TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 897, 10 May 1889, Page 8

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.]

JEZEBEL’S FRIENDS.

A NOVEL !BY DORA RUSSEL. Author of * Footprints in the Snow,’ ‘ The Broken Seal/ ‘The Track or the Storm/ &0., &o. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] CHAPTER XX. Two Brides. Colonel Forth had plenty of opportunity of grumbling during tho next few weeks, for his°son-in-law, Major Audley. wrote to him from Trouville to ask him to seek and engage a house (a furnished one) for himself and Ruth to go into the first week in bept6The Colonel swore long and loudly at such * Confound him, does he think I am going to run after him, or do his errands for him like a footman ! Monstrous ! Why can t be come to the hotel, and then seek a bouse for himself ?’ . He went with his grievance to the Vicar, but Mr Appleby was a man of peace, and loved to throw oil on troubled waters. < Just a yonng man’s thoughtlessness, my friend— nothing more, ho smiled. ‘He’s not a young man ; he’s forty if no a a day, and should know becter than to ask me to run his confounded errands, growled the irate Colonel. * Let me Bee/ said the Vicar, contemplatively ; * there has been a rumour that the Bells wish to spend the winter abroad, on account of the delicate health of Miss Julia Bell. Shall I sound the old lady ? I shall be happy to lend any assistance in my power to procure youv charming daughter a pleasant home. , . • The Bells’ house is not a bad one, I should gay,’ answered the Colonel, somewhat appeased ; and so he was led into househunting, a task trying even to a goodtempered man. _ . , He got one at lasc, after an incredible amount of grumbling, raging, and worrying. Luckily, Major Audley had not limited him to price, and to give the Vicar his due he was a good-natured man, and did his best for his neighbours as long as it did not put him out of his way. He thought more m fact of the welfare of his rich parishioners than his poor ones, for he loved not unwholesome alleys and foul smells. ' • I cannot bear to have my feelings harrowed/ he once told his pale-faced earnest young curate, who was striving with all his poor might to keep on the straight path, and was horrified at the easy self-indulgence of his chief : ‘I am too sensitive to go into painful scenes.’ , , But ho liked to go into pleasant drawingrooms, and indulge in semi-flirtations with old, middle-aged, and young ladies alike. It pleased him to give advice in delicate family affairs, and he would gently hold the hand as he plied soothing phraces to the ear. And he was guarded in speech and in his generation, and he managed to gei a house for Major Audley and Ruth, on much better terms than the irascible Colonel would have done. And during the first week of September, Major Audley’s leave by this time bping exhausted, Ruth and he returned to Headfort, and the Colonel went to the railway Ration to receive his daughter. And he saw a pretty, sad-faced woman, whose features were familiar to him, but whose expression was not. And, seated opposite to her, was Audley, and there w.- s a olond on his brow a T so. Yet he met the Colonel jovially enough, with ready smiles and outstretched hand, which Forth returned somewhat grimly, for he had not quite got over bis grudge about the house yet. ‘Well, and how did you enjoy Trouville? be asked of his daughter, aB they stood to. getber on the platform, while Major Audley was directing his soldier servant BDont the is a very gay place/ was the quiet re* Humph !’ ejaculated the Colonel, looking furtively from under his shaggy brows at the sad face by his side. He did not like Ruth s looks somehow, and felt unreasonably irri. tated against Audley, who presently came up to them, and said carelessly c—‘Are you ready, Ruth? The traps will follow aud I've got a cab to take us to the house ; to 1 suppoie we must say good morning, Colonel ?’ . . ~ He made no offer, no hint of asking the Colonel to accompany them to their new abode, at which the Colonel felt naturally aggrieved after all the trouble he had gone through to get it for them. Nor did Ruth ask her father to dine with them, or even to drop in during the evening, which he also naturally expected. • Will you be at home to-morrow morn-ng, father she asked, pausing for a moment as Audley was handing her into the cab. «y eß , I’ll be at home. Will you como ? * I’ll call about twelve o’clock then/ said Ruth, and she smiled and nodded a 3 the cab drove away, but the smile was very Bad, and somehow the Colonel understood his young daughter had a heavy heart «Well, how do you ’ think the old boy looks V said Audley to her, as they drove on from the station. .. «Jnst the same/ answered Ruth. Bhe was gazing with a far-away look in her eyes out of the oab window, thinking how the familiar objects they were passing seemed strangely unfamiliar. The same shops, the same houses she had passed hundreds of times, and yet they seemed changed. And as they went down High-street she saw her father’s little house standing m the garden from the road, and she remembered Kenard geaforth riding up to the gateway the morn.

ing after the storm, and the very look m his eyes as he sat on his horse smiling down at her, asking her for one of her freshly cut flowers ; and as she thought of these things she sighed. , ‘I must say, Ruth, you are a very entertaining companion/ said Audley the next moment with some harshness. . . ‘ What is it V she answered, looking round. * I was thinking of other th;ngs ; l did not hear/ Audley gave a bitter laugh. ‘ You are extremely conjugal in your attention, my dear I’ A pained look came over her face. « What Is the good of saying these things . she said gently. ‘ I am sorry I was not In. tening. Naturally, returning to Head- < With all its pleasing recollections/ scoffed « With its painful recollections,’ saia Ruth. ‘But it’s better to forget them all. I wonder which is the house they have taken for • W ny, confound it,’ cried Audley, putting his head out of the cab window, ‘ here we are close to the Fort! Driver, have you not passed 47, High-street ?’ . , ~ • No, sir/ answered the driver from the box • ‘ 47 fs the last house but one on the left side ; we’ll be there in a minute or two ; and accordingly in a minute or two he pulled up before a substantial red, brick house olose to the gates of the Fort, before which a sentry was pacing on duty. , , • it’/ far too near the Fort, grumbled Audley, as he descended from the cab and handed out Ruth, the housedoor being opened by a neit handmaiden that Mrs Appleby, the Vicar’s wife, had engaged. It was a good house, roomy and oldfabhioned, and belonged to a widow lady and her two maiden daughters. One of there ladies was threatened with bronohitis, and the chill sea breezes of whiter wove consul ered too trying for her, and they had therefore let their house for six months, and nad been glad to get such tenants as Major ana Mrs Audley promised to be. Ruth walked slowly up the broad staircase while her husbind was paying the cab, and went into the drawing '•oom, which had an world look also, aud smelt of lavender andpet-pourri; with which some large china filled, A pleasant room, facing hT S nS, and at the back looking down on the green rolling sea and the brown ia«ced rocks round Headfort Bay. ® ut went to one of the windows, and stood thoughtfully looking down, aad, as she did so a young officer in undress uniform with his sword under his arm, came out of the Fort gates, and seeing Major Audley at the door of the house, went up to speak to him, and Ruth could hear their voices from be* 10 This voung officer was a stranger to her hnt as Ruth stood there she remembered fhat so she would see Kenard Seaforth come out of the Eort gates ; that she must when he rejoined the regiment, and that thus her daily life and his would no Sh b e e gr a ew aP a a little paler and sat down as if she lwere tired, and a few minutcs later rose when she heard her husbands stalwart fnrtfStfiira aicending the staircase. '“wKi"a", you, EuthF.hu and she went to the drawing room door, hl’ve just had a talk with Martin, he continued, * and Beaton is expected back the end of the week, and is all right now, Martin says. WelL how do you like the house? This seems not a bad sort of roorn, but I object to it being so near to the Tort. However! we shall have to make the best of it as we have got it on our bauds for six months, and by that time I hope we 11 be out of this blessed place *°r S 0 ° d ;, . k , ‘ The house seems all right, I tmnK. ‘lt will have to do, at any rate. I wonder by-the-way, what Beaton will say w^ en see - Mrs Kenyon in all her glory . And Major Audley laughed. ‘ Why should he say anything ? answered Ruth coldly. , . , ‘Oh/ and Audley looked at her keenly, *1 forgot you did apt know.’ « What is it I do not know V ‘ Merely, my dear,’ and he shrugged his broad shoulders, ‘ that Beaton was supposed to be, and was most awfu"y far gone on your charming sister.’ • He is a mere bov.’ , • A mere boy with a deuced amouni of love and folly ab jut him, I can tell you ; but we must hope the lovely Frances has sown all her wild oats by this time/ Ruth’s delicate face grew crimson. «i fio not know whether you consider that the speech of a gentleman !’ she retorted, Again Audley shrugged his shoulders. f Pray pardon me/ he said, ‘ if I have wounded your susceptibilities ; but I really thought, in the case of Mrs Kenyon———r ‘Do leave her alone,’ interrupted Ruth indignantly, and she walked out of the room with hot anger in her heart; and thus the first words exchanged between them in their new home were full of bitterness. And as the first, so many followed. Ruth tried to he patient with him, but Audley was angered by her coldness—coldness which he could not warm—and he was by turns bitter and sarcastic, with bursts of tenderness or rage, He had really loved her, and it infuriated him to gain no return, though Bhe had warned him before their maifiage that this must be. In headstrong baste he had rushed into a union in which there could be no happiness, and was indignant to find Ruth’s words come true. He could not understand it, for he was a man who had a very good opinion of himself, and ho believed that he was attractive to women, and perhaps had some reason for thinking But he was too acute not to read the feelings of his young wife toward him aright, and his vanity did not blind him here. Tho oold duty which Ruth gave him, however, had not yet at least ohiiled his love, and the strength of this made him so resentful, that bitter words were ever on his lips, which naturally provoked retort from her. He went to the Fort shortly after they arrived at their house, and Ruth was free to go over it by herself, and with a shudder, saw from one of the back windows that they looked straight down into the bay. That mi3erabie night, the blinding light*

ning, the crashing thunder, and the streaming rain, all seemed to come back to her memory with vivid force, as she stood looking out at the very spot where the secret lay hidden which hail placed her in Audley a power. The choice of the house had been an unfortunate one then, since it was haunted with such terrible recollections for Ruth. , , •And be will taunt me with it, she thought, thinking of her husband. * Oh, why did father bring me here !’ But the next morning, when she went to see her father, she made no complaints. She found the Colonel looking much more amiable than usual, and she speedily learned the cause. „ , , ~ ‘l’vehad a letter from Kenyon/ he said, ‘and Frances and he are coming home today. Here is Kenyon’s letter—you sec there is » message for you ia it ; certainly Kenyon is a pleasant fellow, which cannot ho said of everyone.’ Ruth understood the ‘everyone to allude to her husband, but she said nothing ; she proceeded to open her brother-in-law’s let Le-, which was dated from Edinburgh, as Frances and the Colonel had been touring in the Highlands, from whence they were now returning. . ‘My dear Forth/ Ruth read m the Colonel’s fine, clear handwriting. ‘My darling and I are both anxious to get homo, so we shall bo at Sudley to-morrow afternoon, I expect about six o’clock ; and as you will naturally be anxious to see Frances, will you come over to dine at eight o clock with us, and stay the night ? It will give us both great pleasure if you will do this, and if wo hear nothing to the contrary we shall expect you. Has Mrs Audley returned from France yet? Frances is very anxious to see her, and is looking forward to having her very eonstantly at Sudley, and I hope you also shall always feel yourself quite at home there. Frances sends all sorts of kind messages, and believe me, dear Forth, to remain ‘ Yours very faithfully, ‘ Hugh Kenyon.’ ‘lt is a nice letter,’ raid Ruth softly, as she finished reading it. ‘I hope Frances will bo very happy/ and she suppressed a ‘lf she’s not, it will be her own fault, and I shall have no patience with her. Yes, Kenyon’s one in a thousand, and that’s the sort of letter one ought to receive from a man who has married one's daughter.’ ‘And you’ll go, of course, father? asked Ruth, ignoring the latter part of the Colonel’s speech. , 4 Go ! of course I’ll go ; I’ve nob had such a pleasant time here all by myseir, I can tell you, not to be glad of a libtio change. Aud I’m pleased too that you’ll have your sister so near you.’ ‘Yes, I’m very glad.’ ‘ That husband of yours is not over gracious in his manner, eh ?’ now said the Colonel, turning, .round, and fixing his reddish-tinted eyes on his daughter s face. 4 Ho gave me a deuced deal of trouble see - ing that house for him, and he’s never had the grace to ask. me into it; very odd behaviour, I think ?’ * Wo are scarcely settled yet, you ree, and have not got all the servants we require. When we goc them, you must come and dine with us. ’ _ , ‘Oh, hang it all ! D’ye suppose I want any of his dinners ? What 1 want is, to be asked in a friendly way into pay daughter s house to have a brandy ami soda, or anything that's going. That’s the sort of thing I like ; and I must say I think Audley s a cool hand.' Tr Ruth made no reply. Her sorrow was too deep and bitter to speak of to her father, and therefore she said nothing ; buc after a little while she went up to her old bedroomas she wished to see if Frances bad left be-, hind her the little desk where sue had locked Kenard Seaforth’-s portrait away upon her wedding morning. , t , ~ The desk was standing undusted on the chest of drawers, and Ruth unlocked it, and looked at the face of her yonng lover, with wistful, tender eyes. . , •I suppose I should destroy it ; but what harm is theie in keeping it?’ she thought ; and when she left her father’s hoqse she carried the desk away with her, and found her husband impatiently waiting for her at h °Major Audley was in undress uniform, and was striding up and down the diningroom where luncheon was laid, when Ruth arrived, and he looked very much anWhere have you been, Ruth?’ he asked sharply. ‘I cannot have you wandering about the village alone in this way/ ‘ i have only been to my fathers/ she an--BW,e oouldn’t you have waited until I could 20 with you, instead of going out exactly at funSeon , time. And what’s that your a little, old desk I left behind me/ said Ruth with a sudden blush, which Audlev was quick to notice ; and she put the desk down on the side table as she spoke. ‘You need not have brought a shabby thing like that ; I’ll give you a uew desk if von want one.’ , ‘Oh, this will do very well, c A ne 0 f the most remarkable things about vou Ruth, is that though all the other wom°n I hr.ve ever known like gifts, you seem perfectly indifferent about them. But perhaps this elegant article/ and he took up the little desk with a contemptuous gesture, • j a a-r.ociatod with some tendor reeollectlo,n Frances gave it to me long ago, on my birthday/ said Ruth nervously and quickly- ‘ My father has had a letter from Colonel Kenyon this morning,’ ihe added, and.they will be at Sudley this evening, and father is coinm to dine there, and stay all night. & ‘Very pleasant for the Colonel to have such a hospitable son-in-law. ‘ They are old friends. ‘ Aud how is the lovely Mrs Kenyon ? A servant brought in a hot dish for lunch at this moment, and so the conversation ended ; but Audley noticed that after the meal was over Ruth carefully camed her desk from the room, and he determined some day to examine its. cofftents. He took her out to drive during the after*

noon, and, as they were returning from a somewhat dreary round, when they entered High-street they enconn-ered Colonel Forth, who was about to start for Sudley to welcome his daughter on her arrival there. ‘Ab, Audley,’ said the Colonel, coolly enough, ‘ been out for a drive, eh ? I m just off to Sudley, as Kenyon has invited me to go and spend the first evening with my daughter in her new home.’ Audley smiled grimly, for he quite under* stood the Colonel’s hint. ‘Give my best love to Frances,’ Baid Ruth ; ‘I shall go to see her very soon.’ < You’ll always be welcome, that's one thing loin promise you ; Kenyon is a hospitable fellow if there ever was one.’ ‘ Well, we shall not keep you auy longer from his hospitality, then/said Audley, with a smile, Which looked very like a sneer. ‘Good-day, Colonel/ and he nodded and drove on, leaving his father-in-law no better pleased with him than he was before. But if one daughter’s husband was not satisfactory in the Colonel’s eyes, the other wftß eminently bo. When he reached Sudley, the owner and his bride had not yet arrived, but were momentarily expected. And as the carriage which bore them home appeared in sight, the Colonel went into the courtyard to receive them. ‘ See, dearest, there is your father/ said Colonel Kenyon, bending out of the window, and greeting his old friend with kindly smiles. ‘ Thank you, Forth, for being here to meet us/ fie continued, a 3 he got out of the carriage and warmly shook Forth’s hand ; ‘it has made it more than ever like coming home to Frances to find you here.’ ‘ Verv glad to see you both again/ answered Colonel Forth, as he presented bis red face to his daughter to kiss, who just touched it for a moment smilingly with her rosy lips. ‘ How is Ruth?’ she asked. * Oh, all right, I think ; but she doesn’t look so well as you do ; no, confound it, she doesn’t!’ Frances was in truth looking her very best. The air of the Scottish hills had brightened her always beautiful skin, ’and she had felt no small pride and pleasure in euteiing the park surrounding the stately home of which now she was the mistress. ‘After all,’ she reflected, ‘I have not done badly / and while Colonel Kenyon was speaking tender words, which their homecoming naturally called forth, of long years to bo Bpent in happiness together, Frances was planning entertainments, in which the thought of her husband had no place. But he did not know this. To all outward seeming she was loving, happy, and content, and so in very truth was the generous heart of the man by her side, for he saw no fault in her; to him her beautiful form win a fitting dwelling-place for her soul. And no shadow nor foreboding of coming ill lay athwart his threshold as be crossed it on the bright September evening that he brought home his fair wife. The sun was setting behind the dark belt of lofty trees to tho w r st of the Park, that those who had borne his name before him had reared and planted ; and some of the golden beams glinting through the foliage fell on her bright hair, lightiug it with rays of glory just as they entered the houce. It seemed like a good omen of the dats to. come; the days when she, who waffie.d so proudly in, was for the fi.-st time to b,*ing disfiouour under the roof-tree. CHAPTER XXI. Calling on tb;e Bkide. When Frances came down to,breakfast the next morning, she announced in her brigfit lively way that she, intended driving at once in io Headfort to call on E.uth. ‘Shall I drive jou, then?’asked Colonel Kenyon, looking at her smilingly. ‘ Will you ?’ she answerod. ‘ Of course, I should like that awfully, hut I thought perhaps that you two’ (and she glanced at her father) ‘ would be going partridge shooting this morning ?• ’ „ , « Should you line a day s shooting, north r asked Colonel Kenyon. ‘ Because Palme? will go with you if you wou,ld, and he tells me the birds are strong and plentiful ; but I must look after this young lady, I think, and again he looked at Frances. < well, I think I should like to have a shy at them ; but can’t you wait until the afternoon to go into Headfort, Frances ? ’ said her father. . . , ~ «Ho/ she answered, m her pretty manner. ‘ I am dying to, see Ruth, and dying to show my new carriage and ponies to the envious inhabitants. * Silly girl/said her husband, fondly. > She laughed and when breakfast was over went into° the conservatory, which was at the right side of the house, and cut some of the choicest flowers to. take to Ruth. « Tell them to get me some fruit, too, ’ she told her husband; and when the carriage came round he was waiting for her in the hall as she descended the staircase, ready to drive her to Headfort. * I have told them to put two brace of partridges in the carriage also for Mrs Audley/ he said, kindly; 'is there anything else, dear, you should like to take your sister?’ He was always like this—so thoughtful and considerate, and Frances ought to have felt that she was a lucky woman, and perhaps did feel so as they entered Headfort, and drove down High-street, passing the little house in the garden, where she had suffered so much. And their arrival created quite a sensation in the small place, which doubtless pleased Frances, who loved to be envied and admired, and sat proudly conscious that everyone they passed was looking at them, and was commenting on her new carriage, her ponies, and her good looks. _ The ponies were in truth a splendid pair, and Frances, who was a fair whip, though of late she had had nothing to drive, intended to begin again, and was delighted with these beautiful bays ; and when the Colonel pulled up at No. 47, she was looking as pleased and happy as it was possible for a woman to And Ruth from her window 8a w this, and a sweet glow stole over her fair face. ‘At least she is happy, she thought: softly ; * it has not been all thrown away I then ; her life is safe.’ I She ran into the hall to meet Frances, and

flung her arms round her, and kissed her fondly. * I’m so pleased to- see you, dear - oh ! so pleased,’ she murmured, with her cheek against her sister’s. ‘ And I have brought my good man with me/ said Frances gaily, for the Colonel was still outside talking to his groom, and examining the ponies ; ‘and look what swell flowers, and there is some game and some fruit in the carriage for you.’ ‘ How kind you are, dear/ ; and the sisters went towards the street door together, and met Colonel Kenyon bringing in the partridges. * Well, my dear,’ he said, shaking Ruth’s hand warmly, ‘and how are you getting on, and how is Audley ?' ‘He is very well/ she answered, and cast down her eyes. ‘ And how do you think my young lady is looking ? ’ went on the genial Colonel, with a tender light in his eyes as they fell on his handsome wife. ‘ As well as she could look,’ said Ruth, now affectionately regarding Frances’ lovely face ; ‘ but we must not flatter her too much, Colonel, or we shall turn her head.’ ‘You must call him “Hugh” now, nay dear/ said Frances, putting her hand on her young sister’s shoulder. ‘ Must I ? ’ ‘ Yes, unless you think me too old/ smiled Colonel Kenyon. ‘Oh, no, no,’ said Ruth, quickly; ‘I am happy to call you Hugh—oh, so happy 1 ’ And she turned her head away to hide tho moisture which had stolen to her eyes. •And now let us go over yonr castle,’ suggested Frances, brightly ; ‘ it’s a jolly house, isn’t it, Hugh ? ‘ And she looked rouud and then walked into the dining-room, the door of which was open, and went to one of the windows. ‘Why, it’s close to the Fort?’she said. * How convenient for Audley ! ’ ‘ He thinks it too near.’ «Perhaps ’ —began Frances, and then she stopped. ‘Do you know, Ruth, you are going back to dinner, and to stay all night with us ? ’ she added a moment later. ‘ Isn’t she, Hugh?’ * You know I hope she will; but where ib Audley?’ , _ « At the Fort/ answered Ruth ; and again the Colonel noticed that the young wife’s eyes fell at th 6 mention of her husband's name. ‘ I tell you what, my dear,’ went on Colonel Kenyon, suppose you and Audley dine with us to-night and stay over to morrow, and thens Audley will get a day’s shooting to-morrow, and you and Franoes a nice gossip all to yourselves, when we men are pottering away at the partridges ? Should you like that ? ’ ‘ Very, very much, if Major Andley and Ruth hesitated and Blightly blushed. ‘Of course Audley will like it!’ cried Frances. ‘ The partridges will fetch him ; you may trust a man in one thing, my dear, which is never to miss a day’s shooting when he can get it.’ , * Come, don’t be so, hard on ns poor men, said Kenyon, with a ready laugh ; ‘ I’ll go over to the Fort now, and hunt up Audley and settle with him about coming; I dare say you two, have lots to say to each other/ and he nodded kindly and went away. The sisters looked at each other after h© was gone, and Frances went up to Ruth and took her hand. « Well/ Bhe said, ‘ and how do yon get on with him V ... , * As well as I expected, answered Katfi, gravely; ‘‘but do not let us talk about it ; teil me about yourself—yon are very happy?’ ■ Frances gave one of her pretty shrugs, «i have everything a reasonable woman could reduire/ she said hrighily ; ‘plenty of money, a good home, yes everything— only you know, >hy dear ! ’ And again sh© gave a little shrug. ‘Oh f Frances, you have everything, indeed!’: said Rath, earnestly. ‘ Colonel Kenyon is the best and kindest of men.’ ‘So iftd i 3 i h® lets me have all my own way, and he gives me whatever I ask, j > ‘He is so unselfish, so thoughtful, I am so glad, dear, you have been so luoky, so my dear/ said Franoes, throwing baok her head, ‘is a possession we must learn to live without In this tiresome world. It means too much —more than I have—though I think you believe that J have everything/ 'I do, indeed.’ * All right then, go, on believing it j I nave everything, as I said before, that a reasonable woman wants j unfortunately, I suppose, I am an unreasonable one, and I cannot .help myself.’ . , , ~ She went to one of the windows ot the room as she spoke, and stood looking out for a moment or two in silence, and then turned quickly round, / - ‘By-the-hye/ she said, ‘ have yon heard anything about poor Beaton since you have gat home ?• ’ • . . ‘ Major Audley told me he was expeoted back the end of this week, and that he is all right now.’ ‘Ah—how fuuny it is to hear you call your husband Major Audley 1 Do you always do so? ’ ‘No/and Ruth blushed; he told me to call him Richard; but somehow I always speak of him to other people as Major Audley.’ *lt sounds very quaiab. And so Beaton is coming baok ; I shall be glad to Bee him again/ . Ruth said nothing ; she was remembering her husband’s comments on the subject. ‘ Hero is Hugh, and Audley himself ! ’now cried Frances, who had turned again to the window. ‘Really Audley is a fine-looking man—almost handsome.’

A moment or two later she was Bhalcing hands with him, and smiling up in his face. * I have just been admiring you out of the window/ she said gaily ; ‘ haven’t 1, Ruth ? * So yon said/ answered Rath. * Rnth takes very good care never to - admire me, at all events/ remarked Audley, as if half in jest. . , , ~ * She is afraid of making yon vain, saia Frances ; ‘but you ar© going to be very good are yoa not, Major Audloy, to*day ?’

*Tci bft good is nob thy rOle, I fear:’ ‘There ate exceptions to every rtile, you know, find however bad jroil are in general* you are going to be good to-day. Yon are coming to dine at Sudley, and atay over tomorrow, and shoot no end of partridges.’ 4 Who could refuse an invitation from such charming lips? I shall be deliilited.’ * There, Ruth, isn’t he good now ? And what news is there at the Fort ? Any of the old men we used to know back again ?’ * Heaton is back,’ said Audley, fixing his bold, smiling eyes on hor face. ‘ That is the good-looking young fellow who had the accident ? Ob, I remember him quite well. So he is back ?’ 4 Yes, he came last night ; his beauty isn’t improved by being ploughed by a bullet though, and he’s lost half an ear.’ * Oh, poor fellow !’ ‘l’ve just seen him, Frances,’ now said Colonel Kenyon, who had been standing by, an amused listener to the conversation between his wife and Audley. 4 Ho seems a very gentlemauiy young fellow. 1 asked him to come over and see us some day.’ ‘ And is be coming ? asked Frances, with interest. ‘He said he was scarcely Btrong enough yet to go about, but I daresay he’ll cast up.’ 4 No doubt he will,’ said Audley, and again he looked smilingly at Frances. 4 Heis a nice boy. I am glad he has got well, even if his good looks are gone ; and now, Hugh,’ continued Frances, turning to her husband, ‘don’t you thina. we should consider the ponies ? Have you looked at them, Major Audley? They are such a lovely pair, and he bought them for me. And she smiled and nodded at Colonel Ken* yon. ‘ He is a happy man to have the privilege of buying for you.’ ‘ What a pretty speech ! Hugh, do you hear ? My brother-in-law is saying such nice things, yon ought to be jealous. Well, come and look at the ponies, for I am most awfully proud of them.’ They went out to admire the ponies, and Frances was charming and gay, but Ruth very qniet. * My dear,’ said Colonel KenyoD, as they drove from 47, High-street, 4 I’m afraid the little sißter does not look over bright.’ r Do you think not ? ’ answered Frances. • Well, you know I always thought Major Audley looked liken selfish man.’ ‘ I cannot understand why she married him.’ ‘One never can account for these things ; she may see something in him that we don’t !’ ‘That is quite true ; but I hope he will be good to her, and at all events, dear, she has you to fall back upon.’ •Yes, and yon will be always kind to her, I know.’ And while Frances and her husband weie speaking thus, Ruth and Audley were talking of them. 4 Certainly your sister looks remarkably well,’ Audley said, as together they reentered their house, after admiring the ponies, and when the owners of tho ponies bad driven away. ‘Yes, I never saw her look better,’ answered Ruth. ‘She really is a wonderful womaD,* continued Audley, striking a match to light a cigarette; ‘and old Kenyon seems a most devoted spouse. Ah, well, so wags tho world !’ (To be continued.)