CHAPTER LXVII.

Taranaki Herald, Volume L, Issue 11957, 3 May 1902, Page 2 (Supplement)

CHAPTER LXVII.

October smiled over Lausanne. The •vintage was gathered ; the new snows lay ou the heights ; the lake was blue as the sky ; the leaves were falling in -showers with every frosty morning ; the air was full of life and strengh.

'Yon might us well be at Nice as -anywhere, since you cannot go into society yet/ said Fanny, dressing her lady's fair hair; 'but as for Sir Jerome needing it, I don't believe a word of it. Never a gentleman looked so well as he •does.'

♦Indeed he does look well/ said Beryl •with a radiant face.

'And you'll be happy enough at Nice, I'll warrant/ said Fanny, going to the wardrobe for a dress. *I hope we'll bedone with these black gowns for some ■■time. Here has Sir Jerome sent you a wboJe basket of the loveliest pansies. I shall put a bunch at your throat, and one at your belt, my lady. What luck ior you that your father married such a •jkinci-hearted lady, and here she is, ready to do anything for you. Indeed, my lord, yonr father, is fond enough of Sir Jerome now ; and yet I remember well when he was ready to take my head off for just suspecting I had taken you a note f<om Mr Jerome Sothror.'

'Fanny ! Fanny ! you talk altogether - too much.'

<It is habit, my lady ; you've always been f»o kind. It is only yesterday that Mrs Uunleigh went off with Lord Jtaviin's party ; and this morning early off wont Mr Rubble and hie> crowd of servants, full chase for England. Kimes, bis man, tells me his master ia fairly mad for Mrs Ranleigh, aud I believe it will be a match.'

'Fanny !' cried Beryl, in infinite disgust, 'that coarse, horrible man ! Why, 1 saw him kick a dog cruelly just because it ran against him ; and be trod straight on a lovely white rose thai lay in his path, and crushed the beautiful wonder to atoms ; and he swore at a poor beggar woman, and cuffed a poor little boy that tiied to sell him carvings. Oh, he is too horrible 1'

'But be is no end rich/ said Fanny, fastening tbe last knot of pansies in her lady's belt. 'You'll see sbe will take him before midsummer.'

'Ah ! Fanny, the gipsy fiaid fear and hate ! Poor Laora ! Oh, what a •strange gipsy she was ! lam 6ick Tvith iear, Fanny, when I think ho,v she foretold two terrible, strange perils for Sir Jerome. One is passed, and so close bj death ; * and the second — oh , Yfhat will the st'eoed be?'

Sbe clasped Fanny's arm, pale and trembling.

'Nothing ; the gipsy must be wrong. How could she know things, my lady ? Oh, it is real sinful to believe in her !'

But Fanny, in her heart, felt what was the worst and most deadly peril that was coming to meet this young, loving, much-tried pair ia the stormy course of their true love. She felt so glad that Lady Heath 1 came in to divert Beryl's attention from her alarmed, anxious face.

*My cherub, how sweat you look ! A true wonder, with the fine gold oi your hair, and your eyes like the pansies in your belt ! Are you ready for dinner, my pet ? My angelic Alfred has asked Sir Jerome to dine with us. Ah, my child, how your good father rejoices that you will be Lady of Spthronwold Abbey 1 He says you are worthy of one of the flnest fortunes in England, and here it is at your charming little feet. But it is the man I think of, my child — the man. And, oh, what a man it i 9. I that speak to you know. I have experience of three. This Sir Jerome is,a pearl, a topaz, aa emerald of men !'

Beryl laughed. The chatter of her stepmother always made her laagh, while the goodness of her heart made her love her.

•Come, then ; I am ready/ she said. 'Do I look well ?'

And with love's harmless vanity about being beautiful to the beloved, she turned alowly round before the admiring Lady Heath and Fanny.' Her dres'J of black silk, grenadine, with the clusters of pansies, was plain enough surely, but harmonised with Beryl's white-and-gold , and the soft, shadowy eyes, brimful of happy love. Perhaps she appeared all the more enchanting contrasted with her stout relative in vivid blue, with abundance of white lace.

'She must get off that black soon,' said Fanny. 'Yes, indeed. I never wore black over a year,' said Lady Heath.

Some of the3e remarks of the good woman were irksome to Beryl. She flitted away into the drawing-room with a song on her lips.

'How happy she is !' said Fanny ; 'and I've seen the time when 1 thought she would die of grief. She was wasted to a little shadow.'

'Ah, Fanny,' cried Lady Heath, 'she lives in tbe affections of the heart ! She is the kind to die of grief. I have noticed her. If this Bir Jerome died — if anything parted her from him — she would melt away as a snow-wreath in the sun. She ia all soul. Now, I have a comer of my nature for wy clothes, for my horses, for my dinners. She takes all such things as mere accidents, and in love is her life. Although I adore my dear Alfred, I should never die on his account. It is there where I differ from Lady Beryl.'

•Everything sets one way,' sighed Fanny, as she pat the dressing-room in order. 'If I tell her that its more than likely Sir Jerome's wife is living, then she'll die and I'd be the muHerer. I can't do it. I won't do it. She is not thinking of marriage yet. I'll let her be happy while she can.' The echo of Beryl's voice came to her from the drawing-room. She was singing for Sir Jerome. Fanny loved to hear that sweet round voice, «o peifect in all its modulations. She drew near*the open door of the dressingroom, and looked between the folds of the portiere. Sir Jerome was leaning on tbe piano with the adoring look of one who worships at a shrine, and Beryl sang : "Nor is it yec the spirit of tbe season, The summer-time, that makes my heart so gay ; But softer thoughts, and yet, a swpeter reason, Love, that o'er all my happy heart hath sway !' Lord Alfred came in as Beryl was singing. 'Come 1 This looks like old limes !' he cried, ignoring that in the old times he would wrathfully have broken up tbe pretty scene on the spot. The little page appeared with a silver salver beating letters.

Sir Jerome took them from him, and selecting two or three tor Beryl, was handing them to her, 1 when the writing of the address on the top loiter caught his eye. He turned pale, gave a shiver, and exclaimed :

'Beryl, where is that from V 'Oh, that i» from my compauion. You know, the one I threatened to send for to keep you in order, only she is not old and stern enough to impress outfeidTs. It is Lelia Barrows, a sweet creature. I pot hor. at her own request, ia a school at Biarritz. See her letter, Jerome, what a nice loug one.' 'Y*s. The handwriting has little peculiarities that reminded me of a s-ci ip I knew, but this ia a much more cultivated hand, I see.'

'I shall invite her to Nice for Christmas holidays. I think. She is so good, and innocent, and sweet.'

'No doubt ; but don't invite her. It is sweeter to be iust two.'

'And, Jerome, her story is romantic, and her object is so touching and earnest. Let me tell you about her. Her husband — I don't know his name '

'Dinter ia serred !' proclaimed North majestically.

Thus Beryl ever skirted blindfold, the edge of a ppfcipice.