THE JOSS: A REVERSION,

Otago Witness, Issue 2456, 17 April 1901, Page 57

THE JOSS: A REVERSION,

OR THE STRANGE FORTUNE OF POLLIE BLYTH. THE STORY OF A CHINESE "GOD."' ♦

By RICHARD MARSH,

Author of "The Goddess," "In Full Cry, "The Beetle: A Mystery," "The Crime and the Criminal, ' &c, &c. [Copyright.] BOOK II.— THE HOUSE IN CAMFORD STREET. (THE FACTS OF THE CASE ACCORDING TO EMILY PURVIS ) CHAPTER XIII —A VISION OF THE NIGHT.

N a second Pollie was across the room, through the door, and on the landing. Before I could stop her she was tearing down the stairs, crying :

"Now we'll see who that is!" I was in a dreadful posi-

' **" lion: not wanting to descend and be murdered as a result of seeing "who that is,' nor daring to remain behind alone. I did not even venture to call out and try to stay her, not knowing who might hear my voice below. She had gone off with our only piece of candle and left me in the dark. All I could do was to steal after her as quickly as possible, keeping as close to her as I was able. Pollie was at the bottom almost before I started ; she had gone down with a hop, skip, and a jump ; I had to struggle with the darkness and the rats. Leaning over what was left of the banisters I could see the gleam of her candle in the passage. I expected to hear her shriek, and sounds of a struggle. The candle flickered, as if .she were moving here and there in an endeavour to discover the cause of the commotion. Presently her voice came up to me. "Emily!" '•Yes." I spoke in a very much lower tone than she had done. "No one's murdered, unless it's you up there. In case you're not, you might come down." I went. She appeared disgusted, rather than otherwise, that she had not been murdered. She was stamping up and down the passage, hanging at the closed door with her clenched fists, peering into the kitchen, making as .much disturbance as was in her power. "The only thing alive, barring rats, seems to be blackbeetles. We must have slaughtered thousands when we came in. The kitchen's black with them. Come and look." 1 declined. "But they can hardly have opened that door and shut it with a bang. There's no evidence to show which door it was, but I believe it was the one which leads into Bluebeard's Chamber." "Pollie! How can you tell?" "I can't tell, but I can believe. Can't I believe, mv dear? I shall, anyhow. It is my belief" — she spoke with an emphasis which was meant for me — "that the mystery it conceals peeped out ; then, fearing discovery, popped back again. It was its huiry to pop back which caused the bang. I wonder, by the way, if it was anyone who made a bolt into the street.'" She tiied to open the front door, against my wish, and failed. We had opened it from within easily enough before, when we had gone out to inteiview her Ton, but now it appeared to be as hermetically sealed as the door leading into what she called 'Bluebeard's Clumber." It fras no use lea&oning -with her. So ,soon as she found that it w ould not open she made up her mind that it should. For a quaiter of an hour or 20 minutes she tried everything she 1 couM if\ force it. In vain. By the time

we returned to the bedroom she was not in , the best of tempers. And I had resolved that nothing should induce me to rtay any longer alone v. ith her beneath that roof than I could possibly help. We had something like a quarrel. She said some very cruel things to me ; and, when I told her she "was unkind, and that there were aspects in which flig reminded me of her Uncle Benjamin, she said crueller things still. I announced my intention to spend the night — what was left of it — upon a chair. She flung herself upon the bed, and laughed. Never shall I forget the remainder of that night, not if I live to be as old as Methuselah. To begin with, that chair was horribly uncomfortable ; to speak of physi- i cal discomfort only. It was- small, very slippery, -wooden Windsor chair ; every time I tried to get into an easy position I began to slip off. I wondered more and more how I could ever have been so i Quixotic as to have volunteered to become Pollie Blyth's companion. For one thing j I had never suspected that she could have j been so callous ; so careless of the feelings j of others ; ,so indifferent to what they suf- > fered on her behalf. Although I was , tired out and out I could see that there ■ would be no sleep for me, and no rest either, while I continued where I was. So far as I could judge, as soon as she threw ■ herself upon the bed, Pollie was asleep. | It was with quite a sense of shock I | realised that this was the case. It seemed so selfish. -The feeling of solitude ib conveyed was frightful. I could hear her gentle 'breathing coining -from the bed ; I I myself hardly dared to breathe at all. Half an inch of candle was guttering on the mantelpiece. By its light I could see that | the lay on her left side, looking towards the wall ; and that she did not appear to have moved since she had first lain down. ' I called to her. ! "Pollie! Pollie! Pollie 1 " uttering each repetition" of her name a little louder. My voice seemed to ling out with such uncanny clearness I did not ventuie to really raise it. In consequence my modest tones did j not serve to rouse her from her child-like slumber. So sound was her sleep that, all at once, the noise of her breathing ceased. It faded away. She was still ; strangely still. So still that in the overwrought ! condition of my nerves- I began to wonder , if she were dead. I wished that she would move, do am/thing, to show she was alive. I tried, once more, to call upon her name. I Bu',t this time my throat was parched ; , it came as an inarticulate murmur from be- > tween my tremulous lips. j I would have given much to have got up i and shaken her back to life, and me But i it was as though I was glued to the seat ; j and that although I was continually slip- | ping off. My body was stiff ; my limHs cramped ; it was only with an effort I could i move them ; of that effort I was not capable. I was conscious that I was passing into a waking nightmare. I closed my eyes because I was afraid to keep them 1 open ; then opened them again because I was still more afraid to keep them shut. The house was full' of noises. Pollie had not shut the door. It was ajar per i haps an inch or two I wanted to put a . chair in front, to shut it close. Apart, however, from my incapacity to move, I was oppressed by an uncomfoi table fancy that someone, something, was peeping through the interstice. Thi*- fancy 'became, by rapid degrees, a certainty. That j I was overlooked, I was sure. By whom, by what, I did not dare to think How , I knew I could not have t'»ld ; I did know. | My eyes were fixed upon the door. For a moment, now and then, I moved them, with a flicker, to the right or to the left. Only for a moment. Back they went to the door. Once I saw it tremble. I started. ' It was motionless ragain. Then I heard a pattering. The rats were audible eveiywhere : under the floor at my feet, in the walls about me, above the ceiling over my ! I head. The house was full of their clamour. ' But the pattering I heard was distinct from all the other sounds. It approached the room from without. pausing on the ' threshold as if in doubt The door gave a . little jerk — sver such a little one, but I saw it. A rat came in ! So it was a rat after all. It stopped just inside the door, peering , round, as if surprised at the illumination which the candle gave. As if satisfied with what it saw, it came in a little farther. ; Close behind it was a second. This was ' of a more impatient breed ; as soon as it appeared, with a little spring it ranged itself beside the other. Immediately there I came two more. The four indulged them- ; j selves with a feast of observation. as though they were smelling out the land. 1 After a while their eyes seemed to concen- i trate themselves on me, a« if they could not j make me out. Perhaps they thought fiat I was dead, or sleeping. I did not move, because I could not. On a sudden the four gave a little forward .scamper, as if they had been hustled ; from behind. The door was opened an- j other half a dozen inches. More than a • score of rats came in. All at once I became conscious that rats were peeping at me fiom all about the room — out of holes and cian- j nies of whose existence I had not been ! aware — above, below, on every side. And 1 knew that an aimy waited on the landing, as if waiting for a signal to make a rush. On whom? On me? Or on Pollie asleep upon the bed? I was paralysed. I wanted to shriek and warn Pollie of what was cominsr ; to let her know that in a second's time the room would be a pandemonium ot rats, all of them in search of food. My tongue was tied. I could not speak. I could only wait, and watch. The house was not yet still. Now all the rats had gathered without the door ; were observing me with sharp teeth set, from hidden cavities. There was continually the clamour of their scurrying to and fro. Some instinct told me that their numbers had increased upon the landing. I could hear their squeals, as if they snapped at each othei in the press. Another score had harried the first score farther forward. They ' were so close that where they stood they hid the floor. It seemed so strange to see &o many, all with their eye* on ir.s. Yet '

what were they to those that were wi houfc'' Something told me that those which watched me in the room had come farther out of their holes ; thdt in another instant they j would spring down ; and that then the ru?H would come. I think that my heart had? nearly ceased to heat, that the blood ha<3f turned to water in ray veins. I ■svas cold;i a chill sweat was on my face. The hand of death had come quite close. I but waned for its actual touch, for whose approach the lu&hing of the rata should be the signal; when — what was it fell upon my ear? What sound, coming from below? Nol rats? No, not rats. Mechanically I drew breath ; I verily believe it was the first time I had breathed for I know not how long. The inflation of my lungs roused me. I listened with keener ears. I know that what I had heard the rats had also heard ; that it was because of it that the rush had not yet come ; that they attended what was next to come with a .«ense of expectancy, of doubt, ol hesitation. Moments passed ; the sound was not repeated. Had it been a trick of our imagination — mine and the rats? All was still; even the scurrying of their friends below. If I heatd nothing, they did; they letreated. There were fewer within the room ; I had not noticed their going, but they had gone. I felt thai, their unseen comrnde«, vi ho were about me. had drawn back again into their hole=. What was ib on the stairs? Thoie mjs a board that cieaked. No rat's fool had caused that. Again. Was that a flop upon the stairs? Someone, something was ascending from below. Who— what could it be? An inmate of the Bluebeard's Chamber? What shape of horroi -would it take? Why did Poliie sleep s-o soundly? In my awful helplessness inwardly I raged. The rats heaid — "lready they wure flying ior their lives. Why did fhe' not hear? Would nothing rouse her from her slumbers? Danger, the danger she had herself foretold, was stealing on us. She had boasted of her courage. Why did she not come out of sleep to prove that she was no braggart? What was it bound my limbs with chains, and kepf me from stretching out my arm to touch her here she lay? What' was the choking m mv throat, so that when I tiied to speak I seemed to strangle? Silence again ' This «eemed to be a iest that someone played ; the sound, then silence: still silence, long drawn out, then again the sound. If something were corning, why did it not come quickly? I should not be so fearful of a thing I saw as of a thing that I did not : I could not be. The steps lnd reached the stairca^ whicli led directly to our room. There ere fewer intervals of silence ; though yet. between each, there was a pause, as if to li.-teu. They v, ere very soft; as if someone walk?! velvet-footed, being most um\ iH.ng to hi* heard. If I sprang to my feet, roused PoMie, rushed to the door, defying all comers to come on. I wondered what wnul4 happen ; ond should have dearly likeJ to see. But I was a craven through and throng' 1 . The footsteps gained the landing ; mo .~i\l towards the door: staved without, whilv their oivi.er listened. It m.ght have b:en my farcy, but. so acutely v. is f iist-enina. I could have declared that [ hemd a hand placed gently again«t the p.sne 1 Au interval. Polite remained ruiet on the bcl. She had not moved since first '•he had l''n doun. What kind of sleep was this rt hers? Did no warning come to S<ii in dreams to tell her that there was something &t ran ore without? It vas not T ,m i l ..'* tV "* «hould be so utterly at peace, -n!i'!c T h . I to bear the burden all alnnp "-1 c . s stronger than I. Why did *he aot wake up ? The door came z little foivanl. poi' ; ni s another half a dozen inches A .mm: :> pause, as if to a^certrir if the movement had been observed. Whoevni was m .ilu.ut wa« caution*. The 11 Then somehmg appeared at the openins. What I had expected to see I could nob for the life of me have told Some shape of ho'ior; ?oine monster born of fin '.error I vi as in — ■ tliscared imagining »f '',•■ ".) °ntal. moi,i'. physical, paralyse — i creature neither him. an nor inhuman. In Wi>"y horrib'e, wliirh should come stc'.'iig. ie«istless, in. to force me. in my agony, to welcome death. What it was I actually saw. at fn<=t I could not tell. It v, as not what I had expected, that I knew. Something more commonp'acc ; yet, considenng 1h a li<--ur of the place, almost as stiangfWhen the mist had cleared from before my vision, I perceived it was a nee. What kind of a face even yet I could not see; the shock of the unexpected add 5 l i~> v\ <cnfusion. It -nas only after it had remained quiescent foi perhaps the btttei part of r minute that I realised it was a v. oman's. A woman's fac ! But not like any woman's face that I had seen before. As I gazed my fear began to fade ; a sense of wonder came instead. Was I asleep or waking? I asked myself the question Were these things happening to me in a dieam? Glancing at me thiough the partly open door was the kind of face one reads and dreams about ; not the kind one meets in daily life. At least in the daily life which I have led I was vaguely conscious that it was 'beautiful ; beautiful in so strange a sort ; but most clearly present to my mind wa^ the bewildering fact that it had a more wonderful pair of eyes than any; I had supposed a w oman could have had. It was not only that they weie large, nor that they were lovely. They had in them so odd a lustre. It was as though t,ome living thing weie in them, which kept coming and going ; breaking into light, fading into darkness. They were wild eyes-, such as no Englishwoman ever could have had. This face was brown. For at any rate some minutes it stayed motionless watching me. Only by degrees did it dawn upon me that possibly its owner was nearly as much startled as E 1 was ; that whatever she had anticipated)! seeing, she had not expected to find me! sitting on that chair. She kepi her glarcej fixed upon my features ; only for a seconc did it wander toward* Poliie sleep ng on tlu bed. I fancy she was endeavoiuin^ to de |

termine what it was that I was doing there, why I was on the chair instead of on the ibed ; .whether I was asleep or waking, or even dead.. I was so huddled up upon the chair, and remained so very still, that it was quite possible for her, taken jinawares, to suppose that I was dead. -h "You sleep?" ) She spoke to me in English which had it quaintly foreign sound ; in a bel Mike Jwhisper, it was so soft and yet so clear. I did not answer ; the knot in my tongue fcad not yet come untied. 1 felt that she 'did not understand my silence, or the cause of it, and wondered, hesitated, too. Presently she ventured on an assertion, uttered (with a little cadence of doubt, as if it were 9. question: "You do not sleep." Apparently as if Jtill in doubt as to the correctness of the statement she endeavoured to fortify herself with reasons. "Your eyes are open ; you do not sleep. We do not sleep when our eyes are open.. Speak to me. Are you afraid?" Perhaps the suspicion increased in Btrength that, if I were not stupefied with fear, there was at least something curious in my condition. She opened the door nearly to the full, and she came into the (room. I saw that she seemed but a girl ; J &all -above the common, clad in a gown I .■which, while it was loose and seemingly shapeless, and made in a fashion which was altogether strange to me, yet draped itself in graceful folds about her figure. It Mas made of some stuff which looked to me \ like silk alpaca ; in colour a most asseiiive, and indeed trying, shade of electric blue. : it positively warmed one's eyes to look at it. And it was covered with what looked j more like sequins than anything else I could think of ; though, with every movement of her body, they gleamed and glittered like no sequins I had ever seen before. Her hair, of which there was an extraordinary quantity, as black as jet, was most beautifully done. Even in my condition of semi-stupor I ■wondered how she did jt. It formed a perfect halo about her face. And on the top was stuck what seemed to' be the very double of that queer little thing which Pollie said she found in the scrap of paper which the man had given her. Only, to me, the creature in her hair seemed alive. Its eyes gleamed ; its body inclined this way, then that, as she stood in the open doorway. She was covered with jewels ; at least I suppose they were jewels. Though, regarded as ornaments, they were as queer as everything else about her. Her fingers were loaded with rings ; funny-looking ones they seemed. She stood, bending slightly forward, with her hands in front, so that I could not help but notice them. Bracelets were twined about her arms of the oddest design. A jewelled snake was about flier throat. Another, not only a monster, abut a monstrosity, was twisted, girdle fawhiou, three or four times around her waist. Jt looked as if it were alive. When, having aipparently sufficiently considered the situation, she began to advance towards me. to my amazement and abject terror this creature was set in motion too. It stretched out its evil-looking Ibead in my direction, with an ugly glitter :*n it* eyes ; it opened its jaws ; its fangs shot out. As they seemed to be extending ■themselves as far as possible, in order to reach my face, thank God, the guttering half-inch of candle -went out upon the mantelpiece. With it my senses seemed to go out too. As they were leaving me I was conscious of the unpleasant odour of 8 smouldering wick. CHAPTER XIV.— SUSIE. I was lying on the floor. There was a U lit in the room. A woman was bending over me ; the woman with the snake about the waist ; the memory of it recurring with • sudden sense of shock, I started up. "Where is it?" She looked as if she did not understand. "Where is what?" "The snake." She smiled ; why I did not know. "The snake? Oh, it is gone." Apparently it had. In Its place was a |>lain broad iband of what seemed gold. I wondered if it were gold. If so, it was worth a great deal. Still wondering, I sank back upon the floor. I saw that baside me was a queer-shaped lamp, which also seemed to be of gold. It was fashioned something like a covered 'butter-boat, with a handle ; the flame coming from the lip. I felt drowsy ; the air seemed to be heavy with perfume ; one -which wa<s new to me, laving a pleasantly soothing effect upon one's nerves. Had it not been for the strangeness of my position I believe that I should then and there have fallen asl#->p. Turning, I stared at the stranger, who, kneeling on my' left, regarded me in turn. Silence ; which she broke. "Are many Englishwomen as beautiful as you?" I was thinking, lazily, how beautiful she .was. The appositenesfe of the question took me aback; it startled some of my heaviness from my eyelids. I did not

know what to reply. My hesitation did not please her. A sudden gleam came into her eyes ; as if the wild creature which inhabited them had all at once come to the front. "Why do you not answer? lam used to being answered. Are many Englishwomen as beautiful as you?" "They are much more beautiful. lam not beautiful at all." "You are beautiful. You are a liar." The plain directness of her speech brought the blood into my cheeks. She marked my change of colour, as if surprised.^ "How do you do that?" "Do what'?" My tone was nieek as meek could be. "You have gone red." I went still' redder. "How do you do it? Is it a trick? It becomes you very well ; it makes you still more beautiful. Is it the blood shining through your skin? You are so white the least thing shows. To be white I would give all that I am — all that I have." She uttered the last words with a simple earnestness which, if she had only known it, became her much more than, my blush ' did me. I ventured on an inquiry. "Who are you?" She knelt straight up. There came to her ?n air of dignity which lent to lit-r a weird and thrilling fascination. "I am she who inhabits the inner sanctuary of the temple ; to whom all men and women bring their supplications that I may lay them at the feet of the most High Joss." I had not the faintest notion what she meant ; but her words and manner impressed me none the less on that account. Which fact" she observing, was good enough not to allow it to displease her. She went on, with the same quaint, yet awe-inspiring simplicity : " I am she who holds joy and sorrow in the hollow of my hand ; ay, life and death. When I lift it the prayers of the faithful may hope for answer ; when Ido not liffc it, their petitions are offered up in vain ; for the Great Joss is sleeping; and when he sleeps, he attends to no one's prayers." She stopped. I should have liked her to have gone on ; or, at least, to have been a trifle more explicit. But, possibly, she was under the impression that she had \ourhsafcd sufficient information, and, m exchange, would like a little out of me. Hhti put a point-blank question : " Are you Miss Maiy Blyth?" I motioned with my hand towards the bed. " That's Pollie. She's asleep." "Pollie? Who is Pollie? I ask, are you Miss Mary Blyth?" " That is Mary Blvth upon the bed. I'm a friend of hers ; so I call her Pollie. She's known to all her friends as Pollie." She considered, knitting her brows. 1 half -expected her to again roundly call me liar; but, instead, she asked a question, the meaning of which I scarcely grasped. "Is Susie a name by which one is known unto one's fiiends?'' | "Susie? Isn't that the pet name for Susan?'' For some reason my answer seemed to afford her a singular amount of pleasure. She broke into a soft ripple of laughter ; for sheer music I had never heard anything like it before. The sound was so infectious that it actually nearly made* me smile, even then! She put her hands before her face, in the enjoyment of some joke which was : altogether beyond my comprehension ; then, holding out her arms, extended them on either side of her as wide as she possibly i could. I "It is a pet name, Susie — a pet name! It is the pet name by which one is known to one's friends !" There was a slight pause before "friends," as if she hesitated whether or not to substitute another word. I should have liked to have inquired what the jest was, but i there was something in her bearing which ! suggested that it was so personal to herself that I did not dare. When she had got out of it what perhaps occurred to her as being sufficient enjoyment, quitting the kneeling posture which she had occupied till then, she rose to her feet and went to the bed. But now I was wide awake ; my perceptions were well on the alert. The sense of terror which had so nearly brought me to a condition of paralysis had grown considerably less. I do not pretend that fear had i altogether vanished, nor that with but a little provocation it would not have returned with all its former force. But. for the moment, certainly, curiosity was to the front My chief anxiety was not to allow one of j my mysterious visitor's movements, no matter how insignificant, to escape my notice. I observed with what suppleness she rose Ito her feet ; how, in the noiseless way in which she passed to the bed, there was something which reminded me of wild animals I had seen at the Zoological Gardens. i When she bent over the sleeping Pollie there was something in her pose which recalled them again. For some seconds she ! was still ; I had a peculiar feeling, as I , watched her from behind, that with those

extraordinai f e\ e^ of hers she wab scorching the sleeper's countenance. "She is not beautiful. No, she is not beautiful, like you. But there is that m her face which reminds me of another I have seen. She is clever, strong bodied, strong willed: she knows no fear. When she is brought face to face with fear she laughs at it. She sleeps sound. It is like her to sleep sound when no one else car sleep at all." Although I could not see the speaker's face I knew she smiled. "It is funny it should have been given to her. She will never do as she is told ; it is because she is told that she will never do it. Obedience is not for her ; it is for those with whom she lives to obey." She glanced round. "It is for you.' 1 There was a sting in the little air of malice with which it was said, although the thing was true. It nettled me to think how soon she had found me out. She turned to Pollie without deigning to notice how her words had been received. "Let her sleep on. So sound a sleep should know no sudden waking." Again there was malice in her tone. She passed her hand two or three times in front of Pollie' s face. "Now she'll have no evil dream*.. It is funny it should have been given to her — very funny. It should have been given to you ; you are different. But it is lrke that things happen ; the world is crooked." She had returned towards me. "Have you a lover?" Her habit of asking the most delicate questions in the abruptest and baldestfashion I found more than a little discon- j certing. Although I tried to keep it back, I again the blood flamed to my cheeks ; all j the more because I half-expected to have J her repeat her inquiry as to how I got it there. For some ridiculous reason I thought j of Mr Frank Paine. It was too absurd. | Of course, I had only seen him once, and then I had scarcely looked at him, although I could not help noticing that, though he had not bad eyes, in other respects h« was positively ugly, and most stilted in his manners. I might never see the man again, probably never should. I was sure I did not want to. And, anyhow, he was absolutely nothing to me, nor, tmder any possible circumstances, ever could be. It made me wild to think that I should think of him, especially when I was asked such a question as that. " No," I stammered. " No? That is strange, since you are so beautiful.' "I mm not 'beautiful. Why do you say that I am beautiful?'' "Is it possible that you do not know that you are beautiful? You must be very silly. I knew all about myself long befoie I was as old as you. You have the kind of face which, when a man sees, he desires ; you also have shape. You are not like her." She jerked her shoulder towards the bed. "You are a woman — and a fool." I -did not like the way she spoke to me at all. She might be a walking mystery — and she certainly was ! — but that was no reason 'why she should be impertinent as well. , j "Why do you say such things to me? Is a woman of necessity a fool.'" "If she is wise she is. It is a fool that a man desires ; if .she is a fool she will rule him when he has her. The greater fool is governed by the lesser." She had a most astonishing way of talking. Considering her age, and. in years, I felt -convinced that she was the merest slip of a girl, she professed to have a knowledge of the world which was amazing. I did not know what to say ; not being used to carry on a conversation on the lines which she seemed to favour. So she asked another question, with another jerk of her shoulder towards the 'bed. "Has she a lover?" "She has." "No ! That is stranger still ! A real lover? What sort of a man is he?" "He's not a bad sort." "Not a bad sort? What is that? Is he rich?" "Rich !" I smiled at the idea of Tom Cooper being rich. "He is very far from being rich, unfortunately for him, and for Pollie too. He is an assistant in a shop." "A shop? What kind of shop?" "A draper's." "A draper's? Isn't that where they sell things for women to wear? What kind of a man is be who is in a shop in which they sell things for women to cover their bodies? Is it his life which he lives there? But, after all, that is the kind of lover ■ one would have supposed she ■would 1 have. It is he who must obey."' I felt that she was hard on Pollie, and on Mr Cooper. It seemed to be her way to be hard on everyone. "But you — why have you no lover?' I really did not know what to answer. It was such a difficult question, to say nothing of its delicacy. Of course I had had lovers, of a sort. One need not give a list ; but there had been incidents. At the same time it was not easy to enter into particulars-, at a moment's notice, to a per-

lect stranger, under such conditions as obtained just then. ' "I hardly know what to say to you. I .suppose I am not too old to have one yet." It was a silly remark to make. But it was either that or silence. And she did not seem to like me not to answer her. "One should have a lover when one is still a little young." "What's your idea of a little young? 1 Aie you inferring that I'm a trifle old?" "The day passes ; a lover should come., in the morning, when the sun is just lighting the sky." There was an air of superiority about her which I did not altogether lelish. She might be somebody wondeiful — and I was quite willing to admit that she was ; but one does not care to be always snubbed iSo far as I could see she was snubbing me all the time. So I a^ked her a question m my turn. | "You speak as if you had had a great deal j of experience. May I ask if you have a lover?" "Can you not see it in my eyes?" I could not. Hers were wonderful eyes, especially when the blaze came into them, as it did as she spoke. But I should have had to have remarkable powers of observa- j tion to know that she had a lover merely ! by looking at her eyes. I hesitated, how- j ever, to say as much ; and luckily s.he went i on without rendering it necessary for me to j say anything at all. "Can you not see it in my face — my smile, the way I breathe, the joy of life , that's in me? Is it that, although vou'io > white, you're stupid? I thought it wa& plain to all the woild ; to another v oman ; most of all. One morning I w oke ; I , was what I was ;he had not come. He ! came before the sun set ; I was called what ! I am now ; there were no shadows that ! night for me; the sun has nc-t set since.' i Her language was really a little above my head, though I confess that I liked the way in which she spoke. It set my heart ' all beating. And her words rang like i silver trumpets in my ears, and she looked so lovely as she stood with her beautiful head thrown a little back, and her hands held out in front as if her heart were in them. Yet, at the same time, if she had expressed herself in a somewhat different manner I should have gathered more exactly what it was she meant. She had stopped, as if she thought that it was time for me to speak. So I blundered. "Was the,, gentleman a — a countryman of yours?" "A countryman of mine? What do you mean by a countryman of mine? How I do you know what my country is?" j I was sony I had asked the question , diiectly the words passed my lips ; though j I had never dreamt that she would take it up in the way she did. She flew at me in ! a way which gave me quite a start. The wild animal which was in her eyes came to the front with a sudden rush, as if it would spring right out at me. ' "I iim sure no offence was intended, and I 'beg your pardon if any has been given, ! because, as you say, I have not the faintest . notion what your country is." i "England is my country. I am English — all of me — to there!" As she put her hand behind her I suppose she meant that she w"as English to the backbone. All I could say was that j she did not look it ; and she did not sound it, either. But not for worlds would I have j mentioned the fact at that moment. She came closer, eyeing me as if she would , have pierced me through and through. ; " You think that he is black? You think it? You insult me, the daughter of the gods, in whose hands are life and death. Shall I tear the heart out of your body? Shall T kill you? Tell me ! Yes or no!" " No. ' It seemed an unnecessary answer to give, but I felt that I might as well give | expression to my sentiments since she was , so insistent. Though I thought it quite j likely that she might at any moment com- j mence, as she called it, to tear the heart j out of my body, n-hile I waited for the moment to arrive I could not but own that, even in her rage, she was the most beautiful j woman I had ever seen. But it, seemed that she decided that, after all, it would be scarcely worth her while to soil her fingers just for the sake of tearing me to pieces, so she emptied the vials of her scorn on me instead i •" Bah ! You are a fool— of the fools ! That is all you are. You know nothing ; not even what you say. Why should I attend to the witless when they babble? Listen to me, fool." i She held her finger up close to my nose. j I listened with might and main. She spoke ! as if she intended to lay ar emphasis upon her every word. " He is English, my lover — of the English ; of the flo Aver of the nation. He is not one wLo In es in sbopi which pivtend to help ugly worn on to h ; dc tIK-ir ugliness, lie is noi that kind. Hi^ home i-> the wide j world. He i* tall, and biave, and strong, I a ruler of men ; handsome beyond any ol I ins fellows." She made thai last statement

as if bhe dared me to question it by >o much a~s a movement of my eyelid*. "Were you but to see his picture you would famfc for love of him." I wondered ! "With all women it is so. But, beware! Hide yourself when he ]<• coming; if he but deign- L look on you I'll tear you into piece.--. I suffer no woman to stand in his presence, save only I." Words and manner suggested not only that she was not by any means too sure of the gentleman's affection ; but, ah>o, that there was a lively time in store for him. If she wished to be taken literally, and really did mean that no woman was to be allowed to in his presence except herself, then the sooner she returned to the particular parts from which, in spite of all that she might say to the contrary. I felfc sure she came — then the pleasanter it would be for everyone concerned. I should like to see the man in w hose presence I was not to be allowed to stand.

I said nothing when she stopped ; I had nothing to say. Or, rather, it I had been, allowed a moment or two to think it over, and been given time to get back a little of my breath again. I should have had such a qunntity to say that I should have been at a lo=s as to which end I had better beoin. Nor do I fancy that her temper would; have been improved wherever I had started.

While she was still glaring as if she would! like to eat me, her finger-nails within an. inch or two of my face, and I was thinking, in spite of my natural indignation, not to speak of other things, that being in a ratre positively suited her, for the second time that night there came from below what sounded like the opening of a door. On the instant she .stood upright She looked more than ever like one of the wild creatures at the Zoo : poised so lightly on her feet, with every sense on the alert, listening as if she did not intend to allow the dropping of a pin to escape her Suddcnlv «he stooped, waved her hands before my face, can r ht up the lamp from the floor, and vanished from the room. (To be continued.)