IN HER OWN RIGHT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3029, 3 April 1912, Page 70

IN HER OWN RIGHT.

THE HOVELIST.

[Published by Special Arrangement.]

By LADY TROUBRIDGE. Author of "The Soul of Honour," "The Cheat," "Love the Locksmith," 'T*h© Girl With the Blue Eyes," Etc., Etc. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I.—The Rollesden brougham conveys Lord Rollesden and his daughter, Lady Ivy, to the Palaoe, where she is to be presented to the King. On the way her father chides her for her views of life, and finally tells her to do as she pleases, but he will not be responsible for her. While sho is waiting to be presented Lord Strevelss.a turns up, and Lord Rollesden intrcduoes him to Lady Ivy. Lord Strevelsea's interest and admiration are at once aroused. He cannot understand why she wishes to earn her own living. After the presentation, when they are driving home, Lord Rollesden tells Ivy that he is about to join her brothers at Marseilles. He has a seizure, and Lady Ivy makes one more appeal for affection, but, failing, she goes away. Keith Garrett, tier father's secretary, meet 3 her, and, after mentioning that her father has told him she intends to go away, he begins to make love ardently. She tells him that, in consequence of what she is going to do, her father will leave her penniless. He allows her to escape. CHAPTER ll.—Lord Rollesden goes away in his motor car, and Lady Ivy is left alone to think. Viva G-aythorpe, an actress, calls to see her. Ivy tells her of her solitude, and tho emptiness of her life. They discuss matters. Tlie secretary breaks in on their conversation, and tells Ivy that her father is returning. After he has left the room Viva questions Ivy concerning him. It is arranged that Ivy is to join Viva Gavthorpe to-morrow. The next day Lord Rollesden returns about 4 o'clock, and inquires for his daughter. He learns that she has gone, leaving no address. CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Lord Rollesden sends his secretary to seek for Lady Ivy. He enters her sitting-room and finds a penned scrawl from her on the table. Ho tears cfl the postscript, and presents the upper portion to Lord Rollesden, who reads it with contempt. He takes Garrett to witness that he has done with the girl for ever. Garrett offers to try and trace her, but Lord Rollesden refuses. He goes to his wife's room. Lady Rollesderi ig an invalid; she is not strong enough to think of disAgitcablc things. She is willing for Ivy to gung her own gait, and to receive her again when the girl is tired. Lord Rollesden, howover, is not willing. Ivy reaches Melford Mansions, where Viva resides. Sophy, her mother's maid, had refused to allow her an interview with her mother. The actress greets her cordially, but during the progress of the conversation Ivy does not feel so comfortable. Viva lets her understand the situation thoroughly. Sho tells her that there is one man whom she wishes to win, and she wants Ivv to be with her as companion to that end. His name is Lord Strevelsea.

[Copyhiciit.]

CHAPTER V. ij . HE two girls made a hasty , meal together about 6 o’clock, and then Viva had driven to ► . tile .S]dendide Theatre in her *J eleetromobile. “Don’t be dull,”' she said, s as she kissed Ivy kindly at parting, “ and don't make make yourself too beautiful.”

“ Xo,” returned Ivy, laughingly, as she kissed and promised. “ Chaperons should i>e dowdy.” “ Well,” said Viva, ‘‘ I shall be back in time for supper at 11.30, and I have asked someone to amuse you. Wynne, our stage manager, is doming also Be charming to him, and he will probably give you a billot ; but be will not amuse you mudh. However,, Aubrey Vane may. He’s a funny boy, good-looking, and rich, and perhaps he’ll put the thought of that ill-tempered secretary out 'of your mind.” Ivy’s face flamed, for Viva, in her light speech, had pul her finger on the other trouble that in her secret thoughts tormented her. The remembrance of the love she had unconsciously awakened, helf-responded to, and then flouted. It had been badly done, sihe knew, and had left a kind of bitter-sweet memory end reproach that was not a regret, and yet lived in her heart as an embodied pain. Poor Keith! If lie really loved her, as he had said he did, how he must be suffering now! Yet. after all, love does not beget love, whatever the i'omancers say. Ivy was beginning to understand thathad begun, in fact, from the moment a certain pair of blue eyes at once boyish and ardent had looked into her own. Then, as she began to dress for V iva’s return, it struck her almost as a blow that in this new world she would meet the one person who could have made her own world pleasant to her, had he not crossed her path just as she was leaving it. There was a great pleasure in the thought of seeing him again—a pleasure and a pain, for in the old world he had seemed to belong to no one; but now it appeared that he was Viva’s admirer, and that thought lay coiled like a serpent at her heart —a thought she hardly dare dwell upon; a thought that other musing?, other recollections, kept from her dor the moment.

She was dressed early, and then sat alone in the. drawing room where, in spite of 'herself, thoughts of the home sue had left, and of her father and rnother, obtruded themselves. She had never imagined that it would be so hard to forget—so hard to sever all the links of the old life; but it was, and when looking at the clock she saw that it was half-past 10, vsomo instinct diew her to the telephone, and her hand trembled as she took down the receiver and gave the number. What if Keith himself came to the telephone? Well, she could always ring off, and, besides, at this hour, it was practically certain that the message would be taken by the butler. So it proved; and a moment later she heard his voice. "What name, please?" " It's me, Ferder—Lady Ivy." "Oh, yes, my lady; I'll call his lordship." The instrument trembled in her hand. "No, Ferder, on no account! I only want to say a word." "But, my lady, if his lordship knows " "' He won't know, Ferder. Do listen to me. I only want to ask a queetion of you. How is her ladyship : how is my mother?" " Well, my lady, so far as I know, her ladyship is quite well." "Not upset?" " No, my lady. I've heard nothing of the kind."' "And his lordship?" ''■ His lordship has been poorly any lady, since his return, but is now quite well. Will your ladyship give me your telephone number? I hear Mr Garrett coming." "No—no, Ferder. I would rather not speak Co Mr Garrett. Good-night!" She hung up the receiver, and for a moment it seemed as if she saw Keith Garrett's miserable eyes burning into her c wn, and heard the passionate tones of his voice—a voice claiming 'her and calling her as lr's own. She rushed away to her room, and presently heard the sound of voices and laughter, and Viva's voice' at her door speaking to her. '• Go in, Ivy, and talk to them while I change," she called out, and there was a note of almost gay wildness in her tone, as if happiness had claimed her for a moment for its own. "You won't need any introductions," she added, "for I have told them you will be hostess till I come." Ivy did not much like being suddenly forced to confront a number of strangers, but although she had only been a few hours in Viva's flat, she had a feeling that that charming person was not to be lightly disobeyed by one who owed her everything, and, summoning her courage, she" walked down the narrow white passage and into the pink and blue drawing room. It seemed full of people talking and laughing, and as she stood in the doorway in her white clinging foamy dress, the tiny flounces of which curled sinuously about her feet, she could not distinguish one person from another. Two of the women turned and stared at her rather rudely at the head, crowned with its wealth of bronze hair; at the shining eyes, the parted lips; but they said nothing, while Ivy felt herself growing more nervous than she had done at the Court of King George the Fifth a few short days ago. Why that scene should have flashed into her mind she could not at first imagine, and then she knew, for a tall, silent figure standing in the shadows came forward info the circle of electric light and held out his hand. " How do you do, Lady Ivy?" he said. " It's a great surprise meeting you here." Ivy shook hands with him, while four pairs of eyes focussed themselves upon her. Her own were gleaming between down-dropped lashes, and the little hand Strevelsea held for a moment in his own \\l.i.s cold and trembling. "I'm staying here with Miss Gaythorpe," she murmured. " I see," he answered gravely, and, again, as on that other occasion, though his words were ordinary, his eyes seemed to be saying .so much more than his lips spoke. '"' Is this the first step to that project you told me of?" •' Yes, it is the first step to going on the stage," returned Ivy, almost defiantly. A woman sitting near laughed scornfully, and, unasked, joined in the conversation. "1 hope that isn't a secret," she said, " l>ecause I've heard it; and don't think me discouraging if I remark that that's easier said than done." Ivy turned to her, and saw a largish woman in an unbecoming tweed skirt and plaid blouse. She had taken off her hat and held it in her hands her face was handsome, and she seemed overflowing with good spirits and of serene self-satis-faction. Ivy did not resent her words. Perhaps' she was glad to be spoken to —glad not to be completely .out of the circle. " Does that mean' I have no chance?" she asked. •' No—no, my dear, far from i( ! answered the stoutish woman, comfortably. " But you have heard what an overcrowded profession it is, and it's getting worse than ever. Kverybody I meet wants to go on the stage, and they seom to think, "because 1 write plays, that I can get them there." "Perhaps you could get me there," said Ivy. with her frank sweet smile, and eyeing * the untidy-looking lady with a great deal of respect. Dramatists were people she had never come across, and her first meeting with one interested her. " Well, my dear, when I know you better we might have a talk about it; but I expect Miss Gaythorpe will have some idea in her head for you." Strevelsea listened to tin's talk impatiently. " Won't you come over here?" he whispered, bending his handsome head to wards her, " and let me say a word to you." His voice sounded so different from that

of all the others—-jso refined, and southing, and altogether mee, that Iv\ felt an instant wish to do as he suggested. But she had now roused the attention of the women, and they began discussing her to her face in a way that seemed odd, but was perhaps well-meant. " I think she could u.nder-study Viva herself, don't you, Flossie?" said tne lady who had first' spoken, addressing herself to a younger flaxen-haired lonian, smartly dressed in a coat and skirt, and with a coquettish hat pulled down over her eves. " Yes," drawled the girl "addressed as Flossie. " Yes, they're certainly very much alike, but Viva's paler, and her hair is lighter, and we all know that it doesn't do for the under-st-udy to be more vivid-looking than the ' star,' does it, girls?" "Do com* over here," urged Strevelsea again in a l'ow voice. " Miss Gaythorpe will be in in a moment, and then there won't be a chance of sa>ing a word to VIOU." Drawn by the command in his eyes, sho moved" forward, and, crossing the room with him tinder a fire of glances, partly gay and partly malicious, round hew-elf sitting with him on an ottoman under the further window. Then he leaned forward and looked into her eyes "Why on earth are you here, Lady Ivy 9 " he said, almost imperiously. ' When 1 first saw vou coming into the fooim I could hardly believe the evidence of my own eves." "Why shouldn't I be here?" she murmured. He looked at her drooped head with a certain irritation. Time was flying, and soon their hostess would be among them. Before she came he determined to find out how this white lily of a girl had come to be transplanted to such uncongenial soil. "Don't put me off with that sort of remark," he answered, "when we've only a moment to talk together. I know these people; they will be chattering all the evening, and we shall have to laugh and chatter, too—noise without sense, and sound without merriment." "But Miss Gaythorpe is your friend, and surely she is charming," said Ivy. Strevelsea nodded. "Yes, she is my friend, and she is charming. But you—you are different." He broke off and seemed to search for words. "Viva's father and mother were on the stage; she belonged to a great theatrical family, and she was born and brought up to it; but it isn't the sort of life for you, nor are these the kind of people you would have anything in common with." "They seem all right," said Ivy. She wished he would talk of something else, but he kept to his point, "They are respectability itself, if you mean that; but they are, as you will soon see, not your sort at all." "Why do you come and meet them yourself then?" Ivy knew, as she spoke the words, that she was beinsj stupid and ungracious, but she could not help it. It would never do to show the white feather now ; she had cut herself adrift from the old life, and this was the best she could expect. "I come," he answered her, "because I've known Viva Gaythorpe for years. Her mother and mine were friends; my mother was a very broad-minded woman, and interested in 'all sorts and conditions of people, and Viva's mother was exceptionally charming and clever. I've kncwn her oil and off all my life, and I dou't want her to think me stuck-up or anv nonsense of that sort now, much as I pre-, fer seeing her alone." "That's a good hint for me," said Ivy, trving to laugh off the tension she felt, Instantly his eyes, full of angry reproach, met hers. "I don't quite understand what you mean." Ivy felt that she was putting her toot into it; she did not know what to say, so she went on : "Surely it's very easy to understand! I must try not to be in the way when you talk t<> your old friend. I must act the part of the duenna, or the gooseberry." Strevelsea gave the upward tilt of his chin with winch she was beginning to be familiar as a proud characteristic movement. , "()h, you needn't worry about that,' he said, with a supercilious lift of the eyebrow, "Miss Viva and I are great pals, but there's no nonsense about it at all." "Ivy thought of Viva's confidences, and grew' cold with a feeling of disloyalty. Oh, if she had only known that the friend whose love Viva Mas longing to win was Lord Strevelsea, she hardly felt as if she could have come. And yet, why not? Was she insinuating even to Herself that she cared for a man she had only seen twice—she, who had played at love with another man, before she really knew the meaning of that wonderful word. Anyhow, it was too childish, too absurd, to think of such things now. "I am chaffing and yon are serious," she said rather impatiently. "Yes, I am serious,'' he answered. "Make no mistake about that. I mean to have this out with you sooner. or later, and if you won't listen to me I'm capable of going to Lord Rollesden." [vv's pride and courage were shaken to their flimsy foundations. 'Oh! vou wouldn't, you couldn't do such a thing," she cried, rising to her feet. "You wouldn't dare!" Strevelsea got up too. "Dare!" he said, his face flushing. "It's lucky you're a girl, Lady Ivy, or I'd soon show you whether I dare do a thing I say or not." The opening door showed Viva beautifully dressed in green, and with pearls at her neck. The others crowded round her, but her eyes passed them and fastened on Ivy and Strevelsea, still side by side. "Oh, I beg and pray of you," said the girl as she advanced, "to do nothing yet."

"You beg and pray me," he said in an undertone, "then that's enough. I'll do nothing till we've had our talk only, mind, it's got to come." There was certainly something curious in Viva's manner as she greeted Ivy in passing ; something cold and hard under her smooth, bright kindness. ''l see you've been entertaining Lord Strevelsea," she said; "but you had better keep some of your attentions for Mr \\ ynne—that is, if you want to get taken on at the Splendide. But perhaps you have changed your mind about going on the stage?" "I wish she would." said Lord Strevelsea, who came up on the last words. Viva's colour rose. "Oh, have you been preaching to this stage-struck lady," 3he said. "It is very kind of you I ani sure, on such a short acquaintance." The tone was decidedly haughty, but Strevelsea did not seem at all abashed. "It isn't such a short acquaintance as you seem to think," he answered incautiously. "Lady Ivy and I have met before." "Really! How very interesting! But now, suppose we have some supper before we all faint with hunger." She linked her arm through that of the stout woman who was called Mrs Maynard, and walked across the passage to the dining room—a small cosy room panelled with dark oak and lit with green shaded electric lights that glowed on shining glass and silver, wide open pink tulips and lily buds. Ivy followed her mechanically, with Strevelsea just at her elbow. At the edge of the table she paused irresolute, with her hand on the back of the chair, and in that moment Viva looked up, and, seeing Strevelsea pulling out a chair by her side, beckoned imperiously to him with a white uplifted hand. Ivy was conscious of a thrill of unconscious distaste at this calmly spoken Christian name and the intimacy it implied. "Don't you think it a pity to disarrange us now we're settled?" said Strevelsea. "We arc all very comfortable." The truth was that his growing passion for Ivy, always thwarted as it seemed to be, leapt high over the dam of social restraint. Why should he not sit where he liked at this informal gathering? Why should he not talk to the girl he had so plainly shown he wished to converse with? Charming as he was, London life had spoilt him a little, and he was accustomed to his own ,way. Viva's eyes flashed fire. "I'm sorry to be obstinate, Cuy," she said, "but that place is reserved for Mr Wynne, who is coming on later from the theatre, so I'm afraid you'll have to be content with me." Jvy looked at him imploringly, and feeling there was nothing more to bo said, lie obeyed, clearing his brow with an effort, while Ivy sank into her chair with a scarlet flush that died away, as she watched him walk round the table to Viva's side, where he apparently succeeded in pacifying her, for presently her laughter rang out at something he was saying. Yet he seemed restless, and although lie kept up a continuous stream of laughter and chat with his hostess, his blue eyes wandered continually round the table to the white-robed girl sitting so silent in the high-backed chair, looking so pure and pale among the others. And presently she, too, raised her eyes for one moment, and their glances met. That moment was all the comfort Ivy had during the long supper, with its eating, drinking, and chattering, and presently she was thankful to find the empty y.'ace by her side filled by a tall, florid individual, who came in rather late, and making loud excuses as the dishes were broi t ,l i» back for his consumption. "It's your is.ult, ladies," he said, waving his hand round the table. "I've been interviewing one att9V another of your fair sex ever since the curtain went down. Ah ! Lord Strevelsea, glad to meet you again !" At last he subsided into his place, and as he helped himself to a lobster mayonnaise, Viva spoke to him. "Let me introduce my friend, Lady Ivy Rollesden, to you; she's very anxious to go on the stage." Ivy felt jarred. 'Little as she knew of the great world, she had gathered certain rules of good breeding, such as the presentation of the man to the woman, and not vice versa. Strevelsea's brow also clouded as he looked towards the newcomer, who turned to Ivy patronisiugly. "So you're another of them !" he said. "The cry is 'still they come!' Well, I must say, you don't look a bad recruit, and your title will help you, if you don't want'to be a star to-morrow morning." Ivy rallied her forces. "No, 'but I should like to be one the day after tomorrow," she laughed. "Can you sing?" asked Wynne, with his mouth full of salad. "A little," said Ivy. "Oh ! Heaven preserve us from the girls who sing 'a little.' Come now," he took a great gulp of champagne, and then looked round the table for applause as he spoke, "vou haven't got a voice a penny whilstle, have you, because I'm fed up with those kind of voices, and so is the public." 'Hie hot red scorched Ivy's cheeks. She looked up the table to where her only friend sat, manly, broad-shouldered, a gentleman to the finger-tips, and for the first time she understood the mistake she had made. "I'm sure Lady Ivy divinely, said Strevelsea, leaning forward. Viva frowned. "What do you know about it?" she said to him under her breath. "Well, if his lordship vouches for your voice, we'll pass on to other things. How do vou dance?" "Oh! I dance beautifully," said Ivy,

who did not again wish to be championed from the head of the table. "Come, that's better, perhaps you will oblige us after supper." "None of your shop, Mr Wynne," said Mrs Maynard. "There's a proper time for everything. To-morrow you can find out if this young lady's going to be a star or not; to-night she is evidently tired." Wynne gave a rather unpleasant laugh. "If you were as tired of stars as I am," he said, "or rather, people who fancy themselves 'stars,' you wouldn't blame me for not being enthusiastic." "There, Lady Ivy," said Strevelsea, "now perhaps you'll take my advice, and give up this idea of the stage." Wynne turned towards the young nobleman. "Oh ! so you've been telling this young lady not to come and sing or dance for IIS?" "Not at all, Mr Wynne." The tones were incisive and haughty. "I have been advising her to dance at 'London balls with me." "Oh, and what does she say?" "I prefer to make my own way," said Ivy in a low tone. "That's right," said Wynne, "1 like a gill of spirit, and we must see what we can do to make room for you." Viva impatiently started to her feet. "If you've done with this interesting subject," she said, "let us come along and play bridge." As they walked down the passage, she laid her hand lightly on Strevelsea'e arm. "We want you, Guy, at. our table," she said. "I don't think I'll play to-night." he answered, his eyes following Ivy. He had seen her face lower, and her lips droop, and he was sorry that she seemed to shrink away from bis presistent gaze. "Oh, nonsense, we must have you!" cried Viva. "You know very well you are always keen on bridge—at least." with a mocking glance, "you were." "Well, perhaps I'll join in later," said Strevelsea. rather awkwardly. Viva bit her lip, and her hand dropped from his arm, as she passed on into the room, leaving Strevelsea to fall behind and join Ivy. "Don't play bridge," he said, "we'll have our talk now." "No, oh, no, you must plav! I heard her ask you. You will make her hate me if you go on like this." But he was reckless, and he did not care. "I would rather talk to you,"' he persisted, and again he looked at her. No man she had ever known before or since seemed able to say so much with eyes alone, and although his words had no lack of fire, they seemed bereft of eloquence beside his glances. Iw couldn't help feeling how much she would have enjoyed this wordless sympathy and the way in which he singled bev out if it had riot been for Viva's confidences. They seemed to give a terrible awkwardness to the situation, and her heart failed her. "No, no," she cried, "I can't! Do play bridge, or do whatever Viva wants." "The great, principle in life," lie said, "is to do what pleases oneself, and to follow the path that le;:ds one whither one would go. Now. I know where 1 want to go. and where I want to lead you—to that ottoman over there, so that we can go on with our chat." Ivy yielded to his impetuosity. It was as difficult for her to resist him as for a flower to resist the sweet roughness of the west wind. She felt that he had determined to have his talk with her, and that any refusal would have exasperated him and made him reckless. Yet when she was safely seated at his side his words petrified her. "Ivy," he aid, disdaining her title in his earnestness, "you are not to go and sing and dance to that fellow to-morrow. I forbid it —I. Don't ask me what right I have, or you will force me to tell you that I have the greatest right in the world • —the right of love. I had hoped to have told you so gradually—to have let you feel my love all round you. long before I spoke one word. It is hateful to id! you here, to have to whisper it for fear it should be heard, hut there is nothing oho to be done. This sacrifice of yourself shall not go on." As he spoke he took up the great fan that lay by her side, and spread if out in front of them. It was an old lover's dodge, but it succeeded in screening them. "Darling, my darling," he pleaded hehind the shelter, "when will vou marry me?" ■ (To be continued.)