THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 15184, 1 July 1911, Page 2

THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL . ARRANGEMENT.

By R. Murray Gilchrist, Author of " The Gentle Thespians," "Lords and Ladies," "The Wonderful Adventures !" , " Beggar's Manor," " The Secret Tontine, 1 ' etc., etc.

(Copyright.). CHAPTER I, ! It was a Saturday night in June, and ; on the morrow "The Travelling Thes- j pians" were to leave the little market , town, after a not unprofitable fortnight, during which the simple folk had been re- , galed with old-fashioned plays. The j heroines were played by young Anne Edge- : worth, who had joined the eompany at .the last stopping place. The engagement ■ ,was only temporary, her departure being ] conditional upon the return to health of Mrs Molyneux, who had honoured her ■ husband by giving birth to a son and heir. ■ After the performance—the play was 1 " The Lady of Lyons "-—Mr Molyneux, , I the manager, paid Miss Edgeworth,; whose name on vie .bills occurred as "Veronica j Delacour," and informed her, with some reluctance, that his good lady was now in a condition to return to the boards, and j that her own services were no longer required. " I'm sure you've done very well, my ('ear,'' lie said, "indeed, for a novice, I've never known anyone to equal you. If ever it lies in my power to do you a service, be sure and ask me. I wish that you might continue in the company, but there's no room for two leading ladies. However, you have, my good word, and ] I don't think you'll be out of an engage- j ment long." "You are very kind, Mr Molyneux," ' replied Anne. "I'm sorry to leave the company—we have been such good friends, i I hope that some day we may meet again." _ i < " And I, too, Miss Edgeworth," said ; he. "Am I —am I presuming if I ask ; what you propose doing?" "That is a question that ,1 can't answer,'' said Anne. "It is possiblethat ] I may 6tay here for a short time. I love the country—• i " You are tinlike most of our profes- ] sion, Miss Edgeworth—most of us hate ; any surroundings but the crowded streets ; ;>> "But I was born and bred in thecoun- ■ try, and I'm happiest there. My dear father used to tell me that ho too was < never content, except when amongst green l fields and woods." " And yet he was a distinguished ■ actor!" said Mr Molyneux. "Well, J ' chacun a son gout.' , I understand, Miss Edgeworth, that you are not entirely dependent upon what you earn?" , "I have a small income, sufficient to , live on in a small way,'' said Anne. " I am not sure that I shall follow up my , intention to act. I have greatly enjoyed f my experience with you all, it has been < very, pleasant, but sometimes I have i doubted my ability." ] "You have done very well, my dear," ( said the manager again. " I've not been , able to discover whether you possess the ' true fire; but I believe that in time you ; might become a very creditable member of the profession." . < "Creditable!" she exclaimed. ."Ah, i if that's all, I never wish to play again. , I shall turn my thoughts to something j else " - I Mr Molyneux eyed her with great ap- j proval. " You are a lucky girl to under- ; stand," he said. "And if you'll forgive | me for saying so —I'm old enough to be ( your father—you're a beautiful girl, too. , You will marry, and marry .well—l shall j hear of you as ' my lady ' some day." "Believe me, I'm quite without ambition in that way," 6aid she. " And now, Mr Molyneux, the last light is being turned out, and I must wish you goodbye." "Good-bye, my dear," said Mr Molyneux, accompanying her to" the door. "Good-bye, and God bless you." The inn where Anne Edgeworth was staying stood across' the' road; v he waved his hand as she passed into the shadow of the porch. Mrs Sparrow, the old landlady, opened the door and'admitted her to the hall. She was a kindly soul, and greatly interested in her beautiful guest. During the fortnight of " The Travelling Thespians'" 6tay, she had visited the theatre oil at least six occasions. " I was beginning to feel a bit anxious, Miss Delacour," she e»id, " and if you hadn't come 'era another five minutes, I'd have come across to see if aught was amiss. There's somebody called to see you —somebody as wouldn't be gainsa:(l." " To see me!" said Anne in astonishment. " I can see nobody—it's too late. Besides, I'm tired and sleepy—" "If 'tis a gentleman you're thinking of, you're wrong," said the hostess. "'Tis a lady, and I've shown her into your parlour. I don't know her business, but willy-nilly she's made up her mind to have speech with you." A winding staircase rose from the further end of the lobby; Anne ascended this' and opened the door of a bright room. The blinds were undrawn, and rich moonlight came through the bulls'eyed panes. On the central table a shaded lamp burned; beside it stood a little woman in motoring costume, with a thick veil covering her face. She was eager —anxious; Anne saw that her hands were trembling. . "Miss Delacour," said 'Hie stranger, " I was afraid that after all I might not seo you." Anne bowed. "That is my stage name,'' she said. "Mrs Sparrow told me that you wished for an interview.". "Do you mind if I close the door?" inquired the other. "You'll think me mad—but what I have to say is for your ears alone." CHAPTER IT. Tile door closed, the visitor removed her veil and undid the button of her cloAk, Anne saw that- she was about 50 years old, a pale, care-worn creature, with line dark eyes. She had a delicatc profile; it was easy to imagine that she had once been beautiful. The cloak fell to the floor—she wore a handsome gown of grey silk, and her neck was cncircled with a string of quaintly set diamonds. She was greatly agitated; for a full minute she stood trying, without avail, to speak. Anno took her arm and drew her to a chair. " You are not well," she said. " Let me get you some wine." " No, 110," stammered the lady. •' I want nothing—except your help. What I've come for seems so audacious that I can hardly find words." Then she caught tho girl's hand and held- it feverishly. "You are not a coward?" she said tremblingly. " 1 do not know," said Anne. " I have never been tried. Why do you ask?" " No matter—no matter. After all, I was wrong in coming—l have no right to involvo you in our troubles. 1 will go. Porgive me for my intrusion, Miss Delacoui 1 , and forget that I ever came." : Notwithstanding her words, her great eyes still bore an appealing look. Her distress touched Anne strangely. " " You wish mo to do something," she said. " 1.-don't know what it is. but if I can help you in any way, you have but to ask. If I cannot—l will tell you plainly.''. " It is too great a thing that I wanted you to do, Miss Delacour. In spite of the burden that lies upon me, I . must not ask you to lighten it." " My name is not Delaconr,'' said Anne. "Delacour is only a stage name;my name is really Anne Edgeworth." The lady started suddenly. "You are surely not John Edgeworth's daughter!" she said in an amazed voice. " Tt cannot be—and yet—and yet- that wonld account for the likeness to " "My father was John Edgewort.il, the actor," fjaid tho girl. " You knew him ?" " He was my own cousin," replied the lady in a hushed voice. "Did he ever speak of Lady Caroline Cassilis?"" "Yes," said'• Anne. "Only a little while before lie'died he told me of his relations, and of how he had been disinherited because he chose the stage for his career." " He was proud beyond belief,''' said the other. "My.God, how strange it is that von and I should meet in this fashion! Your father cut himself away from all hi 3 folk. I would-most' willingly ■

have kept up a correspondence with him —we had been children together—there was one time'when—when they-said:that he and ] might marry. Hut my father came between us, and wo Darted forever.'" She roso and laid a hand oil Anne's shoulder. "I was motoring through the town this morning," she said, "and I saw you for the first time. You were entering the theatre—l understood that yoii must be playing there. I cannot describe the amazement I felt—for one moment I believ>l that Sylvia—my niece, was engaged in some girlish escapade. But that could not be, since I had left her at home only an hour before. And in the evening I came to see you play, and my wonder grew and grew. I learned that you were staying here, and determined to throw myself upon your mercy." Anne was still bewildered by this curious unexpected relationship. "What is it you wish?" she said. "How can I help you in any way?" "You can-cease playing—can give up yo'ir engagement at once," said Lady Caroline. " My engagement is done with," replied Anne. "You have seen my last performance on the stage,'' "Ah, I am glad—gladder than I can say. You played gracefully, but—you'll forgive ine—you've little of your father's genius." "I know it,'' said Anne. "And since I could, never excel I mean to play no more." "And what have you in mind?'' asked Lady Caroline. "Don't forget that lam your kinswoman, and have a right to ask. if your father had let me, I would have been your friend—l would have loved you almost as if you had been my own child." "As yet I have no settled plans," said Anne. *"I am not without money—my dear father left me enough to, bring in two hundred a year. 1 shall be comfortable enough." A tall grandfather's clock that stood between the two windows wheezed and struck tho half-hour afl,er 11. Lady Caroh'ne gave a little cry of distress. V It is late, and Sylvia will be terribly ilarmed. I did not tell her why I left home," she said. "I must go at once, but I cannot leave you until I have got your promise.'' "What promise?" said lAnne. "I do not'know yet what you want of me." "I want you to come to us—now—tonight—to come and help us. You will not hesitate—we are in frightful trouble—and have no' friends of whom we dare ask assistance." " I cannot como now," said Anne. "Give mo time to think." Lady Caroline wrung her hands. "Every moment is of importance," she said excitedly. " Sometimes I feel that I cannot endure this shadow any longer; I shall go mad in very truth if it is not removed." " Let me have a few hours' rest," said Anne. " To-morrow—if you will—l'll do what you wish. Tonight I feel tired to death!" The lady caught both her hands and drew] her nearer. " I know that you will save us," she said. "You are strong— Jrou are clever—you have better wits than Sylvia and I together. In the morning I'll send some messenger whom I can trust —promise me to do all that I suggest." " I promise," said Anne. " Whatever I can do shall be done." Lady Caroline kissed her feverishly. " I'll be your friend, and more than your friend, as long as I live," 6ho said. She moved towards the door, refusing to permit Anne to accompany her downstairs. On the threshold she paused, and drew in her breath sharply, then passed out of sight. A minute afterwards Anne heard the'noise of a motor,' and looking from the window saw her enter a handsome car, which soon passed beyond the turn in the street. CHAPTER 111. The window of Anne's bedchamber overlooked the courtyard of the inn. For all her fatigue, tho girl found herself. quite unable to sleep, and after an hour's restleas tossing in the ponderous four-poster, she rose, slipped on a dressing-gown, and sat on the window seat, looking out upon the night. Her- brain.,was excited—she was lull of curiosity concerning her strango visitor, and the strange promise she had exacted.■. The fact that\Lady Caroline was a relation gave her little surboth her father and her mother's 6ide she was connected with some of the oldest English families. It was the lady's agitation that puzzled her—the almost passionate demand for help. But all her thoughts camo to nothing, and, just, as she had made up her ,mind to return to bed, she fell fast asleep, and did not waken until the bells of a church near by began to ring for early com-, miniion. The- sun was shining warmly into the room. She looked at her watch, and found that it was not yet 7 o'clock. As 'Lady Caroline had spoken of no fixed time for the appearance of her messenger, she judged it best to pack her trunks.at once, so that sta might be in readiness at any moment; and just as the second and last was finished, Mrs Sparrow herself knocked at the door and entered. " There's a letter for you, miss. I've just found it in the letter-box, and Lord knows how it has come. 1 thought maybe you'd best have it at once." Her pleasant countenance grew melancholy when she saw what Anne had been doing. "Why, bless me, you don't mean to leave to-day!" she said. " Nay, 1 do hope as you'll bide with me a bit longer." " I don't know yet," Anne replied. " I may have to go—it all depends on what this letter contains. 1 shall be sorry to leave here—you've been very kind in every way." "I've been glad to have you, miss,and that's no flattery," said Mrs Sparrow. But I'll not stand talking here; 1 must go and see after your breakfast. 1 ' When she had disappeared, Anne broke tho seal, opened the envelopo, and brought to light a sheet of notepaper covered with fine Italian handwriting. My dear (she read) i am writing this within an hour of leaving you at the • inn, and it is to be sent by a trusted servant in the dark hours. Y'ou will not be afraid when I tell yon that I wish your coming to be unknown to any outsider. My suggestion is this — that you leave the town by the 10.30 train for Wickham Junction, and that you change there for Lytton. Delaval, and at the latter place leave your luggage in tho cloak room. Then, from tho station you might walk along as far, as the church, where you will see a closed car waiting beside the lychgate, and thereby know that I am at morning service. Go past the church and take the first road on tho left. After you have walked about a mile you will come to a grove of trees in a hollow, and there I will come with the car and we will ride together to tho house. The grove is remotely situated, and it is exceedingly improbable that our meeting will be seen. Later your trunks will be sent for. 1 am afraid that J am writing incoherently; but at present 1 am filled with the thought of the help you'll bring us, and of the pleasure—half painful—l felt in meeting your father's daughter. I will tell you everything before another night has passed.'' t'od grant that you do not flinch and tcave ns to our fate. But something tells'mo that you will serve us, and that I shall have occasion in tho future to bless tho hour that brought us together.—Your kinswoman, Cahounk Cassilis. This curious letter filled Anne with perplexity; she oven began to feel doubts concerning Lady Caroline's sanity. But she had promised, and there was no drawing back; so, soon after 10, Mrs Sparrow's dogcart was brought to the front, and she drove to the little station, and entered a train in which she seemed to ho the only passenger. An hour later, after a singularly tedious journey, she found herself walking up the steep high street of Lytton Del.aval—a quaint, old-fashioned village,' with " magpie" houses of plaster and jet-black oak. The church rose from a belt of beeches: white pigeons circled around tho slender spire, Before the covered gateway stood the car Anno had seen on the preceding evening. She went on-hurriedly, soon reached the" further end of the'village, and turned down- a wide road whose hedges were bright with wild rosei). For a quarter of an hour she walked onward, then, finding herself midway through a little wood, she sat on a great moss-covered stone that ■huruj; over a crystal clear streamlet. She

had not been there a minute hvforc she heard the sound of a car, and rifling, found herself looking into Lady Caroline's face. " Come in at once, my dear, 1 ' she said, looking round anxiously. "There is nobody spying—it is of vital importance that your arrival should not he known to the country folk." Anno obeyed, and the car re-started, soon passing through a fine.archway, on whoso pediment two great pelicans supported a shield covered with armorial bearings. A long, winding avenue passed through the well-watered park, to terminate at the massive wrought gates of an old-world garden. The car, however, turned abruptly to the right, and skirting the front of the house, passed direct into an open hall, where the two passengers alighted. In another moment the car backed out, and Lady Caroline took Anne's arm. "The servants are all at dinner," she said, "and we can easily get to my room without anybody's knowledge. Come this way—yon don't mind being left alone for a short time?" On Anne's assurance that she was not afraid, she conducted her up a stone staircaso, unlocked a door at the top, and led her along a narrow gallery, all hung with ianciout pictures, to a-small boudoir that overlooked the garden. This was the quaintest, prettiest room the girl had over seen—scarce a thing in it but seemed til belong to the eighteenth century. The walls were covered - with Chinese paper— the .design showing marvellous birds, plants in huge vases, mandarins most gorgeously attired, and ladies fatuously smiling at their tiny feet. ,"Do as you please here,'' said Lady Caroline. "If you wish to read, you'll find plenty of magazines. I'm going now to tell Sylvia that you are come—you will see her before many minutes have passed. I-7-I will lock the door so a 6 to make certain of nobody seeing you." CHAPTER IV. Lady Caroline closed the door; Anne heard the turning of a key. She took up one of tho magazines, but found it impossible to read, and after a short time she went to the window, and looked out upon the undulating beauty of the park. It was concave in form, its edge fringed everywhere with deep woodland. On the lawns fallow deer were grazing, and curious wild-fowl now and then swam across the gleaming surface of the great lake. It seemed as though everything trembled in tho hot sun-haze. Meanwhile her ladyship had descended a staircase at the near end of the gallery; and after passing through a hall lined with ancient tapestry, entered the library, a vast room with windows opening to an inner court. A girl rose to meet her—a beautiful girl with a white, troubled face. " You have brought her, Aunt Caroline?" she said faintly. "Where is she? —for heaven's sake let mo seo her at once." "You must calm yourself,. my dear Sylvia, l ' said Lady Caroline, soothingly. " It would never do for you to let her see you so excited. She is in the Chinese room; I've locked the door so that none of, the women" may go in. You'll like her as much as I do; she's a wonderful girl." '"And you aro sure that she is really like me?" said her niece. "It seems almost a miracle." " The resemblance is astonishing—the height, the colour of hair and eyes, tho complexion are exactly the hame. The voice is, too, as bright and ringing as yours was before this trouble came into our lives. She might be your own twin sister.'' t • "Let me see her now, Aunt Caroline; I don't feel as if I can breathe freely until I know for myself if she can—if she will help us." "You need not be afraid, my dear. She is courageous—l'm certain that her courage will never fail! When I was a girl—as'young as you are now—l used to think her father the bravest man in the world. Come, let us go; yon shall judge for yourself," As they reached the gallery the girl paused and covered her face with her hands. " I have no right to ask such a sacrifice of her!" she said in a low voice.

" It is cruel to involve anyone in so horriblo a trouble!'' Lady Caroline kissed the pale, anguished face. "Wo will tell her all," she said, "and she shall decide. I do not believe that she will fail us. I feel that in her we have as true a friend as we shall ever know. Don't be afraid, my dearest, 6ho is a girl like yourself. Come, she must have- heard us speaking, I cannot keep her waiting any longer." She unlocked the door, drew her companion into the room, and turned the key again. Anne came from tho window to moet them. At sight of Lady Caroline and her companion she gave a little cry of wonder. The resemblance was so perfect that, she might have been looking upon her own reflection. "Here is Sylvia," said Lady Caroline. "She is the last of her family, and Countess of Delaval in her own right. Sylvia, your cousin, Mies Anne Edgeworth." Lady Delaval advanced towards Anne. " I do not know what I can say to you,'' she murmured. " Exeeptr-except that I thank you more than I can tell for coming. Whether or not you can help me, it is good to see you, to know that you are brave." There was something so touching in Ihe girl's timidity that Anne's heart went out to her. "I am not brave," she said, "it is Lady Caroline alone who thinks me brave. But if I can help you, I promise to do so with all my soul." Lady Delaval put an arm around her waist and drew her to a lacqueredframed mirror. "If you and I were •dressed alike, could anyone in tho world tell us apart?" she whispered. "In everything we seem the same—in everything save that your eyes are not tired •like mine with weeping. Ah! Miss Edgeworth, if you but knew how I suffer!' Meanwhile Lady Caroline paced to and fro ever and anon looking at the two beautiful girls and their counterfeit presentment in the old glass. Some, bond seemed loosened in her bosom; she felt herself able to breathe more freely. '' It is almost beyond human belief," she said. "Even the voices are the same —Miss Edgeworth—what do you think of the Hkenesß?" " Do not call me Miss Edgeworth, Lady Caroline. Call me Anne. Somehow, this seems no time for formality. Anything you ask me to do for Lady Delaval, I shall do." " But you must call me Sylvia,'' said the young countess. " Anne, you will call me Sylvia." "If you wish it, Sylvia. Now tell me what I am hero for? I'm ready any moment to begin." Lady Caroline came closer and took Anne's hand. " Suppose that you were asked—to take—for a certain time—Sylvia's identity—to be Sylvia to all the world," she said slowly. Anno looked from one to the other, and read the suspense in which they awaited her answer. "Yes,"' she said.at last, "I'll do it, whatever it may cost." CHAPTER V. The colour rose to tho young countess's cheeks; a bright sparkle came to her eyes. She turned and kissed Anne impulsively. " I shall feel afraid no longer with you as my friend," she cried. "It is wonderful—like a dream, that you should be able to help me. I'll not talk about gratitude —that must come afterwards " They heard the sound of a gong. Lady Caroline moved towards the door, then paused suddenly. " It would be folly if I let you appear yet,'' she.said to Anne. "Would you mind being left alone for a short time? There is a little cabinet opening out of this, which an ancestor of ours devoted to his collection of cameos, None of the servants are allowed to enter—you will be absolutely private there." She unlocked a door, and showed her a small chamber lined with glass. '.".I will come up very soon with 'some food," she explained. "Afterwards, I promise you decent meals." Anne laughed pleasantly, and entered the room; Lady Caroline locked the door again, and with Sylvia went down to the dining parlour..,- The stately;qld b'ntler, a fine robust, creature, with 'well-coloured nose, was directed to prepare a small tray. ?,...- -,-.'• ;' : s /"■'.,.•>■ "I have brought a young lady back from.Lytton Delaval," said Lady Caroline. "She is to be Lady Delaval'scompanion. You need not trouble, Carter, to take tho tray away. I myself will carry it. She is a little tired after her journey.'' At table Sylvia was strangely excited. She wanted to talk of the • nowcomer, wanted to speculate upon: what form her assistance might take. More than once Anne's name was on the tip of her tongue, and only suppressed by her aunt's warning glance. Lady Caroline talked agreeably, as though nothing distracted her mind, until they had drunk their coffee and were ready to retire. Anne was released from her confinement, and soon, being hungry, was enjoying hor food, whilst her two new friends sat together talking in low voices by the window. When the meal was finished Lady Caroline bogged her to join them, after vainly asking her to drink more wine. " Let us talk now about what must be done," she said. " You havo promised to become Lady Delaval for a time, and now the problem is what's to become of Sylvia herself. We must put our wits together and discover some solution." "If I am to be Lady Delaval, then Lady Delaval may become Anne Edgeworth," said Anne. " That would surely be the easiest thing." For half an hour they talked in low voices, and then Lady Caroline rang a bell. Anne retired to the cameo ,room; through the open doorway she -heard her ladyship give orders for the chauffeur to go to Lytton Delaval station for the trunks. "Watkins is one of the few men I can trust to hold his tongue," she explained to Anno later. "He was the head coachman here when I was as young as you, and he's loyal in the old-fashioned way. Ho would give his life to 6erve the family. He will be back in less than an hour, and then we can do what we have spoken of, Ono confidant we must havo—Sylvia's maid—a good soul, who won't fail us. . I'll have her here at once," Soon a stout middle-aged woman dressed in black, with muslin apron and cap, appeared. At sight ,6f Anne she foil back in amazement. "Bless us all!" she said under her breath. " Whoever can it be? The very marrow of her ladyship!" Lady Dolaval laughed almost brightly. "It is my cousin, Miss Edgeworth,"she said. "'Anne, this is Sorly, who has looked after mo ever since I was a little child, Sit down, Sorly, we have something important to tell you.'' " I hope 'tis good news, my lady," said the maid. Sho eat on tho edge of a lacquered chair, her hands folded in her lap. It was Lady Carolino who told her in as few words as possible what they purposed doing. "This afternoon Miss Edgeworth is to become Lady .Delaval," she said, "and Lady Delaval Miss Edgeworth. You are the only one in the house who'll know the secret, and you must be on your guard to keep tho others from suspecting." Mrs Sorly lifted a corner of her apron and wiped her cheeks. " I've known for long as trouble was brewing,", she said, " but for sure I never thought 'twould come to this." " It's no use crying," said Lady Delaval impatiently. "Remember, Sorly, that we're all depending on yon." "And so you may do,'' cried the honest woman. " You're not going to have Sorly fail you after she's tended you so long. But this masquerading does goto •my heart for sure. 'Twill be for all the world like a stage play!" Lady Caroline slowly unfastened a little bag that hung from her belt, and drew out a letter. "Read this, Sorly,' she said. " Read this, and perhaps you'll understand better." Sorly donned a pair of spectacles and unfolded tho sheet. Anne, watching her face, saw tho ruddiness all disappear and a grey pallor sproad from brow to chin. " Oh, tho villain !" she groaned. "The villain! Alivo instead of rotting under the sea!"

ITn hfl continued.)