CHAPTER VIII. A MISSTATED COUPLE.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 12922, 29 July 1905, Page 6

CHAPTER VIII. A MISSTATED COUPLE.

(Everyone said * that, though a very quiet wedding, a prettier had never been seen. The. bride was so lovely, and the bridegroom so handsome, and bore himself proudly and gallantly, as a Stewart of Lochmohr would. But Maida Westmore who was in the church, did not one whit alter lier opinion that there was a "screw loose somewhere." "I dare say they'll get on as other married people do," said less shrewd Lady Meldtme ; but Maida shook her head. "Capt. Stewart isn't like 'other people,'" she said. "Therein lies the mischief. He can't merely 'get on.' He ! wants soi much, and he won't get it from Pauline Arnold. We shall see. I won't bet, becaiise I am so certain." But Capt. Stewart had done all that, the canons of society demanded ; given presents, introduced his bride to his kin and his friends, etc., never lacked in one courtesy or needful often tion ; but never did his lips fouch hers, or his arms infold her ; his • la*=P of her hand was cold and passionless ; he • was her promised husband— her.; lover, net once ; lie o-ave her all to which his word had pledged t him ; he could give no mpre, and would not make to Pauline an outward pretence oi feelino-s which he 1 had told her plainly did i not and never could exist. But Pauline was happy, save for that rankling jealousy of her husband—for the coldest natures, the least loving, can be cruelly, jealous — that, ever smarting wound to her vanity in his indifference to her. She had all that, as he had bitterly told her, she, in her heart, asked for— wealth, position, empire, an endless round of eaiety, incense eternally burning before her. All men, save her husband, adored her; to hold her fan or her bouquet was an honor ; wherever she went, she was admired ; her gowns, of which the name was legion, copied ; her autograph begged for ; her lightest remarks — and she never made very, clever ones — repeated as witty and sparkling ; in short, she was a social queen — and that was all she cared for ; she was essentially a "child of the world" ; in the world she lived, and moved, and; had her being ; she had not one noble aspiration, one thought above the levell of the mirror 1 , that reflected her; lovely' image; or the salon where she was worshipped and envied' — and. the envy of the women was almost more delightful to her than the homage of the men ; she was ignorant of everything save fhe gossip and scandal of the hour, and the frothy nothings that go to make up • what is euphemistically termed in society, ."conversation" ; but she had the "aptitude of picking up what other people said, and repeating it, with variations, so that unthinking people did not .detect , how essentially . shallow and super»ficial she was "; she' never read anything but the novels of the day— 'unless they happened to be really 'worth anything— and then, the} '"bored" her. She sang popular . ballads in a voice bright and clear, and well cultivated, as amateur - culture sroes, but without a_ particle 'of feeling ; and Stewart, .' with , whom music was a passion, and . who has a musician's critical t a ste, [ could hardly endure to ihear her sinp-. She knew nothing' of art, and .cared nothing. She 1 liked) the •'theatre, because she could see and be seen ; but the play had little interest for her, and if she expressied an opinion about it, it was somebody else's, adroitly "adapted" ; she had none of her own. i Of course, she made no end ol" conquests'; soulless, well-high brainless beauties always do ; but in her flirting there was iio danger to herself. The man "did not breathe for whom she would suffer scandal to tarnish the brilliancy of her) position ; not purity, but prudence, and the absence of an emotional nature, kept her 1 always within safe bounds. A saint ' was ' not safei\ from any peril of "lucking over the traces" than Pauline. Yet beneath that compilation of pink and white tints, blue eyes, rosy lips, yellow hair, and pawns that were poems, lurked the nature of a tigress ; the rosebud lips that had no wise or witty speeches, could utter words that* cut like' a razor ; the blue eves to which amorous youths wrote execrable- sonnets, had looks for Ksric Stewart that .would liave startled adorers. She was armed with all the weapons -that only such' women can wield, and which no mati can meet in like kind or repel. Of course, from their very wedding day, these two lived their separate lives. Capt. Stewart was as little in his wife's society as he could ' manaVe to be, and as shenever appeared until past eleven, and sometimes even later, and was always either receiviner or gome out, or interviewing milliners, it was not difficult to avoidi private ronversation. Tf they chaiiceki to be *lone together, they rarely spoke. He took care not to neglect her before the world, that was all; aiid no more was needed. Outwardly, ie seemeH i the same as usual to :hose who knew him ; he was! far oo proud a man to wear his heart his sleeve, but faithful lan Macan knew that his chief's life was a laily, hourly torture.

He sometimes wondered himself •iow lie bore this ceaseless pain, i his fire mi his heart, that would not be \ qjiienche.., mit seemed| to ikn the more fierce as the months rolled on. Sometimes the longing to see once more his lost love grew -ilmost to madness ; he must seek : ier, must at least discover where she was. He passed nights in wild wrestling- with that passionate desire ;•, ,prayer gfave him noi ihielp ; "his words went up, his thoughts remained below.' 1 ' Conquest, when it came, seemed all too dearly bought. Once, by chance, he heard, of Claude Verner ; she was with the Daveaants, in Vienna. Society was raving over her beauty. Only a few hours'' journey ! — but he had strength* to battle with that temptation, yet felt, with a kind of despair, how nearly he had yielded to it — that next time the temptation came he might be the conquered, and not the conqueror. Then came- one of those { small wars which are always vibrating) over the Indian peninsula, and Capt. Stewart, greatly to some people's surprise, and to society's •egret, volunteered to go put. For,liter all, this was only, a sort of ruerrilla warfare, where there was no glory to be got. A few handulp of ignorant heathens to fight. Pah ! Brother officers remonstrated, but in vain. Stewart went out, and for six months remained in India fighting the natives and seeking death ; but death passed him by, as it often passes those j who' court • it. He bore a, charmedi life ; he was not even wounded, j His splendid constitution was proof, as it had : always been, against everything that a. bad climatep^the climate" here was especially bad — could do. Other men I were laid low by > malaria, ague— what not. i They all passed him by, as if they knew he would open his arms to them, and were determined^ for some inscrutable reason, to spare him. He, never spared himself ; he exposed his life with an utter; recklessness that sometimes made his brother officers say ta him, half in jest, half in earnest : "One would think, Stewart, that you wanted to be shot !" This but a year after the illstarred marriage, and Pauline had long ago dropped even the pretence of having ever loved her husband. With brutal frakness, the roselipped woman told her ; . husband one day : "I never lov^ed you. I meant, from the first hour you entered my louse, to win you, if I could, and I succeeded. You were deeply grateful,' ; bah ! I never nursfed you ; that sort of thing .isn't in my line. I played on your gratitude- — your, fantastic sense of honor, and — I am, your wife. You can't undo that, '.hough we are, practically, strangers to each other ; that is best so, we have nothing in common." (To be comtinued).