hair, and lines on his handsome face, but with it all Terence OThorpe was a distinctly good-looking mail. ' The accident in the hunting-field which had resulted in the breaking of his leg might, indeed, have been more serious, but it was bad enough to keep him tied to a couch for some weeks, and altogether prohibited the idea which he. had entertained oft running over to Paris himself in order to escort his new charge home to Rogerthorpe. ;■ ■ ' , As it was, he was obliged- to contenthimself with writing a letter on"the subject, to which he received a. courteous answer from Madame Reyne, to the effect

that his -ward would,travel over under the escort of a lady from the establishment. The necessary arrangements for the reception of a young lady he confided to Mrs. Macarthy, his housekeeper, who received the tidings' it-hat a visitor was expected at Rogerthorpe, and that visitor a young lady, with the shrilly-expressed surprise.typical: of her class. • " An' it's the blue room you're wanting for her, yer honor? Shine the paper's fallin' off the walls wid age. ah' the paint —Holy Tether! the darlin' young lady would be scandalised entirely wid it! What will I do, sir?" " Then get in a paperer and a painter, Biddy, and for heaven's sake see that everything is nice for her. I can't look to it myself, you know, so 1 must leave it to von."

So paperhangers and painters were got in from the distant town, arid Mrs. Macaithy had what Terence called a. regular field day in the kitchen, where the workmen were duly regaled with muffins and tea at intervals, while Mis. Macarthy marshalled them to their work with many objurgations.

"An' they makin' such a fillalew!" she said, as she came in to remove her master's breakfast things. " Wid their talkin', ialkin', all the time, it's a wonder they do any work at all, at all. There's Andy Horrigan wantin' a wife, an' he only a workman, wid a cottage on the road. Shure yer honor heard of him last Shrovetide, whin he whit courtinVa line, sthrappin' girl who knows her business, and she wid a couple of fine sheep, not to mint ion a feather bed. An" sez I to him, 'Andy, what about the girl?' An' he sez, 'Wisha, hut she's as ugly as sin!' So sez I to him. 'Beauty won't boil the pot,' which is thrue enough, yer honor, but the irnpidence of them Horrigans bates me entirely." ' i

Terence listened with a • smile to the voluble outbursts with which the worthy Biddy invariably frvoure'' him whenever he was within earshot. She was .a good, honest woman according to her lights, and ruled supreme in the kitchen department at Rogerthorpe, a. post which she had honourably hold for the last- fifteen years. In her eyes' the master was perfect, and woe betide the man. woma.ii, or child who dared to say aught to the contrary. Terence, from his couch near the window, looked around him, and wondered what sort of impression the place—and incidentally its master—would make on his ward. He had been for so long a stranger to women's society that he looked forward to the near future with a little uneasiness. Also an uncomfortable feeling disturbed him that perhaps the girl might have a hazy recollection of the disreputable man who had been known as the drunkard of Rogerthorpe. The impressions made on the mind of a child—or, rather, a growing girl, as she had been in those terrible day of hi-' degradation—are sometimes very lasting. Heaven forbid that the memory should have remained with her all these years! "

■? Of society there was not much, but the little there was would no doubt, amply amuse a girl from a Parisian school, where she had probably been kept as doge as a nun. There were neighbours, of course, chief among them the present owner of the Carre's old home—Carrigmore—which property adjoined Rogerthorpe, and which was tenanted by Michael Moore and his widowed sister, Lady Glenrock.

They, Terence decided, as Christain's distant kin. would he-pleasant friends for her, though there was not much love lost between him and the master of Carrigmore. But his prejudices need not stand in the way of his. ward, and he was quite prepared to bury the hatchet and make things as pleasant as possible for the daughter of his old frkmd and neighbour. As the days slipped away, and May passed, bringing a new loveliness to the exquisite scenery, the day drew near when Miss Carre was expected to arrive at Rogerthorpe. Terence was still on the couch in the room which was dignified by the title of library, though it contained more guns and fishing tackle, and other sporting accessories, than books. The doctor threatened untold penalties if his patient ventured to stir from his recumbent position, so it stood to reason that it was impossible for him to go and meet his ward, much as he? would have liked to, 'for. the idea of the" orphaned girl arriving unwelcomed at the distant station, and being. obliged to drive tb» five mi'es to Rogerthorpe with only Thady, the groom, as escort, was very repugnant to his hospitable soul. However, needs must when the devil drives, he said to himself with a whimsical smile, as he saw the car drive down the avenue on its way to the station to meet Miss Carre. .

It was early in the afternoon, and the May sunshine was pouring down gaily on the red fuchsia hedge .just bursting into gorgeous blossom below the windows. It made a splash of colour against the grey walls of the stableyard. Away in the west the purple heights rose up grandly against a cool blue sky. A recent shower had spangled the grass with a thousand glittering drops, and the birds were singing blithely in the wood beyond. Upstairs a heavy tread • told him that Biddy was putting the finishing touches to the room which had been swept and garnished for the reception of the visitor. With the assistance of- the worthv Biddy's arm. and a crutch which he had been allowed to use -to-day for the first time for a few minutes, he had been able to get- to the door of the room and inspect it. His approval of the snowy curtains, dainty furniture, the flowers which filled vases on the table and mantel, and the faint blue walls, filled Biddy with joy. What more, indeed, could the heart of any woman-require than .such a. room? It had been approved," too, by the master — fact "which .set a seal upon it at once in the. eyes of the partial Bridget Macarthv. •

"Bravo, Biddy! You have surpassed yourself! I am -sine Miss Cane will be delighted with her quarters." Biddy bridled delightedly. Indeed, yer honor, wouldn't I do all I could for the young lady? Shuro. it's meself remembers her wid her hair flyin' about her head, an' she leppin' like a. young coTt over the ditches, wid her dogs. It will-be like old times to see her."

Terence winced. The memory of those old times was painful in the extreme to him.

"She is grown up now; Biddy;" he said, with an effort, as he got back to bis couch; " she won't be leppin* the ditches now!" .'. ." . "

"Unless it,might he on horseback, wid yer honor out huntin'," s:i!d Biddy, bustling away, and Terence was left- once more to his own reflections.

The big clock halfway up the wide staircase struck four with slow and solemn sound. As the last stroke died away in the echoing hall wheels were heard coining rapidly down the avenue, and a moment later, the car drew up at the open floor, and there dismounted from a position which seemed to her like half-forgot-ten times a girl with sunny hair and the loveliest complexiou Biddy declared she had ever seen ; and good complexions are more the ride than the exception in the south of Ireland.

"Why, it's Biddy!" said, a sweet voice, and Christain held out a, daintily-gloved band, .which the good-natured old servant too!; aud shook, with tears of jov in her eyes.

" Shuro it's yerself that's welcome to Rogerthorpe. Miss "Christain." she said. "Come in. miss— come in. The masther's tied wid bis leg, or he would have been the first to say welcome. Tliady, ye thief o' the world ! let that thrunk down aisy, an',bring it up to the room. Come in, miss; here's the maather wait-in" for yon!" _ Aud with that Biddv ushered Christum into the presence of Terence OThorpe. He tried to rise, but she came forward impulsively, and the momentary embarrassment fled from them both.

"Don't got up!" she said, holding out her hand, "I know you ought not to. I am so sorry you have had such a distressing accident." "The sorrow is on my part even deeper," lie said, with an irresistible smile, „" since It was impossible for me to come and meet you. I hope you had a comfortable journey?"

"Quite pleasant, thank you.' The place is not altered, is it? It seems like home, although I— was sorry to leave madame." "And you have not altered very ..much either!"' he said, looking at her. "I think I can trace the little hoyden I remember so well years ago." ' ' / ... ,

' The girl flushed. The memory was unpleasant to them both , ; .. "I—l have grown, of course," she said, with an effort, "and one alters in that way. Biddy is just the same as of old. "Quite as talkative, at any rate!" he said. "But you 'will like to go to your room. I have been for so long in the wilds, you know, that you must forgive me if I do not always' say and do the right thing. Tea will* be ready in a few minutes, and then you must tell me all about yourself. .We must have a little talk, yon know, if I am to be your guardian." ' There was something infinitely attractive about Terence, and as Christain followed the worthy Biddy up to the charming room which had been prepared with so much car© for her, she drew a long breath of relief. How much 6he hod dreaiTect this first interview no one but herself would ever guess. But the surprise which she had received was not to be overcome in a moment. What had so miraculously changed the man she had dreaded— man she had slandered, apparently, in her own ' mind and to her friend, Valerie Duval? This was no drnnkaid. He looked a different being. How she had misjudged him! And for the first time she almost, regretted the wild impulse which had led her into her hasty marriage with Pierre Duval. She had looked upon it as a choice between the devil and the deep sea, and assuredly Terence O'Thorpe could not be regarded under these new conditions as the former, while as the latter—well, time would tell.

CHAPTER in. A LETTER WHICH CAT7SES ALARM. Pierre Duval lost no time in putting the some two hundred odd mile* between himself and his father on the day of his wedding.. Old Phillippe Duval had been a cripple from rheumatism for several years past, and never had Valerie and Pierre been so glad of the fact, as they were, when it prevented their father from attending the marriage ceremony between his son and the young English lady. It had struck him as a little hurried, but he indulgently put it down to the youth of the two parties, and contented himself with sending an extremely handsome present to the young bride, which she never received. Pierre had been so excited on the eventful day that the recollection of the pretty pearl necklace, reposing in the pocket of his coat, had completely gone out of hie mind; and he only remembered it when ho was well on his way to Lyons. Valerie was with him, having obtained from Madame Reyne permission to accompany her brother and his bride to their new home for two days. Madame had little idea that the bride in question was none other than the sedate young governess, of whom she took an affectionate farewell at the Gare du Nord on her way to England. Valerie was a little tired with the events of the day, and also a little cross when at length she reached her destination. Lyons, an old Roman town on the banks of the Saone and the Rhone, was looking very picturesque, bathed in the evening sunlight, when the girl caught her first glimpse of it from the windows of the train. The Cathedral of Saint Jean, one of the oldest churches in France, reared its magnificent spire from amid its unpretentious surroundings, and Valerie could not repress an exclamation of admiration and delight when it burst upon her excited gaze* softened and glorified in the roseate hues of sunset.

Pierre had been in Lyons before; in his mind it was associated with silk and stockings, and such articles—mundane, but necessary. He was. therefore, surprised at the enthusiasm of his sister.

" Oh, yes," he said, in answer to a recent remark of approbation from her side of the car. " Lyons is pretty enough, parts of it; but you'll find the streets gloomy and dull, except in the modern part of the town." "Where is your house, Pierre?" asked Valerie, half afraid that her brother would take exception to the question. ''..":. "I am afraid you will be disappointed with it, Val," he returned with a smile. " For the present, my wife and I must live over my offices, in the Rue de la Republique ; later. on, we shall, I hope, be able to move a little. way outto a country villa, in fact."

Valerie laughed, and pinched, his arm with sisterly familiarity. " You and your wife, Pierre!" she exclaimed, merrily. "It seems odd to think you are really married; and it is certainly hard to believe, considering that ' madame' is miles away; probably in England by this time!"

" Since we are both contented, what matters';" returned the young Frenchman, philosophically. "My father, lie must never know, though!" • . If he should ever take it into his head to come over from Paris, to see how the business is getting on, what then?" said Valerie, earnestly. Her brother shrugged his shoulders in the fashion. peculiarly belonging to the sons of the Republic. " Mori Dieu! Then there would be trouble !" he answered. " I shall have to get her over from Ireland, I supposeor pretend that she is ill!"

The train at- this moment drew up at the station Perrache, and the brother and sister were soon fully occupied in collecting their several belongings. They took a liacre, and drove to the tall, solemn-looking house, which was in reality Christain's legal home, instead of the old, rambling, happy mansion in Ireland. The contrast between the two could not have been more marked.

Valeric, busied herself with getting things straight a bit. while Pierre went into the office, and looked around him at the premises which were henceforth to he under his alksolute control. He was glad to lw Settled at last; lor hitherto he had only had a. clerkship in the flourishing. business house in Paris, under the guidance of Phillippe Duval, tin founder; Pierre intended —having carle blanche with regard to the branch established at Lyons'— to include silk and stockings among his stock in trade. Tie was a. go-ahead young fellow, who had had a liberal education, and infant to make the most of his opportunities. What bad contented his father would not content him, fresh from the Univer.site de Paris, and imbued with all the idea* of that enterprising citv.

While he was thus meditating on his future course of action, he heard his sister's voice, from the fiat above, calling him to have some tea alter his journey; and, being thirsty and hungry, lie left the lower legions and ran upstairs. " £ shall only be here two days, so it behoves von to make the most of mv company while you have it!" Miss Valerie assured him, as he entered a pretty, bright loom, and found that young lady already installed behind a. capacious teapot. "And it will be useless for you to prefer coffee, tor 1 have none with me: so you must drink tea—or die of thirst Pierre chose Iha former of the two evils,

and ensconced himself in a chair by the I open vind-nv. The room was tastefully furnished in pink and gold, having been intended for the boudoir of the young English bride. The walls were covered with pictures which had been selected with cave and judgment, and curtains of the palest shade of pink brocade hung on either side of the two narrow windows. • " I think this is such a pretty room, Piere," said Valerie, as she assuaged Innthirst and nibbled at the dainty cakes .she had procured at. the nearest vatisserie. "Handsome is as handsome does!" returned her brother, stretching out his legs in lazy contentment. Both the brother and sister spoke English fluently, and often conversed in that language for their mutual benefit ; hence ; Piere's familiarity with English proverbs, which he found, generally. speaking, came in handier than French ones. Mademoiselle Duval sprang up suddenly, as a visitor was announced at that moment. '• Monsieur and Madame Terrevue!'' The newcomers were both tall and dark, of a type so often found in the south of ' Franco*. Madame had the blue-black eyes , of her race, small, and inclined to shifti- , ness, while her upper lip was adorned by • a moustache of such prominence that many : a young man would have given a good deal to possess it. , Monsieur was taller than the general race , of Frenchmen, with sloping shoulders and I dark beard and moustache. His eyes re- j sembled those of his wife in size and natural i construction, except that they had a habit of occasionally looking one full in the lace —which niadame's never betrayed. i

"So this is the bride!" she murmured rapidly, in her native tongue, extending one gloved hand toward Valerie. That, young lady was abou' to expostulate, when she caught her brother's eye fixed meaningly upon her, while he shook his head wainingly. ■ '."" " How do you do?' replied Valerie, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of madame's shifty orbs. "We—Pierre and I —have but just'arrived." ■- "You do not need to apologise to me!" announced the other lady, glibly. "My dear Madame Duval. I have beard. from your father; all about your marriage contract. So romantic, so interesting—a case of love at first sight, of course?" Poor,Valerie crimsoned. When she had arranged to ;omc with her brother to Lyons no idea of playing the part of the absent bride had occurred to her as a possibility She looked imploringly at Pierre, who was talking with Monsieur Tenevue at the window, and he came to the rescue.

! "My dear madame, we do not make a i show of our affection before the whole ; world." he gravely said. "' It is indeed j most kind of you and monsieur to call; j and you must excuse us if we are in a - state of unreadiness. Pray have some tea, madame; we cannot offer you coffee, since there is none in the house as yet." Madame Terrevue was charmed with the young man's gracious, easy mariner, as she had been disappointed in the flushing, plainly awkward bride. She was a keen observer of faces, and had already iiegun to scent a mystery in the Duval household. The bride wasn't so very English, after all, and spoke with a decided French accent.

She mentioned her misgivings to her husband an hour later, wheu they were driving home; while, at the same time, in the house she had just quitted, Valerie and Pierre sat looking at each other in blank amazement.

Affaire had developed in an unpleasantly rapid manner since the event of the morning ; and the brother and sister were forced to alter their plan of action, if tney were to keep up the deception of. the phantom wife.

"What an odious woman I" gasped Valerie, when the door had shut on madame's corpulent form. Pierre groaned. We shall have to settle on .something to account for the absence of the bride," he said, slowly. "I had no notion that people would begin to fuss around us in this i extraordinary fashion— any rate, without leaving us time to become accustomed to I our new home. I wish that she didn't | know father, though. There will be the devil to pay when' it all leaks out, as it is bound to do, when madame and the old gentleman meet." But is that-likeley to happen?" asked Valerie meditatively., "You see, Pierre, dear boy, madame lives here, and our esteemed father two hundred miles away. So cheer up! It is bound to come right some day; and you have the satisfaction of having honourably come to the rescue of a damsel in distress."

Thus comforted, Pierre grew more cheerful, and the first nieht in Lyons ended better than it had begun. The next day, while her brother was getting all the 'arrangements made in the office, Valerie took a stroll into the town, and visited the Hotel de Ville and the famous cathedral; then, finding that she had plenty of time to spare before dinner, she climbed the steep ascent of Fourviere. from the summit of which a grand view of the city, with its churches and forts, is obtained. She was resting from her labours in the observatory of Notre Dame, before descending, ': when to her surprise Pierre hastily walked in. His" face was white with emotion, and his eyes had a. new fear in then usually mild, blue deuths. In his band he held a letter, which shook as he held it out toward the girl. ' "Pierre!" she cried." hurriedly fretting up from her chair and eoing toward him. '•' Pierre— you ill? What is the matter?" "Read that!" he commanded, hoarsely. " Then you will not need to ask what is the matter Valerie read the hastilv written note. It was from old Phillippe Duval, saving that his rheumatism had left him suddenly, and in consequence he hoped to hrve the pleasure, of .calling on his son and his young ■bride in the course of a few days, when he honed it would not be asking too much if he could beg a lodging for the night. "What—what are yon coiner to do, Pierre?" asked the girl, her lips blanching. Pierre had recourse to his accustomed shrus;. . ■ / "Do?" he echoed. "There is only one thing to be done, my dear, and that is to go over to Ireland and fetch my reluctant bride to. Lyons."

. Valerie gasped. "I_l don't think she would like that, Pierre," she said, hesitatingly. "You see, the agreement was that she should eo to Ireland and vou to Lvons. Perhaps I can persuade father to defer his visit for a week or two."

"It is only a question of time." returned Pierre, a" little dogeedly. "It will be the same thing in the end. lam sorry, of coursebut, under the circumstances, I must claim and fetch my bride!''

(To be continued.)

[Another instalment of this very interesting storv will be given in these columns on Monday next and continued daily until its completion.]

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]