TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 896, 3 May 1889, Page 8

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.]

JEZEBEL’S FRIENDS

A NOVEL BY DORA RUSSEL,

Author of ‘ Footprints in the Show,’ ‘The Broken Seal,’ ‘The Track of the Storm/ &0., &o.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] CHAPTER XVIII. Counting the Days. Very few of us realise that each passing moment is gone for ever, thpugh we all know it. It is only when we are face to face with some great event of joy or pain that we count the days first and then the hours. Ruth Forth began to count the days which had come to twelve, on the morning, i a the pale dawn, after Audley’s second visit. Only twelve days! She got up on a lovely summer morning, tlie pink cloudlets of sunrise tinfciug the sky, and drew up the window blind, and brought out her little almanac, and read there the record of days that were i>one by and days that were to come. She had to be married on the second of August, and this was July the twenty - tsecond, and to-morrow would be the twentythird, and so on swift time would pass away! ■ - And the winged hours fled, and noons merged into eventides, and eventides into dewy nights ; and then another dawn stole over the silent sleeping world, and the pale girl who was not Bleeping, who was watching for the coming light, which brought her nearer and nearer to an abhorred fate, saw the rising of the sun with a shudder and a moan, and hid her face many a time on her pillow to shut out his rays. I Another day gone ! Ah, reader, have you oried this in the anguish of your soul 1 • The noiseless foot of Time ’ treading so heavily on your heart that you wished you had never seen the light ? If not, you can scarce understand the misery of Ruth Forth, as she lay reckoning the few days left to her ; the last few days before she was forced into her loveless marriage. Even her father, sour as he was, and anxious as he was that his daughters should marry well, began to understand that there was something wrong with Ruth. •I don’t understand you girls/ he said, pettishly to Frances ; * there’s Ruth looking much more like going to be hanged than going to be married, and vet no one ever asked her or urged her to marry Audley ? At least, I didn’t, and that 1 can safely say, for I was never so astonished in my life as when he told me he was engaged to her. What is it all about ? ’ ‘Oh, she’s all right/ answered Frances, and the Colonel saw very well he was not to be taken into their confidence. He, however, gave Frances a hundred pounds to ‘throwaway on her wedding finery, as he called it: and Colonel Kenyon, also, slipped a oheque for the same amount into Frances slim white hand. ‘ My dear/ he said, tenderly, when she prettily demurred, ‘ all that I have is yours ; this is your gift to your young sister ; I shall bring mine by-and-bye.’ And he did bring it, and for the first time in her life Ruth Forth was the possessor of shining stonos and gold circlets. There was a heavy diamond ring on her slender third fioger now, that her bridegroom-elect had placed there, and he brought her a diamond necklace and other gauds, but they did not make her heart less heavy. And Audley saw this, and it enraged him and embittered him that he could not win her love. ‘Can she be pining after that young fool, Seafortb, he thought, jealously ; and these wooing days of his were not happy ones for him also. One more appeal Ruth made to him, and only one ; and this was like the rest, in vain. He was sitting beside her, three days before their wedding, and after looking at her shadowed face for a few moments, he said, impatiently

* I wish you would look a little happier, Ruth.’ , . ‘I am not happy/ she answered, and she raised her grey eyes and looked straight at him, and he understood their silent reproach. •‘I wish to make you happy/ ho said, starting to his feet, yet more impasiantly ; ‘ but you persist in making a martyr of yourself —you are not wise, Ruth, you will rouse the devil in me presently.’ ‘ I cannot seem what I am not,’ she said, gravely and sadly, ‘ and you knovv very well what yoa are doing. Before it is too late, will you end what can bring you no happinesß?’ , , . ‘No,’answered Audley, loudly and passionately ; and the veins on his temples started ; • no, a thousand times no ! If you don’t love me, I love you ; and I mean to marry you whether you love me or not, and unless you are a very foolish girl you will try to make the best of it. I gave you fair warning ; you can make or mar me, and I am not a good man to cross.’ Ruth did not speak. What was the use of saying anything, she thought. ‘ Love comes often to people after they are married,’ he continued, a few moments later, and again he sat down by her side ; and with an ownership, hateful to Ruth, he put his arm round her slender form. *My little girl, there is nothing very bad about me, you know ; ‘I am not an old man, nor a hunchback, nor particularly ugly for that matter, and though I don’t think you deserve it at my hands, when you worry me by looking as unhappy as possible, still I mean to make you happy, If I can. Let us kiss, and be friends, Ruth—this is Monday, and on Thursday we shall be married ; so, as I said before, you may as well make the best of it.’ He bent down and kissed her, and her cola lips made no response, and her cheeks did not flush, but grew only a little paler and colder; and he, whose love had been met with love, and on whom many women had smiled, turned in hot anger away, enraged that this girl’s heart was as hard to him as if bound by bands of steel. It was in truth bound from him by something stronger than steel ; by something unseen, yet living; an image palpable and potent to her ; if half-forgotten by those around her ; for never for one moment did the memory or love of Kenard Seaforth leave her, though she was just about to wed another man. And the night before her marriage she dreamt of him—a dream so vivid, so clear, that it ever afterwards seemed to her that in the dark dim hours of night his soul, his spirit—whatever is the immortal part of us—had passed away for a time from its earthly form, and had oome to her in reproach and pain. She saw him distinctly, and he came near to her, and looked at her with eyes full of sorrow, and she bent forward and kissed him, and then Bhe heard him speak. - 1 What ! yon have kissed me ?’ he said, as if surprised, and still reproachful, and she answered, ‘lt will make no change in my heart to you, Kenard, none, none ; ’ and they clasped each other’s hands as a Bilent covenant between them, that in their hearts there could be no change. She woke with this scene so impressed upon her mind, its realism so clear, so certain, that she believed their spirits had indeed met, and that there was now a bond between them which death even could not break ; and it was a sort of comfort to her ; some time at least he would know, she thought, that she was not false.

An hoar later Frances came into the room, and the stir of the approaching wedding began. And the pale bride rose, and dressed herself in the white shining gown prepared for her, and she looked young and fair, and was very quiet, and went up the church aisle leaning on her father’s arm, followed by her beautiful radiant sister, at whose side was Colonel Kenyon, It was a very quiet wedding and yet the village church was full, and people on all sides were craning their necks to see the bride’s face, and talked of her and whispered, forgetting they were in the house of God. And the bridegroom? Major Audley, accompanied by a brother officer, had arrived at the church a few minutes before the appointed hour, and met the small bridal party as they entered, looking smiling and debonnair, but Ruth never looked up as he clasped her cold hand. And presently the two knelt down together, and false vows were exchanged, and promises whose very essence was a lie. Perhaps some foreshadow of evil crossed Audley’s heart, for his expression suddenly changed, and a hard, almost savage look came over his face. Did he remember he was doing a cruel wrong, and had wrung a promise from the pale womnn beside him by unmanly threats ? If such thoughts crossed his heart, they did not make him look amiable, but self-shame has a very biting sting. But the words were spoken which the cold shadow of death, or the stain of shame, alone can efface. Richard promised to take Ruth, to love and to cherish, and Ruth promised to take Richard, and so there was an end of it ; and after the ceremony the officiating clergyman made haste to get off his surplice so as to be ready to go with his ■wife—who was waiting for him in a new bonnet—to join the wedding-feast. For a small party had been asked to breakfast, and amongst them was the Rev. John Appleby, who waß ‘ a little, round, fat, oily man,’ who was married to a tail, gaunt, somewhat grim-faced lady, whose attractions, however, were of a more solid and lasting description than mere looks. The easiest way for a man to win a fortune is to marry one, and the E.ev. John Appleby had wisely considered this, and when he undertook a cure of souls, was most interested in the souls that we are told have the least chance of entering the Kingdom of Heaven. And the result of this was that he married the richest and ugliest young, or rather middle-aged woman, who went to his church. But the good man knew that in this world we cannot expect everything, and though he liked to look at a pretty face as well as his neighbours, he was also aware that a pretty face won’t pay rent, taxes, &c,, and provide

good dinners ; and no face to his mind could be put in comparison with all these things. He made his choice and he was satisfied on the whole with his lot. A rich woman, however, is somewhat apt to remind a poor man of what he owes her, and Mrs Appleby was not above this weakness, and people said the parson did not always repose on a bed of roses. At all events ho had waxed fat, and did not.overwork himself, and when his wife was not near to hear him, had his laugh and his joke with every good-looking girl that came in his way. He admired both Frances and Ruth Forth, and had many a time sung their praises after they came to Headfort. So they asked him to the wedding breakfast, and Miss Hilliard and one or two others were also invited. And these invitations had been eagerly accepted, and eagerly Bought for. The star of the Forths was considered to be in the ascendant, and as in the great city so in the village. There was nothing Baid now about Frances Forth, except that no doubt she was very handsome. The women who had sneered at her sneered at her no more, for they wished to go to the dinners and garden parties at Sudley Park, and so took very good care not to imperil their chances of doing this. And Fiances Forth saw the change and smiled in her mocking way and tried not to look weary of the noble gentleman whose heart she had won. It was very sad ! Here was a man young in heart still, * though grey do somewhat mingle with our younger brown/ a man who at least had retained his early chivalrous feeling for women, gently fostered by his love for his own dead mother, and for the fair girl who slept in her maiden grave-—now kneeling at the feet of a falsa idol, and worshipping a woman whose heart was stone to him. He, in fact, wearied her inexpressibly. His schemes for their future life, the good deeds they were to do together, the tears they were to dry, bored Frances to such au extent that she found the greatest difficulty not to yawn in his face 1 She was one of those, also, who care very little for love they are sure of. Had Colonel Kenyon shown the slightsst symptom of change Frances would immedi. ately have been up in arms, eager to retain him; or win him back to his old allegiance. But this brave and generous gentleman made no such sign. It pleased him to fling his heart in passionate prodigality down before her, judging her nature from the lofty instincts of his own. And as he sat beside her at the wedding breakfast, the guests saw that she had all her own way with the owner of Sudley, and respected her accordingly. And presently the Rev. John Appleby, vicar of Headfort, got on his feet to propose the health of the bride and bridegroom, and in flowery and verbose language complimented both sisters on their beauty, having an eye also to future benefits to be derived from Sudley. ‘Seldom is it,’said the Rev. John, ‘that two sisters are so greatly gifted by nature as the fair daughters of my friend and hospitable host, Colonel Forth. We have just witnessed the happy nuptials oi the younger one, now wedded to the husband of her choice, the gallant and distinguished soldier seated by her side ; and ere many weeks pass, Miss Frances Forth will also, I believe, be led to the altar hy one so well known to us all for his gonerosity and hospitality, and a hundred other good qualities which belong to our neighbour, the wealthy and noble owner of Sudley Park.’ Here he bowed to Colonel Kenyon, who smilingly returned the compliment; and then the Rev. John went on with his discourse, and finally ended by proposing the health of Major and Mrs Audley, to which toast the company warmly responded. Major Audley rose to reply with a somewhat grim smile, and a gleam of satire in his full light eyes. ‘My poor words fail me/ he said, ‘to reply to so much eloquence, so you must kindly excuse a blunt soldier ; but at the same time I thank you heartily for all your good wishes for my young wife and myself ;’ and then he sat down, and after this there was no more speech-making, as neither Colonel Forth nor Colonel Kenyon felt them selves called upon ‘to make fools of themselves/ as Colonel Forth designated the flowery language of weddings. And by-and.bye Major Audley whispered a few word's in Ruth’s ear, who rose and left the table, followed by her sister and the rest of the ladies present. Frances accompanied them into the drawing-room, but Ruth went straight up to her own bedroom, and having locked the door, she drew out the photograph of Kenard Seaforth, meaning to bid it a last farewell. Bong she gazed at the smiling pleasant face, and the grey eyes that had always looked at her in love and kindness. Long and then in sudden and passionate emotion—she pressed it and strained it to her breast, meaning to destroy it before she left Headfort. But Bhe had not strength; it was beyond her to mar the pictured features that in reality had been and were so dear to her. Again she kissed it, agrin looked at it, her heart in her eyes, murmuring below her breath as she did so : * Good-bye, Kenard, but not for ever; and with these solemn words hid it away ; a few minutes later giving the locked desk where she had placed it into the charge of Frances. ‘ Keep it for me until I come back,’ she said, quietly, and Frances promised. And half an hour later she left her old home and the days of her girlhood behind her, and when Frances saw the carriage disapoeor which was bearing her away, she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank heavens, the secret is safe now/ thought the elder sister ; and she thought very little of the wrecked life and broken heart her sin had caused, CHAPTER XIX. Left Alone. As Frances turned away after watching the bride’s departure, she found Colonel Kenyon by her Bide, who not reading aright the grave expression of her face, thought she was grieving for the- loss of her sister. ‘ You mußt let me be all,in all to you now, dearest/ he said to her in a low tone, and Frances looked up in his face and smiled,

* Yes,’ she answered, softly, and then went back among the wedding guests, delighting everyone with the bright courtesy of her manner, even while she was wishing them all out of the house. And at last they went away. 'Delightful people!’ said the Yicar with unction, as he tucked his tall lady s long, gaunt arm through his short, fat one. ‘ Miss Forth certainly is handsome/ grudgingly admitted Mrs Appelby. . '« No doubt of it, my dear ; and her looks have gained her a splendid position. How did you think I put that little allusion to Colonel Kenyon’s engagement ? Not bad was it, and it evidently pleased him ?’ ‘I scarcely call it an ‘‘allusion,”’ replied Mrs Appleby, who liked to find fault. < Well, whatever it was, I tbink I hit the right nail on the head/ smiled the Yicar. pleased at lvis own wit; ‘and it’s always well to keep on good terms with wealthy people, they have so much in their power, and I intend asking Colonel Kenyon to subscribe to the repairs of the church and other little things besides.’ ‘I did not think the bride looked particularly happy/ suggested Mrs Appleby, ‘but of course this is between ourselves.’ ‘Only the natural modesty of a young creature taking so serious a step, I think. Yes, my ’dear, I consider Colonel Forth and his daughters a decided addition to our little society here, and I atn glad that we 'always treated them with proper consideration, for sec how well they have done !’ And as the Vicar thought, so now thought the other inhabitants of Headfort. ‘They had done well/ and all the rest—their poverty, the soandals about prances Forth, were forgotten or spoken of only with bated breath. And as the days, went on after Ruth’s marriage, there were rumours in the village of the splendid gifts that Colonel Kenyon had given his promised wife ; of the new furnishing of the drawing-room at Sudley Park, and the new carriage which had come down from town, ordered expressly for Frances. She had plenty of money now at her command, and spent it with a lavish hand even among the village tradespeople, and they naturally spoke well of her. She liked, in fact, to spend money and to be thought a great lady, and was generous enough to give, if it cost her nothing. These were days of triumph, and she liked the court paid to her, and the dresses that made her more beautiful, and all the good things that Colonel Kenyon’s love had given her. Only the man himself did not suit her, for between their natures was a great gulf fixed, which it took all Frances’ cleverness not to show. Her marriage had been settled to take place exactly one fortnight after Kuth’s, and Ruth had naturally expected to be present at it. But to Frances’ great anger she found that Major Audley declined to return to Headfort so soon. The newlymarried pair were in Paris, and Ruth wrote from thence to tell Francis she could not come. ‘ My dearest Frances ’ (wrote the bride), ‘ I received your letter telliDg me about your wedding, and all the beautiful things which Colonel Kenyon has given you. But I am very, very sorry to toil you that if you are to be married on the 16th, I shall not be able to be present. Major Audley will not hear of returning to Headfort until his loave is up, which will not be until the first week in September, aud therefore you see I have no choice. I am forwarding my wedding present to you to-day, and I hope yon will like it. VVe are going on to Trouville to-morrow, and I shall write to you from there. With kind love to my father and yourself, ‘ Affectionately your?, ‘ Ruth Audley. ’ Frances read these few cold, guarded liiv 'i, and flung Ruth’s letter passionately on the floor, ‘ Horrid, selfish man !’ she exclaimed, and she could not even hide her indignation against Audley from her lover. « Would you believe it possible, she said to him a few hours later, ‘ that Major Audley will not allow Ruth to return in time for our wedding : It is too disgusting, ‘ It seems rather odd, certainly/ answered Colonel Kenyon. ‘ I thought it was settled when they went away that they were to be back by then.’ . ..... ‘So did I, of course ; but it is just like Audley ; he is odiously selfish.’ Colonel Kenyon gave a little shrug and smiled. .... . ... ‘ Yet you consented to bis marriage witn your young sister, Franses ?’ * Yes,’ said Frances, hastily, who saw she had made a mistake, ‘ because Ruth seemed to wish it,.’ «Well, to tell you the truth, I never thought Ruth did particularly wish it. I always fanoied she liked young Seaforth ?’ ‘Perhaps they quarrelled ; Ruth was very reticent about seme things ; at all events it was her own choice to marry Major Audley so I suppose we shall just have to make the best of him ; but I am feeling very cross with him to-day, so that made me abuse him ; and Frances smiled and changed the conversation. Aud if she was indignant about Major Audley’s conduct, Colonel Forth was even more so. «x don’t like such behavour at all, he said, angrily. ‘ I fully expected that Ruth and he would have stayed on here with me after you were gone, until they got a house of their own ; and now I shall be left alone ! Extremely selfish of Audley, I must say ; and it augurs ,very bad y to my mind for Ruth’s future happiness.’ Frances gave a little sneering laugb. ‘ Selfishness is a general characteristic of the nobler sex, you know/ she said, ‘but I must say it is highly developed in Major Audley. However, what’s the good of talking of it ? I Bhould write to him if I did not know it would be of no use, be is so obstinate ; and as Colonel Kenyon does not wish to put off our wedding, I must just be married without Ruth.’ And perhaps after all she was not Borry that Audley’s cold, sarcastic eyes would not be fixed upon her as she plighted her troth to Colonel Kenyon. As it was, there would

be no one present to remind her of a bitter past. Therefore, after her first disappointment was over, Frances went on with her preparations without wasting any further time in abusing her brother-in-law. Her marriage, like Ruth’s, had to be a quiet one; but Frances could not resist (with that taste for magnificence which was natural to her) decking herself out to the utmost advantage. She chose a wedding-dress of white velvet, knowing well that straight, sweeping lines of rich material suited her fine form better than lace or gauze. And the night before the wedding she dressed herself as she would be dressed on the mor. row, and came down unexpectedly into the dining-room to show herself, wherejflher father and Colonel Kenyon were sitting, both in a very amiable frame of mind, dssoussing some old port that had lain for years in tho cellars at Sudley, but which had been now sent as an offering to his future father-in-law by the Colonel, who was partial to this wine. She opened the door and went in Bmilingly, a white shining vision of loveliness, and both the men looked at her for a moment in silent admiration. | What do you think of me in my war paint ?’ she said, in her bright, gay way ; and Colonel Kenyon rose as she spoke, and went toward her and took her hand. ‘ Well ?’ asked Frances, with her brilliant hazel eyes fixed on his face, as if demanding some tribute from his lips. * Don’t flatter her, Kenyon/ said her father from the table. ‘I could not flatter her/ he answered, looking at her with such tenderness, such chivalrous devotion in his expression, that Frances drooped her eyelids with a little conscious blush. * Don’t look as if you thought I was an angel,’ she said, half in earnest, half in jest ; ‘ remember I am only a frivolous young woman,’ and before he could prevent her she had left the room. ‘ She is a grand creature/ said Colonel Kenyon, as he returned to his seat, with a look of great content on his fine face. * She’s a handsome girl, there’s no doubt of it/ replied her father ; ‘ but don’t you spoil her, Kenyon; always remain master in your own house.’ * T could not spoil her, just as 1 oould not flatter her/ answered Kenyon loyally ; and as he spoke, so the man felt in his inmost heart. And the next day, when they knelt side by side on the very same spot where Ruth had made her false vows two weeks ago, there was no one in all the world with whom Colonel Kenyon would have changed plaoeo. And after all, was he not to be envied ? Great happiness often ends in bitter pain, for the old primeval curse treads still on the heel of man, and if we drink the cup of joy, there is sorrow in the dregs. But is it not something to be very happy, even for a short time ? To rise above the dead level of our daily life, and touch that higher sense of existence, that expansion of the soul, which maybe is but a foretaste of everlasting joy ? And Hugh Kenyon felt this as he plighted his troth to the beautiful woman he loved with such entire faith and trust that no shadow nor doubt rested for a moment on his heart. He knew his life had stolen on to middle age, while she was in her bright prime ; but even this did not disturb him. Love 13 immortal, he believed; therefore what were a few years more or less between two who hoped and trusted to Bhare an existence together which Time could not approach ? And the bride ? She glanced at her bridegroom more than once, with even a sort of pity in her wayward and luxurious heart. ‘ Poor man !’ she was thinking, as she saw the rapt look in Colonel Kenyon’s face as he made his vows to her ; vows whioh he thought to be binding forever to his soul and hers. And there were others in the churoh who in their secret hearts also thought ‘Poor man !’ as they looked at the grey-haired bridegroom and blooming bride. But they discreetly Kept this mental appellation to themselves, or only murmured it in some trusted ear. *lt was a splendid match for her,’ they said ; and hert father’s heart echoed this, and with no small pride he remembered as he saw her rise from her knees Colonel Kenyon’s wedded wife, that Frances was now a rich woman, and that he had done well for his children, and that they ought to show him no end of gratitude. And he shook bis old friend’s hand warmly, and even expressed his pleasure in not ill-chosen words. ‘ If I had sought the world over, I should have chosen you for her, Kenyon/ he said, with an unusual warmth and glow in his sour being. * I pray God I may be worthy of her/ answered Kenyon, with the solemnity of deep felling, returning his hand clasp ; and both thought at this moment of the old lifotie between them, the tie whioh now had grown so close. Yet the day did not pass before Colonel Forth had his grumble, for it was his nature to carp and find fanlt with fortune, and look out for speoka and blemishes wherever they oould bo found. 'The bride and bridegroom were gone, and so were most of the wedding guests, but the vicar still lingered, for he loved good cheer, and did not offifen taste champagne as Colonel Kenyon’s generous hand had provided. Therefore he waa in no haste to go, and began again touching on the many excellent gifts possessed by the bridegroom. ‘Yes, that’s all very well/ said Colonel Forth, in that crusty way of his. * I’ve nothing to say against Kenyon, certainly not ; but here am I, left alone.’ ‘ That is certainly so,’ answered the oily voice of the Vicar ; ‘ the marriages of your two beautiful daughters are at once a blessing and a trial ; a symbol as it were of the mixed nature of our existence, in whioh joy and sorrow are so strangely intermingled.’ ‘That’s true enough/ answered Colonel Forth, remembering how anxious he had been for the two girls to marry, though now that they had done s© he was beginning' to be afraid he would feel very dull without them. ‘ Still we must prepare our minds for these, I may say, happy partings : as our children grow up around us they naturally take wing like the birds/

• Humph,’ grunted the Colonel, ‘ And, my dear sir, why do you not take to yourself a second wife, a second help* . mate ? I am sure there are many charming ladies whose first youth perhaps has glided away, who would he too happy to share your distinguished name, and might even bring a little grist to the mill.’ And Mr Appleby Bmiled benignly. , , _ ~ ... ‘Not I,’ answered Colonel Forth,. with decision. ‘ I’ve had enough of that kind of thing, I can tell you, and making love to old women for their money is quite out of my way. No, I must just put up with it; it will be confoundedly dull without the girls, and this is a dull place at the beßt, but I must trv to get along somehow, for what can a man do, forced to retire by those beastly regulations, as I was, in the very prime of life? But I’ll tell you what it will end in—the service will go to pieces, and where will the country be then V (To be continued.)