THE PLAIN MISS KENT

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1680, 11 May 1904, Page 12

THE PLAIN MISS KENT

y (By Ada E. Jones.)

"If she were handsome, Noel, accomplished, fascinating l , possessed of even a moderate fortune, I could understand your infatuation. Bu't, ais it is, Misg Kent has neither money, good looks, nor captivating manners. Why, Noel, she is plain, plain to a degree——” « “Yon have said enough, mother. If you have no objection, we will not discuss Miss Kent’s appearance further.” “But, my dear boy, what reason can yon advance for wishing to marry her?” “A reason as old as the hills, mother. Because I love her.” “But what can you see ” “Ah, there I cannot help you. I cannot touch your eyes with, the magic philtre. mother ” “And you intend, to marry shortly?” ''Not for three months. I want to finish the commissions I have in hand; besides, Olive is still far from strong.” “In that case the wedding will take place in September ?” He nodded. ‘Yes, in September.” ’ Mrs Dalton glanced at her son, andl her mouth twitched as she saw his look of resolution. Why could she not move him, dissuade him from this rash judg- ,, xnent ? Tall, lithe, with chiselled features and. Icing, graceful limbs—-what an anomaly for so handsome a man to wish to marry a plain woman! “Noel, have you considered well what you are going to do ? You have such a love of beauty; all your life nothing ■would please you but perfection in your art. How, then, can you bear such close association, with an unlovely face?” “Beauty is of the soul, mother, as well as the body.”

'You're a painter, Noel, and pTobably see things others are blind to.” “Oh, you won’t be blind to Olive’s baauty, long. You must remember you saw her under very unfavourable circumstances. The poor girl had. just lost her mother*. She was worn out with, fatigue, grief anch anxiety.” “In other words, she w&si unbecomingly dressed, had red eyes, and a washed-out complexion. Clothe® do much, rest does more; but nothing can change Olive Kent from a plain woman into a passable-look-ing one.” - - Noel sighed and turned to the window.

“Let it end, mother, please.” he said firmly. “Nothing can alter my love for Olive. Plain or not, she is the one woman 1 want for my wife.” ’ ‘ Where is eke now?” “At her annfs. Poor girl,‘she is not very happy.” A curious light flashed into Mrs C'alton’s eyes at his words. She thought for a minute; then, her hand upon Noel’s shoulder, she said, with a sudden change of manner: "Why no-t ask her here, dear? If the marriage is inevitable I must submit "with a good grace- I ought to be better ac- ' quainted with my future daughter.” 'You will ask her, mother? That is very good of you.” “I will write to her this evening, dear.” Noel kissed his mother gratefully, and retired to write to the lady himself. Mrs Calton meantime penned an effusive invitation to Miss Kent. The wording of the epistle did not correspond with her feelings in the least. “I can’t make it out,’’ she said to herself. “Noel’s not in love with the girl, I’ll swear, and yet he’s determined to marry her. There’s a mystery at the bottom of it-—a mystery I’ll fathom. Anyway. I’ll ask Nora Heath field ~ere to meet her. Nora’s quite the loveliest i;:il I know, and unless I’m mnoli mistaken Noel won’t have any eyes for Olive while she’s near.” - With which, amiable •nfention Mrs Calton wrote to Nora and invitedi her “to moot Miss Olivo Kent.” The two girls weire to arrive the same day. Nora Heath field came early in the afternoon, looking delightfully cool and fresh in a dainty muslin gown. Mrs Calton received her with opene arms «nd they had tea together in the drawingroom. It was a quaint old room, oakpan f Jed, with wide window seats comfortably cushioned. Hoses heaped in china bowls filled the air with their sweet scent. Tnere was an nr oi lestf illness about the room' —no glaring toi-mvs, no discord in the harmony. It wits a perfect setting for a girl like Nora, instinct with life, glorious in youth and beau’ y As she leant against the lOgli-backr-d chair her brown hair piled in a soft mass on her dainty head, net blue eyes glowing with pleasure, she seemed to Mrs ( aiton the fairest thing she had gazed id fci many a long day. \Many were the schemes ’.hat flitt. fl through Mrs Calton’s clever head; under the white lace that did dluto for a cap. a hundred-and-one plans succeeded each other. . .. . Her dreams were broken by the sourc.. of wheels. She sat up, a spot of colour - in each cheek, her eyes curiously bright. '‘Here we are, mo'fcher, both of us fearfully tired. And I-—'” Noel broke off, looking from Nora to his mother, with a touch of surprise not unmixed with anger. -■ , - What a. pity he had not let Olive change her things before his mother saw her! Instinctively he drew a little in front of his'fiancee. Alajf! his .care was unavailing : nte “Olive my dear child, you must indleed - be tired) out. Such terrible weather, and kiii.'-35p«.K..heavy clothes.” With kind words that yet had a touch of' malice, Mrs Oalton drew her to the lights The sunshine seemed ’to search out and accentuate all her faults and failings; Her black dress, white with the. duet of a long railway journey, her faoe ; ' paler' even than usual, her eye® heavy and languid from fatigue, she looked, so Mrs Caiton thought, yasitively hideous. She; turned' with a little adf 1 * of triumph to Nora. 'You know my son, dear? No—well, then, let me introduce him.’ “You two girls must be great friends,” ahe went on sweetly, bringing Nora to

poor Olive’s side with a movement of her hand.

Side by side they stood, and instinctively Mr® Calton glanced at her son. Olive, tall, sad, travel-stained, her hat pushed in an unbecoming fashion low over her eyes, Nora, shorter by half a head, gowned in soft white—daintiness itself —her colour coming and going in her rotinded cheeks. If Noel saw the contrast he made-ho sign. Mrs Calton, never patient of results, felt annoyed. Drawing her son aside, she whispered: “She is very lovely, Noel, don’t you think so?”—smiling at Nora. “Of course,” Noel answered heir impressively. '. “I was sure you would admire Olive, mother.” “Olive!” murmured Mrs Oalton under her breath, and, considerably discomfited, suggested, that “Miss Kent might like to go to her room.” If Noel had been blind to Nora’s beauty, Olive was keenly alive to it. Before the looking-glass the woman with “neither good looks, money, nor captivating manners” contrased the lovely, girlish face with her own and felt the contrast bitterly. People were wont to ask why the Kent girl was so plain. Her features were good'; a small, straight nose well-cut mouth, skin creamy, with a faint pink colour in her cheeks, eyes large, dark, and lustrous.

Why, then, was she so ill to look upon?

With a sigh she took off her hat, and the secret of her plainness was revealed. Her hair was red, neither auburn nor chestnut, nor of the shade beloved by Titian, but a flaming, uncompromised red without a touch of brown or gold. The fact that it was naturally curly intensified its ugliness. It vulgarised her face, striking so sharp a discord that one forgot the refined features and delicate complexion and remembered only her red hair—the hair that barred her for ever from the ranks of the good-looking. It was as if on© stuck a flaming sunflower in a mass of- exquisite white lilies. And none knew this better than poor Olive. At times she felt as if she could no longer bear it. She decided over and over again to dye her hair —brown, black —anything rather than red. But she had never yefc possessed the courage of resolution. A lurking fear that it might turn gr-een in the process (she had read of such things) deterred. her. She muse bear the burden aa best she could'.

Once again—this time at dinner —the contrast between the two girls was pressed home by Mrs Calton. Noel, however, remained imperturbable. If his eyes feasted on Nora’s loveliness, his smile was for Olive—for Olive his tender care, a quiet watchfulness that all but maddened Mrs Oalton.

Perhaps the light in his sweetheart’s eyes was all sufficient. What matter how she looked so that h© loved her? Mrs Oalton was frankly puzzled.

The glory of July had passed into the heat of August, and still Noel showed no sign of falling in with Mrs Calton’s plan. True, he gazed with immisiakablo admiration at Nora; true, also, that he appeared to find pleasure in her society. But the anxious mother watched in vain for any sign of love on. his part. No; he was. if anything, more devoted to Olive, more inflexible in has resolve to hear no word to her detraction

And yet he diid not love the girl. Of that she was convinced. Why had he become engaged to her? For once Mrs Calton was right; love had not dictated Neel’s proposal, but what hi® motive hadi been she could not discover.

Matters had reached a point when Mrs Calton felt she could do no more. Hints, innuendoes with regard to poor Noel’s passion for a pretty face, met with no response from Olive save a smile of acquiescence. 'Ye®, she knew Noel loved beautiful things; so did she.” Once Mrs Calton dared to speak openly. 'You’re very fond of Noel, my dear,” she mid sweetly; “but—excuse an old) woman’s freedom—are you quite sure_ of him? I only ask for your good, Olive. Mien—even the best —are fickle, caught by a passing fancy for a pretty face ” She paused and gazed fixedly a)fc cue face, crimson from) brow to chin, before her. “Oh, that’s just it, Mrs Calton. Men too often mistake admiration for something deeper. For that very reason 1 am sure of Noel's love. He care® for me, not for my face.” For a moment Mrs Calton was halt convinced. Was it really so? Had the girl’s innate sweetness and steadfastness reallv won the love of a man likei Noel ? She shook her head. There was a mystery somewhere —a missing link in the chain. For all her son’s devotion—apparent, at any rate —she was convinced he did not really care for Olive.

And yet TT Mothor”—her son’s voice broke in on her reverie) —“if you’ve no objection, I’ll ask Jack Tremayue down for a bit. I haven’t seen him for ages, not since 1 met Olive.” -..

“I did not know he was in England, Noel.” “He arrived! last week—had a letter from him this morning.” “I shall be delighted to have him, dear. Yon and’ he have always been such chum®! Who know®,” Mrs Calton smiled archly, “he may fall in love with Nora.” If She expected! the suggestion to call forth an expression of disapprobation from her son Mrs Calton was disappointed. : ■ •• “By all means,” he returned! smiling. 'You’re a born matt,eli-maker, mother.” The mother watched him through the long French windows across the lawn, towards the rose-walk, where she knew Olive was waiting. “How blind,” she'murmured; “Oh, how blind.” . . , _. “Are you tired, dear?” Noel asked has sweetheart. “You’re looking paler than ever.” : “It’s the hot weather. The summer always upset® me.” “Don’t you think, perhaps, if you wor© something cooler,” with a glance at her heavy black dress. “Oh, Noel, I can’t wear colours—yet.” “Heaven forbid!” thought her lover,

with' an inward shudder at the thought of poor Olive arrayed i n blue or pink. “No, dear,” he said kindly. “Of course not, but I shouldi have thought white ”

“Very well,” said Olive—hi® slightest wish was law —and harried into the house to obey hie behest. But the white dress required certain alterations, and was not forthcoming till the next evening. Noel was sitting under the big copper beech, admiring Nora’s pofiie, noting the moonlight as it fell on the graceful bent head watching the pure White beams play about her neck and arms. Suddenly he looked towards the house. A tall figure in a clinging gown of white muslin came towards him. Out of a flimsy lace a glorious nair of eyes glanced at his own, a face exquisitely moulded, touched with carnation on the cheeks and Ups. “Good Heaven®—why, Olive is it you?” The white shawl slipped from her head —the strangely unearthly beauty of a moment sine© vanished 1 . “Didn’t you recognise me, Noel?” “Oh, it was the moonlight,” he said carelessly, and believed what ho said. Nevertiieless, she looked much better than usual, and Jack TTemayhe. who arrived late that evening, appeared quite favourably impressed. Not, however, until th© next day did Noel become communicative as to his love affair.

Now, it was a whim of Mr© Calton’s that a small conservatory opening out of the drawing-room should, whenever practicable, be used as a smoking-room. “It kills th© green flies,” ehe said pathetically, and aa usual her son acquiesced in the fad. It happened that on this particular afternoon Mrs .Oalton —a most unusual occurrence she declared —had fallen asleep on the drawing-room sofa. Nora was reaming about the ground®, and Olive had settled herself with a book in the library. The sound of voices recalled the hostess from har slumbers. She frowned; .then as she recognised the tones, started into waked: ulnesis.

It wa® Jack Tremiayne talking to Noel. “Well, od chap, if you want my candid opinion, I must frankly confess I am astonished 1 . Mind yon, I am eur© Miss Kent is as sweet a woman as even you—• fasti dons beggar that you are—could desire. But”—he shook his head—'“it’s a big but for you to swallow, Noel, and, frankly, I cau’t understand how you came to do it.”

“My dear fellow, love is proverbially blind.”

“Now don’t, Calton, there’s a good fellow. don’t. If I really believed you loved her—loved her as a. woman like that de<eerves —I should never raised' the question. If it were any other man —lots of fellows that I know—l should wish them joy with a clear conscience. But you—yori, with your eternal talk of the beautiful as more to be desired than anythin", it’s preposterous to think of such a thing.” “Then, in the name of Heaven, what do you think?” “I think,” said Jack slowly, “that Olive Kent is a sweet, tender-hearted girl, and that if ever a woman cared for a man she cares for you.” “You think I proposed to her ” “iSoft-hearteclues® —impulse.” 'Sneak out, Jack. Say what vou mean.” “Well, then, perhaps!——” “For pity’® sake—,is that it?”

Jack noddkd gravely. '‘Have I shown that in my manner. Have I been such a brute as that? Why, Jack, I wouldn’t hurt her for the world! Such a tender, loving heart.” “My dear boy, don’t be absurd. To most people you appear a model of devotion. I’m a bit scrutinising, that’s all. Besides, if not for that—why ?’* Noel laid Ms hand x pon the other’s shoulder.

“For the strongest of all reasons — gratitude. Hear me out,” he went on rapidly, “hear m© out. By God, Jack, there are times when I ask myself if I was mad*—a fool—a. raving idiot. At others, when I remember her devotion, her self-sacrifice, I seem to be the meanest cur on earth to dreaan 1 could have acted otherwise. You remember eighteen month® ago, just before you went to Africa, I started for Brittany on a sketching tour?” 'Yes—thought by your letters something happened to you there.” “It did. I took small-pox.” “Good Heavens, Noel, what did you do?”

“I was in a small village; the peasants fled from me Ike mad things, the cure wag but an old man, and there was not a nurse within twenty miles who could come. Olive and her mother were staying at th© village inn, and they heard what hiad happened to me. Olive—at the risk of her life—came and nursed me, saved my life—my reason almost, but for her I should have lost my sight.” “And she?” “The diseas© spared her, but her mother took it, fell ill, and died.” “Poor girl, poor girl 1” murmured Jack. “And now do you understand what I feel at the bare idea of breaking faith with her? And yet, strive as I will, I cannot love her a® I should. I shut my ©yes—she seems adorable. I open them— I see— —■” He paused. The sentence was finished for him. Olive’s red head appeared in the doorway; “I have heard all—every word,” she said slowly. “Not that I wished to listen, bull she, your mother, told me I wa® afraid to hear what you would say about me. I .was so confident—so sure of you •” for the first time her voice shook.

"Olive, forgive me, I didn’t mean it, my darling.” She stopped him with' a look. "I dk> not blame you, it was not your fault. Only it would have been kinder to leave me to suffer at the first. It might not have hurt so much then. Now—” She broke off with a ittle ctry. “I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe! she said. Then threw up her arms and fell at Noel’s feet. Her red hair held his eyes like a Stain of blood.

It was the last time he looked upou it. -» * * The next six weeks were purgatory to Noel Calccn. Olive, in the grip of a nervous fever, lay unconscious, it wag feared to death. The miserable young man only waited for the turning point of her illness, to shake off the dust of England and scarfc for the East, there to seek attraction if not to find relief from Lis re, hot sci. No sooner was the poor girl pronounced out of danger than he fled, unable to bear the thought of facing her. For just upon a year he was a wanderer upon the earth. Olive, his mother wrote, had left her and gone to stay with some relatives. She was, however, returning later. Olive had quite recovered, Mrs Calton said, but was much changed. Noel tormented himself as to what tee change might be. He missed her love and tenderness inexpressib 1 v. Again,and yet again, he told himself he was a fool, wilfully to have thrown away the anection of a woman like Olive. He hungered for her; time and again he started with the intention of seeking her, begging iorglveness, praying Um tc lie ms Wi.e.

And always hot on the resolution came the remembrance of 'hat terrible red hair ! Was ever a man so placed ? Lov_ ing a woman yet dreading to approach her. Ilow would it end ?

He had exhausted Turney in his sea ten for peace of mind', and turned his steps nearer home. In Baris he encountered an old chum, Charlie Conyers, of the Fore gn Office. “Dear me, Calton, where have you t i me from? Thought you were dead, you know. Awfuily glad to see you, old chap. What s the news? Oh, the Government’s resigned—my salary’s increased—there’s a ripping new piece on at the Gaiety, and your mother's chaperoning the loveliest thing in women that I’ve seen.” “Really? Wbat*& her' name?”

“Miss Kent—Miss Olive Kent. Do you knew her, old cliap?” Noel murmured an indistinct assent. “Did you say she was lovely, Conyers? Do you mean it?” “Me dear fellow, it’® not the word. Superb, unique, exquisite, I tell you -we’re all mad about her in town. She’s the fashion. Go and see her and judge for yourself. Lucky chap, I envy you, think o! the opportunities you’ll get of studying her face. Miss Keric’s refused a heap of offers' —you may have belter fortune.” Amazement is too mild a word by which to express Noel Gafton’s state of mind. Olive lovely—with her hair! Impossible! Granted her features, skin, complexion, eye®, were good, that terrible red hair obscured them all. ' Hi® artistic sensibilities revolted at the notion. And yet his mother had said Olive was much changed. 'What could it all mean ? de must g;o and see for himself. He would cross the Channel that same night.

Some few days later found Noel at a fashionable reception. He knew the hostess intimately, and bad desired lier, if possible, not to make his presence known. Lie did not state his reasons, but took his station neaiCtho window, where, shaded by the curtains, he could see yet not be seen

“I believe Miss Kent is to be Here this evening,”' remarked a young girl to her chaperon. “Is she so very pretty, Mrs Lennox ?” 'Beautiful, my deair.” “They say She’s refused ever so many offe s—l wordier why?” The chaperon smiled. "It’® quite a romance,” she answered. “I’ll tell you all about it. A year ago Olive Kent was not a beauty, but quite a plain-looking woman—l have it on the best authority. She was engaged to Noel Oalton, the clever artist you admire. so much. Ha lovecl the girl for th© sweetness of her disposition, but could not get over the colour of her hair. It was red, my deer, red a® fire and terribly disfiguring. She found out how much he disliked it, heard him say, ■ in fact, that be could not love bet because of it. The shock was so great that it threw her into a nervous fever. When she recovered ’ —M s Lennox paused. “There i® Mis® Kent herself just coni© in with Mrs Cadton. Look, and you will understand what happened for yourself” Noel turned at the words and glanced eagerly across the room. He saw a tall woman, exquisitely fair, dark eyes, and pencilled brows, soft tinted cheeks, a face radiant in form and beauty, framed! in an aureole of snow-white hair!

“But,” said the young girl, “how did it happen?” and she glanced at Olive’s head. - •

“Well, my dear, the doctors say it was that terrible nervoug fever she had altered the colour. But. in my opinion, it was love that diid it—love for the sweetheart, who adored her save Jot her hair. Yes, I am sure it was love. “As vou say. it is quite a romance. I wonder how it will end?”

Mrs Lennox laid her hand on the young girl’s arm. “Look,” ehe said as a tall figure passed them, “that is Noel Oalton he has gone to finish the romance Th© girl sat silent, watching Noel’s eager face, Olive’s sweet welcoming smile. “I think I know the ending,” she said Roftlv: “1 am sure that it will be ‘Lived bap/y ever after ” And it was*