Our Start Story. WHEN THE WOMAN WOOS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143772, 22 April 1912, Page 8

Our Start Story. WHEN THE WOMAN WOOS.

By EDWIN PUGH.

The famous author of “The Enchantress,” “Broken Honeymoon,” etc., etc. CHAPTER 1. THE STAR. Miss Viola Conti—the famous, the beautiful, the gifted, the wonderful Conti —stood looking out of the window of her private room on the first-floor of the Royal Hotel, Landborough. The long twilight of a bleak May day was fading at last into darkness. There was a chill, brisk wind' abroad, and showers of sleet in the Wind that over and again shook and rattled and pattered on the panes. A grey sky frowned down upon the grey housestops. In the far distance was a range of low grey hills merging into the misty horizon. ,

Viola Conti gazed out upon the street below, with a look of profound dissatisfaction disfiguring her lovely face. And her face was very lovely. She had the pure creamy complexion and dark vivid colouring of the daughters of southern Italy, although there was a tincture of English blood in her veins, too. Her hair was black and abundant and lustrous ; she wore it in thick allicient coils low upon her forehead. Her eyes were large and heavily lashed, and full of strange fleeting lights. Now they were fiercely, scornfully flashing; now languishing and tender; now hard and shallow as painted now dull, and infinitely weary. Her full red Ips that rarely met in a clear, firm line, but seemed always to be shaping themselves for a kiss, revealed a glimpse of glistening small teeth between their scarlet velvetinessi like snow in the heart of a rose. There was something in the general aspect of the Conti, in the litheness of her form, in the snaky poise of her head, the quick lissomness of her every movement and the stealthy, sure lightness of her tread, that was subtly suggestive of some large, soft, furry animal—a sort of pet that could be very charming in certain moods, but was likely to turn and spit and show its teeth and claws if it were unduly provoked or annoyed, and so needed to be very delicately handled at all times. To-night this likeness which the great Conti bore to some large, soft, furry animal was intensified by the fact that from head to foot she was draped in masses of sable and ermine, through the hanging lengths of which could he dimly seen the apple-green shimmer of her satin gown., A diamond ornament glittered in her hair, and, there were diamonds and other gems in her oars and round her throat and on her Ereast.

Suddenly, at the sight of someone in the street below, she shouted and clapped her hands like an excited child. “At last!” she breathed, and instantly was galvanised'into feverish activity. ‘ AVith hasty, clumsy fingers—for they were unaccustomed to such uses—she began to unhaap the fastening- of her furs, and to fling them off upon the floor, the table, the chairs, anywhere, recklessly. Then she robed herself in a long, loose peignoir of yellow brocaded silk lined with white swansdown. and thus attired, lay down at full length on the sofa. A footstep sounded just outside the door of her room. She closed her eyes-. The door was opened gently. She began to breathe deeply, regularly, as if she were asleep. Then a rather timid voice, speaking with a pronounced French accent, murmured in a deprecating' tone; “Madame.”

“Ah, pestel” exclaimed the Conti, opening her eyes again and laising herself upon one elbow. “It is Monsieur Bly’! He has arrived, madame.” ' “Ask Mr. Blyth to wait a little while. Annette. 'Then show him. up to this room. And tell him not to knock —it shatters me!—but to come straight in.” “Yea, madame.” . The maid departed. As soon as she had closed the door Viola Conti sprang to her feet and ran swiftly across the room to her mirror. With light, deft touches she made ope or two slight alterations and additions to her complexion ; the effect pleased her. She smiled at her radiant reflection, gave a final tug and pat to her hair with her thin, shapely fingers, and then laydown again upon the sofa. There she remained motionless, but thrilling with suppressed emotion, until a man’s ascending footsteps sounded on the stairs. Then* once mono, she closed her nyes. As his hand fell on the latch she began, as before, to breathe regularly, deeply. - There was a long pause, during which she was acutely conscious that her visitor stood upon the threshold, regarding her with rapt admiration. .

“By Jove!” he exclaimed at last. As if aroused from a deep slumber by the sound of his voice, Viola Conti stirred sluggishly, and rolled over on her back. ~ Her long, smooth..white arms stretched out and up above her head. She yawned, and began to'nib at her eyes with her plump, dimpled knuckles, as a child does on waking. And then she sat up abruptly and murmured : . '.

“You! It is you?” “Did you expect anyone else?’ he asked.

“I expected no one.” “But I sent up my name.” “Ah, yes. I remember now. But I was oh, so tired, so sleepy. And it is very necessary that I should rest a great' deal before I sing. So I lay down and closed my eyes, thinking of you. And lo! I fell asleep. I —what do you call it?—l dosed. Ah; and then voii came into my dreams. And then I hear your voice. I open my eyes, and you are here!” Sh" was standing up now, on one high-heeled red shoe and one whiteshod foot. , , “Ah! my dear boy, my dear Stephen,” she said, “I am so glad—so very glad—to see you.” . , , And she moved toward him with her arms held wide apart, as if inviting him to kiss her. Instead, he turned away, put down his hat lipon a chair, looked at his wateh, and said; “Are you quite ready? It is gone half-past eight, you know; and you are due ” “I am due when I choose to be due, she replied haughtily. ■ , He looked at her and laughed, boyishly. Indeed, there was always something very boyish about Stephen Byth, despite his thirty years and huge proportions. A big, square-built young man, ho had the brozed skin and

n stored eyelids of ono who had travelfar and wide, who has boon travelling for many years, and has sweltered and frozen and scorched and drenched himself in the heat and the rain and the winds and' the seas of many climes, who has tasted the full flavour of life, and faced death in many guises. The marks of suffering and hardship and privation were inscribed on his broad, high brow; they were written in a thin network of lines about the corners of his nose and mouth. There was a steady, calm light in his eyes, and an alertness in his general demeanour that bespoke the tried and seasoned edventurer, the true man of the world.

Yet, despite his manifold experiences and the manifold chances he bad taken with all sorts and conditions of men in out-of-the-way parts of the earth, it was plain to see from the expression of his countenance that he had always lived cleanly and uprightly. His clear grey eyes were shrewd and keen, but there was no taint of cunning in them. The set-of his features had a. certain look of hardness and doggedness and determination, but bore no trace of any greed or cruelty. Moreover, his fr- - - was_ forever illumined and enlivened a rippling twinkling undercurrent of humour, that glimmered and sparkled through its general effect of grimness, like a rivulet meandering through stony ground. (To be continued.!