A MARKED WOMAN.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1511, 14 February 1901, Page 8

A MARKED WOMAN.

(By J. Bioundeile-Burton)

“This is not a love story, but it is a-1 about love,” which was what pretty berte Pallezieux used aiwaya to say when she began to narrate to us Lages-ofth-Backstairs at Versailles, the syory of tne old Comte de la Ravigote s affections for a girl of 16, and how he wedded her, and how dire trouble ensued, and how she ran away from—. But it .is not Boberte’s story which lam going ,to tell you but one of my own in which 1 P^ayed the principal part. And there is a sort, of love in it, too, of a strange kind, as you shall see if you will out read. Wherefore, new, I begin. , I was a boy in those, days when kooerte. Maid of Honour to the French Queen, used to tell us those storiefe over ■a pate de becasse and a flask or tokay m the parlour, and I was also an exile, being an English youth in the service' vd Louis XV., because my father, who was a follower' of the dethroned House of Stuart, would not live in England. t But at the time of which 1 write, wlncn was the spring of 1745, my father—Heaven rest his soul! —had gone to his account; my mother had retired to our country seat in Surrey, and X, Claud, firth Baron Severn, was living in London. Fortunately none of us had even done or committed sufficient treason, as it was called, to get either proscribed or attainted, so that, up to now, both my mother and myself ware in possession of comfortable enough means, and, if I could only keep a cool head on my shoulders and did not meacile too openly with politics, it was just as likely as not that I should bo comfortable all the rest of my days. “And I do protest,” said Bertram Saxeby to me one night at this period, when we sat in my rooms in Warwick Court, by Spring- Gardens, “that you will never be a worthy Jacobite so long as you are as good-looking and proper a man as you are now. Claud, mon ami, you think too much of love’s dalliances and women's lovelocks and patches ever to strike a blow for the good cause. And, by the way, Claud,” he continued, “are you going to —well—say, Scotland, later, when a certain event which we know of takes place?” “I am,” I replied. “And, what is more, I am going to make just, as good an attempt as any of us tc restore Charles 7)

“Hsh! Hsh!” said Bertram. “Walls have ears! Not so fast, not. so fast. Meanwhile, what are you going to do until the great even happens ?” “Meanwhile I am going down to stay at Saxondale with yc-ur respected uncle. The spring runs apacq, London is getting hot and frowsy the nlav-he-uses are stu-.

2nd ——”

‘■'And there are some pretty girls, or will be, at Saxondale. Ho! He! I know you. How many are you going to make love to there

“I know not. Are you going also ?” “I am. You have heard that we are to have some news there ?” and he looked expressively at me as he spoke. “I have, and in spite or my lightness and frivolity, the most important part of that news is to bei sent to me, just because I am so light and frivolous that no one will ever suspect me of being its recipient. . Oh, I can tell you,” I went on, “it is no bad thing to have the reputation of beling unfit for confidence, and yet to be the recipient of the most valuable of confidences. Not a bit is it.”

“My respected uncle will gather some strangely assorted guests at Saxondale,” said Bertram, meditatively. “He is a shrewd old fellow, staunch Jacobite as he is. They will never catch him napping ; and I’ll pound it that, whether Charlie conics over the water or not—and if ho does, my uncle will lend money and assistance —he will, nevertheless, not get implicated/’

“Who are these strangely assorted guest.,, though?” I asked. “Sir James Saxeby has a reputation for having the prettiest women and the most distinguished men at Saxondale in the summer whom it is possible to collect together.” “Nay, never fear,” laughed Bertram. '‘The pretty womefri will be there; so, too, the clever men, the latter of whom n&ed not be stated since you and I are to be amongst them. There is, to wit, your old sweetheart, though still a young beauty, Cyrilla Sneyd. Then there is Clorinda Scrope, also the Lady Hortensia Bulstrode, and—but you will see them all soon enough.” “Yet,” said I, “I do not yet see the strange assortment you speak of. Those whom you have mentioned are all of our following. We all think alike, and live in hopes of the one great thing that is to happen. This is no mixture/’ “No?” asked Bertram, with a careless air. “No? You do not think so? Weil, neither do I myself—yet there others. To wit, the Earl of Mountmort is coming.”

“Mountmort?” I cried. “That fellow! That weatbercock who has been of every side and party, who is politically everything by turns and nothing long. Why ” continued I, hotly, “ho has been a Jacobite and Hanoverian half a dozen; times already, and will be—•—” ‘‘He is Hanoverian now—for the time

Charlie is' sent back tc France?' Jf 'be Prince stays in England my lord will bo one of bis warmest adherents ’’ "Faugh! But, all the same, what is lie doing, or to do, as a guest in vour uncle’s houser?”

“Among other things,” replied Bertram, as imperturbably as ever, “he is going to bring his bran-new wife. Perhaps lie wishes to shew our Stuart beuuti&s that he can get a handsome woman for a bude, altnough he is a weathercock “Is she handsome ?”

“My word she is! But mighty haughty too. Though that is natural, since, you know, she is not to the manner born \tv laay is of the traders’ class, therefore be very sure she is vastly more imnerious than those who are used to rank and fashion.’

“But why does Sir James have them at Saxondale at all

Because, said Bertram, “he is a sly old fox, although the best of, uncles. And -and—well, if Mountmort is ther-=* then hd can be cited as a testimony to the fact that the party at Saxondale could not have been got together with a view to plotting treason since, in that case, he would have bcien the last man to be asked as guest. Dost understand, any lad t ’

Soon it drew to the middle of June and Sir James Saxebj s guests were all +,m?? lbl +l d at j- S i ax - ond . ale> and ’ in solemn tiuth, they did justify Bertram’s statement that they were a strangely-assorted set of people. For, now, see of what a ,? elange w ere composed. Firstly, there were these beauteous maidens mentioned above, arrayed as though for slaughter of men’s hearts, and wearing their laces and frills and love-locks and cas.mg glances from their roguish eyes as though they had not to think of aught in this world but love and marriage. Then we, the men of the part-' were also coquetting, and love-making* and casting sheep-eyeU, and playing fit and indulging m archery contests ft jf dreamf 16 Padf whn°’..'? S the Ab , be Le Beau from ]e f. f> i sl ’PP°! ed to be a travellei'Vn * 1 Wil ° intended later to wiite £ book on; our religious institutions a.id customs, and who smiled and bowed and scraped as though he were The ftpSre" m Ali m the Wo ‘; d and without a intent T’ goo “ cld i,ost seemed intent on nothing more than providinohotsS r Ld r tbe gUe l S > “ thatthl noises and the coaches wore always in tokfvU fOT the .stings, and that tile toka} was property chilled and the repasts or the very best. vre were all gav and bWo-ht face how different it all was’' for’w!l young ladies knew well enough that a blow was about to be struck which if it Abbe Tn Uld l nd them to the Week. The than T n 7“ W1 ° f V 'T no “ora an Abbe loftft l ofthr , dftf eacl, i a most devoted fol'ei 01 t | lH dethroned house and a Scntifo«- W i h ° spoke Fre nch like an aimel Imppentftiftne^kuftftftVentftron^ wlule Sir pomes Saxeby woidd somplinn’ look most, uncommon glum over hi* ft glass at night when oSeTegan“tc wegh oLlt’ °? and the againsts of Prince Charlie s chances of success. Ce But amongst us all there moved twn bufttho'-ft Seem f d J° think of nothing days mfthtftp tkose loil S summer -- be passed most pleasurablv • go!d°ia theT Jj?" th T o ill tne taiget or get nearest the TadSdy Xto^fro^ mi {} V uth '» 1 do aver that amonftt all assembled at Saxondale there was "no waf^o^unftfffl 8 ?! 111116 ° r feminine . which was so unruffled as were the souls of Mountmort and his lovely wife to all appearances. ’ 311

Well, perhaps they had reason tn a - peac e For Mountmort was doepk sworn now to lying George and his dynasty £hirS C ltw. I rt°h t d at S / e thli vmaries had not the thousanrlfb part of a chance of ever repossessing him selr of the throne of his 1 ScS k was not strange that he should be so calm and undisturbed. On the other hand we, who, as you might ‘ay were " POn a CaSt ’ £ ™ far SS, “ft S tuib my mind—things that I do assure 3 u can make the heart beat quite as fast a s any impending change of throne 1 Government, and cause equally uneasy and restless nights. 1 y Lor I was in love, as always and badly, too with Cyrilla Sneyd, who was the haughtiest of all the young beauties at Saxoncale while, for some reason, Cynlla seemed by no means disposed to give me the opportunity of telling her ° n T c . o 1 asked her to meet me in the Lime Walk at dusk after supper when we generally strolled about m couples, since twas too hot to be indoors, and she had refused point-blank* and on anotner occasion I had asked heto come and see the nict-ures in the lonogallery, but ’twas always the same. She would not do so, being an extremely cautious and dignified damsel. Whereat I used to get as mad as though a hornet had stung me, which only served to make my Lady Mountmort laugh-—she was a winsome, giglot thing, and too good, we all thought, for Hpt- woftv o-nldon

curls—which were the prettiest of any at Saxondale excepting Cyrilla’s, thev being as golden a . hors. Tor her ladyshU generally happened by some circumstance or other to be always in the way when I was pleading with the girl for a quiet moment : while, if I made my request to Cyrilla in the leaf-arched grove, it was a certainty that my lady happened to be close by; or, again, if I whispered the same thing in the girl’s ear when we were in the summer-house by the fish-pond, Madame la Comtesss was sure to be just behind the bower and coming toward that pond with her hands full Jf •crumbs for the c-arp.

“It is no avail, my lord,” she used to say, after Cyrilla had made her escape, while her beauteous face would be suffused with blushes. “Cyrilla is not for you. I vow she loves someone else.”

“She does not —asking your ladyship’s pardon. She loves me—l know it, only she is a little coy. Yet I shall win her.”

'‘Would you wager ?” asked her ship. “A small wager, say?” “Wager about what?” “That she will meet you in—well! in the picture gallery.” ‘Yes I would. How much will you wager yourself? It must be in reason, though, since I am not as rich as Lord Mountmort”—while I could not help adding—“since bis marriage,” for, as all the world knew, my lady was mighty rich.

“Oh, anything. What shall we sav. Come now, money, or what? In reason of course.”

“Suppose,” I said, “you wager that hi ace of spaniels his lordship brought you out of France, against a score of silverfringed gloves from Tackett’s, by the Exchange, in the Strand. They are the best the ladies say.” “Doubtless you know,” she laughed. “I will be bound you have had to buv a-many. Yeo,” she added, 'I love my spaniels.”

“And I love Cyrilla,” I replied. “And I have set my heart on getting her for an hour to myself.” “Well, so be it. The spaniels against tT 1 °t gloves from Tacketts. Ihen, as she turned her head away, 1 could have sworn I Heard hei whisper, After all, ’tis worth it, and he will lose.”

“Is it a wager?” I asked. “It is,” she replied. Then her ladyship continued, iu a mocking tone. '‘Why do you not try to-night ? It is the maskHall, and if Cyrilla would come to

you at all, she could do so then.” Now, this was true. There was to be a

gentry of the country were invited, an eg m solemn truth, it was to be a “masked” affair in more ways than one. For it was to be used as a sort of disguise of what was a-doing, and words of import weie to be spoken as to what was likely o happen in the North ere long, and as to how my Lord This and Sir Somebody la . nntl themselves, by aecden in Scotland at a given moment • and so on. Though, all the same, doubtfef, thei ’e. would be some love-making oqnetting amongst the vounger members ot the company. ni^ht 1 Thfe’ 1 * sjdd * 1 W HI try tonight alone 1 ® If l T a f 1 -| n T t bound to this to ( ivin the ’spaniels “ ’ try &&an d-nait U fvnl o' y iIU V i his lordship and I on vJur . S f xondaie * And I defend to Vvhothpr ° UI t 0 me tbe truth as ro v,nether you succeed or not.” lou may depend,” I said, than ever 1 P ar ted. I being more iSoe c/m„ f mmed ,10 '- v thi « f would piotm e galWv toTc et .. Tv " e “ *>» kf IO T e P «ed '4 that' ivould °indtice ZTto \o° lM Tl ~ beyond my lb£te o h £? , *- J " l “* if L - ,fe ie3l the masked ball was it it* heignfc I was waitinc- in -t-hn ■ ± a * fc td^r Hi?t £**&*«& . , say, anti for answei* T j ceivecl a tinv nf c + l l re " which was Written thi Scented I*>P« OH She had consented tLw WO - r ! 1 “ Yes ” me! She was coming f he J"* be alone; no one el/L 1? " 0 shourd that for a very good a“lf,fZS if dfreof frl " B ea ‘! ery had been onbeen r™,-,!/,! *! 1 ® ‘! me > the walls had Therefore 11 5 ‘i le P ic tures were down, rlisn-p h t - le ldace was at present in S,f ’ d lu lnStead of being /blaze of enifei? 8 ot fe r it would have been ,1 ‘ , a n3 fet as this, it was dark and nv ‘f C l‘ Ail dark and black it was, y cept for a ray of light from the moon mat now and again crept in through the gieat windows when the scurrying clouds eneatli her face left it clear and free for a moment.

Imagine my delight when instant I saw down at the of the room a shadow darker room itself; a figure standing there hootland masked, the long dark cloak enveloping all beneath, so that the pink

a ,tict orange dress, which I knew my sweetheart wore was quite covered up and obscured. She 'was 'there! ' She had oome! I could tell her all. Yet she was mighty coy and timid, I found, when I approached her. biie would not advance further into the room, nor would Be seated, while her whispers were so low that I could scarcely uis> tiiimiish the tones of her voice, and as for an embrace, a kiss—my word! it was not to be thought of. .

■ ‘ T would net have come on any pretence whatever, 5 * X heard her wmsper, her voice being quite muffled yj , n t. cloak she held to her face, -but that I know vou go so soon to the North. Un, Claud, when do you 50 to 10m him • • -Go to join whom r” ' 1 asked, astonished. For that Cyriiia Sneyd should not know the exact day and week when ‘ Mr bcott —as we called him—v/as expected, seemed: to* me beyond belief. -You know as well as I," she said. -Tell me,” she whispered again. ‘leil, me,when does he come r 5 „ I was- standing by her as _ she asked tne question, and, perpaps, so that i niignt th.© more easily bend over ner, I uad rested my left hand against the wail, the palm outstretched against it. And now, as she spoke—asking me so strange a question, for strange it was when .proceeding from, the mouth of the- daughter of so staunch an. old' 3 a cobite- as ,011 JEEenry Sneyd, who knew all —I bent down closer to hear to observe ,if it were possible, her features. While as I cud so, I half lover-like, and, perhaps, even in such circumstances, in a. too familiar wav placed my hand cr. her shoulder as I said, quietly—

’ -Cyrilla, w© meet here to talk of love. Come, why do- you not show me your pretty face? You know it- is the fairestsight on earth to- me. Come, I say, let me see it; unmask and let that cloak faLl. Come,” and as I spoke I endeavoured to remove her vizard with one hand! and to loosen the folds of the cloak with the other.

. Rut she was slippery -as an eel, and wriggled about so chat, as I could not hold her without;hurting her. I had perforce to let her go-, when like a lightning’s flash, she had gained the door in a. moment and was out of the room. Yet in the instant that she turned and fled the moon burst out in all her glory, and in the light which streamed through the window I saw that upon the shoulder of her velvet cloak there was imprinted the mark of a man’s' hand—-the- palm and finger's being plain and distinct —the mark 0? my hand, which had become whitened by contact with the freshly-cleaned wail (it not having yet received its final coating), and so had, next, made its impress on ther velvet.

And she .did not know it. That was very certain! 7 ' .. A little later peal alter peal was ringing front the groat hell hi the tower; for now it was midnight and' supper-time. Wherefore, all the men were assembled in the oldi banquet ting-hall, to which were now borne most splendid' visions. For, at : twelve o’clock, the ladies were to appear, unmasked and uncloaked: there was to be no more disguise that night. ’ So that we, the cavaliers; ing on either side of the. great saloon doors, were looking Ter ward eagerly to that most rapturous .sight. Then the dicor opened, and, by the varlots and headed by the old steward, they entered the room.

Because my Ladv Mountmort was of highest rank, Sir James advanced and led her to the chair placed on his right handi; my lord gave'his hand to Lady Hortensia Bulstrodo, who was daughter to a duke, and I selected Cyrilla for my nartner, she and I sitting facing herlady-

FellT her ladyship said, looking

the table at me, while there was a wicked sparkle in. jter eyes, “and have you won. your wager, my lord ?” - v ' -' - While, turning to those around who

were listening-—jand ©speed ally was Cyrilla listening, she doubtless wondering what had become of me for an hour of that evening—her ladyship continued—--My Lord Severn made me a bet- he would meet a certain lady in the picture gallery this night.. Did you do so ?” she asked again of me. “You know." she said, still with liar merry laugh, r T take your word. Yet —yet—I think I should have some proof.” -You can have, proof, and welcome,” I replied, very much at ease in spite of Cyriiia’s glances of surprise, -The lady wore a long dark cloak, .and on that cloak there is now' the mark which was. jvldtened-by theVwail'hgaihst ~v , whiGh-’; ' 3D^pTachd'"'it. 'ln the excitement A of a love passage it. in its turn, whitVj&k ened that cloak. You know who the. : h&lady- wagi; ask her to show you the cloalcg and you will see that I haveg wmSphy wager.” - % .go, .you see, I turned the tables on Lady Mountmort. who thought to ex- • tract the secret from me of when the Pr— I mean Mr Scott—was coming to the North (doubtless she did it at the instigation of her: turncoat husband), and I covered her with shame and confusion as with a, garment. For never shall I forget the look of consternation on her face as I told her how l had marked her —yet not with so much, shame and confusion as she merited, m common with all spies, since, with the exception of Gy rill a—to whom I had perforce to tell the storv later—not one person in all ' Saxondale ewer' learnt from me who tne lady was whose cloak got marked 011 the shoulder in such a strange v ay. though more than one,. including Cyriiia, was suspected; while, if you who read this narrative are yourself of the fair sex, you will probably understand quite well how, in some strange, mysterious way, that cloak was missing from the retiring-room after supper, and you will also comprehend that-none was ever , found bearing 011 it the traces of a man’s • hand in either whitening or any ot-qer chniky substance. As ’ for the spaniels, they' are. mostexcellent clogs, and accompany me whenever I no gunning. They came into up possession on the day the uVlcuntinorts left Saxondale.— ‘‘Glasgow Yve-ekiv Kg aid.”