A Complete Story.

Rodney and Otamatea Times, Waitemata and Kaipara Gazette, 21 August 1912, Page 6

A Complete Story.

(All Rights Reserved.) . DAUGHTER.

By FLORENCE WARDEN Author of "The House on the Marsh," "Settled Out of Court," "A Witch of the Hills," "The Inn by the Shore," "Tom Dawson," &c.

."Jhe" Earl of Elstree was walking up. and down the spacious library of

his Kentish seat,. Fav.erstock Place,

•with-his hands behind him, and with i' a^loblcof intense anxiety on his hard, ' handsome fa.cc, when a footman came into say . tljat young Mr. Crompton

had come from the Vicarage to return

the. books lent to his father. The Earl .-merely nodded, while at the

same moment the sound of wheels * caused him to Return eagerly to the window.

A minute later the door of tha library, opened again, and the foot-

man announced "Dr. Waring."

Lord Elstree greeted the great London physician with eagernessj and dashed at once into the reason of his sending for him.

""My daughter,, docto*, my only child, is going the same way as her mother."

"Good gracious! Impossible! Taken to morphine! At her age I How • does she manage to get it?"

"How can one tell? Nobody ever knew show her mother got it, till one by one her jewels disappeared, and then the small curios from my collection. But the girl gets what she wants, I'm sure of it. She has all the signs. Deadly lassitude and langour at one, time, feverish excitement and irritability at another. And the same resolute secretiveness with it all."

"How old is she?" "Eighteen."

"We'll cure her. You must marry

her."

"Oh, yes. She is engaged already, and I'm pushing it on."

, "To whom? The good-looking young fellow I pas/sed on my way in ?"

•y>'- Ohj no. That the Vicar's son—an - impecunious, young, struggling barglister. .. Hasn't a cent. No, my daughter is going to marry Sir Valentine Coventry."

* '"the physician looked surprised. He was a blunt man —accustomed to say what he thought, and disdainful of.all courtier's art.

"Sir Valantine Coventry! Why, he's the ugliest lold figurehead in England ! As old as you or I."

Lord Elstree looked annoyed. He is one of the shrewdest business men in England, and >Jiis wife will keep the state of a Princess," he saidj stiffly.

He led the way to Lady Barbara's rooms, where they found a beautiful young girl, lying flushed, trembling, and drawing deep breaths, on a sofa. She sat up at once when they came in, and looked with sullen, resentful eyes at them both, answering the doctor's questions shortly and scarcely with courtesy.

The moment her father retired there was a change in her demeanour. She turned flashing eyes upon the physician.

"I know what you think," she said. "I know what you have come to find out. Well, I don't deny anything. My father drove my mother to the consolation she found for a dreary, distasteful life. Why shouldn't I find the same

*'Oh, come, come, I'm not going to believe anything of that sort for a ' moment. Yon are much too young to find life distasteful or hopeless. •«-—. are going to be married » , "Yes, to a man I loathe." ' 1"Well, why marry him, then?"

"You. know my father. I have no choice. And anything—even marriage withi Sir Valentine—is better than the caged life I lead here."

"But, you're going to town to-moi--tow?"

"I hate town," flashed Lady Baibara, v angrily. I'mi watched and spied upon there, just as I am here. My maid is a spy. I hate her."

"You .seem to hate everybody and everything," said Dr. Waring, speaking, less, brusquely to the lovely girl than he had done {o her father. "Do you hate flowers too?" he asked, with a smile, as he bent dowa Jto inhale the fragrance of a lovely basketful of damask roses that stood on a table beside him. Lady Barbara's face changed. "No, I don't hate flowers." "Who brought them?" asked the physician, quickly. The colour died out of the girl's lovely face. "They were sent me by ..Mrs. Crompton, the Vicar's wife," she said. , :"• .' /.■::■?:> Dr. Waring began ftx?: examine the roses with sudderi interest, and Lady Barbara,; with the excuse that she .must put them in water, took the basket hurriedly away. The Earl met the physician m the corridor, when the latter had left his patient. "Well, whatjiofflK think? It's the sam6aggj|^ : l kites'. r^nething I^^^^H^ la FLE'-t0 tell a dis . ' Wi ls an Vf these

"Have you any idea through what channel she could get the/drug ?"

"I have an idea, but it may be a wrong one. Nurse Bridget will ferret it out, though, I've no doubt.

"Send her .at once," said the Earl,

It was arranged that the new maid should call at Grosvenor-square on the following day, when the Eari and his daughter would be at their town house for the months of June and July.

Nurse Bridges was a motherlylooking, middle-aged woman, to whom, fortunately, both the Earl and his daughter took a liking. The former warned her to keep a watchful eye on Lady Barbara without appearing to watch her, and Lady Barbara herself warned her that she was not to be watched.

Nurse Bridges received the warnings of both' with circumspect submissiveness, and was confidently informed by the housekeeper that she was "in for a rough time."

"If it's anything like it used to be with her Ladyship that's dead," went on the housekeeper, "you'll have enough to do-between his Lordship and his daughter, just as there used to be between him and his wife. He used to keep her without money, and then her jewellery gradually disappeared. And the things began to go from the cabinets—snuffboxes, and things like that. Nobody knew where. they went to, or how but go they did, and her Ladyship got her morphine. And so will Lady Barbara if she's set her mind on it, sure enough. And a pity, too, for she's a sweet young lady, and takes after her mother in more ways than- one."

Nurse Bridges looked grave. "I'll do my best to stop it." she said, cautiously, "but I've had these cases before, lots of them, and a pretty dance they lead one. Sometimes it's for drugs, and sometimes for brandy and such like. And the shifts they're put to, and the dodges they try, you wouldn't believe. But she's so young she may be easier to deal with than some of them. Anyhow," she added, valiantly, as the housekeeper shook her head despondently, "I'll do my best."

For a few days there did indeed seem to be an improvement in Lady Barbara's condition. She was quieter, less subject to violent changes from high spirits to deadly languor; and the Earl began to congratulate himself on the engagement of Nurse Bridges, when he missed from his daughter's neck, one evening when he was going to take her to the Opera, the double string of pearls she always wore on such occasions.

"Where are your pearls?" he asked, sharply. Lady Barbara trembled, stammered, could not remember what she had done with them.

"I'm going to engage a detective to find them. They are worth six thousand pounds," said the Earl.

Lady Barbara listened in silence; but when her father, after a few moment's silence, turned to her and in a harsh voice bade her rise, as it was time to start for the Opera, she suddenly burst into such a flood of hysterical weeping that it was impossible to leave the house. Still weeping, the girl was led back to her apartments, where Nurse Bridges did her best to soothe and calm" her.

But Lady Barbara was in no mood to be comforted. She was fierce, haughty, irritable, and she insisted, in spite of her maid's earnest entreaties, on changing her dress and going out for a walk by herself. And I will not be followed," she said, her great blue eyes blazing. "I've been insulted by my father to-night, and I can bear no more. Every member of this household is allowed rrfore 'liberty, more enjoyment of life, than I. The servants can go out and see their friends; you have your daughter here to visit you. Only lam kept shut up, imprisoned, .forbidden 'to sipend my money, to post my own letters. But I won't put up with it any longer. I'm going out—and I'm going alone."

She was shaking- in every limb, and her eyes were glowing- like live coals. Nurse Bridges dared not thwart her, but confined herself to gentle attempts to soothe her, and to suggesting that when she was mistress of her own house, as she soon would be, nobody would be able to interfere with her.

Lady Barbara laughed. "Sir Valentine is too much like my own father," she said, shortly, as she went quickly into her dressing room and shut herself in. When she came out she was in walking dress, and she threw at the maid a threatening glance which was an order not to be disobeyed. She would not be followed.

Nurse Bridges, uneasy and daunted, thought it more prudent to go at once to the Earl and inform him of his daughter's action, than to attempt to follow in spite of her commands.

Lord Elstree heard of this defiant escapade in angry silence. But on the following morning he went to his daughter's boudoir, and informed her, shortly, that it was his wish that She should be married before the end of July.

Lady Barbara, who was in one of those conditions of feverish excite^ mem which her father attributed to the influence? of the drug, sat up in the deep chair in which she had been leaning back.

"J'm not going to marry Sir Val' entine at all, papa, •' ; she said sternly. "I wrote and told him so last night."

Lord Elstree, who had been standing, stiff and stern, on the hearth-

rug, stared at his daughter in blank amazement and dismay. -

"You have written—you have dared' to write—without consulting me?"

"Yes, yes. Remember—after what you accused me of last night—l couldn't feel as I had felt before. It was all changed. I felt that I was alone in the worlds —at bay against you all. I had to think for myself— to act for myself. And I've acted. 1 wrote to Sir Valentine; and I told him I was accused of having—having »

"What did you tell him? You were not accused at all," interrupted the Earl, hurriedly. "I thought you had been careless with your pearls, that was all. You have ruined your own chances by your own mad act."

Lady Barbara, however, was plainly not impresed by these words. "You, said I had lost the pearls," she persisted, and you were angry with me about it. So I told Sir Valentine I was scarcely responsible enough to be married yet. That's all.

Lord Elstree looked at her steadily, noted the restlessness of her movements, the glitter of her eyes, and decided that she was in no state to be argued with. .

He knew that she must have provided herself with what she wanted during her excursion of the previous evening, and he decided to make a search himself for the supply of morphine which she found means to obtain in spite of the strictness of the watch he had kept upon her.

Timing his movements so that he might .be left undisturbed in his search, the 'Earl set himself that afternoon to the task when Lady Barbara was out for a drive, with Nurse Bridges in attendance;

For a long time the most minute and careful search proved unavailing, until,, down on his knees in front of a tall wardrobe, with a space of a couple of inches between it and the floor, he put his hand under the piece of ornamental wordwork underneath. There was something behind it, something that yielded to the touch.

Lord Elstree pushed his hand in further, and there came away in it a parcel, 'in crumpled tissuepaper, that had been held in its place by pins pushed into the cracks of the woodwork, most ingeniously, most artfully. A moment later he had opened it, and discovered no drug, but his daughter's lost pearls, and a diamond-mounted snuff-box which was usually kept in one of the special tables in the long drawing-room.

The Earl, suspicious as he had been, was shocked and disgusted by the discovery. The pearls were her own property; but to take the snuff box, which was her father's was another matter. And the extent o f her preparations for an extensive sale made him wonder whether he had yet got to the bottom of the mystery after all.

Carefully putting pearls and snuffbox back where he had found them the Earl beat a hasty retreat to his own apartments, to ponder over his unpleasant discovery, and what it might portend.

He was still in doubt whether he should summon his daughter on her return from her drive and accuse her at once. And before he had come to a decision he was surprised by the announcement of a visitor in the person of young Eric Crompton, son of the Vicar of Faverstock.

Lord Elstree was in no mood to receive casual visitors, but he was loth to refuse to see the son of his old friend and neighbour; while at the same time there flashed through his mind something like an illuminating and startling thought.

The handsome young barrister was unusually nervous as he returned the Earl's rather stiff greeting; and when he presently asked after Lady Barbara, it was with such a sudden accession of almost fierce shyness that Lord Elstree's vague suspicions became stronger as he replied very coldly that Lady Barbara was not at home.

Eric Crompton grew more nervous than ever. After looking fixedly at the carpet for a few minutes, he suddenly blurted out:

"Lord Elstree, I know—at least, I've heard —that Barbara—that is— that Lady Barbara has broken it off with Sir Valentine. I've just been left a legacy, a handsome legacy, some thousands of pounds. Would you, if she were willing, be willing too— that —that The fact is, I've been in love with her ever so long, as anybody must be who knows her. but it's only since this money was left me, unexpectedly, that I've dared—l've dared >j

The Earl cut him short. The terrible suspicion in his mind was growing to a certainty. He wanted time to think out the situation.

''This announcement has come upon me very suddenly," he said, stiffly. "I should like to have time to think it over. You may come and see me to-morrow again, if you will. In the meantime I beg that you will hold no communication with my daugh' ter. Of course," he added, "I know that you have communicated with her. It was only to-day that she announced to me the breaking of her engagement to Sir Valentine, But you, it seems, were better posted up in her affairs."

The young- man thought it better to attempt no contradiction. With a murmured Speech, which might have been a lame explanation, or an apology, or a protest, he bowed himself out, and the Earl was left alone again.

He began to understand now what

the malady was which had seized upon his daughter. It was loveridiculous, unworthy, preposterous love—not morphine, which (has possessed her, and made her not only deceitful, but a thief. The pearls were to have been sold for Eric's benefit, so was the snuff-box ;and the proceeds were to have become the "legacy" which was to enable the pennilesb (young barrister $o aspire to the hand of the Earl's daughter. He would not permit a marriage which could only bring upon her nothing but misery, since every step in their unworthy passion had been taken in defiance of duty, prudence common honesty, and common sense. In the meantime there was the question of the hidden jewels; and he decided to give his daughter an opportunity of making full confession The wardrobe, underneath which the pearls and the snuff box were concealed, stood in Lady Barbara's bedchamber—a large and beautiful apartment leading into a spacious dressing room on the one side and to a boudiour on the other.

It was Lady Barbara's custom te take off her outdoor things in her dressing-room on her return from the drive, and then to lie down on the sofa in the boudoir to rest before dressing for dinner.

Lord Elstree, therefore, went into the boudoir, and placed himself behind a screen in one corner, from which he could obtain a full view of the wardrobe in the next room. ' He felt sure that his daughter's first impulse, the moment she was alone, would be to ascertain whether the treasures she had hidden were still safe.

He had scarcely concealed himself when the carriage drove up to the door, and not many minutes later Lady Barbara emerged from the dressingroom, and came slowly through the bed-chamber into the boudoir, where she sat down in a distant window to write a letter.

Lord Elstree was disconcerted. This was not the sort of spying that he had intended. He was feeling rather uncomfortable, and annoyed at his own miscalculation, when, peeping cautiously out from behind the screen, he saw another figure moving about in the adjoining room.

It was Nurse Bridges ,who, moving without the least noise, flitted about the apartment, and at last, to his bewilderment, knelt down in front' of the wardrobe, inserted her hand under it much more quickly and neatly than he had done, and, withdrawing it with the parcel, rose swiftly, and went into the dressing-room.

The Earl gasped for breath, and his brain seemed to reel. He had to put the strongest contraint upon himself in order to avoid betraying his presence; and it was with intense relief that he presently heard Lady Barbara rise quickly from her chair, and retreat, sobbing, into the -bedroom, the door of which she closed behind her.

Thus able to escape, he lost no time in getting into the corridar; then, going quickly to his study, he rang the bell, and desired the servant who- answered it to send Nurse Bridges to him.

A few moments later the nurse herself—modest, serene, the very type of

trustworthiness and respectability— knocked at the sfyidy door. Some flash of intuition checked the Earl's first question as it was upon his lips; and all he asked was whether she had yet found any clue to the mystery of the lost pearls.

"Not the least, my Lord, as yet," replied the good woman, lifting her calm eyes to his face. "But I've not given up hope."

The Earl looked at her steadily. "You're looking tired, nurse,' he said. "I'm afraid you find your constant, watchfulness tpo much for you. What if you were to have your daughter with you, for instance She visits .you here sometimes, doesn't she?"

"Yes, my Lord. She's coming here to-night. But she can't be spared from home, my Lord; and I do assure you I've no need of help. If I look tired, it's the anxiety caused by her Ladyship's escapade of last night."

"I see. Well, don't overdo your zeal. I don't want you to» wreck your own health in the endeavour to restore my daughter's."

He was unusually kind and suave, and told her he would like to hear when her daughter arrived, so that he might speak to her himself about her mother. True to his word, when Nurse Bridges and. her daughter were conversing together that evening in the housekeeper's room, the Earl himself entered, and addressed Miss Bridges in a particularly genial and gentle tone.

"What a pretty little bag'!' he said, when he had asked her several questions about herself and her family. "I think these little bags ladies carry about with them now are charming. May I look at it?"

There was a quick exchange of looks between mother and daughter; and Miss Bridges, with sudden perturbation, affected to laugh, to take the request as a joke, and was about to slip the bag, with a murmured excuse that it was too shabby to show, under her cloak.

With a sudden, most unexpected movement, the Earl snatched it out of her hand, tore it open, and took out of it, as he hatf expected to do, the pearl necklace belonging to his daughter, and' his own diamond-mounted snuff-box.

Then he turned sharply to Nurse Bridges, who stood, pale and trembling, a few paces away.

"You are a thief," said he, quietly-

"You have presumed upon your good character to rob me, and your daughter is in league with you."

The woman stammered, turned white, and burst into tears, praying for forgiveness.

"I can't forgive you," said he. "It would not be right. You will remain in this room, both of you, while I send for a policeman, and I shall give you in charge—the one for stealing— the other for receiving, my daughter's property and mine." He fixed the elder woman with his eyes. "You know the truth; you must have discovered it before I did," he went on, sternly. "Lady Barbara is no more addicted to drugs than I am. She's in love, that's all. And I've no doubt you have known it all the time. To cover your own dishonesty you've pretended that she was dishonest."

He left the room, and, locking the door, sent at once for the police. Then he went to the Long Drawingroom, where Lady Barbara, listless and languid, was" sitting with an unread book in her hand.

"Barbara,".said he —and by his tone she knew that he was in a softer mood than usual—"who is it that has left this legacy to young Crompton?"

A light of surprise and hope flashed into the girl's beautiful eyes. "His mother's sister, Lady Grayling,' she said.

"And how much is it?" "Six or seven thousand pounds, I think."

"And how long have, you two silly young people been in love, or what you like to think is in love, with one anothere ?"

The girl's face grew brighter and brighter. "For nearly two years, papa. But we haven't dared to say so."

The Earl frowned. Something like a twinge of self-reproach was troubling him. "And what on earth induced you to let me think you were— were "

"Using morphine? Well" —the girl hesitated, and her cheeks flushed— "anything was better than that you should know the truth. You would have prevented my meeting him— writing to him."

"How did you write and receive letters You were watched."

"We put them under the boards of the summer-house. That was why I didn't like being in town. It was so difficult to get the letters, I used to get them from a little shop when I could."

Lord Elstree frowned again. "I hate deceit," he said

"Well, I hated being married to a mart I dint like," said Lady Barbara, with the faintest suggestion of

pertness, which her father did not rebuke.

There was a long pause. "Waring's an old fool," said the Earl at last, sharply.

A little mischievous smile hovered for a moment about Lady Barbara's pretty mouth. "He looked into my basket of roses for morphine,'.' she said, demurely. "But I was afraid of his finding—something else."

"A letter from that fellow Crompton, no doubt "

"Yes," said Lady Barbara,

"You'll have to marry him, I suppose," said the Earl, grudgingly; and in an instant there is a pretty arm round his neck, and a sweet feminine face, glowing with youth and happiness, close to his own.

He gave her one kiss, and thrust her away as the door opened and a footman came in to announce the arrival of the policeman. The Earl dismissed the man, and then, turning to his daughter, told her of his discovery of the dishonesty of the nurse.

"We shall have to say it was a mistake," said he, "or there would be a scandal, and— and "

"And people would laugh," suggested Lady Barbara, slyly.

Lord Elstree drew himself up as he walked towards the door. "At any rate," he remarked, viciously, as he opened it, "if you've made a fool of me, Nurse Bridges,, with her pious looks, has made a greater one of the doctor. It will be some consolation." he added, "for me to see his face when I tell him about it."

[The End.]