Chapter XII. In which Nora Forgets Herself. THE NOVELIST. CROESUS WIDOW.

Otago Witness, Issue 1601, 29 July 1882, Page 25

Chapter XII. In which Nora Forgets Herself.

THE NOVELIST.

CROESUS WIDOW.

By Dora Rcssem.

Author [of 'Footprints in the Snow,* 'The Yicar'fl Governess,' &c, &o.

went the next day to Roseland. He went in the evening, and to his great annoyance found 'that wicked old woman,' as he had mentally called Lady Stainbrooke so many times the night before, sitting admiring the sunset in the rose-garden with her husband and Nora. Lady Stainbrooke was in good humour, for she had just enjoyed a good dinner, and she held out her yellow claw-like hand, glittering with the diamonds she had contrived to pick up during her long sojourn in India, to welcome the painter as he approached them. But Vyner did not take it. He shook hands 1 with Nora and Sir Thomas, but bowed coldly enough to her ladyship, who however only gave a little laugh. ' What,' said she, ' have I offended you ? ' 'We never were very good friends, Lady Stainbrooke,' answered vyner. 'No, no,' said Lady Stainbrooke, nodding her head. ' All the same, in your inmost heart I believe you must feel verj[ much obliged to me.' And again Lady Stainbrooke laughed, this time with rather a wicked ring in it, for she believed that Vyner came courting Nora for the money that John Trelawn had left behind. Vyner quite understood her little insinuation. He stood there grim, pale, and hand* some, looking at this 'miserable old woman,' as he was mentally designating her, and wishing her— well, the oainter was angry, so we need not follow all his thoughts. But Nora tried to be a peace-maker. • Even Lady Stainbrooke is charmed with my roses, Mr Vyner,' she said, Bmiling. ' Of course I am, my dear,' said that lady. 'I am charmed with your roses because they ; are pretty, and are cared for by a good gardener, for whom you can afford to pay. And I am charmed also with your cows and with your ducks and chickens, because they, too, have everything they require. But I would not be charmed with any of them if they were not merely a whim of a rich woman — ruralising for amusement, and ruralising for life, are two very, different things;' ' Mr Vyner has not" seen my, cows, nor my ducks and chickens, aunt, which you despise,' Baid'Nora. 'Shall we show them to him now?'

'I am very well where I am, my dear,' answered her aunt drily. ' I should like of all thing to see them,' said Vyner eagerly. 4 Gome with me, then,' said Nora, and as the , painter followed her, Lady Staiqbrooke rose and screamed her opinion into her deaf General's ear.

'My opinion is,' she said, 'that Nora will make a fool of herself and marry that man ! It is a thousand pities, when Lord Seaforth would, I am sure, be, only too glad to have her.' 'What folly! 'said the General testily in reply. ' What makes you think, madam, she will take this painter fellow?' •Because,' answered Lady Stainbrooke grimly, * she is insane enough, I believe, to be in love.' The General grunted. This couple were not in lOve with each other— had not Tbeen in love for thirty years. They snarled, at each other, and were very clear-eyed about each other's faults, but they went on living with each other —in all probability would so five on until two of their bleared and worldly eyes were closed for evermore. That these would be the General's eyes Lady Stainbrooke was very happily persuaded. She frequently talked of ' when I'm a widow,' but the old man was in no hurry to place her in that position. Meanwhile let us follow Nora and Vyner. Nora went bareheaded, with a rosy flush on her soft cheeks, and with her eyes cast down so that she never noticed how pale Vyner was, or how gloomy, as he walked by her side. Nora's cows lived in a little field at one side of the rose-garden, separated from it by a highly ornamental paling which was thickly trained with rose-trees. A rustic gateway led through this paling to the field beyond, but as Nora laid her hand on the gate to open it Vyner prevented her. ' I do not really care about seeing your cows, Nora,' he said, wtth rather a painful smile. ' Will you put on your hat and walk down by the river with me? I— l— have something 'to say to you.' Nora looked up surprised. Then she saw how pale and agitated Vyner really was, and she at once did what he asked.

1 Wait here for me a moment then,' she said, and she went into the house for her hat, while Vyner, leaning on the paling, was nerving himself for the bitter task before him.

He looked round when he heard her return, and [then, without a word, the two together quitted the grounds of Roseland. They went down by the darkening rirer, for the sun had set now, and dusky shadows were falling on the water. Still in silence. Nora was nervous, and Vyner trying to frame his cruel news in gentle words. Then with sudden passion and abruptness he spoke, feeling that gentle words were vain. ' Nora,' he said, ' I have come to tell you something to-night that I would rather tear my tongue from my mouth than utter.' ' What is it, Walter ? ' asked Nora, trembling. • Let me go back,' said Vyner, still in the same agitated and passion-broken voice, 'to the days long ago— to the days when you were a young giri, and— and I loved you then, Nora.' Nora did not speak. She put her hand softly on the painter's arm. 'I went back to Warbrooke,' continued Vyner, ' to ask you to be my wife. I was poor then— a man who had a struggle to live— but something in your face had told me that you were a good woman— thatyou would marry a man because you loved him, and not because he was rich.' ' You know how it was,' said Nora, in a low tone. 'I am coming to that. I went back to Warbrooke then, and found that you wers gone. I was received coldly enough at your father's house, but I learned in the little town that you had gone to live with your father's sister, Lady Stainbrooke, in London, and that you were expected by your family to make a good marriage there.' ' You did not believe that J '

' No, I did not. I told myself the little girl I love will do nothing of the kind— she will wait for me— wait till I can make a home for her. 1

Vyner's voice broke here, and Nora clasped his arm closer.

'Hush,' she said, .'do not talk of these painful things. They are all .over now. My poor husband is dead now.' ♦ Yes ' said Vyner bitterly, ' and you are free ! The cursed lie that Lady Stainbrooke invented to part us, was not true as you know then, Nora, but now " ' There is no lie to part us now, Walter,' said Nora, firmly. ( I am free and you are free— — 'No!' interrupted Vyner hoarsely, that wicked, miserable old woman's work is not yet done. Nora, months and months ago— when you were Mr Trelawn's wife— there crossed my path a woman— l believe a good woman . But Nora stopped him with a sudden cry. ' You are not married ! ' she said. Walter, tell me (and she clung with trembling hands to his arm), ' surely you are not married ? 1 No,' he answered, averting his eyes from her frightened, appealing face, ' not married, but bound by a promise that I cannot break, i Nora grew faint and cold. 'It cannot be,' she said, still clinging to his arm. ' Walter, it cannot be ! ' « What can I say, Nora ? ' answered Vyner, clasping her cold and nerveless hand. 'You lenow how it is— l cared for you long ago— l care for you now— but we are parted. In a moment of madness I think— feeling sad, lonely, and dissatisfied with my lot, I asked Margaret Blythe to be my wife. She is a good woman— I have nothing to say against her— but when I saw you again I knew I had made a fatal mistake.' , „ ! Nora could not now control the bitter emotion of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears, arid the trembled so violently, that Vyner asked her to sit down on the river bank. It was a very lonely spot where they were, and as they sat down, with a sorb of moan Nora covered her face with her hand. ' I have suffered so much,' she said, * no one knows how much, in those long years— and now— now ' There was a weary hopelessness m her tone, whioh touched Vyner to the quick. •If I could do anything, Nora,' he said, earnestly, 'anything, anything, I. would do it. But Margaret Blythe is poor— l got to know her through a friend who thought that perhaps in time she might become an illustrator_ of books, and so introduced her to me to see if I could push her on. This very fact— her poverty —makes it more difficult ' •Still, perhaps, if she knew,' said Nora, looking up; ' knew that long ago we cared for each other so much, and that we were only parted by a wicked, wicked invention ' Vyner was silent. He was a proud man— with a rough and honest pride, and bearing a good name among his fellows— and he was thinking even if Margaret consented to their engagement' being broken off, what would the world say? To throw over a poor girl for a very rich woman ! Yes, he knew what it would cay; tor Nora's sake he would have borne much— but Margaret 1 You think ft would be cruel to ask her,' faltered Nora. 'I do not know what to say. Her father spoke to me the other night about fixing the time for our marriage. This determined me to {tell you— l should never have come near 'you. Nora— never— but I was weak ' They sat there together, after this, almost in ', silence. The great broad river kept rolling on before them, the twilight crept around them, but still they scarcely spoke. Nora felt miserably unhappy. She had loved Vyner so deeply all the long years of her wedded life, and she had never forgotten him. The handsome face that had been her beau-ideal of her girlhood was her beau-ideal still. And now when she had dreamed, nay, been sure of happiness—to have it all snatcked away— all, and nothing left ! At last she rose. 'Are you going now? 1 said Vyner, turning his head towards her ; and looking at him she saw how haggard his face was, how worn and grief-lined. There was a great struggle in his heart. Honour or dishonour ? To forsake Margaretdishonour ; to leave Nora— a long, weary, loveless life. ' Perhaps you will write ?' said Nora, in a low tone, as they walked on by the river edge towards Roseland. ' Yes,' answered Vyner, speaking as with an effort. 'I will see Margaret— l will let you know what she says.' « You will tell her— the truth ?'

' Yes,' again answered Vyner, and without any further words on the subject of absorbing interest in both their hearts, they parted at the gate of Roseland. As Nora walked through the garden a feeling of great and bitter anger rose in her heart against her aunt, Lady Stainbrooke. 'She has caused all this,' she thought; 'all the misery of my life. I might have been a happy woman but for her false and lying tongue.' Full of her wrongs she entered the house. She could see as she crossed under the verandah her aunt sitting in the pretty and luxurious drawing-room beyond. Lady Stainbrooke was lying back in an easy chair, with her feet very comfortably cushioned on a low chair before her, reading some very piquant novel, for Lady Stainbrooke loved properly veiled immorality well. She was, therefore, thoroughly enjoying her novel, by the aid of the double glasses which before her family she now generally|wo*e. Then flushed, passionate, angry, Nora entered the room, and Lady Stainbrooke looked up and peered at her curiously through her glasses. ' Well, my dear,' she said, ' and what have you done with your painter ?' 'You are a wicked woman, Aunt Stainbrooke 1' answered Nora to the great astonishment of that lady, ' a bad, wicked woman, and I wish I had never seen your face !' Lady Stainbrooke put down her ugly little feet, and removed her double glasses with a jerk.

'You forget yourself Nora, my dear,' she said — ' utterly forget yourself.' ' Not so utterly as you forgot yourself,' retorted Nora, ' when you invented that wicked falsehood long ago about Mr Vyner.'

'Oh ! that old story !' said Lady Stainbrooke, shrugging her shoulders. ' Bah !my dear, do not be so absurd. What do you want? If you want this Vyner he is ready to go on his knees to you— yes, a deal faster than when he went when you were a penniless girl.' That is all you know,' said Nora, standing before her aunt pale and trembling, ' but you behove in nothing good or nothing true— you have spoilt my life !' And Nora having said this, turned and left the room. Then Lady Stainbrooke rose and approached her General, who had not heard a single word that had passed between the two ladies. 'Did you hear what Nora said, General?' shouted Lady Stainbrooke in her husband's ear. ' She has utterly forgotten herself— utterly forgotten what is due to me, and I shall leave the house at once, and you must come with me.'

But Sir Thomas had no idea of turning out of such comfortable quarters on so short a notice.

' What do you say, madam ?' he said. • Leave the house at onco for some foolish woman's quarrel? Not I. What on earth have you and Nora been rowing about ?'

♦I was not rowing,' shouted Lady Stainbrooke, with an attempt at dignity. Nora has forgotten herself— she has had some quarrel with this Vyner, and so she chose to attack me. But she may marry him— l give her up, after all I have done for her— l wash my hands of her, and I will order the carriage, and return to town, and certainly you will not refuse to go with me?' ' But I certainly shall,' answered the General, who was not going to expose his aching bones to the damp air by the river at this time of night. * I shall encourage no such folly. If you choose to go, go— but don't expect me to be such a fool as to go with you.' . ' You are contemptible !' hissed Lady Stainbrooke, and then in a towering rage she walked out of the room, and very shortly afterwards out of the house.