MY LADY'S - - - DIAMONDS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2513, 14 May 1902, Page 59

MY LADY'S - - - - DIAMONDS.

Jhj ADELINE SERGEANT.

CHAPTER I.— AT THE CASTLE WELL. He was in a thoroughly bad temper. He had made his plans for the evening, and they had all miscarried. It was not his fault. On a fine, warm evening like this one he had thought that a late walk along the c.iffs would be exactly the thing that Joan, would have appreciated. But it seemed that he had miscalculated her desires. She had told him rather curtly that she did not want to go out ; she was tired, and there was a man coming to dinner whom she wished to see. Therefore, Mr CVeoffrey Brandon could not expect her to go out with hhn after dinner, and naturally he felt that he had a right to be vexed. He was not openly engaged to Joan, but every one knew that he was deeply in love with her and she had encouraged him so far that a rejection fiom her would have astonished everybody very much indeed. Brandon was not exactly rich, hut he had a fair income of his own, and the prospect of success in 'his profession as a barrister. He was also by .way of being something of a literary man, and his productions — chiefly in pages of high-class magazines and reviews — had gained him some credit in the world. In the couise of a year, also, he felt that he would be able to marry. if things kept at their present level. For he was no man to let a girl feel that she would have to endure .poverty if she married him. Perhaps this was the reason why he had not yet made a formal proposal, and it was possible also that Joan thought him a- little over-cautious. Bub she had not shown him any coldness, and that was the reason why he felt rather surprised when she had refitted to go for a walk with him simply because old Professol ifairweather, who had known her father in days gone by, was coming to dine at the Tower, where she was a guest. Brandon was also staying at the Tower, because Lady Rockingham was his aunt, and she had an especial affection for her sister's «on, not only because this tie of relationship existed, but because he had, in many rf-.pc.cts, filled the part of a son to herself, and was always ready to give her the benefit of his help or counsel when she required it. One of the dreams of her heart had always been that he should many Joan Carrington, who was the daughter of an old friend of hers, and a girl who»e welfare s.he had very much at heait. For Joan was poor as well as handsome, and L-uly Eockhmham was sometimes anxious about her future. Joan was — "unfortunately ,*' as Lady Rockingham would have said — not an oiphan. Her mother dead, but her very undesirable father Mill hved, and there was never any knowing what claims he would raise,

daughter, if f?he had no protector to keep 1 him at bay. Therefore, Lady Rockingham had invited her to the Tower, her husband's picturesque old place just outside St. Romuald's, a town on the northern coast once famous for its abbey and other i great mediaeval institutions, 'but now falling somewhat into decay, and basing its j reputation as a seaside resort chiefly upon >, its salubrious air and a- certain wild and ! savage beauty of the coast. ' The Tower was finely situated on an eminence, from which a wide view of sea and land could be obtained ; and to walk out from the grounds along the cliffs, with site pink-and-white complexion, her fair the salt air blowing in their faces, had longbeen the recognised form of recreation with Lady Rockingham's visitors. Brandon, therefore, had not calculated upon a refusal when he asked Miss CaTrington to some out with him in the long, dim twilight of that warm evening in September. He felt, indeed, as if he 'had received a snub. Joan did not often refuse him anything, and he had an impression that there was something cold and unfriendly in her voice when she refused his invitation, and he wondered whether he had offended her. Surely she could not find an old professor from Edinburgh; more interesting than himself? Or if she did, was it not a sign that she cared very little for him? He afflicted himself with these thoughts at intervals all -through, dinner-time, when he noticed that she was giving all her attention to the professor's remarks, .and never once looking in 'his direction. The only thing that he could do was to devote himself to the lady whom he had taken in to dinner and try to show Miss Carrington that he was as indifferent to her as she to him. After all, it was not very difficult to devote himself to Mrs Townley, who was a very pretty and amusing little woman. "Little woman!" He reflected on the term that had risen involuntarily to his lips. Mrs Townley was not particularly little. She must be about Joan's height, after all ; but, while Joan always gave the impression of being tall and stately, Nina Townley — >owing, perhaps, to her extreme slightness and fragility — gave the ; impression of a much smaller woman. She looked, in common parlance, as if a breath would blow her away. Her exquisite pink-and-white complexion, 'her fair, fluffy hair, her almost feverishly brilliant eyes, were not very much admired by Geoffrey Brandon ; he preferred the .pure, colourless oval of Joan's face, with the calm, grey eyes, and dai-k lashes, and the wealth of chestnut hair, almost too heavy for the small, graceful head. There was a sense of repose with Joan which was conspicuously absent from the personality of Mrs Townley. He did not go into the drawing room, after dinner. He had no particular desire to resume his airy chit-chat with his fair neighbour, and he had a fancy that Joan wished to avoid him. He strolled out into the hall, and resolved to go for a shoi'b walk. Lady Rockingham and her guests would probably have their coffee on Ishe terrace, but he thought he would not join them. He was more in the mood for loneliness, since Joan had refused to be his companion. He threw on a light overcoat, noticing as ho did so that the cloak which Joan usually wore in an evening stroll was lying upon a great oak chest in the outer 3iall ; it looked as though she had placed it there in readiness for the evening. It was rather a pretty cloak, of dark-blue cloth, reaching lo the feet, and provided with a hood, which could be drawn, over the head. It was trimmed with long, dark fur, and looked very quiet and unobtrusive at a distance, but on a nearer view it could be seen that the sombre hues were relieved by a lining of rose-coloured satin, and that it was fastened with old silver clasps. It was, in fact, rather a sumptuous garment, and Geoffrey knew it well, because it was one which he had helped Lady Rockingham to choose as a present for Joan a few months earlier in the year. He glanced at it rather grudgingly as he went out. It was too bad of Joan to let it lie there so temptingly, as if .she were going to join him in the grounds, or on the chris, as she had so often done before. He strolled through the shrubbery and let himself out- of the grounds by a small gate, from "\\ hich he stepped at once into a wide moorland space, which stretched from the edge of the cliffs some distance inland. The .«ky was absolutely clear, with a sort of primrose radiance lingering in the west, and the sea was so smooth that one could scarcely hear the lap of its waves along the shore. Brandon walked some distance, baring his head to the faint breeze, and feeling his nerves calmed and soothed by the quietnr.ss and beauty of the scene. It was almost dark when at last he began to retrace his steps, and the moon, which was in its last quarter, hung low in the violet sky. "Old St. Romuald wr.uld look rather weird by this faint light," said Geoffrey to himself. ''I will stroll down and take a look at the luins before I go in again. It can't be more than 10 o'clock."' He made a circuit, avoiding the entrance to the Tower, and ariiving in a few minutes at the town itself, which was a-s silent as a city of the dead. The people of St. Romuald went early to bed, and were not given to moonlight strolls. The place of which Brandon had thought was the ruin of an old castle, which stood on a jutting promontory, washed night and day by the waters of the German Ocean. The keep still raised its frowning battlements to the skies ; wind and wave and fortunes of war had not availed to lower its haughty crest, but the greater part of the old castle consisted of crumbling walls and roofless apartments, which had long since cea«ed to shelter any living creature except the furred and feathered denizens of such deserted abodes of men. Geoffrey leaned his arms upon the stone coping of the low wall which ran round the enclosure, and gazed at the placid sea, which broke in little wavelets at the base pf the uliff pa which the castle was fiittt-. '

ated. For some time lie remained ther* perfectly motionless, and was only aroused from his reverie by the sound of footsteps whioh seemed to be crossing the pavement underneath the archway by "which, he had entered Rather vexed at being disturbed, he glanced round, and immediately observed that he was perfectly well screened from observation, as «. great block of masonry just behind effectually hid his . figure, although he, from his corner, could see quite well the figures and movements of the two persons who had just entered ■ the ruin. Brandon sat perfectly still, concluding that the. visitors were merely tourists, who I wislied to"" observe the effect of moonlight " ! upon the fine old walls ; and, like most j tourists, they would soon, he thought, have : completed their survey, and wonld leave him in imdisturbed enjoyment of his solitude. But, to his great surprise, they did not seem at all hurried, neither did theyt bestow any attention, as far as he could judge, upon the architectural beauties ■of the place. They crossed the grassy space quite silently. It had once been the courtj yard round* which the quadrangle building ihad stood, and, rather to his surprise, they advanced almost to the spot -where he" was standing. ' He was inclined to start up and mak& his presence ' known ; but they paused- at : | three or four yaids' distance from him,~" 1 choosing, as. he noticed, .a sheltered corner^ < ■' | where they were not likely to be visible to ! any passer-by. The old " walls' and arch-~ ! ways afforded many shadowy corners where | a person could linger without much fear of j : being observed, and it seemed to Brandon !' that. these two persons deemed themselves | perfectly safe from prying ' eyes or listening ears. Struck by this thought, he half rose, in order to escape before any word of their; conversation should fall Upon his ears. • But '• a moment later he sank back upon the., stone sent which he occupied, and remained for some time utterly aghast and dumbfounded. For the figtire of the woman in • the ruins was none other than that of Joan Carrington. He told himself again and again that he must be mistaken, and that it .was "impossible that Joan Carrington, whom he had ' left at home chatting gaily, with the professor, should have stolen out at night to meet a man in- the ruins of St. Romuald's Oastle. It was a thing which he could not; - have imagined Joan capable of doing. 'She had always se&msd to him the essence of truthfulness and candour. Yet there she stood, wrapped in the dark-blue cloak with the rose-coloured lining, that he knew so well, the dark fur caressing the outlines of her face and neck, and the hood drawn discreetly over her brows, as though she did not -wish to.* be recognised. Indeed, so closely was her face concealed from view that Brandon^. himself would not hare recognised, her sava?'? 5 for the graceful lines of -her figure aacE;" the long hlne cloak, under "which he caught' the sheen of her satin gown. ' ■ A" certain . sort ,, of rage- sprang up ihr Brandon's heart as he looked at the .cloaked"and hooded figure. It was possible, then,* that a woman with Joan's clear eyes coulcl deceive and -betray him? "For surely- she had" deceived him when she refused to • walk out on the pretext of her interest in old Professor Fairweathc-r's conversation? And who was the man? Brandon's eyes turned fiercely and jealously upon her companion. t'nen for one moment he drew a breath 1 of relief. Surely Joan could never care for a man of that kind? It was impossible ! I He was a -man whose character was all too | plainly written upon his face for all" the' i world to see. No, Joan could not love a man of that kind. But what extraordinary complication of circumstances, what entanglement of affairs could cause Her to arrange a private meeting with an unknown: individual, of shady antecedents and uncertain character, in a lonely ruin almost at dead of night? ! Brandon obstinately refused to move 1 from his place when his conscience told him that he ought to make his presence known. He would do nothing of the kind. He would stay and look and listen ; he , would defend Joan, if need be, and re- , proaeh her afterwards for her treachery- ; Ab present it was quite clear to him that his duty was to remain, if only as a spectator, at this mysterious interview. As- a ' spectator only. For, as he very speedily, 'discovered, he "could not hear a Tvord-^they said. j They had approached the ledge of an: old well, a place to which many wild and* strange stories attached themselves. It was now covered in by means of a broad and! wooden cover, and any one sitting upon the stone ledge of the well could easily use the cover as a table — a fact of which the • children in the neighbourhood were not slow to avail themselves. The man — a» tall, pinNter figure, with a long, black moustache, which curled upwards a little at Ihe points — ostablished himself with onei knee on the stone ledge, and seemed rather to be observing his companion than conversing with her. The gii-1 had seated herself with her back to Brandon, so that he could not see her free • but he saw that her hands were busy, for she had produced from under the cloak a bag — a brown leather bag, •which: he had seen in Joan's hand before — and' from this bag she seemed to be producing; various papers and packets, which tho man contemplated with an evil eye, Brandon bit his lip until it bled, and bruised his hand against the stone wall, in an agony of impotent fury. What business had Joart to be paying this man money? — for moneyit was that she produced — clean, crisp! banknotes and gold. She must have cerried quite £100 in that little brown bag of hers. She lafd them down on the wooden covert of the well hurriedly, yet in a businesslike way, and the man turned over thfl, notes suspiciously, and gathered up thetgold in his hand, as if to make sure thatf the exact sum was being paid Then there/ came a parley in whispered words, whichi Brandon could not hear. The man helcS out his hand for the bag itself, and she rafim&d, to wifchhoJfL it. Fa-aUs^ 3riitli_.ai

passionate gesture, she drew from it another packet, as if she had kept it till the very last. In. the faint moonlight that was touching earth and sea with silver, Branclan beheld the packet torn open, and saw to little ripple of light fall from the girl's Jtvhite fingers — a row of flashing, gleaming stones, to -which thejancertain light lent a curious beauty. The man caught up the little glittering heap of diamonds and laughed aloud. JBrandon could distinguish the triumphant ring of his laughter, and was not surprised .to see the woman hide her face in her (hands and apparently burst into tears. JBut a pang of the bitterest pain and anger knot through him ■when he sa>w the man throw his arm carelessly about her shoulders, as if trying to console her, and with •his other iand take her face by the chin jfend raise it gently towards his own. For a moment the woman shrank away from him; then she seemed to yield, and let him kiss her, not only on the cheek, but on lips knd eyes and hair — wherever he chose. Indeed, her 'hands clung to him for a moWnt, as though she wished to prolong the embrace ; and it- seemed to Brandon in that moment as though he tasted the bitterness of death. (To bs continued.)