CLAUDIA'S TRIUMPH.

Thames Star, Volume XXVII, Issue 8330, 22 April 1896, Page 1

CLAUDIA'S TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER IV.

(Continued.)

I ord Nortonsha'l tonched the bell as he spoke, and his servant entered the room.

' What time does the London mail start V he asked.

4 At a quarter past ten, my lord.' ' Very well. V c go to town instead of to the north. Telegraph to Nortonshall at once that I am going to London on business, and any letters are to be forwardd to Bolton's, in Piccadilly.' * very good, my lord.* 'And, Brown——v •Yes, my lord/

'Tf '1 them to send to tne ttation for my luggage all the same; the things that are packed for the north can go on; I shall not require them, in town. James must go with the mare and the dogs, and bide him to be very careful that she meets with no accident.' ' Anything else, my lord ?' ' No, that's all. You can go.'

Brown retired, wondering not a little what could have happened to cause this sudden interruption to his master's plans, and made him willing to allow his favorite mare to travel for so long a journey without his own supervision. Lord Nortonshall was extremely particular about his horses, and the beautiful creature he always rode, and had now trusted to his groom to convey home, was a special favorite. He never went on a visit anywhere without her, and was as careful of her comforts as though she had been his wife or his sister—perhaps more so; fpr it was a saying amongst those of his acquaintance who knew him best that * when Nortocshall married, the lady he honored with his choice would be only ' some thing better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse/

Bat this event was only in the future at present. He was single yet, and free to choose, and therefore an object of adoration to all the marriageable daughters and match-making mothers in the fashionable world.

He went to London by the night mail, arriving there in the soft light of a sunny June morning, and the first thing that met his eyes outside the station walls was a hugh placard, with letters of a portentous size, in all the colors of the rainbow, an* nouncing the advent of Mademoiselle Claudia, the celebrated French actress, who was to perform in a new piece written expressly for her by one of the leading dramatic authors of the day, at the Rojal Elysium Theatre.

Minor bills went into fall particular of the birth and parentage of the new luminary, making ont that she was a very exalted personage indeed, and had only taken to the stage as a profession for some mysterious purpose of her own, which would be fully explained at some more distant day.

1 Gtolightly is certainly up to a thing or two,' was Lord Nortonshall's admiring comment, after reading one of of these mysterious effusions; but La Claudia is far more likely to have been picked up in some Parisian slum by a clever speculator than she is to be a princess in disguise/ There was somebody else in London who had seen the bill, and had read glowing acconnts of the new actress with a sardonic smile upon his dark features as he did so. It was Mr Austin Bertram.

' So he sneered, with a disagreeable littla laugh ; ' a good name to gull the public with. I could tear the mask off their disguised heroine for them if I choose ; but I'll bide my time—l'll bide my time,'

CHAPTER V. HOW ALMA. BOUVERIE CAME BY THE CROSS. Fourteen years before onr story begins, a woman of singular beauty sat by the side of the road some two miles from Westerpark, with the bright stars shining down on her unprotected head. No other roof over her head had she—not even the shelter that the holes give to the beasts that borrow in the earth. By her side was a little girl, whose singular dark beauty might have made people fancy her a foreigner. Claudia Wynne was a foreigner on one sde only. Her mother was an Italian, her father an Englishman. ' Sing to me again, dear mother— sing to me—l'm so tired.' the child said, nestling up to her mother's side •Here, in ibis lonely place, Claudia? Any one passing by will think we are mad.' I No one will come, mother, and we mast rest.' 1 ye, lie all night under the stars, I fear my daring. I don't know the roads hereabouts ; but you will not be fr ghtene !, will you, my Claudia, out here all aighi under th ■* summer sky V * "> ot with you mamma. 1 j The child » estled closer toher rro'her'j' siiie M she spoke with a gdrture that j

said more than words and the worai drew round her a corner of her wa thawl. They w re singularly alike, tl molh<r and child, with A*r)c, . gip face) and wild black eye*. Their aiti was coarse and weatherstained, thou^ carefully mended and scrupulous clean and a few attempts at ornamei —a scrap of tinsel and gay-color I ribbon heie and there—and a gmit which lay on the grass beside then showed what tbcir occupation ha been.

Maddaliaa Wynne the mother wm j singer —had been a very good our, aoi bad held a good position at ' an Carlo but her husband —an KnglUhiuan o good position, but at variance with hi friends on account of his marriage—

had fallen, and with his waning lifehai w nfd their means and fortunes. Hi had come with his wife and child t< Engl nd only to die and leave them ai the mercy of a wtrl 1 always bard ci unprotected women. How the wif< and mother s'rove how she toitod, «nt wcrked to earn daily bread for ho se! and her little Claudia, need not to bi

told here, The story of what a woman] can do and suffer when she has auglitj d pending on her is too common a one to have "much interest for everyday readers. tep by step the sank iow«-r and lower, till there was nought left fur her but to btg, and one bitter night she took her child by the hand, ani starring under the clear blue vault of heaven, lifted up her rich, melodious voice in g ng. i"uch notes were not common out «f d< ors, and eie y sh9 had teen miny minutes at her post, enongh mo ey

bad been picked up by Claudia to provide them with shelter and food for two days at least. She now earned enough in this will way to keep them in comfort, and mora than oneoftVr of a situation in the minor

concert-rooms came to h?r from people who her sing ; but the freedom ot her life had a fascination for her. £"he loved t> roam at will where ehe listed, and she had another and deeper reason for riever remain ng long in one place She had an enemy—a bitter unrelentingenemy—who pursued wi h' hatred and malice wherever she went. This was a man named Jasper Glosiou, who had been concerned in some nefarious grnnb ling transactions Which ended in'murder in Italy. He was of English parent age, though born abroad, and possessed much of the fiery nature of the children of the s >ntb, He was passionate and revengeful, cunniog and dcccit rut, though till her husband'a death Maddalina had never seen him in his true cclr>rf. Her husband was in possession of certain papers relating to the crime Gloss no had commited and no cajolery or appa ent friendship bad availed to get them from him. When he died he gave them to hia wife biding her keep ihem most religiously and she obeyed him to the letter.

At first .'afser Glosson fried by thovr ing gr^at friendship for him t> wheadle her out of them ; but it w.s no m\ Then he wmt further and tri d whit love wouM do ai.'d ere her own husband a grave wits gnen he asktd her. to li k her fate with bis snd become his wife. She I»hd dearly iQvtd Claudius Wynnr. and she reverenced his memory ?6 that the idea of fiiling bis place ao soon«rev lted her while the mercena ry h>nrtlessnegsness which could offer her inch an insult to « n w'y made widow turned the frieh ship she had felt inclined t > show his old acquaintance into dtep and lasting hatred.

She divined his motive and gave him an indignant refusal. From that hour he was her bitter, et enemy and Igg <1 her footsteps wherever she .went with unrelenting malic 3. He was determined to have the papers carried and she ws equally determined he should not and day by day bis resolution gather str> ngth til) he had more than once warned her that he would have them if he took her life with them, [To be Continued.)