CHAPTER XIII.

Otago Witness, Issue 2734, 8 August 1906, Page 62

CHAPTER XIII.

f NEVER knew there was anything so perfectly lovely in all ' r TJope'stood in. the middle of a daintily-furnished bedroom, looking first round the room, itself then out of the wideopened window with eyes that shons like two stars. Lady Dimsdale stood beside her, watching the girl's -eager, animated face wTth a fmile that was full of tenderness "I want you to be very happy with us, she said, "and try, to forget all your miseries. I have so often longed to have a girl in the house agam. I have never had a girl here since " • A long sigh finished the sentence, and Hope drew fearer to her, looking at her wistfully. , "Did you once " she began, and broke off/struck dumb by the anguish that lay in Lady Dimsdale's <soft eyes. " Yeg— dear"— the elder lady's voice was very quiet, though it trembled— "l had— a~girl once— l— lost her; it was a long time ago, stfvery long time ago; and now —I want you to be happy with me. "Happy with'- you?" Hoye timidly touched Lady Dimsdale's beautiful white hand. "Why— l've riever felt so happy since— since mummy died ; and I never m all my life had a room like 'this." >Her eyes' again wandered round the room, with ltd rose-coloured paper, its bright chintz curtains, its air of dainty comfort and prettiness. "And the view from it," she went on excitedly ; "I never thought I should look out of mjwwindow' and see anything so lovely, not exen when-r — " . ' She pulled herself up» hurriedly and glanced .nervously «at Lady Dimsdale, but the latter was, .too much absorbed in her own thoughts to observe the girl's sudden embarrassment-. "I believe autumn is. very nearly the loveliest time of the year," Hope- con-, tinued, going to the open, window and leaning far out-.*. "Spring is my favourite time, Lady Dimsdale answered; "but perhaps it is natural that' old people should love spring best, with its promise of new life, new hope. For the young, who have everything before them, autumn seems less sad than it must to us." , The two women, the one with all life to look back upon, the other still on its threshold, stood silently for a while looking across the garden, where the dahlias flamed in the bed on the lawn, and the shrubberies were ali^it with stately sunflowers and pale Michaelmas daisies, to the park beyond, in which every tree made a separate blaze of glory. The pale yelloW of the elms, the beeches' orange, the golden brightness of the chestnuts, all mingled in a superb scheme of colour that was enhanced by the misty background of a pale blue sky. "Then you thank you will be happy here?" Lady Dimsdale spoke again after that, long pause, her eyes scanning the 'girl's face wistfully. " Happy? I don't think that if I tried for weeks I could ever put into words how happy lam now ! The sis lrwnths' I j spent with the Radfords seem already like ' a bad dream."

Lady Dimsdale had exerted all her diplomancy to bring about Hope's move from the doctor's house to her own, and it says much for her infinite tact that the transfer was effected without leaving any bitterness in Mrs Radford's mind, or making of her even a temporary enemy. Sir James and his nephew looked on with unfeigned amusement whilst Lady Dimsdale carried out her delicate tactics, -md Mrs Kwdford to this day has never discovered how cleverly and with what care-fully-thought-out designs her children's governess was converted into Lady Dimsdale's companion.

When Hope first found herself an inmate of Prettowe Hall, and masquerading there, as she had masqueraded at the Radfords', under the name of Mary Smith, she was assailed by innumerable pangs of conscience, which refused for a time to be stilled. Was she right — could she be right in allowing Lady -Dimsdale to think of her as something quite different from what she really was? What would that gentle lady say if she discovered that the girl she was befriending was really a married woman, who had run away from her husband in a fi"t of temper? Hope's naturally truthful nature revolted from the deceit she was practising, yet her courage invariably failed her when she thought of confessing everything. She felt that she could never bear to see those kind eyes clouded by disapproval, nor watch the fading of the smile she had learnt to love; she dared not face the possibility of having the doors of her beautiful Eden shut behind hci for ever!

An dso, after a struggle — to Hope's credit, be it, stated, a long struggle — she finally turned a heedless ear to conscience, an£ stifled ite voice entireljr*

"After all,"' she said to herself, "wjhat dose it matter whether they know me- by the name of Smith or Anderson? I shall never go back to Miles again as long as I live : hfc would -aot let me go back even if I wished, and — I don't think I should ever wish to. What difference can it make to Lady Dimsdale whether she knows my real nanu. or not?" But in spite of this lengthy debate with herself, Hope did not really believe in her own argument : instinctively she knew that she was wrong to hide the truth from her kind new friend, and her conscience required a considerable amount of trampling upon before it at last lay silenced and mute. At a not far distant day there was to come to the girl a bitter recognition of her own folly in concealing the truth.

During the first few weeks of her sojourn at -irrettowe Hall, Hope found her duties light indeed, and infinitely pleasant wjien contrasted with the many onerous iasks she had performed for six months in the Radford household. To write Lady ' Dimsdale's notes, to arrange i the flowers to read to her aloud, and help > dispense the Dimsdale bounties in the village — all seemed more like pleasures than duties ! But- in November, the ; house filled with guests, and Hope found her position less of a sinecure^ and tasted some of .the unpleasantness of being, as she had heard one of tne guests describe her, a "oaid dependent." Lady Dimsdale's guests were less gentle and considerate than her ladyship to the little companion : they either ignored her absolutely, patronised her insufferably, or treated ncr as though she were a superior i upper servant, and each treatment in turn . tried -severely the girl's proud and sensitive spirit. "I imagine Miles would think I was getting -enough discipline now," she said to herself, half whimsically, half sadly, as she entered her room one even-, ing and prepared to dress for dinner. "I do hate aH those horrid snobs of people. I dare say I do look insignificant and ugly and stupid, but they might try to think what it feels like to be spoken to as they speak to me. And it's no sin to earn one's own living, and have only , rather shabby clothes. As site spoke, she eyed ruefully her one and only evening dress, a very simple black one, which she had bought the very_ day before she came to _ live at the Hall," moved to do so by Mrs Radford's awestricken assurances that "the. Dimsdales expected you. to dress in low dresses e ! v^te?%> night !" • "•% Black had seemed to the poor child the most economical species of garment she could buy. but she had been painfully conscious that it did not suit her, conscious even with a more acute consciousness since the smartly-gownea guests had •looked over her with supercilious glances and iH^supiiressed sniffs. . She skibd before her -glass now-, looking 'disconsolately at -her own* reflection. • "f think I'm vtery stupid," she sighed? "nothing I buy ever seems to look nice "when X put it on! Miles never, liked any of jny clothes — \n& one ; -at Miles was kinder than these horrid— honid pigs of women."

Great tears stood in her eyas ; her heart was gripped by a sudden longing to .see Miles again, to hear his deep" voice,' to look up into his strong face,, and with the longing, a little choking sob broke from her. "Not that I ever want to go back," she exclaimed aloud, stretching out her hands to the forlorn little figure that looked back at her from the glass ; "I — I shouldn't think Miles would ever want to see me again — but " A knock on the door made her start and turn from the dressing table, brushing her eyes hastily with her hand, as i»ady Dimsdale's maid came in, carrying a long parcel wrapped in tissue paper. "Hsr ladyship wishes me to come and help you dress to-night," she said kindly.

She was a kind soul, and liked Hope, as did all the servants, to whom the girl was unfailingly considerate and courteous. "To help me dress, Manners?" Hope's eyes opened widely. "Yes, miss — and her ladyship told me to ask you to put this on to-night-^-to please 4er. She've had it made for you, miss."

"Had it made for me? Had that made for me?" Hope's hand that pointed to the gown the maid was slowly shaking out of its enwrapping paper positively trembled with excitement. "Why, Manners, oh! Manners, it can't be for me; it's lovely — it's " Her voice shook, she could not finish the sentence, the tears that had been in her eyes a moment before filled them again. "Don't you take on, miss," Manners said gently ; "the "own is for you right enough, and suit you well it will too— this soft red is your colour — what you bhould always wear." "

"I never had a silk dress in all my life," Hope cried breathlessly, her fingers touching ilmost with reverence the fold* of the soft silk ; "I didn't dream I ever should have one."

Manners smiled a kind, not a contemptuous, smile, and her capable hands helped Hope's trembling ones as the girl hastily flung off the dress she wore, then seized a brush to smooth back the ruffled tangles of her hair.

"Let me do your hair for you, miss," the maid said' gently ; "you didn't never onught to brush it back that way. Why, it's a perfect picture for curls ; you'd ought to let if curl natural like." "But," Hope faltered, "somebody said once it was — untidy." "There's all the difference, miss, between hair bein? tidy and plastered down as if it was greased, if you'll excuse- me saying so." "But — but it's taking up your time, Manners," Hope went on ; "perhaps Lady Dimsdale will want you — and I can really do it myself." x

"Her ladyship is dressed,, miss, and she sent me to you, so you just let me make your hair look as it ought to look." After this. Hop© willingly enough sub-

zni*tfcecl to put- Herself znto liazicbs, and sat down before the glass, to watch in speechless admiration the transmogrifying of her own head under the skilful fingers of the clever maid.

Manners took a true artist's pride and pleasure "in pulling out the curling hair, in arranging its tiny tendrils on the girl's white forehead, in making of the whole a soft dusky frame for the small eager face. Though loosely piled in grateful disorder, there was, as Jlope'6 eyes plainly saw, no trace of untidiness about her coiffure : even the most fastidious person could not tell her her hpir was in a jness j Manners mildly but firmly declined to go even * when her hair-dressing task was finished — she insisted upon helping the girl into the soft silk dress which Hope looked at with eyes of reverent awe ! "There now, miss," the maid exclaimed when all was finally adjusted, giving a final shake to 'the graceful clinging folds, and holding a candle in position that Hope might see herself fully in the long slsc&s ; "there, now 1 Nobody wouldn't know you."

I "Oh !" was all that Hope found herself able to say for fully, a minute, whilst her eyes travelled up and down her own reect'ion, from the crown of her small weftcoiffured head to the hem of the dainty garinentr that clung to her lissome young . figure. ' Its folds hid any angularities, its rich, 3eep colour, suited well— with the soft duskiness of her hair, made her skin look : white and clear, gave added brightness to her eyes, that already shone brilliantly. "On !" she exclaimed again ; "I — oh ! i Manners, I don't believe it is me at all. I think — I am too grand ! • Ought I to go down looking like this?" "Well", miss, I shouldn't say as her lady- ■ I ship would have sent the dress, and asked you to wear it if she" hadn't meant for you to look your very best — I shouldn't say as she would : and her ladyship wished me to say she would De glad if you would* go in the little library-befere dinner- for ' her to see how the dress does."

"I. don't think anybody in the world could ever be ' so kind;" the girl said softly, tears' coming into her eyes ; '*and I^djonlt-know. how to say thank you enough to yoti^"Mso&ers,.for having made me look 6O — so different."

The maid-'* rather prim face relaxed into quite a tremulous smile, ■ as .<Hope^ seized ■ her Jiaods -and wrung' them impulsively. | "Lor' bless you, miss!" -was', all she', ! couWnsay, but her voice shook as* she said it— =-and a ftope understood. leathering her soft -dr«ss about her, still with reverent fingers, as though she were half afraid of, touching her silken t draperies, she ran quickly down the wide i staircase and into a small room, which, ! opening out of the- great library the ! house, had been- given ' the name of the little library. - It was a small, cosy apartment* used chiefly by Sir James a& a smoking room, and r his nephew as; a study, and" excepting" when Lady Dimsdale occasionally sat there' and needed -j^er,. Hope had sel- j <c?om been in- the room at all. •- . | It was furnished simply but very comfortably with a sofa, a few big armchairs, a bureau, and an.-occasibnal table or two. Evejtf table in the roonfc bore a goodly magazines and newspapers, and "(he low bookshelves that ran round the walls were filled with the lighter literature of the house, as opposed to the more solid works stored in the big library beyond the closed folding dodrs. The walls were hung with family portraits, and on an easel in the corner stood a beautiful water-colour sketch of a corner of the park, of that very corner with its dell 1 of daffodils in which Hope had first met Arthur Dimsdale. . . Finding the room empty, and thinking that Lady Dimsdale would doubtless soon iom her, ' Hope crossed to the fireplace and picked up a book from a small table be> side a big armchair. „,.,, u -. She had not outgrown her childish habit o! becoming buried in whatever she was reading, and so abrorbed did she become in the book, one in which she was already detply interested, that she was quite unconscious of the opening door, and of the man's figure that stood motionkss on the threshold, his eyes looking from the graceful figure in the chair to the pictured j lady overhead, and; back again, a strange j expression on his face. j ! Since the day lie had first met Hope, I sitting in the frame of green bushes, ; against the background of golden and ( white flowers, with flushed face and raffled hair, he had often, found himself pondering I on the likeness' he had seen between this girl-and some unknown" woman*. .That like^ ness had invariably eluded him, his brain [ had refused 'to trace it, and in the illI dressed, - sleek-haired girl who had come to the Hall as, his aunts companion, he | had almost failed to discover that fleeting likeness. . " That there were possibilities of beauty in the girl he had vaguely realised ; there was -a distinct fascination in her naivete and 1 simplicity he more than recognised— -he took a certain amused pleasure in saying something which* would make her eyes gleam, or bring a flash of colour to her | face; but that she could ever have looked Jovely, really and actually lovely, he could never have believed — until now.

The soft light of the shaded lamps fell on her downbent head, and* its crown ef dark hair, that to the ignorant masculine eye seemed transformed into something quite new and unlike itself. Her gown's richness -of eolburinig gave' new colour to her face, 'it outlined all the grace and delicacy of her form, which, illcut clothe* had' skilfully; concealed,, and Dimsdale's artistic soul noted at once the shapeliness of her small head, and how well it was set on her round, white neck.

After that first astonished glance at her, his eyes involuntarily lifted themselves to. the picture over her head, and lie 'almost uttered an exclamation of amazement. The painting represented a woman, little more than a girl,. dressed in the dress of a bygone period, ,whose colour, Itke Hope's gown, »waß of a dull rich red. . The girl in the picture looked straight

out. into t&e. room, Kier eyes seemed to meeb the eyes- of the motionless man on tbathreshold, and he realised that the eyes in the portrait were of a deep soft green, clear as a mountain stream — and like — yes, exactly like— Hope's eyes ! And though the " hair of the pictured woman was arranged in a fashion long, long out of date, nothing could hide its cloudy softness, nor subdue the little wilful curls that strayed over her forehead and round her pretty ears. ' -Her lips Were just parted in a lovely haunting smile, and at that moment Hope - liftedlier eyes from the book she was reading, and looked across the room : the dreaminess brought by the story still lay in her eyes, "the smile induced by the book's happy, ending lingered still on her lips, and -Arthur, - forgetful of everything except The strange and apparently unaccountable fact of .which he had suddenly become aware, exclaimed aloud: v • "By Jove! I've" found^out at last what th 3 likeness is!" " **""•*' \

'Oh! Mr Dimsdale, how you startled, me," Hope_ said quickly ; "I was so buriedl in my book I never, heard you come in. Lady Dimsdale "told me to come here/ before dinner" to 'show her my gown"sbe*- v has given me; isn't it lovely? And oh, isn't it" good of her? ' Arthur's eyes strayed oajsr the new" dress a somewhat perfunctory Way, and returned to her eager face in deepening bewilderment. .

" Yes — very good," he said absently ; ''but-'-Miss Smith, just turn and look ati the portrait behind you. Do you see any, ' likeness in it toanyione you know?" The girl turned sharply, and koked up into, the lovely pietwr© face, a deeper flush overspreading her own as she lcoked • " Why," she said slowly, "she's like — I ' can't help seeing It, though it sounds dreadfully vain — but it's like — I mean I'm like— her — in this beautiful new gown." " Yes — you are like her," Arthur re- , peated slowly j "you are her living image." . " But only .in this gown," the girl pui in. "of coarse, I shouldn't be the least oife like her if it wasn't for this lovely gown.*,? "Oh, yes; you jrould," he answered/ "you are her living image, feature for feature, Kne for line ; your eyes^ are the same, your haii and ' her hair are exactly alike, your face is the same' shape*' you havt<precisely ..similar colouring, and I can't* think why none of us have never noticed! it before.." „ • , ' - "Eve* noticed what before?" . Lady. Dimsdale spoke from the doorway. "What? have you.- never — why, Miss Smith, my clear child — is it " and~ Lady Dimsdale's sentence trailed* into -an astonished silence, whilst she stood looking at her companion \vith«a glance of unmitigated astonishment. •'I told Manners I didn't think I ought to come' down looking Hks — like this,* Hope replied anxiously. "I felt it wasn't! suitable. or right. / I ! ' ' .iw.y dear, it .is quite suitable, quite aght^-only I never* realised before 4owcradly- you kave been treating yourself all tms~time.- Why-have^-we -never seear -thia pretty softa-hair' befdec?" and theelder lady's hand was laid caressingly ori Hope's dark head. "That. I conclude, is why we have, never noticed before the extraordinary likeness betwt- Miss Smith and my great grand* mother .up there," Arthur said lightly. "Have you ever seen anything more -extra* ordinary, aunt?" Lady Dimsdale lifted her pince-nez and loaked long and earnestly from the smiling pictured face to .Hope s; her oWn eyes growing the while as bewildered as her nephew's had been. "It is most singular," 'she said, "most incomprehensible. Such a likeness as this cannot possibly be a chance coincidence. Have you any Dimsdale relations, dear?"> She turned to Hope, a suppressed eagex'^ ness in her tones.

"Not that I . know of, but, then, B really know nothing of my relations. My mother ". At that moment the dinner gong sent its resounding clamour through tne house, and Lady Dimsdale started and turned towards the' door.

c "Dinner ready -i And I ought toj>e ia -the- drawing room " attending to ray - gue?ts," she exclaimed, . .."Come, Ml«a Smith, we must talk ovc* this curious incident to-morrow. Probably we shall find some reason to account for the likeaess: possibly it is merely a coincidence — such things do happen — but it i» strange — very, very strange!"

(To be continued^

—-An' ordinary- touring motor-car, driven by Captain Deasy, recently asoended Balloch Hill, between Loohcarron and Applecross, on the western borders of Ross-shire, carrying six passengers and luggage, together with surveying instruments and ai complete bioscope <oatfir. From the •horp of Loch Eishorn the' ascent is one of 2250 ft in cix *"and the average gradient' ia one in ten. - . -> -•'-