THE WHITE MANTILLA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 19838, 7 January 1928, Page 13 (Supplement)

THE WHITE MANTILLA.

BY RICHARD LICHFIELD.

CHAPTER VIII. Carey looked at her with interest, as a father at his daughter. Somehow the girl felt small. The nasty feeling surged op again that ho thought her very young pud inexperienced. «< You think life ought to be one long glimmer's day into which numaces never come?" ho suggested. And the grey eyes might have seemed to an acute observer to belong to one who had had experience with iife's hurricane storms and engulfing depths. " But we know otherwise," the widow said in a pathetic voice, which ended in » sad little sigh. " Forgive my moralising, Esme. Amabel shyly gianced at her companion, I" They do want to bo by themselves," she thought, and, getting up, abruptly left the tablo and the saloon. " About the middlo of a voyage I always begin to have a cooped-up kind of feeling," the widow said, yawning, as she sat one afternoon in her favourite little corner of the saloon. " There isn't the refreshing sense ono had at first of seeing fresh faces That's worn off, and we've all got to know each others' Hastinesses as well as each others' nicenesses. We want something to shake us np." The edge of Amabel's enjoyment had npt yet been blunted by time, bo she assented rather lukewarmly. "What do you say to a dance, or some more theatricals?" "I thought the last rather stupid, but a dance would be jolly." ''l've already put. out a small feeler in that direction with the scientifics. At first the idea seemed to catch on, until the Egyptologist lady wandered off enthusiastically itno a discussion about the dances ol the ancients and their musical instruments. After that I couldn't get a werd in, and left them to their hot controversy as to the exact shape of tho sisItrum, or some such thing." Amabel shook with laughter. "'What about the millionairesses?" she asked, when she recovered herself. "I felt so flattened out by the scientific ladies that I collapsed for the time," the widow admitted. "Oh, try again, a dance would be delightful. Is there a moon ?" Esme reflected "No. It would be more interesting in some respects without." Shuster came in. His movements seemed rather aimless, but his face brightened on seeing Amabel, and ho bore down on the two. "Got any tea for me, Esme?" he asked, as he seated himself by Amabel's side. "A solitary cup, I think," she answered, gauging the teapot's possibilities by lifting it. "1 don't promise much. Will you risk it?"—and she poured out a cup. The vivacity of her manner was mere veneer. Shuster's advent irritated her; she had been watching and hoping for someone else.

"We were talking of trying to get up a dance. Let us enlist you on our side," Amabel said carelessly. "Delightful!"—and he bestowed an ardent look on hor. > » • • The girl was getting quite used to his advances, which she looked on with the greatest indifference. Hp did not touch her in the least. He never would have done, even had she been less prejudiced against men. To her, interesting he could pot be, yet he was amusing in a shallow, frothy kind of way, affording her alfio an opportunity for observation of her male fellows which she did not intend to miss. "Suppose we recruit and divide the passengers between us? Which will you take ►-the men or the women ?" "The women," Amabel promptly returned. "You've captured me already, Shuster Baid to the widow, with his harsh laugh. "And Esme Clare canuot fail to sweep in the rest. That yon will get Carey is a foregone conclusion," he added, with a peculiar glance at her. The widow paled a little. She felt like one walking on a mined road. She deeply distrusted Albert, feeling sure that, if he possibly could, he would come between herself and Carey. Therefore she passed over his remark, and glanced at Amabel, mischievously arching her perfect eyebrows. " Let it be a fancy dress —it will be so much more interesting," the girl said, busied with thoughts of the dance. "A lovely idea, but impossible. Where could we get the costumes t" "Of course! How silly I am!" And Aim.bel looked disappointed. "Never mind, we've got lots of lovely dance Irocks, haven't we, Esme ?" "Why can t they be cut up for fancy costumes ?" Shuster asked.

His two companions Bcreamed with laughter. "Perhaps you meditate buying us new ones when we get to Buenoo Aires •" the girl suggested sarcastically. Attracted by tho laughter, three or four women drifted toward the little group, one a rather pretty girl. Her mental perspective being rather narrowed by the possession of much gold, she was apt to measure life from the viewpoint of money, seeing everything relative to that precious ihetal. "What's going on ?" she asked, her accent flavoured with a suspicion of the States. "Mrs. Clare and I want a dance." _ "And so do I," Shuster put in, with a glance at Amabel. "Then let us have one," said the American promptly. "But we require the thing taken up; we need enthusiasm," Esme said, with the smile that captivated all men and most women. "Momma and poppa will take it op," the New York girl said, in a busfnesslike way, "and we must have organisers —men and women. I name Mr. Carey for one." Carey, sitting at the other end of tho saloon engaged in a desultory conversation with a female geologist, looked up. "What's that about me?" he asked, smiling. A general move in his direction followed. "I'm very much flattered," he said, when the American girl, in her brisk, business-like way, unfolded matters. "But 1 shall need a lady to help me. I name Miss Amherst." Three faces changed. Mrs. Clare's ready smile seemed to bo arrested half-frozen on h<n* pretty lips; Shuster glowered; Amabel considered. "I'm sure you're awfully practical, and you must have had a lot of experience. I'll 1.0 delighted to act under your direction," she said finally. Carev smiled indulgently. "Now, who else will line up ?" "It must be a fancy dress affair," the American girl broke in 'lecidedlv. "Our maids can furbish up something, and I've got a lot of theatrical things on board that I used in England. I'll pass some along." Arrangements were quickly made—even the women of tho scientific set warmed Up. The a- haeologist's wife decided to appear as an ancient Peruvian. The Egyptologist's and the Assyriologist's wives chose respectively Cleopatra and

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Semmums. The three, breaking off from the main gronp, drifted into fiery discussion as to details of their respective costumes. To her secret disgust, Esme found herself parcelled out with Shuster in the general scheme. No suggestion, however, of secret unrest ruffled the gaiety of her expression. Esme Clare knew ; lat undue indulgence in unpleasant feelings spelt incipient wrinkles, which would be fairly full-blown at thirty, bo sho restrained herself. The idea of a danco caught on immensely. The excited feminines held delightful conclave when the New York girl prbduced her treasures. Wonderful rob'es picked op in Eastern globe-trot-tings, ornaments from Persia and Burman, necklaces, belts of strange workmanship, curious head-dresses, created an enthusiastic flutter. Tho first saloon soon buzzed and hummed with delighted talk. A common interest is a wonderful harmoniser; it is an oil bf life, a dispenser and disposer of petty jars to a region where they seem mercifully to remain "hors de combat" for quite long periods of time. The evening of the dance arrived. Amabel was almost the last to make her appearance. Her costume was that of a Spanish senora, the white mantilla depending from a high comb, and fastened loosely at her breast with a ruby star. Her face, a little flushed with excitement, was more than usually animated, and a murmur of admiration arose as she walked on composedly, her well-set-on head a trifle higher than usual. At tho moment Carey, captured by the widow, was listening with divided attention to her light talk. "How curiously that costume suits her!" Esme broko off suddenly, glancing at Carey as Amabel passed. His gaze was fixed on the girl, intense admiration showing in his eyes, and something else difficult to define. Esme felt a quick catch in her breath, followed by a presentiment of evil. Warned by some subtle feeling, sho remained silent. "You were saying ?" Carey said slowly, the familiar voice sounding like that of a stranger—unreal and far away. "Oh, I was talking about the general rottenness of things,' tho widow rattled on, ' scarcely knowing wha.\ she said. "There's too much monotony in life, and monotony is death; we want more variety.

Carey made some vague rejoinder. Esme knew that he heard nothing of what she said, and the thought maddened her. As for Carey, ho was recovering selfcontrol, but it was with intense relief that he saw Albert Shuster bearing down on them. " You promised me the first dance, he said to Mrs. Clare, eager pleasure in his voice, a glint of malice in his eyes, hoping to pique Amabel, whom he had tried to secure. Esme smiled her most brilliant smile, nodded to Carey, and graciously took Albert's arm. With inward thanksgiving for his release, Caroy sauntered over to Amabel, who was standing at a little distance. " There is no hope for me, I suppose—you are engaged, of course?" he said, with his grave smile. " No," tliß girl replied bluntly, smiling herself as she thought how successful she had been in managing to disentangle herself from Shuster's unwelcome attentions. . "Then may'l?" he began, a note of deep feeling sounding in the conventional words. ' "Delighted!" Amabel said alertly. During the last few days she had _ been thrown a great deal with him, and found herself wondering what he thought of her. Of course, be was very much older than she—to him she must seem almost a child. She was fast deciding that he did not mean to be patronising or satirical, and, having made this concession, she began to take pleasure in his society, although she scrupulously avoided it when he and the widow were together. "How beautifully you dance! And our steps go so well together, don't they ?" she added, with girlish frankness. In the midst of all he.: frightful struggles Mrs. Amherst had managed to secure a good mistress for her child, and at this, ner first dance, sho acquitted herself with credit. " Do you know, I have never been to anything like this before—only little school dances? It's another experience." " Do you like it?" And the grey eyes looked down into brown ones. "Awfully! It's just glorious!" So it happened that, as their steps went so well it was not their last dance. Shuster, who had hoped to make the girl jealous by paying marked attention to the New York girl, found that he was unable to engage Amabel for more than one dance—to his unutterable rage. Other young men glowered. That even-

ing the girl was, as the widow had said, '' dangerous," her very freshness and indifference to admiration making her more piquant. - <• When Carey came to claim Amabel for their third dance he suggested that they should forego it and sit out instead Seated in a seculded corner of the dock, the girl's vivacity seemed to leave hen Her eyes grew dreamy as she watched the ever-heaving waters alight with phosphorescence, through which the liner clove its way. " Do you recollect thai first time we met at that stuffy restaurant in LonT t f 11 M Yes, I remember quite well. "And you recognised mo when you came on board that night, and r xlid not remind me?" , Carey smiled enigmatically. " You might not have wished it." The girl looked at him more attentively. What a curious man ho was! So he remembered her all the time, and yet made no sign! She began to see there were interesting depths below the surface, and contrasted him sharply with Shuster. Carey was sincere, real—and, above all things, Amabel liked reality. " You would have made no sign, and let mo pass out of your life when the voyage was ended ?" the girl asked, rather wistfully, ignorant of the regret she was implying. Carey looked at her attentively, and her glance wavered a little under that steady gaze. He was a power, a force. An odd feeling of discomfort took possession of her. " Let us go back to the dancers. My next partner will be looking for me," she said abruptly. Carey got up, and without rejoinder, escorted her back to the dancing. Esme Clare's watchful eyes had noticed their absence. She saw them return, saw the man's absorbed expression, something unusual in the girl's face. " What did it all mean ?" she asked herself. CHAPTER IX. After that evening timo seemed to Amabel to be winged. Her ideas were enlarging; prejudices, which poverty begets, dying. Her world appeared to be ever expanding. She eveu caught herself wondering sometimes whether there might not ba something in what they called love, which seemed bo interesting to everyone but herself. As illustrated by Shuster, however, she could only think of it with contempt. The more ardent he became, the less she was attracted. % ' ; 4 ■ j The voyage was drawing to an end. One hot afternoon found her on deck, where she had been joined by Carey. "It is twenty-five years since 1 first sighted Buenos Aires," he was saying, reminiscently. '*% "What brought you' there? You must have been quite young then," the girl said, wonderingly. Carey's lips smiled, but not his eyes. " I came to lose myself." Amabel looked curiously at him. " X can't understand that—l don't want to lose myself. I'm quite satisfied to be just as I am, enjoying every minute of my life." Again that half-compassionate look on the man's strong face which the girl had seen before." " I hopo you always will," he returned quietly. Amabel ruminated. " Men and women are different; women seem to take their experiences more lightly than men. and their hearts keep young longer. Take the New iork millionare. He's been everywhere and seen everything, and experienced all that it is possible to experience, so there's nothing more left for him. He always has a bored kind of look. But his wife's quite different; she seems interested in lots of things." Dennis Carey smiled —the girl's views of her fellows amused him. " Women have other interests. It is natural, for instance, that a woman should like to bo admired, to be interested .in dress, to feci that she has power over men." Amabel flushed angrily. " That's just a man's idea of us, and it, isn't true. 1 do like pretty things, I know, but that isn't my biggest liking. As for loving admiration and wanting power over men, it's silTy. You're talking now like Mr. Shuster, only ho says things in a nasty way"—and she viciously flicked a fly from her face. Diamonds and rubies on the shapely hand caught the afternoon light; but it was not to these that Carey's glance was directed. Again, as often before, ho noticed a small ring of little value which he had never seen absent from her finger, and he ruminated on the fact—not for- the first time. " Turquoises suit you." he remarked. The girl's eyes followed the direction of his glance; her expression softened. " Bob gave me that," she said ingenuously. "Who is Bob?" V His father's Mr. Temple, a London solicitor. His mother's a horrid woman —but I like Bob. He's gone abroad to make his fortune." Carey listened with friendly attention —inwardly he felt some concern. Tins, he assured himself, was caused by fatherly interest in his companion. He had hearcd of Temple

and Temple, and knew of nothing to their disadvantage. Of the existence of any son or sons h© was ignorant. This Bob might be some adventurer, and the gift of the ring indicative of a doubtful love I affair. I "Is he related to you ? i "Oh, no; we were playfellows aa chua_rt_ »» ren. ; "And so he gave you the ring as a i keepsake when he went away ? ' Carey suggested. "Yes," Amabel returned, rather doubtfully. "You see, he's only a boy, and ,he "wanted to marry mo. Of course, it was all* too silly." She paused to mentally review the clay of which sho was thinking—a day that , now seemed so very far away, "But it 1 was really noble of Bob in one way, because 1 hadn't any money then and he wanted to give me a home." Carey smiled. "What had ho to live on?" "Only about a hundred a year that his mother allowed him." " Where is he now ?" " I don't know. Mrs. Temple wrote such a silly letter before wo left London. I'm sure she's trying to coax me into marrying him." Dennis Carey felt distinctly relieved " No one can oblige a girl to marry any man," he remarked. Tliey were both silent after that for some time, until tho sound of merry laughter roused Amabel from her reflections. A woman's soft voice drifted toward them as the widow and Shuster came in sight. Esme's mirth was, however, only forced, and lier companion looked decidedly gloomy. He rather obviously guided her in another direction. Amabel, wondering a little, glanced surreptitiously at Carey, instinctively feeling that he would have preferred his fiance to join him. To her surprise ho seemed quite indifferent. " Do let us go somewhere where we can have a quiet talk," Shuster was saying, irritably. " Really, its sickening to see a man of that age making a fool of himself over a mere child." " Albert Shuster a moraliser," and the widow laughed lightly, though she looked a little pale. " We've known each other a good bit, Esme, and when you chucked me—rather too bad of you, you know—you said we could always bo friends. Well, lam youii friend, though you mayn't think it. And I say to you, look out. Amabel Amherst is a dangerous little piece. She's all very well to talk and flirt with, but not one for man ot woman to too far." Every word thai her companion uttered increased Esme Clare's uneasiness. Her jealousy of Amabel grey daily and, added to this. Shyster was stirring up distrust. "Is she after his money, or what?" he went on. " He's enormously rich." " I thought yon didn't know much about him," Esme returned, sharply. " I don't, but T've found that out._ You heard him talking about a finca in the Argentine? Well, in addition, he has immense coffee plantations in Brazil. I find he's always be«n considered a hopeless bachelor; nevertheless, I've reason for thinking he intends to marry."

In spite of her control, which was considerable, for a second a spasm contracted the widow'.® charming face. Suspicion, dislike, envy, held her as she thought of Amabol. Were the notions she professed about men and love just a deception, and was she really deeply designing ? Esme Clare remained silent, lost in miserable speculation. Shuster went on.

" I've guessed your secret," he said in a low voice. ' We'll let bygones be bygones If you'll stand by me, I'll stand by you You've got your secret; I've got my plans. I confide in you, and I know you'll nol let me down. I mean to marry Amabel Amherst myself. Mind, I don't trust her There are precious few I do trust, but you are one Of them, though you treated me badly." That her companion had formed the intention of marrying Amabel did not surprise the widow, but she was surprised at his taking her '"nto his confidence. Also sho felt a little touched.

" Of course, I coula spoil your book with Carey if I choose. You be loyal to mo, and 111 be loyal to you. Remember, I loved you once. Esme," ho added, with a tender look Then in a very low voice: I don't love Amabel—you know I don't." Esme's vanity was gratified, as Shuster had intended it should be. The rose colour returned to hor cheeks, the brilliancy to her wonderful eves With a delightfulmovement of confidence she put out her hand. Sinister toolj it and, availing himself oi their solitude, pressed the soft finger's to bis hps. Afte. that there was a little silence—the widow occupied with thoughts of a past romance, honey to a woman; the man busied with thoughts of the futuro. " Why do you want to marry Amabel if you don't love her?," Esme asked, suddenly. "'Her monev will be useful to me," ho answered, coolly. ' Then why don't you go in for the asphalt king's daughter? She exudes monev, and she's not bad looking." " She's got a ' poppa' and a ' momma," vras the significant reply. •' What of that ?" " Amabel's an orphan. Five thousand a year, and no one to control her use of it will suit me better than prospective millions and the ' in-laws' attached. The first condition in the success of my suit for the New Yorker's band would be that I should be put on my probation for a year in a baking asphalt office in Trinidad or some other beastly hole." The widow laughed her light, careless laugh. Shuster was leaving on her mind the impression that sho was the only one for whom he had ever really cared. In this way he forged a strong link between them. He foresaw that through her influence with Amabel, Esme could materially further his plans, and ho determined to make, use of her to the utmost.

The pact they had entered into also suited the widow well. With Amabel detached from Dennis she would have a chance of fair play, and if lie had decided to marry she meant to bo the chosen one. Sinister scmed to mentally balance something. Then he said: " There's one thing yon may like to know. Amabel has been told that you and Carey are already engaged." Hie widow glanced at him in surprise, a question m her eyes. The mau laughed sardonically. " Never mind who gave the information, and I advise you to forget you've heard this bit of news " For a moment Esme stood motionless, then with a little sign of farewell she left her companion and went below. / Neither' Amabel nor Dennis Carey were to be seen and, in spite of recent confidences exchanged between herself and Shuster, she felt a little uneasy. " Where is Mr. Carey?" someone asked, suddenly. " On dock," a man entering the saloon replied. " With Miss Amherst," a girl put in, with a mischieflpus smile. " They've been there nearly all afternoon." Feminine eyebrows were raised, significant glances exchanged; men looked amused. " Not a bad chap." " Why hasn't he married ? He doesn't give the idea of being exactly pOTr." " Sworn to the single life, I believe." The psychical lady looked sentimental and murmured something about increasing activity in the air, which she announced was caused by various spirits seeking afiinitios. Esme heard little of this. She was beginning fo experience real fear. She felt certain slip could rely on Shuster; it was to his interest to be true. Meanwhile talk between Amabel and Carey grew more and more desultory; yet when at lust the girl made a move to go, she felt half regretful. Carey, who was becoming abstracted, ronsed himself. "Look!" ho'said, pointing to a faint low lirip slowly emerging into sight on tho horizon. The girl's glance travelled across the shimmering waves. " Yes," she said. " What is it?" " That is tho Argentine," ho said in a curious, dreamy voice. Not very lona after, Amabel noticed a change in Esme—or fancied she did. It was not ♦hat the widow seemed less warm in het manner—in fact, -she appeared to 60 more than usually But the girl had a dim idea that this increased warmth was not real. (To be continued on Saturday next.)