THE WHITE MANTILLA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19833, 31 December 1927, Page 11 (Supplement)

THE WHITE MANTILLA.

BY RICHARD LICHFIELD. f

SYNOPSIS. Amabel Amherst, a poor orphan living in iLondon rooms, declines an offer of marriage from an old pbymate who is leaving for South Africa. Next day a letter arrives informing her she will in future bo in receipt of £2500 every six months), subject to two conditions, that she makes no efiort to discover th« source from which the income js derived, and the second, that she does not _ marry without _ the consent _of the eolicitor. Amabel dines that evening at » smart restaurant, where she 'a followed by a man. Nest day she engaged a chaperone, Mrs. Claire, to travel with her to South America.. There follows a thrilling time in buying wonderful clothea and jewellery to fake away cn the voyase. CHAPTER Vl.—(Continued). * 4 l don't think there's much love in my Composition," Amabel said reflectively. "That men will teach you," and Esrno's thoughts fled to her own experiences. Among them were some things she defc'dedlv wished to forget, .and among these an entire) recollection of one Albert Shuster. Kb, that little episode must be Mot ted out. She wondered if Dennis Carey had ever met him, and the thought pf such a possibility was distinctly unpleasant. " Should yon like fo marry again, ISsrue ? " Amabel asked abruptly. A curious flickering expression, which tho girl's eyes noticed, passed over her com- | pamon's face. . " Let us have a jolly time together first, anyhow," and tho wioow s laugh sounde'd rather forced. Something in her manner roused the girl's curiosity, ana afterwards, from time to time, sho wondered what had been in Esme's m.tid. " Somehow I think you will. 1 should j tains you awfully if you did." " Oh, never mind men and matrimony; fchey and it never leave women alone," Mrs. Clare returned merrily. " Live in tho present, that's my motto. Let's have a jolly time while wo"can. I'm just dying to' see the Andes—there's a world of romance in the very thought." The days raced on. Amabel was ciiftrht no in the" whirl of her new world. To her life seemed » glorious adventure —wonderful, delightful —and now she could say do, or look as she liked; the possession of jnonoy—a magic shield before -vhiob the ugly, the unpleasant, the miseries of common humanity slunk away. So Amabel Amherst greedily drank in deep draughts of life's effervescent waters.. Of that great lever in human destiny—love —she made po count. One evening, when tired with rushing ;»bout London, Amabel and Mrs. Clare eschewed the table d'hote, dining quietly in their own room instead. Esme wearing » charming tea-gown, and the girl a wonderful " rest " arrangement, were lounging comfortably before a miall fire of pine logs when a visitor was announced. Mrs. Clare turned her head, and without rising, held out a hand to the incomer. "So you're in England ? How did you find me out?" sho asked, without any appearance of welcome. Albert Shuster smiled. A rather goodlooking young man in a commonplace way there was, nevertheless, an odd suggestion of the treacherous in his face. His smi.o yas not his most attractive point.

" In rny usual fashion —by persistence, lie replied smoothly. The widow VvH'hed carelessly and mtro«!vc;d Shuster to "her companion as an old Irid. Amabel aloofly acknowledged the introduction, arid promptly retired into jici* shell. Though not herself attracted, fht was taking in the situation, and had a feeling that the stranger's presence irritated her companion. Tho man's glances at herself, halt admiring, half cynical, s.ae considered impertinent. Shuster dropped his hat carelessly 01 4he floor, settled himself comfortably, ami turned his attention to Mrs. Clare. 14 By the way, Esme—you don't mind jny calling you Esme, do you ? " be broke off, a gleam ia his eyes, which Amabel who was watching closely, could not fathom.

Call me what you like," was +he indifferent reply. The tone soundeu car-:, less, but the plump little hand trifling ■with a fan trembled slightly. "Memory c; old times," Shuster suggested, his" thin upper lip, trie hp of the cruel, tightly drawn across strong, white teeth. " You remember the mantilla story, •don't you ? There seems to b» a faint

echo of it." " Before my time," tho widow returned

lazily. " But you heard of it—of the beautiful girl, half Spanish, who was mcknaraed ' The W T hifce Mantilla Girl ' ?

" Ancient history! Life's so full of sensations that these prehistoric stories are crowded out," the widow returned, with a flimsily-disguised yawn. Sinister went on reflectively. "It was a queer thing, certainly. I'm Only thirty, so don't remember the circumstances myself, of course, but I'm told 'there was a lot of talk at the time. This girl, who, it appears, had been brought up in the depths of the country, highly complished, fascinating, suddenly flashed meteor-like into the glittering sky of London's society. She ha-1 an heirloom —a wonderful white mantilla—centuries old, said to have come into the family through supernatural agency. It seemed to exercise an uncanny influence over her, and eh she were it on every possible occasion, Bho usid to bo known as ' The White Mantilla Girl.' " Presented at Court, favoured by rov;.ltv ; sought after everywhere, she was a "brilliant social success. Suddenly came H4WS of her engagement to an immensely popular man. Preparations for the marriage, which was arranged to take piaco as noon ar> possible, were at once begun. Court dressmakers raced to keep pace with time. Presents arrived by the vanload. Jhen came the wedding day. Ihat morning London was shaken by a paragraph in the columns of the 4 Daily Doings ' stating that the engagement was fcroken off and the marriage would not (take place. The same night the man, who was in the Army, resigned his commission end left England for Brazil. The next day the girl sailed for Bombay. What had caused the rupture never came out."

Esme Clare's thoughts, which had been almost entirely occupied with Dennis Carey, were interruptrd by the cessation of Schuster's voice. It w.is borne in on her that he had been narrating something and fhe must make some rejoinder. " Odd," she murmured uncertainly, having heard very litle of what he had laid.

Unknown to himself, however, Shuster 3bad ljad oho very attentive listener. Amabel Amherst had beer; absorbed by the story. Back to her mind carno the recollection of th' 3 piece of white lace, wrapped in lav< , s of tissuo paper, which «he found among her mother's belongings, and which she had brought away with her. Now she felt sorry not to have the <rfesk, tc.j—thi3, with a few other trifles, were leit behind in a tin caso deposited with the bank. It was impossible to say what interestirg letters that desk might not contain, and she wished she had looked through it before leaving Spring Terrace. Suruly she could not be the child of " The White Mantilla Girl V " Her lova story caught on Amabel's imagination. Pe.-haps, after all, love ;vas not such an ig;norable quantity, and she wondered for a moment whether, against her will, she would sometime be cac.ghfc up in tho horrible whi.lwind that tlio thing they called love seemed to create. '"Yes.' Shuster went on. "And the mntb "

"Who was he?" the widow asked, simulating interest. Shuster looked at her strangely. A sense of power and the gloat of revenge showed ®k< ro iT.?h the veneer of his society smile. " Thft man seems too hard to get at. _ The man who told roe about the affair said he'd been sworn to secrecy."

Esmo knew Albert Shuster, and it struck her for the first time that he had svn object in telling her this story. She roused herself and sal upright. Curiosity and, yes, fear wore roused. She looked searchingly at hor companion.

At this moment a knock sounded at the door. Devoutly hoping that Amabel might be called away, Mrs. Clare hastily framed some excuse to keep her out of t3i« room. She must be alone with Shuswho, tho widow felt sure, would take

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malicious delight in injuring her with Carey if he knew her little plans. Expecting the arrival of on© of her already innumerable purchases, Amabel got up and went to the door. As she crossed tho room, Sinister glanced apreeiatively at the young form, slender, yet well developed, with its free, independent gait. "Mademoiselle, Madame Jacques has sent this note from the head dressmaker." " Something wrong, I suppose—how stupid they are!" tho girl replied, impatiently. She went to her room, followed by Julio, and scribbled an answer. "Give this to the messenger, and come back immediately."

Julio glided noiselessly away. : In a few minutes she returned.

"Julie, there is a piece of white lace in one of my cabin boxes. Hunt till you find it; I want it at once." Julie puckered her pretty little black brows reflectively.

" Yes, mademoiselle, I remember, your beautiful Spanish mantilla, of lace so rich, of fineness so exouisite!" Julie murmured, rapturously. "But where, mademoiselle? Nevertheless, I will find"—and sho disappeared. Amabel felt there was conflict in the air, and decided not to return to tho adjoining room, where Esme's voice sounded hard and strained, Shuster's con] and mocking. Mh. Clare was looking intently at her companion.

" You know tho man's name perfectly," she said at last, an angry flush on her cheeks. Sho felt tormented, though why sho could scarcely have explained. " I do know," Shuster replied, observing her keenly. "Then tell me at once!" Esmo commanded, with an imperial air. " I hate these silly mysteries." A sinister smile showed on the cruel lips. " It's my turn now, my dear girl. Yon played with mo, and when you tired of the game, you throw me over." "Why have you told me this story?" tho widow broke in, quickly. Shuster laughed. " The man's in London again, and I foresee developments that might affect you." Amabel, sitting in her room, tho mantilla lying across her knee, had forgotten Esme and her companion. Before her showed unmistakably tho royal "I" intertwined ir. the rich, glistening mass. " Yes," she murmured coftly, " poor mother was 'The Mantilla Girl'"—and her thoughts trailed off wonderingly. The twentieth-century girl who held man as a negligible quantity did not know that even now love was creeping toward her. CHAPTER VII. Amabel and tho widow joined the Panama at Southampton. Esme, in a few hours, became one of the cosmopolitan crowd on board, and proceeded to sum up its various points to the inexperienced girl who was her fellow-passenger. Night had fallen. Amabel and her companion, wrapped in furs, were briskly pacing the'deck. "What has turned up?" she asked, suddenly. " Everybody seems crowding together in one universal interest. Even tho scientifics show some human curiosity, and are mingling with the common herd." The promenaders crowded to the liner's side, and the two women, strolling in the same direction, saw thai the moon's rays, striking through a clear sky, shone on various binoculars directed seaward.

" What is it," Mrs. Clare asked a man near her.

" The Panama's been wirelessed and has slackened speed. A Southampton steamer's tearing after us, two passengers on board, evidently important ones. Message runs: ' Expense will not be considered. Panama must be reached.' " " Hullo 1 there she is!" another exclaimed, as on moon-silvered waves a black object faintly showed itself. Watchers held their breath. The captain's voice was heard fiercely shouting rapid orders.

" It's impossible, she can't catch us up!" a man cried, despairingly. " Hold on, the distance between us is lessening!" another excited voice exclaimed.

Lights appeared on the starboard bow across the uneasy waters, glinting oddly under the moon's magnificence. Then the black null of a little vessel loomed nearer, and got closer and closer to the huge liner, from whose promenade decks the little sister ship could now be seen with intense clearness. On she came, white horses prancing and careering away from under shearing bows and racing behind her in a scattered cavalcade of foam. Slow minutes crawled by that to the interested watchers seemed like hours. Then ?> gasp of relief from tho women, a from the men, and in a very short time two passengers, muffled in great coats and travelling caps, clambeied on board. Lights shone full on tr.eir faces, and to her great surprise Amabel saw Albert Shuster, followed by someone elso whom she did not recognise. A few minutes later the girl, curiously watching the new arrivals as they made their way below, was startled to hear a faint voice beside hor murmuring. " I feel so sick, get my maid." The girl turned, and saw the widow lying on the deck. An agitated scurrying to assist among the men. followed bv the swift appearance of Alice, r,im Mrs. Claro was half led, half carried, to her cabin. The girl, really fond of her, was much distressed by tins sudden indisposition, and wanted to stay with her. Mrs. Clare, however, insisted on being left alone, and, the ship's doctor having been summoned, Amabel reluctantly retired. Next morning Esme had apparently recovered. She breakfasted in her cabin, but appeared at lunch charmingly dressed, vivacious as ever, though a trifle pale under the rouge so dexterously applied by her maid. She spoko to S'huster in her usual lively fashion, then turned to tho stranger and, in a pretty, graceful way, introduced him to Amabel. " You remember seeing Mr. Carey at tho theatre ?"

The girl smiled and held out her hand. " I think you picked up my gloves one evening at a restaurant in London; so wo are not quite strangers. I didn't recognise you last night." Carey murmured a polite rejoinder. _ Shuster, under a conventional smile, watched the widow with much the expression of a puma that has been stalking a hunter for a considerable time and now sees him almost within grasp.

"What brings you in the Panama?" Amabel asked, turning her attention (o Shuster, by whoso sido tho found herself sitting. " Chiefly you," ho replied, with a glance intended for admiration. The girl laughod. '* You must be easily interested. We have only met once, and then we did not exchange a dozen words. Now, what really brought you here ?" sho persisted.

" For one thing, I'm a bit of a mountaineer, and thought I'd like-to do a little Andine exploration." '' Why didn't you and Mr. Carey join the Panama at Southampton." " I missec' the train at Waterloo, and while raging and fuming on the platform I ran up against Carey, who said he'd missed it too. So we decided to charter a boat at Southampton to overtake you, and came down together. Carey's piles of money—expense is nothing to him.' " W r ho is Mr. Carey 1"

" A millionaire. He's got immense estates in tho Argentine. ,^ es a particular friend of Esme Clare's. > Amabel looked surprised. " She never mentioned him to me until I noticed him at the theatre and asked who he was," sho said, consideringly.

"No? She must have had some reason," he returned, significantly. Toe subject died out, tho girl reflecting that she might have a better opportunity for eliciting more information, so far the rest of the lunch she talked casually about indifferent snattera,;

J The morning had been stormy, but in I the afternoon the sun came out. Esme | declared for the saloon, but Amabel went lon deok. There she found a hardy few j devotees, like herself, of the fresh sea air, aa well as patrons of exercise, and among tlism Shuster, who speedily broke away from the men to whom ho was talkiing and joined her. ) "It was rather a case of being rocked < in the cradle of the deep last night," he said. " How did you get on ?" " All right. I slept soundly enough." " Sea-seasoned ?" " No, this is my first voyage." The man looked at her, half-grudgingly. " Wish I could say the sanio. In tho unaccustomed lies its charm." Amabel laughed. "J. don't see that. Tilings I like I i could do hundreds of times without getting sick of them." " It is like that when we are young." Amabel looked at him with amusement." " Yon speak as though you were a hundred. How old are you?" " Thirty." " And I'm nineteen." A pause. Then the girl said: " Why did you mako out that Esme must have a reason for not mentioning Mr. Carey to me ?" " Well, it looks like it," was the evasive answer. Amabel appeared puzzled. " Is Esme in love with him 1" Her companion seemed to hesitate. " It's a dead secret, of course, but—yes —they are engaged." Thb girl greatly disliked tho curious smile that accompanied theso words. She had an -uncomfortable feeling that sho had been prying disloyally into her friend's affairs, so sho veered away to another subject.

" 1 didn't hear tho end of your interesting mantiba story. Who was the man you were talking about A quick change took place in Shuster's manner—he seemed embarrassed.

" I'm awfully sorry to seem nasty, Miss Amherst. Esme asked mo the same question, and I was not able to tell her. To speak plainly, it's often wiser not to mention names. People are so touchy, and libel cases are flying about like autumn leaves. Let us talk of something more interesting—love, for instance."

" I don't call lovo interesting"—her mind running on Shuster's reticence touching the hero of the mantilla story.

The man at her sido smiled. From his point of view Amabel's attitude toward lovo was, of course, just a pose.

" Whv not ?" ho asked

" Love's such a silly thing. Lot 3of people think they're in love, and a few are. but it soon wears off," she answered, with all tho decision of the very young. " Like an attack of fever," ho suggested, with a cynical smile. " But tho worst of it is, that when one has it badly it is apt to bo deadly, and the relapses sometimes mako euro impossible."

"It seems to me. that this love makes all the muddles in life, and money generally comes into it as well," Amabel said, scathingly. " Then you mean to avoid it 1" "Of course; every sensible girl does. I'm going to have a jolly good time and taste all the experiences I can." Sinister looked grave. " The greatest experience in life is love," he said. Amabel laughed merrily. " Have you known it ?" Their eyes met. The man did not reply—in his intent gaze the girl noticed something she had never before seen in a man's face. It was not the love-look, but it was a very good imitation. There was that about it which repelled Amabel. " I think I'll go and see how Esme's getting on," she remarked abruptly, and wont back to the saloon. Amabel found the widow in a pessimistic mood, consuming tea in a corner by herself. "Have some?" she asked, languidly. " Where's Albert ? There's a cup for him. You see I foresaw your advent, but expected him, too." The girl took the tea held out to her, and creamed and sugared it reflectively. " Yes. wo did talk a bit, then I got sick of him." She glanced rouud. " Where's everybody ? As far as I can see, there's ordy a sprinkling of the scientifics' wives aboat." As she spoke tlio door opened, and Dennis Carey made his appearance. With his usual calm, selfcontained look, he made a bee-line for Mrs. Clare. Amabel's eyes wandered to him involuntarily, then her glanco was withdrawn. "Is a mere male allowed?" he asked, and sat down. "It depends on the male —this particular one is welcome." Amabel felt a little Here was she with an engaged couplo in a cosy corner—just the place for a tete a tete —and, of course, they didn't want her. She stoic a glance at the widow. Esme's pretty colour was in evidence, her eyes were shining, she was her sparkling s/'lf again. " This love business is very tiresome," the girl thought. " I've been always hearing of it, and now I've got to see it. It's awkward, but I must finish this bun first, and then I'll escape.'' "Your tea is pnrticul.?! iy alluring," Carey remarked, with a glfin<;o that comprehended both his companion;;. " Chin-i and warranted to respect your nerves and digestion.Amabel murinured, feeling sho must say something. The widow's pretty littlo hand was busy among tho teacups, and her lustrous eyes glanced smilingly at the middle-aged wan. " Another?" she asked, in silvery tones. "Thanks!" and Carey held out his cup. Amabel was conscious of a situation, and, nervously anxious that the lovers should not see it, blundered out another remark. " Have some ox tho sugared things, Mr, Carey, they're awfully nice—the littlo sweethearts—the heart-shaped ones. I mean—" slio broke off hastily. " Now I've put my foot in it," she thought. " OIi! this love ' ' Carey took a cake, remarking composedly: "You are looking well. The voyage suits you ?" " Oh, yes, immensely. It's my first, you know," the girl returned, who was devouring her bun with dangerous speed. Carey looked at her more attentively. " Where are you making for?" "South America, generally." "That's rather comprehensive/' he returned, smiling. Amabel resented tho smilo and the manner —the man seemed to look on her as so very young. " I think you said that you knew tho Argentine," the widow broke in, her sparkling eyes and pretty teeth in leaguo to dazzle her companion. " I've got a itnca there, and 1 am on my way to revisit it." Amabel forgot pique in her interest. " What's a iincashe asked. " It's quite an innocent thing," Dermis returned, gravely. " It's only a vinoyard. Tho vines look very pretty in leaf, and tho grapes, when ripe, arc really rather nice." The. widow's colour deepened. " How romantic!" she cried. " A vineyard in the middle of a wilderness! In the pa in pa, 1 suppose, or some vald place ?" " Not quite. It's in Mendoza province, a few miles out from Mendoza city. " That's where men have the pull over us—and they do have the pull in soma ways, though wo won't allow it," Amabel said, reflectively. " They can hava vineyards, and ranches, and outdoor things 'like that. Of course, there were the land girls during tho war, and I think I've heard of a lady farmer." Carey laughed. " Would you and Mrs. Clare like t > take my finca in hand ? It doesn't sound bad, but, as in everything else, difficulties crop up. There are packs of foxes in the neighbourhood, and their chief joy in life is to destroy the vines; also dogs often develop a strong taste for grapes. Then there's nothing for a bow-wow but a lethal dose." " For my part, I should lovo to manage your finca," tho widow said, enthusiastically. , Amabel looked serious. " There are drawbacks, you see, and drawbacks would kill tho romance." ((To bo continued on Saturday next.)] i