Lael.

Otago Witness, Issue 1731, 24 January 1885, Page 24

Lael.

A FAIR WOMAN.

By the Authoress of " Little Mios Fairfax," " The Schoolmaster o( Alton," " JSoke's Wife,"" Hiß Word of Honour," " In Rank above Him," " Agatha, the Siren," "My Lady Janet," &c, &&•

Chapter IV. (Continued.) S COMFTON had been Rose's governess, and is now called her companion • a lady rather older than Lady Penglavon — short, brown, busy, clever, cheerful, good natured —a trifle common-place, taking the word with reserva-

tions. Sir Anthony Fulbrooke

Ib a portly man, with a Roman nose, a red and white complexion, a certain rotundity of person, and b9ad-like blaok eyeo. Sir Anthony is the richest man in the county — a bachelor of fifty-four, and desirous of making Rose Penglavon Lady Felbrooke. In this desire he is warmly seconded by Sir Michael, who has scarcely any fortune to give hia daughter, and who regards the sacrifice of her sweet youth as a fair barter and exchange for Fulbrooke Priory and an income of thirty thousand pounds. Lady Penglavon, who lives to please her husband, puts in her soft persuasions, and Miss Gompton preaches by the hour on the advantage of married happiness based on respect and esteem, as compared with the connubial bliss founded on that light, frothy esoence termed romantic love. Sir Anthony has not proposed yet to Rose — when he dose, make sure that be will get his answer. There is another visitor, a young gentleman, who carea more for shooting than for the society of his fellow-beings— his name is Charles Andrews, he is heir to a rich man, and might be a little in love with Rose Penglavon, if she did not persist in treating him as a boy. Rose carried the tea to her mother, lifted her baby brother, tossed and kissed him, and set him down again exultant on the rug.

" Allow ma to inquire what work you have been studying so earnestly?" paid portly Sir Anthony.

He took up the book, " ' Physical theory of another Life,' what a deep study for a young lady. I think th&t no matter how muoh we may speculate on such matters we are as far from the truth when we leave off as whon we began."

" I have heard that romark before," replied Rose, mischievously.

"Oh, certainly, certainly," said Sir Anthony.

" I by no means wish to — to, in short, lay claim to any particular originality of thought. I, in shart — ahem ! — I mean to say," added the baronet, growing very red, "that life appears to me too important to be, in short, wasted over speculations of a kind which lead, in short, to no result."

"Just my opinion," said Misa Compton. " It's exactly like those Spiritualists, who pretend to put you in communication with the dead ; it's the product of heated imagination, and idleness." ; ' "■ 1'"1 '"

" But this iB a busy, working age." said Rose. ' ' ■ ™'• '■■" ' " For men, my dear, but we w.onaen foa.vs rqany of us not enough to do to employ aw time' and thought, a,nd J think \t a pity to spend time in useless speculations," replied Miss Compton..

" X should like to see a ghoßt," said Rose, and her black eyes flashed brightly. Lady Penglavon uttered a little cry. " Oh, don't darling. You know, Sir Anthony, or do you not know, that we have a haunted gallery and suite of three rooms, where the ghost of a certain poor Lady Penglavon, a great aunt of Sir Michael, is Baid to walk— especially on windy nights like lasn» night. The servants are all afraid to^daffif through the gallery after dark, add' the rooW are only occupied wh,e» the house iB full, whidh" does not happen once in two years. I confesfj I should not like to Bleep in the ' red room ' myself. There is a terrible story connected w}tb it," she added, with a Uttle owvom

laugh. " People seem to have been so wicked ninety or a hundred years ago." "People b.we grown vory g;ood lately," nwmmi, darling,' said Rosa, looking fondly at her mother.

" I suppose the telegraph, and all the new discoveries of science must; have something to do with people's morals ?" said Mias Compton. There was a strange suiile on the red lips of Rose Penglavon—h?r bjack eyes were dreamy, fathomless, and exceedingly beautiful, as she looked towards tho blue draped windows and across the garden, over which the early shadows were gathering gloomily. "Talking of the telegraph, what a peculiar specimen of feminine loveliness that daughter of the postmaster at Cumdarou is," observed gawky young Andrews, laughing and blushing. " Her eyes look one through like stilettos," said Rose, bluntly. "Well, they're sharp enough," said the young gentleman ; " and she talks French like a native, as they say. I heard her jabbering to a Frenchman in the shop." f "A very superior young person,' said Sir Anthony, pompously. . " I ao seldom go into Cumdarou^ said Lady Penglavon, wearily ; "that street is so steep, and it's altogether a disagreeable little town." "I often ride in, Sir Anthony, aa you know," said Ro3e, "and I go often to tho post-office, and enjoy conversing with Jael. Sometimes she wears curls, sometimes plaits " " Do you like her, Rose 1" asked Lady Ponglavon; and there was something eager and startled in my lady's sweet voice. Rose gave her mother a frank look. " No, I distrust her thoroughly." " Oh, but my dear Rose, excuse me, you are •Ta uncharitable in your judgments," cried little TjlißsT jliBs Compton. " I know you are most bind"hearted, my dear, and you don't apeak from ill nature— it is your warm imagination which runs away with you. Your love of the wonderful is so fervid that you are perpetually on the look-out for a female saint or a demon masculine. You run into extremes, my love ; human beings are not angels or devils— it is so much wiser, Rose, to take your humanity as we find it, accepting the faults with the virtues, and hoping tho best." "I think if I might venture, in short, to make a remark," said Sir Anthony, " that the drama and the novel of the present day h?.ve much to answer for in creating, in short, a morbid— in short, a craving for excitement, and a love of, in short, extremes. A murderous heroine or a demoniacal hero are run after by the play-going and novel-reading public, and true art is lost sight of in this straining after sensation, while the homlier virtues sink into insignificance compared with those acts of heroism which do not offer an opportunity for their display more than once in a lifetime." The baronet coughed and drew a long sigh. He believed that he had acquitted himHelf nobly in regard to his speech. Miss Compton warmly applauded, but when that lady had finished repeating " Very true, Sir Anthony, you take a just view of them ; it would be well if the English public would profit by such wisdom," Rose said, in a cold, sweet voice : *' I have read all that times without number, Sir Anthony, in the reviews and papers, but all the same, people read sensational stories, and like sensational plays ; and as for myself, I think I know a wicked man or woman whan I have Been or spoken-to either a few times. Women asi cruel in their selfishness as the Lady'Audleys of fiction are to be met with constantly in the world. You read your Bible, I suppose, Sir Anthony ?" "I ? oh, certainly. I have morning prayers at Aberdelly regularly when I am at homo." " Very well, then, all through Holy Writ the extreme sinfulness of humanity is insisted on, is it not?" *' Oh J but that in totally different," cried Miss Compton ; " that means original sin of course. Everyone must give an account of his thoughts to God, of course; but meanwhile we must not judge one another too hardly, we "

Here the young heir of Penglavon, who had become tired of bis broken doll, flung it pettishly from him, heaved up his white shoulders and pink bows, and uttered a sharp cry, so that all the wisdom of Misß Compton'a words was drowned in the uproar.

Lady Penglavon rang for the nurse, and before Bhe appeared the great house bell rang loudly. "Papa has come home," said Rose.' But it waa not papa. A footman entered to announce that Mr Heathcote had brought a note from Dellorgan for Miss Penglavon. The note was picked off the salver by Hose. Did the white fingers tremble? Certainly the colour on the cheeks deepened, and the large bright eyes opened widely. Rosa broke seal, and read the note.

"It is from the Earl, mamma ; he knows I take an interest ia medicine, and am much of a female doctress among the poor folks. There is a certain volume in our library which he asks me to send by Mr Heaihcoto. I think I know where to find it. Have you asked Mr Heathcote into the library, John ?" 1 " " Yes, miss.?' • !' Ii there a fire there ?" " Yes, miss ; it was such a damp day that there are fires in all the rooms.?' '."That's right,"' and stately young Rose walked out of the drawing-room, and along the white-payed hall, to (he library ; a gloomy room, looking' into the' secluded part of the grounds where box hedges and Bhrubs grew close to the window, and Bhutout the remaining twilight. John soon lighted tfie gas, however, for Penglavon was only a mile from Cumdarou, and there were pipes laid on in nearly all the rooms. The sudden blaze lit up the handsomo, pale face of a young man of twenty-two, with fair hair and chiselled features. A certain nobility was stamped upon him — he was tall and stalwart, with thoughtful grey eyes, rather deep Bet. Those eyes brightened and then drooped when they met those of Rose. p^ "I am very sorry to trouble you, Miss Pen- ' glavon," began Heathcote. " - •? Oh I lam very glad you've come ; we were {laving a discussion, or' rather, my friends were ectiiring me on my love of the wonderful, and I was growing weary of it. Sjit dqwn, l^r Heathcote." They did not shake bands, there was an embarrassed manner on each side. Society, with its unflinching decision, would have settled the question at once and for ever, that there could be no romantic feeling between two young persons in such opposite Bpheres as Sir Michael Penglavon's daugnter and the Earl of Galverfc'o secretary. One would otherwise have suspected some incipient poem as commencing fts first stanza in one or both of those warm, young human hearts. As it was, nothing could have been wore dignified than the frank kindness of beautiful Rose, nothing more deferential than the courtesy of Wallace Heathcote. '« I know where to find the book," said Mr HeathGote, and then in spite of the deference on the one side, and the dignity on the other, the young gentleman and the young lady looked at each other as though oblivious of the fact that the latter was the daughter of a proud county family, and the former a paid secretary, a dependant, " an upper servant," as Sir Mioh&el would, have called him in hia scorn,

had be known that he dreamed and raved (to himself) of tbe divine charms of Rose Ponglavon, " It is on the third shelf," said Rose. " Shall I mount tho steps, Miss Penghvon?" " Piease. :)

She spoke coldly now, as if imposing a sudden check upon him, and upon herself. So be mounted the stops, secured the book, and stood on the carpet agaia bosido her. "Tho owl has turned student in his old days," said Rose, looking on iho carpet. *' Ye?, he is devoting his last years to botany, choxm&tiy, and medicine." " Dollorgau is a uoblo old place." said Rose. " I like the situation of Penglavon better. You have the sea close to you, and yet you are sheltered by the woods," was tha reply, " Dellorgan has Buch lovely nooks for picnicing—that was a delightful one the earl gave us Jast summer."

" Oh yes," -and the youth checked a sigh. Last summer these young persons had met for the first time, at a groat picnic given by the odd old oarl, who was very fond of his secretary. He had picked him up in Paris, whore Heatbooto was a medical studont at the time. The earl had a sudden fit of illness, through which the promptitude and skill of Heathcote pulled him safely. Chance thus threw the orphan youth and the rich earl together at first, and it ended in the young man accepting the post of secretary to the old noble, who always, or nearly always, treated him p.s a gentleman. " Thope pleasant times ought not to come too often," said Keathcoto, "they unfit; a man for work." " Pleasures and amusements ?" asked Rose. " Yes, Miss Penglavon " Rose had fancied he meant something else. " There is so much work to be done in the world," said Heathcote. " Have you dined?" asked Rose, suddenly. "No."

" Then the earl expects you ?" " The earl is in London, but will be back tomorrow, and I know he would want the book —he left the note for you ere he departed." " Then you rode over?" " Yes."

" And you will stay and dine ?" "No, thank you," said the young man, valiantly battling with tbe tumultuous joy that rose in his heart; "I have a horse, it's some way back, and I think there will be another storm." . " Oh, very well," said Rose, coldly ; and their hands just met. ■ Miss Ponglavon relapsed into dignity— nay kautcur — and while the young man went out to bis horse, v/ith the book under his arm, thinking Rose Penglavon a woman worth .•■■uffering martyrdom for, she returned to the drawing-room looking more stately than when fihe left it.

(To be Continued.)