FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12911, 28 February 1906, Page 2

FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

(By Bertha M. Clay.)

CHAPTER XV—DANGEROUS GROUND.

." So!" said Basil Tollemache to himself, '' Claude Verner refuses to sing for me, but dees it at once when that handsome i'eliovr, Captain Stewart, asks her. And they seem to be getting on wonderfully well together! Wonder what my lady at home would think of it? He can't marry you, my dear, that's one good thing j and, snub me cr not, you'll have to marry me."

** Hello, Tollemache!" said Davenant's hearty voiee. "Dreaming or sulking? Oh, 1 see ! you don't like to see CaptainStewart flirting with Claude. Bah! you know what soldiers are, and no harm to your cause, since he's married. Gome and have some -coffee and biscuits."

" Might be harm to my cause for all he's married," muttered lollemache, turning to follow his host. " Captain Stewart is much too good-looking and attractive all round, to be left an open field with a beautiful girl." In which reflection Mr Basil Tollemache was not veiy far wrong. His love for Claude was sincere enough of its kind, but its kind could scarcely be digaiiied by the name of love; he was infatuated by her beauty, and the charms that to a finer nature was even more potent, was not without its influence even, on the coarser fibre of Basil's. But of all that raises, love above mere passion, he was incapable; once married, he would have,, ere long, proved himself like the squire in "Locksley Hall," his wife would become to him, " Something better than his dog, a little deaier than his horse." Even now that he was Claude's almostavowed suitor, he was no stranger to viscious pleasures; women were little more, in his eyes, than playthings; the woman he desired to make his wife, only a plaything prized, for the time, above the others—more because it was the thing sought, than for any intrinsic merit he perceived ia it: once possessed, he would tire of it, as a child tires of the toy which koked so alluring in the shop window, but became prosaic and uninteresting when transplanted to the nursery. Between such a mas as this, and such a woman as Claude Vemer, what could there be—on her side—but deadly antagonism ? She hated and scorned the man; she resented his ideas of women—not, of course, that he expressed them in her hearing, but a man cannot conceal his character from a keen-witted woman j she knew that he was vicious; she considered him stupid, exaggerating ' his mental and •educatinoal failings. Even the things he did know thoroughly were not likely to" impress Claude profoundly. "He knows a lot about horses, and cattle, and farming, and all such things," she said to Stewart, this very evening, later • on, " and never reads a book, or opens a magazine, and he couldn't quote a line of Shakespeare, or tell whether Beethoven were living or dead!" Poor Tollemache.

To the dining room, -where tea, coffee and other .refreshments were set out, Claude presently came, with Sir Jaaies Felthain, -who was -desperately smitten, with her, but was not in favour with Davenant, b;cause he was much poorer than Tollemache. Besides, Tollemache was a "duffer" at cards, and lost his money royally, while Sir James played very little. Captain Stewart, too, came in with pretty Mrs Challoner, who flirted her best with the handsome officer;' and Stewart, though most attentive to his companion, somehow contrived to see all Claude was doing. He was not near enough to hear what was said; it was quite clear to him that Sir James was entirely devoted; but Claude, did she care! It is so difficult, almost impossible, for the keenest mental sight of a man. to divine what a woman feels, when she lias, a anind to conceal her feelings,, and Claude was no ingenue; her manner to Sir James might mean that she liked him, and no more; or she might be hiding deeper feeling. Probably,- if Stewart had been an impartial observer, he would have decided the former, but, being a lover, he, of course, tortured himself,' and the more that his suffering was not without self-reproach. Sir Janies was a fine, manly fellow, if not quite worthy rf Claudt—well.' what man could be that-':—but he might make her happy, while his (Stewart's) love could only give her pain. L'y and By Tollemache got a chance to. speak to Claude; her cavalier left her to '.aire san;c message for her to a friend, and Basil, being near, bent down to her—it was bin' a little he had to becd, for she was tall for a woman, and he only of medium height for a, man. " Ycu are kind to every one but me," he said, in .a low tone.

"Am I'r" with a shrug of her shapely shoulders. "I K ai afraid, then, it is your own fault."

"How'/ I always try io please you, and yet you snub me. * Why wouldn't you sing for me to-night? Y*et the moment Captain Stewart asked vou. yen f-a-.g." "Was it to please me, then," said Claude, coolly, "that vou asked me to M;.g?" Poor Tol.emat.lie.' he was no match for her. "Xo, no!" he said, confusedly. *'l don't mean that exactly, bui it wasn't kind -of you to throw *me over f<;r a. stranger." " You use odd expressions,'' said Claude, ro'diy; "they may be all right in Northamptonshire, but they are a little blunt ia London. I don't qu:t* see where the ' throwing -ever' comes in, and Captain S'ewart isn't a stranger. Here tomes Sir James again. Thanks so much." turning to the newcomer. " Now. as a reward, I'll show you the photographs- we were t-.'khig about."

And they went away to the drawing;;>oris. Tolkmache ground his teeth savagely, i'ertainly Claude snubbed him unmercifully. "Til bre-ik her spi'it. - ' he s -»i.l to himself, "wheii [ have Iter ii; iutmess. Where ! :;;s she met Captain. Stewart before? I I'tte those soft-voiced, plausible fellows. T suppose Chris asked Ida* here because lie's a good swell; but if he's going to poach on my preserves, there'll have to be

an end of his coming." An hour afterwards, when Claude rose from the piano, Stewart, standing mar, said to her in a low voice, as she rose:

'* 1 haven't spoken to you for an age, and theft is something I want to ask YOU."

" Very well," she answered, tossing her music on the piano, and she let him lead her to a chair a little apart; but he did not bring one for himself, leaning, instead, on the back of hers; perhaps he preferred it because she could not see his face: perhaps, so placed, he could the better feast his eyes on the soft outlines of farce and form.

" What is it you want to ask me?" said Claude, leaning her curly head~against the long-backed chair.

"A veiy simple question. Are you going to Mrs Russell's ball next Thursday?"

"We are not so lucky. People have jßfeea making lots of interest to get cards and have failed."

" I can get cards for you and Mrs Davenant," said Stewart, "if you would care to go." " If! But of course we should be delighted !" replied the girl. " But, indeed, you l must not offer them to us."

" Nay," said he, " you must allow me that pleasure." "It is too kind of you," said Claude, with that strange thrill of bewilderment that was gladness, too, running through her, for Esric Stewart had so many friends to whom, ,one might think, he would by preference have rendered, this marked service.

"Too kind, is it?" said Stewart, softly. "Do you know, I am afraid it is partly selfish. I want a quid pro quo." "You have a rignt to one," returned Claude, laughing. " I don't know. Well, I won't put- it that way, but as a very great favour. Will you keep for me at least two waltzes ?" " Oh, yes; but that will be a pleasure to me, not a favour to you." "I hope it will be a pleasure; but certainly you cannot make it less than a favour conferred, and also happiness. You snail have the cards on Friday afternoon. May I bring them?" " Please do; we shall be at home."

Ferbaps Stewart would rather the pronoun were in the singular, and yet, he thought, it was better not. '\l should like you and Mrs Russell to know each other," he went on. " I think you would call her a ' dear old lady—*'" " Should I?" she rippled out into a laugh—"why do you tnink I should use that particular expression*" " I don't know !" It was that involuntary form of words which, like the answer '■Nothing," need not be taken as read. There was a wonderful tenderness in. the dark eyes that bent down on her, in thu half smile on the handsome mouth. "1 suppose because.,there is that quality of sympathy between'.your nature and mine. I seem to know how you would view certain ideas—think of them—even certain terms of expression you would use. Was I wrong this time?"

"No," said Claude; the caressing softness of his voice vibrated through her nerves, made her heart beat fast; " but now—l shall be afraid to say it—vou will laugh.". . ' I) id. Captain Stewart feel, by the electric rapport of that sympathy of which he had spoken, that he had startled the girl: Certainly he knew that he had trodden on very dangerous ground. He said, in a lighter tone: '* I am sure I should never laugh at you. But you will be reminding me, as "you did. once before, that metaphysics are "out of place in such a scene as this, and vou may wish to remind me also, that "the rooms are thinning fast, and it is time I took my leave." . " Captain Stewart!" exclaimed Claude, in bewitching, laughing reproach; "bow can you say such things? Well, your diSnnation is at fault this time." "Is it? lam very glad, though that proves you very kind and indulgent." Tollemache came up at this moment to say good-bye, and gave Stewart a black look.

"You will remember about the private view," Basil said, keeping Claudes hand in Ins; but she drew it away, and answered: "I did not promise, you know. It is not even certain that your sister will be in town."

" But if she is -" ," When she comes," said Claude. " I will let you know."

He bit, his lip. but tried liartV not to appeal- mortified under the eyes of the man who stood by at careless ease, yet whom nothing—Basil had wit e:;ough ro perceive—escaped. '• I must try and be satisfied," he said, but with a sorry counterfeit of a cheerful smile, and he held out his haud again. " Good night—au revoir." He bowed rather stiffly to Stewart, and turned awav.

Claude Verner smiled as be passed oat of sight.

A few minutes later Stewart said, "I really must'tear m'vself awav. Miss Verner."

Claude rut her little hand in hi-, and his fingers.closed over it with, unconscious ioice. He knew it wlieu lie saw the nght colour flit across her cheek, the slight droop of the eyes; nnd he relaxed the clasp, thin suddenly lie beat his head and laid a soli, reverent kiss on her hand. " : "Goc<l night," he said, verr low: his voice quivered; "but not adieu." He turned from her almost abruptly,, and a minute later had left the house. Th-e same action, the same \v-i:ds. with which he had parted from her two vcar« ago. Claude sank down, trembling, into the chair, from which she had lisen. She did not say it within herself, did not think it; but she felt that theie was something more in the kiss Esric Stewart had pressed on her hand than tenderness and reverence. The touch of his lips lingered stili where they had rested.

Mentally, the girl was in a kind of golden haze ; it was the stirring in her heart of the love that lay dormant; but as yet -she was only restlexs. tiemitloi'.-ly happy, not «or.ccious enough for inward question. Bat irstinctively she sought solitude, shrank especially from the loud voice and biistei .us manner of Chris Davenant. and quickly making her escape, she went up

to her owj louni. And all her waking thoughts, cuuid she have analysed them, cent icd round Esric Stewart. But, then, though :ot always in the same degree of intensity, had it not been so from the time he left her in Paris with that lingering *' Goodbye, but not adieu !"

CHAPTER XVI.—FANCOURT BECOMES INQUISITIVE. Arthur Faacourt ktpt his word to Chris Davenant, and kept himself entirely apart■fiom the family circle at The Ferns, leading, practically, quite a recluse life. He rarely went beyond the gard-en. and when he did it was at night; his meals were served to him in bis own room, and yon, might have visited at the house far months without discovering his presence in it. Even his pet vice—the vice that had been the chief factor in bringing him to his present pass—was quietly and inoffensively pursued; ho was never noisy; but| heavy and stupid: and simply lay down and slept off the fit, wising from his slumber almost entirely free from any effects of the brandy he had taken, for braady was what he drank. Davenant had given out, to the servants and Claude, that the new inmate of The Ferns was a poor and improvident relation, who. having done him. (Davenant) much kindness in the past, deserved the return of a heme when he was homeless and penniless, and, by reason of his confirmtd vice, wholly unfit for employment. The servants perhaps believed the story; Claude did not. The idea of Chris Davenant doing a genuine kindness to anyone, or being guilty of the virtue of gratitude, was, to her, who knew him so well, simply j farcical. (To be continued.)