When a Woman Dreams

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 226, 28 October 1914, Page 2

When a Woman Dreams

A SiEW SHOVEL

BY MME. ALBANESI Author of "Envious Sliza," " The 'Blunder of an Innocent," &c, &o*

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER Xl.—(Continued.) She turned angrily when she realised *with a start that Roger was by her ♦ Bide, and spoke out her thoughts almost TUnconseiously. "Why did your father send you here to spy upon me like this?" she asked .liim,' a touch of passion in her voice. "To spy upon you! I assure.you I I don't understand." Taken by surprise, Roger stammered, and a little of the colour faded from his face. "There •was no question of his sending me here for airy but the reason given you, believe, me,?' he said, coldly. "It was the most natural suggestion of his." Alary-'s head was held a trifle higher than Usual, her dark eyes sparkling. ?'You are no match for your father," she declared. " Sir Francis knew perfectly well why he sent you here. It is intolerable that he should watch me as he does, and I am surprised you should care to undertake such a paltry «rrand. I have no doubt you both arranged this little surprise visit, imagining that it was very clever. But you see you are disappointed, Mr Newtrie,'' she laughed, hardly. "Confess now you •did not.quite , expect to, find me alone, <lid you? I am afraid you have had your trouble for nothing." The young , man's face was very wore a stern expression. He the feelings which -rushed about lis heart, and answered her steadily. "You must think what you choose a/bout me, Miss Trentham—misconstrue any actions as you think fit; but please understand once and for all,' I will not. Jiave -yOu say tftoe.word against my father. You have -dared to do this too ■often." -He paused, -then added, quietly, looking at her With a long, searching look', ! "But there is a. limit to my patience; even with you." Then of a sudden a strange gust of yassion seized him. It may- have been the sight of Mary standing there straight and' silent before him, her eyes filled with a curious- challenging question that drove all wisdom -from Aim suddenly. He laughed a peculiar, anirthless laugh. Yes, 7 'he cried, ''l have given you jgreat patience.- I have let you dare to say things- that no other woman could, Just because you are— — " V He broke off, his, hands clenched >at iisv sides,' those strong hands which;: against her will Mary had many times felt compelled to admire. "Think me mad, if you like," he hurried on, hiff voice low, passionate, "but at least I shall say it to this "oice; /1 have studied you, tried to- find extenuating' circumstances, tried to excuse your cruel injustice, your false judgment, because, Mary, I love you—l' love yo'ii! ,f he . repealed.'

"But even though you are above all other women to me, you shall not continue to insult my father. He is the best man that ever lived. I only wish to God you could see him as others do." Mary for a moment did not speak. This sudden, unexpected burst of words had stunned her, as it were. That he upbraided her for dislike of his father she dimly realised;, that he loved her stood out with vivid force. How strong he looked! The thought came suddenly to. the girl. How staunch! A rock truly for a woman such as she, a woman all alone, to cling to. And he loved her! He had just said it. Her heart leapt within her. The man's, stronger will, and strong love, almost drew her into his arms; then with a faint shiver she conquered and put the truth in front of her eyes; again. This man was Sir Francis Newtrie's son. She drew back as she looked at him quietly, and then she laughed a little contemptuously. ''You are really doing me a great honour, Mr Newtrie. Of course I appreciate such plain speaking." He interrupted her quickly, his face grey, stung by the scorn in her tone. "If I have been fool enough to love you—well, that is my affair. I did not mean to speak, but you forced the truth from jne. Believe me, I understand far better than you can tell me how mad lam to have spoken in this Way." He paused, and the white heat of passion died from his face, leaving it drawn, uull, and sad., "/Please remember what I have said to you about my father.". She laughed again. -'" You cannot teach me good manners at this late date, and you cannot change me in./my,, opinions., Naturally, you would find it easy to profess'affection for me. lam worth a little attention nowadays, I believe." He turned quietly. As he reached the door the low mocking echo of laughter, followed him. He -looked back to the fireplace where Mary stood, and there was a cruel light" in her eyes. He was Francis Newtrie's son, and she was hurting hint. For the moment everything else was blotted out except the knowledge that it had been given to her at last to make one of these Newtrie 's suffer. By striking at the son it was as if she hurt the father, and that was all she cared about. "You do not believe me, Mary? You are laughing at me," he said, hoarsely, and his face was twisted as if,with bodily pain. ■.-■ -....,;_. . (( Yes, I, am .laughing ,at .you. It pleases me to find you amusing," : Mary retorted, > scornfully*,- ,;•;:, ■■ /Without another- word Roger Newtrie, ; walked/from the room, closing the door

behind him, and shutting out the vision of Mary's mocking face as she stood there in her pretty room, -the firelight shining on her hair. An instant later Mary stood for long staring at the door which had divided her from Roger Newtrie. The scorn had died from her face, the bitter smile from her lips. * She looked about her a little uncertainly, a little dazed. Then, as she walked back to her chair beside the fire, hor lashes were wet with sudden tears —tears which she could not .'drive back and dared not explain to herself. CHAPTER XII. Lady Newtrie was giving an evening party. The wonderful old house, which always seemed too fine to be a real home to its owner's simple tastes, was brightly lighted. Beautiful flowers scented the air. Through the splendid receptionrooms well-dressed crowds strolled chattering and laughing. A few moments before a rising young singer had ended a song, and after the burst of applause had died down the gay babel of tongues had started afresh. Sir Francis moved among his guests, courteously talking in turns with all. A shade'of disappointment lurked in his eyes. Roger had returned north two days ago, the very day, indeed, after he had' arrived in town, though Sir Francis had hoped, and, indeed, had quite understood, from what -the young man had said, that he had meant for once to pay a longer visit than usual to his father's house. There were moments when, pondering still over Roger's sudden and unexplained departure, Sir Francis would turn his grave eyes in Mary Trentham 's direction, and (a puzzled frown would contract his brow. After all, it might be that he had blundered in sending Roger to Miss Trentham's flat that evening two days ago. It might be, that, with the best intentions in. the world, he had only given his son needless pain. felt now only too surely that Roger's sudden departure had been brought about in some way by Mary. The continued enmity of this young creature was beginning to wound Sir Francis. He was so accustomed to be loved, to find people trusting that Mary's hate, Avhich he had; set down in the beginning as being so natural, gvew gradually into a very definite trouble with the nian. Mary herself had at first been most unwilling to come to Lady Newtrie's party. Though she had begun to go out, she was still in mourning for, her mother, and the memory of those days of unavailing watchfulness and waiting hung about her as a cloud. Lady Newtiie had, however, persisted that Mary should come, and so the girl had consented rather unwillingly, for there was a new dark shadow now on her heart, and she shrank from meeting too many people. She and Mrs Seymour had arrived in time to hear the last song. Mary was looking very pretty' this night. Sir Francis, scanning her with his expert eyes, found the girl looking stronger, and was once again struck by tne marvellous change in Mary Trentham during year that had passed; Dressed, of course, in- black; she carried herself with an easy, graceful carriage, that commanded attention, and-her clear skin had nothing to fear from the!

searching light of the many electric lights. A frown that was scarcely perceptible contracted Sir Francis's face for a moment as he looked at Mary. This frown came not because of the sudden hardness that had passed into Mary's expression as she saw that Sir Francis was watching her, nor because of the fading of a little of the laughter that had sparkled in her eyes. It was the sight of Mary's companion which troubled Francis Newtrie and awakened a sense of anger in him. Ever since Mary had arrived Nigel Rivers had been near her. It almost seemed as if those present regarded him as her undisputed possession. Already Rivers's numerous friends smiled covertly as they saw him always near her, and many heads were nodded prophetically. Mary herself, during the two days which had passed since that unpleasant little scene with Roger Newtrie, had spent much time in thought—thought that had robbed her of sleep and plunged her into new unhappiness. At first the thought of Roger Newtrie's love had made her pulses beat and her heart quicken. To recall his words, the grave, searching, glance of his eyes, was to send the hot colour rushing into her cheeks unconsciously. Then, with the coming of the other later thoughts, which always follow in the train of the first, there came a strange depression' of spirit which drained away the Colour from her cheeks and struck out the light from her eyes. Roger Newtrie loved her! That night, tossing sleepless on her bed, she had found herself swept about by a strange exaltation of feeling, but by the next morning a change' had come. This man who had. dared to tell her that he loved her, and had yet been insolent enough to dictate to her his wishes, was the son of the man to whom she owed a bitter, undying hatred. Mary; cherished her anger so persistently because, in truth, deep down in her heart she knew that the flame of her enmity was a feeble thing. Despite the fact that she told herself a hundred times she was glad she had been the means of inflicting pain upon Francis' Newtrie's : son, the memory stung her sharply. Over and over again she reiterated to herself that she hated Roger as she. hated his father; that she hated allthe Newtries; but she knew this was ,not the case. Indeed, Mary knew now that it would never be possible to her to hate Irene Newtrie, even though, with the shrewdness born of poverty and fighting - misery, she realised that Lady Newtrie had some very good reason for being so eharming; to her, especially as she let no opportunity escape of declaring so frankly that she detested Sir Francis. Mary gave many momenta of anxious thought to Irene Newtrie. She convinced herself that Lady Newtrie did not really like h r, and, though she concealed her feelings with the tact of a woman- of the world, the growing, admiration of Nigel Rivers for Miss Trentham was not pleasant to,her. Of this Mary was certain. She had from, the, very first seen. that there was, something between Sir Francis's wife, and Mr Rivers. Naturally she had jumped to the conclusion, that Irene was in love

with Nigel, and she had rejoiced in this knowledge, promising herself much satisfaction when Sir Francis should awaken to the fact that the woman he adored was so unworthy of his proaid love and faith. On this particular evening Mary had been struck by the change in Lady Newtrie's looks. Exquisitely dressed j as usual in shimmering grey glittering with costly jewels, she had appeared to ! the girl watching her more beautiful than ever, but very fragile and worn. There was a strange, hunted look in her eyee at moments which, had she seen it in the eyes of any other woman in the world except Francis Newtrie's wife, would surely have appealed to Mary Trentham. Even as it was it troubled her to know that Irene was wretched. She did not want to pity her, but found herself doing so. In a little while Mary had realised that Irene. Newtrie w r as watching her even as Sir Francis Newtrie was doing. Of course, the other woman resented this friendship with her cousin. Lady Newtrie's interest in the sight of herself and Mr Rivers together was easily explained, but by what right did Sir Francis spy upon her? She had every-right to ..be friendly with Nigel Rivers, so she told herself, as she sat by the young man's side in the flower-scented" conservatory that led off the big drawing room. If she so chose she would be as friendly as he desired, might even marry him if he asked her! And' that he had this intention in his mind had been very obvious to Mary for some little time. She turned and looked- at him sitting beside her, his eyes fixed upon her face. "Yon haven't been listening to a single word of what I have been saying, Miss Trentham. I'd give a good deal," and he laughed boyishly, "to know what you were really thinking about just now." ;'■■■. Mary turned to him. He looked very handsome and attractive, sitting there by her side among the rare exotic flowers of Lady Newtrie's conservatory. She: read quite clearly the note of deeper meaning that lay-beneath: the light laughter, and understood that he had made up . his mind to propose to her that night. His every action in connection with herself oi late had been lead-. ing Tup to this, and a little thrill of excitement shot across her veins. "I don't know that my thoughts at that moment were of any great value; I was thinking vaguely about ber of people." Y - \ "A number of people? "Was I among themf" "Why, yes, of course," Mary answered, with a smile. "As you were talking ' I could not very well leave, you out." Nigel shook his head. ''l wish " he beganj then paused for a second. He felt a little"neryo.us, dreading to make a false step, yet still not quite sure of his ground. He had to paust* and see his way very clearly^,. A word, too much now might land him, he knew not where. But. as he looked at her in the soft light of th/e shaded lanterns he saw thing' in her .face which urgecl him to speak out. "I wish you would always think of me, Mary," he said. She turned her dark eyies upon him,

surprised at the look of eagerness anil of a strange new humility on his face. The tone of his voice, the expression of his eyes, the use of her Christian name for the first time, were eloquent enough to the girl, even though she was little versed in such matters. She knew in a flash that Rives was going to tell her that he loved her, and all at once there came to her the memory of Roger Newtrie's voice as she had last heard it —passionate, pleading, sad. Mary drew herself upright in her chair, and shivered suddenly. The heavy scent of the flowers about her seemed to grow stifling. The man beside her was conscious that she was moved, deeply moved, and his pulses leaped as he told himself he was very near to triumph. Mary let the vision of that scene with Roger hold her for a little while, then, with a sudden rush of colour to her cheeks, she roused herself. She felt humiliated that Roger Ne"wtrie should have the power to dominate her thoughts, even for a little while. Swiftly, and with a reckless disregard for the future and what it may bring, Mary Trenthain 'made up her mind to put a definite barrier between Roger and herself. ■ . •'■' You ask a good deal, Mr Hirers','' she said, and she smiled faintly.: "I am going to ask more," the man answered swiftly, eager to follow up his good move. "It can- be no secret to you .now that I—l care for you: as a man only cares for the one woman in all the world for: him. Mary—l love you. I want you for my wife..'' As he paused for her answer there was anxiety in his eyes, and his lipT ordinary smiling air of debonair indifference. Mary's lips parted in a faint little sigh. This was what she had. wished for; in order to settle seores against others, she had resolved to marry this ; man, and just for a moment all thought of Roger Newtrie died away. Nigel Rivers was good-looking; popular, wellconnected. Assuredly the poor, hardworking drudge of former days was rising in the social world! "You want to marry me?" she asked:' I hav*S ; ;seeit: that you lilted me-, but I 'did not know—l was not sure that you cared for me enough to make me your wife. '£ Nigel Rivers closed his hand over hers and drew her towards him. "I'm not good:enough to tie your shoelaces; and that's the truth," he said; though, his declaration of humility was ir m£de al'most f gaily; ' 'but if you will ih'avef 'me, "Mary, I swear I will do all a man can do to make you happy." She sat an instant in silence, then she looked at him with a faint smile. "If you care to marry a wife who has no love to give you, then—" She finished with a shrug of her shoulders. Nigel bent his head and kissed her hand. He could hardly believe his good luck. Mary made one stipulation, however. Their marriage was not to be a hurried one. "It is not a year yet since I lost my mother," she said, as they still sat together in the dim conservatory talking over the future. "I think—l know I couldn't.have, my wedding just at. once."; ""Wliy, of course, dearest. Your wishes must always come first," Nigel said gaily. He was himself again. Cool,

calculating, shrewd, the humble note faded from- his voice. He had won the great move in the game. . Mary had promised to be his wife. If it pleased her to ask him to wait a little, what matter? Already lie felt the money was his. The minutes flew by, and for a long time neither of them seemed, to note that it was getting' late; then, suddenly, Mary rose to her feet. "I think I will go home now," she said. "Come, let us find Mrs Seymour. No, I don't want any supper. I just want to go home and think things over, Nigel. I think," she added quietly, ami with an odd little, smile, "I think I shall let you tell Lady Newtrie about - our engagement.'' The . next minute she "said, as they moved away, '"lf you have no opportunity of speaking - to Irene it won't matter; I will tell her myself to-morrow; she is coming to , have luncheon with me." CHAPTER XIII. . After he had seen Mary and Mrs Sey- . mour into the car, Nigel Rivers wan- " dered a little aimlessly about the beautiful rooms. He knew practically everyone, and stopped to chat first 'with one . group and then another; always,' however; on the look-out for a chance of . speaking to his hostess. At first when C Mary had suggested that he should inform Lady Newtrie of their engage- ■ ment Rivers had drawn back from the '_ idea, but as he grew accustomed to the fact, which was astounding even to him- _' self, in spite of all his complacent selfconceit, that MaTy Trentham had prom- ; ised to be; his wife, he changed in his feeling, and now was anxious to make the announcement to Irene Newtrie. His : vanity led him to believe that Irene : would be greatly upset ~bj his news, but he had' some scores to settle with his .■■ kinswoman, and had no desire to spare her. For a time he could not see her anywhere, but little by little the rooms, . became considerably less crowded and he stood a better chance of having a * word alone with his hostess. Lady Newtrie, as a matter of fact, ' was at the same moment looking eager- "= ly amohg ; her guests-—a good deal more ; eagerly indeed than anyone would have : guessed!—for a glimpse of Nigel him- j self. She knew quite well that he and i; Mary Trentham had sat together for . some time in the conservatory, and the , 4 knowledge dismayed and even alarmed ;; her. ' That Nigel Rivers was paying the girl considerable ■ attention was . something ; Irene had seen at once. That such at-" \ tention, however, would result in any- '. thing so serious as marriage had some- ■■ how never entered her thoughts until this night when she had watched Rivers - and Mary together. Irene Newtrie was not in the least ' in love with the young man herself, the. old feeling for him was utterly dead in . her heart. She .bad in truth no real af- : fection for any man in the world ex- , cept her husband. There was,, however, - a bond holding Nigel Rivers to her; a bond which marriage with any woman, and .particularly with Mary Trentham, : might, sever, and Lady-New trie could * not afford : to lose her kinsman just ri&w • when he represented -the only, creature . in the world with whom she c'6ul(|.speak '.. freely on her dreaded financial cares. (To be continued.)