THE GIRL FROM THE SOUTH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14103, 3 July 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE GIRL FROM THE SOUTH.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY CHABLES GABVIOB. Author of "Just a Girl," " Nance." "The

Gold in the Gutter," etc.

CHAPTER XXI. A CASTLE IX SPAIN.

Dolores was so startled that she could only gazo in amazement, in speechless amazement, at Florelia, as she cowered against the cushion, with her face covered with her hands and her whole body shaking as if she were terror-stricken. At last Dolores leant forward and touched her, strove to raise her. "Oh, what is the matter, Florelia?" she demanded. What ails you? Is it because I am married —" , Suddenly her hand dropped from the girl and she drew back with a sens*, of fear, of an intolerable dread which had suddenly seized upon her with a grasp that was tightening every instant. It was as she had hoard Mansanarez's name that Florelia had collapsed, had sunk down as if under a heavy blow ; she had now withdrawn herself to the end of the carriage, and, still hiding her face, was cowering and shivering in the attitude of a wild animal trying to conceal itself, to escape from its pursuers. It was - 7 natural that upon Dolores' memory should flash the story of Florella's ruined life: it was only natural that she should connect the girl's sudden agony with him. Why should the mention of Mansanarez's name have so affected Florelia? The answer presented itself with the swiftness of a. Hash of lightning; Mansanarez had been the betrayer of Florelia. Dolores did not ask herself why she was convinced that her horrible conjecture was the correct one; but she was so convinced, and as surely as if Florelia had admitted the fact in so many words. She sat perfectly motionless, her eyes fixed just above the shrinking,' shaking figure, and at that moment she realist, for the first time, what it'was- that sh* had done. She was conscious of a strong inclination to tear at her hands, to scream, maddened by her helplessness, her powerlessness; But in a minute or two the paroxysm of passion passed, her old spirit reasserted itself, her -'■■■ >>manly pride flew to her arms. She was married to the Marquis of Mamanarez; but she was his wife in name only; and, setting her teeth, she resolved to fight in her own defence. ' V She rose presently, and, seating herself by Florelia, look her arm and .gently forced her upright.. v"Tell mo everything, Florelia," she said in a hard, dry voice. "There is nothing to tell," said Florelia, struggling for speech and pushing her hair from her white face. " I—l am ill., Do-

lores. . I want to go. Please let me go •when the train steps. I want to go back to London—l must, I will!"

"We will see," said Dolores gently and quite calmly, "but you must answer me some questions, Florella. You must know that you cannot keep silent, that I must know the. truth. Just now when I told you that I was married to the Marquis.of Mansanarez you received the news as if I had done something terrible; you are shaking still, as if with something horrible. You know the marquis?" ..."■.'■ "I know the marquis, yes," "responded Plorella, still struggling for composure, for breath itself. "You also know him; we have known him since we were children. Oh, let me go, Dolores don't ask no any more!" s ,-''■,-■ "You know something bad about him," said Dolores inexorably, but still gently. "He has done something, or you would not have behaved as you behaved when you heard he was my husband. Florella," her voice was very grave, almost solemn, "you will not keep it from me— dans not. Wo have been playmates, sisters you must not forget that, and how much it makes you owe mo. Tell me the truth, the very truth— is it not that— that the marquis should be your husband, not mine?" Florella slid to the floor and threw herself upon Dolores' Knees,

"You know, you know!" she wailed. "I can see you know, Dolores. You do not need me to tell you. But you force me to do so." Her voice became almost inaudible. "It was the marquis who—who — He used to meet mo by the ruined chapel. He took me away, brought me to London; thon he grew tired of me, and—and cast 'me off. OH, Dolores, you would make me tell you It was the suddenness, the shock, that startled me, made me break down. It was too awful to hear that he was your husband, that you had married him, not knowing—not knowing what he was, how cruelly he had served meif only we had not met at the station ; if I had not come into the carriage with you! 1 should have heard the news when I was by myself, should have been able to keep my secret. Oh, lam sorry v sorry! Why "don't you speak, Dolores* She hid her face in Dolores' lap, aad Dolores laid her hand on the bent head soothingly, with a touch of comprehension and forgiveness if forgiveness were needed. . ' Be calm, Florella," she said. " I should have known, even if you had not;told me. You think such things are hidden for always? No ; I should have —when it was too late. I am glad I have discovered it —in time." She was silent for a moment or two, pondering deeply. Her heart was aching sho felt like a thing trapped and snared ; she was trying to right her way out of it. " Tell me, Florella," she said, after the pause, "does your father, Pedro, know —Mansanarez?" Florella shook her hand. " No one knows, no one will know, but you, scnoritu," « she said. " I will go back to London and hide myself as I have done, so that peopki might forget me. You shall never see m* again, Dolores." There was a pause, then she caught Dolores' arm and looked up at her imploringly. " You will not let this sadden your life, senorita; you will not let it come between you and him?" she imploded beseechingly, anxiously. I will go, pa?*s away from your sight; you will forget me, forgive him! It should not be so difficult, for he did not know you when he sought me." Dolores was silent. She knew that Florella was quite incapable of understanding the effect which th© discovery had produced in Dolores' mind and heart. Ever; if she explained, the girl would not be able to comprehend the complex emotions which whirled like a storm in Dolores' bosom. While Florella had been speaking Dolores had been asking herself what she should do. • Her first impulse was to take flight from Mansanarez. Should she alight at the next station, and, taking Florella with her, return to London and take up their old life? But she knew that she could not do so, knew that sho would be consigning not only herself, but Florella also, to a ; grim, and perhaps losing fight with poverty : for they could not return to Guzman's. Suddenly a resolve bora of her bitterness and despair took possession of her. Sho would continue her journey and go on to Spain. There they had friends; there was Pedro to protect them. Dolores would make him take back Florella. Ould she do that? Yes; she would go to' Spain, would go to the castle itself, at filet, and wait for Mansanarez. He would claim her as his wife, but she would confront him with the discovery she had made, force him to give her her freedom. The meeting, the straggle, would have to take place sooner or later, somewhere or other; it were better that it should take place at once and that in the struggle she should have friends , near her. She could en threaten him with Pedro, if the marquis drove her to it.

She raised Florella, and holding her hand tightly, said very quietly:

"Listen, Florella! This that I have learnt has made a difference in my j life,; it has risen between me and my —the marquis. Do not speak, do not cry. If I had not heard it from you, I should Hive •discovered it some day or other; and whenever I came to know of it, it would have made me separate myself from,, him. Do you forget that you have been like my sister; do you think that I have no heart; that I could bear to be the wife of one Ah, we will not speak of it! I am going to Spain, to Cantala, to the castle."

Florella heaved a sigh of relief. "Yes, senorita," she said meekly, "it is well; it is right that you should do so. I will go back to London." "No," said Dolores firmly, but gentfy. "You will come with me, Florella. Hush! Do not cry out, do not look so frightened. Do you think I cannot protect ynu, take care of you? Indeed, I can. I feel strong enough to face anything, anyone. And it is right that I should take care of y-ju ; for was it not my husband who— We will go together, Florella. You shall come as my maid; you shall have a room text mine; it is likely that you will not be recognised, but if you are, I shall be with you." " No, no!" gasped Florella, trembling. " But yes, Florella mine," said Dolores as firmly as before; "for though I have not said so yet, I am in need of you, in bitter need of you. I want .woman to stand by me, to help me; and I have no one but you. You will not desert me, Florella?" Florella. could not refuse the prayer. Panting and gazing at Dolores with earful eyes, she whispered at last: " I will go with you, senorita. I cannot leave you when you—when you ask me like that." By. the time they had reached Dover Dolores succeeded in restoring composure to her companion. She found a thick, spare veil in her dressing-case, and fold Florella to put it on,, and -wrapped ncr in a long travelling cloak. Almost in silence for they were both absorbed in thought which made speech painful—they continued their long and wearisome journey. When nearly worn out, covered in dust and aching in every limb, they alighted at the station for Cantala, a couple of servants in the Mansanarez livery sprang , to the carriage door, opened it, and bowed low and with profound respect, but looked beyond the two women as if in fiarch of their master. "His lordship has been detained," Raid Dolores quite calmly, with the hauteur which was unaffected, for was she not hack in her beloved Spain, and was not she these men's mistress, the Marquisa of Mansanarez? Of a truth, the pari she had set herself to play came as naturally and as easily to her as if she had been born in the purple. The servants bowed low again, and, scarcely bestowing a ("lance on the veiled woman who clung close to their mistress' imperial figure, escorted them to the stately carriage with its prancing, high-mettled horses. The carriage started at once; the luggage would follow in afourgon, and Dolores, holding and pressing Flore]!a's hand encouragingly, leant back and gazed through the window. Every foot of the familiar road awoke childhood's memories within her. Their way lay through the bread, bare-looking valley to the oasis of the trees, amidst which nestled the village which she had called "home" through her girlish years. ; 1 They tore through the village, scattering the children, the pigs, the fowls, retting the dogs barking, and bringing the simple folks rushing to their doors and windows on the ■ chance of catohins a glimpse of the bride of their treat mar-

quis; the road began to wind up the hill clothed with its olive trees and vineyards ; in zigzag fashion it climbed to the majestic pile, the ancestral home of the great house of Mansanarez. At the bottom of the .great," wide steps, which led to the entrance), the coachman pulled up his panting, sweating horses almost on their haunches. Servants were standing in readiness, massed on the steps, in files at the door; for in number the establishment was like to a small army, and in every direction there were five men to do one mini's work. Tlie carriage door was opened, the major-domo extended his arm for the marquisa to rest her. hand upon, .and, passing between lines of lowly bent heads, Dolores, the Marquisa of "Mansanarez, entered her castle. " She caught her breath, paused for a moment with a startled expression, as she looked round the magnificent hall, softly lit by shaded electric lights, in which glim- . mered the sheen of armour, of trophies of ''war and the chase, the soft glow of the frames of full-length portraits of priceless worth. So transient, so swift in its passage was her expression of wonder that no one of the crowd of obsequious, watching servants noticed it; for, indeed, they were all deeply impressed by the beauty, the grace, and above all, the statelinees of their new mistress. v One or two of them were vaguely smitten by her resemblance to someone they remembered, but the sense was of the vaguest, and was overwhelmed by their appreciation of her gracious presence. The housekeeper and two or three maids camo forward to conduct the marquisa to the superb suite of rooms which the. marquis had ordered to be made ready for her, and if she had not been prepared by the magnificence of the hall Dolores would have been startled by'the beauty and the luxury of these rooms which had been set aside for her. "I humbly hope, madame the marquisa will be pleased with her apartments," raid the housekeeper, curtseying low, as one curtseys to Royalty. "Of a certainty they are. beautiful. I am content," said Dolo*res, with such perfect calmness and serenity that the housekeeper was at once convinced that her new mistress must be of the noblest birth. "I am grateful, madame. Will your ladyship have dinner served here or in the dining-room? Senor the marquis will arrive?" * / "It is uncertain," said Dolores. "His lordship was detained at the last moment, but will follow as quickly as possible. We will have dinner served here, for we are weary and hungry." Dinner was served in the exquisitely beautiful sitting-room ; the table glittered with antique plate, and was decorated with rare and costly orchids; the butler and two footmen in the rich livery of the family waited upon her with a deference which is generally displayed for Royalty itself. She made a pretence of eating, butswallowed every morsel with difficulty; •for she remembered that it was Florella who ought to be sitting there, to be ministered to by these obsequious servants. The long and stately meal cam© to an end, and at last she was left alone. She rose and, kneeling on a couch, looked out of the window with burning, aching eyes. A fever seemed to ran riot in her veins. The moon was shining at its full and flooding with soft light the village below; but though her eyes rested on it, it was not the little cluster of houses amidst the trees which she saw, but a little room in smoky, foggy, far away London; a little room in which a man lay back in his chair smoking a common wooden pipe, and opposite him was sitting a girl with a happy light in her eyes, singing to her guitar. With a faint cry of yearning, a moan of one sorrowing for an irretrievable loss, she flung herself on the couch and, hiding her face on her outstretched arms, yielded herself to unutterable grief.

CHAPTER XXII.

" THERE IS YOUR WIFE !"

The next morning, as Dolores lay with closed ©yes, not sleeping but shutting out the sight of the splendid .room which materialised her trouble, Florella, who, like • Dolores, had been lying awake all night, came from the adjoining room with a telegram. '■ ' " They have brought me this for you," she added, ',' Marqutea," for she had already slipped into her inferior position as maid, and she stood beside the bed as Dolores read the telegram. " It is from the marquis," she said in. a low voice. "He has met with an accident; the cab in which he followed me td the station was overturned, and he was hurt. He is at a hospital and will not be able to travel for some days." It was a respite, and both women drew a breath of relief. Dolores' spirit was in arms and her courage was equal to the meeting of the man whom she had discovered to be a heartless villain; but she was nob sorry for a little breathing space, and Florella naturally shrank from her part in the struggle which was coming. While she sat over' her breakfast, which was served in her own apartments, Dolores powdered deeply over the . situation. In insisting on Florella accompanying her to Spain, rhe had acted on impulse, and it was not untd the present moment that she realised the, difficulties in the course which she had resolved on. She and Florella were here at the Castle of Torada, this huge place filled with the servants and retainers of the Marquisa, one and all of whom would do his bidding unquestioningly. It would be quite easy for the marquis to transform the magnificent place into a gaol and keep her and Florella as prisoners they would bo two helpless women, closely guarded, almost at his mercy.

Dolores felt like a fly caught in a web. Spacious as the rooms were, she felt as if she were stifling, as ii she were already a prisoner; and as she stood at the window and looked at the exquisite view, she longed for, the open air, for some relief from the splendour, the state which surrounded her. " I will have the carriage in an hour," she sa»'d to one of the servants, who bowed low and sped noiselessly-away to pass on the marquisa's command.

. "We will go for a long drive," she said to Florella, "I feci confused I can-ihimc better in the open air, away from all this.' The carriage was brought round, and, attended by half-a-dozen servants, all eager to do her some service, the marquisa and her maid were escorted to it. Dolores told the coachman to drive into the open country; and the man, after a pause, as if he were waiting for more definite instructions; started the horses down the hill and in the direction of the opening of the valley. Do- , lores, looking every inch a marquisa, leant back with her hands clasped loosely in her lap. Florella sat opposite, her thick veil over her face, her hands clasped tightly Dolores shot an encouraging glance at her as they passed the top of the village, for she saw Florella shiver and shrink back.

' They could not speak of what was in their minds, of old times, of present difficulties, for the coachman and the footman could, of course, hear them. Presently Dolores looked round her and said :

"We are on the Don Menito Road. We will go there; as well there as anywhere else, and it is pretty."

She looked at the familiar scenery, so unlike that of England, so wild and untamed in its beauty; for in this part of Spain the patches of cultivation were as oases in the arid plains and sparsely covered hillsides, on which the sun struck with a dry heat which England never knows. They skirted these hills and drove through the valleys, fragrant with the astringent aroma of vines and olives, and presently they approached the small village of Don Menito, where the sudden appearance of the stately carriage and the new marquisa created no little excitement. ;'

Feeling that they might be recognised, Dolores told the coachman to drive through tho village and return by another road. The burses sped on, the . people raising a cheer, for a Spaniard is quick to note and acclaim beauty, and they all saw that the marquis' bride was lovely enough even to satisfy a Spaniard. After awhile the carriage began to ascend a steep incline, and Dolores saw a small building standing on the brow of the hill, embowered in olive trees. It -as the first tim? pile had noticed it, because it could not be seen from the valley below. Florella saw her looking at it curiously, and said: .■

"It is the villa, marquisa." " It looks like a small fortress rather than a villa, remarked' Dolores absently. 'To whom does it belong?'' -

" To the marquis, to your ladyship," replied Florella with faint surprise at the

question. "Everything here is yours. I think it was an old fortress, or a part of. one, far the walls are of stone and very thick. The late marquis restored it, and sometimes he used to go there for a retreat," she added in a voice too low for the servants to hear. ;. -' , We will go and see it," said Dolores listlessly. "Tell the coachman to stop the carriage; we will walk up the rest .of' the way." ■" They climbed up the narrow road, which presently diminished to a mere path, and leached the villa, which, seen more closely, fully justified Dolores' suggestion of a fortress. The narrow doorway was guarded by a thick iron door, the windows weie little more than slits in the thick masonry, the roof was flat, and surmounted by a castellated coping, from which a deadly fire could have been poured down upon any assailants below, in fact, the place looked as if it could withstand a siege. As they stood looking at it a peasant woman came up, and, curtseying low, nrid up a great key. " Madame the marquisa would deign to enter?" she said, and she opened the door for them. They went in : and Dolores looked round her with heightened curiosity. • The rooms were small, and decorated in rude medieval fashion, but they were luxuriously furnished as befitted apartments in the retreat of a marquis. Though the place had not been occupied for some time, everything was in order, and the woman explained that '.hey had kept the rooms aired and in readiness, for one never could tell how soon the present most noble marquis might require them; ' ' .. -.. Dolores went upstairs and looked round her thoughtfully, but she said nothing to Florella, and in silence they returned to the carriage. They descended to the va'iey and drove rapidly on the homeward rout*\ Suddenly, coming to a sharp curve in the road, the horses started and shied, and Dolores, looking up to see the cause, saw a large body of men at work in the bottom of the ravine; a rough bridge had oeen thrown across the.stream, masons were at work, and some labourers were cutting stone or busy levelling. ■ Their presence and activity in the wild and hitherto silent place were startling, and Dolores leant forward and asked the coachman who they were and what they were doing. " It is the waterworks, Excellentissima," he said with bated breath, as if the honour of addressing the marquisa were almost toe great for him. "It is the men who are making the way for the carriage of the good water to Montaga. It is a groat work, and has not long been commenced; it is of a certainty a great work." Would Madam la Marquisa like to approach nearer, t6 have me ask questions?" Dolores made a negative gesture, and the carriage moved cm, but she gazed at the scene of the operations with a saddened expression in her eyes, for it was the kind of work in which Heriot Broughton had been engaged, and the scene recalled memories which made her heart ache with a sharp pain. Where was he now, what was he doing? She let her veil fall over her face, and her hands became as tightly clasped as those of the pale, nervous girl sitting opposite her. As the carriage drove along the road at the head of < the village it overtook two men walking with Spanish leisureliness, their cigarettes 'in their mouths, their hands thrust in their pockets; they saluted the carriage and stood bare-headed until it had gone by in a whirl of duet then they exchanged glances, and one of them said: •" He hag not arrived. Think you he will come. Or have our friends detained him for good?" The other man shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. "Who shall say?" he responded. "We can only wait and see; can only wait and watch according to our instructions. Of a certainty,' His Excellency will do well to avoid such a hornet's nest as here waits him : but those whom the devil drives must tak3 his road." ■' For Dolores the days passed slowly, every hour marked by a suspense which grew almost intolerable. A week had elapsed since her arrival; she had grown accustomed to the splendour of the castle, the almost royal state which surrounded her; but she already felt like a prisoner, and she only realised her present comparative freedom when she was out* in the open air, driving through the valleys, or wandering about the wide-stretching grounds which surrounded the castle. No telegram or letter had followed Mansanarez's telegram informing her of his accident; and Dolores was always waiting, listening, for the sound of an arriving carriage, and, her nerves strained to the utmost, she found herself starting at any noise in the courtyard. On the evening of the eighth day she was seated in her own room, a book in her hand, but her thoughts far from the pages, when she heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was Florella, or one of the other maids, she said " Come in,'' and took up her book. The door opened, and a voice, soft and tremulous with emotion, whispered : "Dolores!" It was Mansanarez. She sprang to her feet and confronted him, her face of deathly pa'lor, her eyes flashing like those of an accusing angel. He had been approaching her with outstretched hands, his eyes glowing with the passion of anticipation, his breath coming fast; but at her attitude, tha expression in her eyes, he stopped short and his hands fell to his sides. y.

"Dearest, I have startled you. I would have let you know that I was coming, but there was no time!" His eyes dropped for a moment; he could not tell her that he had stolen from the hospital, had made the journey with as much secrecy as if he had been a criminal escaping from justice "I got a horse from • the station and rode here —ah, with what impatience! Can you not imagine what I have suffered at this delay? To be torn from your arms at the moment the church had given you to me. Fate has been cruel to me! Bub see, dearest, I am here!" -?>•

He stretched ■ out his hands again, ttw blood hot in his face; but as he saw that she did not advance to meet him, that her attitude, her expression, did not change, the colour faded from his face and he looked at her apprehensively. " Dearest, you are not angry with me because of this delay, this separation? It was unavoidable —I told you in the telegram. I hAve not written or telegraphed since, because every day, every hour, I have been hoping to fly to your side. Dolores, for God's sake speak to me, tell me that you are glad to see meyour husband!" His voice made music of the word, the glow came back to his eyes, he drew nearer to her, would have taken her in his arms, despite her attitude, the fixed regard of her flashing, accusing eyes, but Dolores drew back and put up her hand. "Do not touch me," she said, her voice low, but perfectly calm and steady. He stopped. "No man but would have* stopped before that imperious beauty, those, dazzling eyes. • "What is this, Dolores?" he asked with a smile, but with evident agitation. "Why do you treat me so? What is amiss, what has'happened? You cannot bo angry.with m€ you cannot have changed towards me in thb short time, because of the misfortune which has kept me from you. Why do vow receive me like this? I am you:- husband !" Yes," she. said, " it is because you are my husband Stand there, please "-—he had taken a step towards her. " Do not touch me. Stand and listen to what I have to say. It is because you are my husband that I am not glad to see you—that I will never see you again if I can help it." He stared at her in amazement, for he had no clue to her conduct, had no idea of the causes that had wrought this change in her. ..V ', : . ' " ■ , "Far God's sake explain yourself! lie said. "I do not in the least know what you mean— you receive me thus. We parted good friends, at least. We parted man and wife. You had no complaint against me then. I come with my heart full of passionate love to find you thus— to bo treated like an enemy. For God's sake.explain, Dolores!" " It is easy," she said. Her calmness was only apparent, her bosom was heaving, every limb was trembling with indignation as much as fear, with horror of the scene which lay before her. "It is true that I am your wife in the eyes of the Church, but in the eyes of God I am not so." " Not my wife!" he said, his voice vibrating with amazement indignation. "Am I mad or are you? I have no other wife! Who has been lying to you, deceiving you? I am your husband!" - "'ln name only," she retorted like a flash

of '* lightning. "Thank God ; for :'; that lj : Heaven has placed itself oh my side in time.'; I have discovered, before it is too late, the kind of man you-, are. Oh, don't speak, it is useless; nothing you could Bay, nothing, would make any difference. I know every—wait! You ask me who is your wife, if I am not? I will tell you. Stand there— not move I" , She went to the door of the adjoining room, went slowly, with an imperial yet girlish grace. Florella was standing behind the door, her hands clasped, her face white. Dolores, with a murmur of pity, of encouragement, put her arm round her and drew her into the room "There is your wife!" said Dolores in a low., voice.' ■, * ■'.. ■■ . Mansanarez stared at the bowed figure, then, with a cry of "Florella!" shrank back. :'. , (To be continued next 'Wednesday.)

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.