LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4162, 23 August 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

MAD LOVE,

(Continued.)

At first I thought she was going to ignore sny allusion ; evidently she was not thankful to mo for waking it. But presently she seemed to take a resolution ; she closed her fan and turned to me, breathing more quickly, and rather pale. "I suppose Spencer authorised youtoacb as his representative during his absence — to Bse that I behaved myself, I meon, and did not forget hin ?" " He had no misgivings of that sort, Mi a a Masters ; he told me before he went that hu trusted you as he trusted Heaven. He asked me, as his friend, to keep him informed of your health and happiness ; and that I have done."

"If you have told him that I happj, you misled him. I have been very unhappy." "You have not been without detractions— nore than he has had, poor fellow " "I do not need your sarcasm," she said hotly. "I have been more sarcastic to myself than you would dare to be ; but it is '* • hb£> I made a terrible mistake. I do- 1 ..

faj.-w how I camo to make it. I always &;.<.- « tkii Spenoer was above me, intellectually m d in o her ways; but I thought I could £r.>w up to him. I thought more highly of mvaelf than I deserved. Since he has been ay iy, I have come back to my own level."

While sho was thua confirming my worst fears, I leaned on my elbow on the edge of the box, looking out across the theatre. A. young miin was standing up in the stalls directing hia opera-glass towards üb. I recognised Captain Taverney. " A very attractive and fashionable level, unquestionably," I observed, with a alirht. indicative movement of the head.

She looked across and saw him, and tua colons swept into her face, whether it camo from auger or from some other passion, I could not tell.

"Itu my own level, at all -vent?," blu said, with a dignity which comn uded f-it.o respect ; " and the only one in » ich I could give happiness or feel it." " I doubt whothor beauty )■■■■ any le-cl, whatever may bo the case with i-» possessor," I said, getting up; "hence many sorrows and misunderstandings. Have you no Xcgreta?" " Jione— to speak of," she replied; and upon that ambiguou3 answer I bowed !-nd took my departure, passing Captain Tavcrcey in the lobby.

It only remained far me to perform one of the most ur velcome dutie3 that ever fell to my ot — to a rite the new 3 to Spencer Cur;i3. I sent him a !i>»j» letter ; I said everything that I coui.l ; but in the course of it the reluctant wor is had to bo spoken : Kate Jitters renounced her engagement. I did not think it necessary to mention the name of Captain Tavern-}-. I al3O despatched a curfc uoii to Mi3l "Si-'uij, teliina; her what I had done. I rcceivad n > reply to it ; but the next thing I heard about l:cr was that a marriage had bet:n arranged between her and Cdptitiu Taveri.ey. In nuo course tho v edding icritntion9 were distributed; ac; fioaliy tlia •wedding, at which I did not ca • to ba p obscS, took place. All this timr C had heur-i nothing from Spencer, and hi- -.lence beg*a seriously to disquiet me. By tho end of another month, however, tv.o pieces of intelligence reached me. Captain Taverney had been unexpectedly ordered abroad wiHi bis regiment, and Spencer Cia"ii3 had come b ick to England raving mad.

Mrs Taverney did not accompany her r.uaband to L-dia; the regiment was not expected to r.'mam abroad long, and the work it had to wis uofc consistent with the preset* of ladies. She took up her abode with hnr uncle in the interval. Whether or not she inert of the cnlamity> which had happened to Sp6ncer, I cannot say ; but I fancy tha facts had been concealed, or, at any rate, softened to her. 9ha believed him to ill, and nothing more. I saw the poor fellow onco or twice, but he never recognised me. He had every comfort that his condition admitted and that money could pr&cure (for, singularly enough, a relative of his had bequeathed him £18,000, just about tha time that he lost his love and his reason) ; but he was dangerously mad, and had mora than once attempted to kill his attendant. I asked the physician whether there werr my hope o£ his being cured ; upoa which that prudent gentleman smiled, und remarks 1 that ho had seen &b bad. cases as that u-juio round.

The ensuing uutomn I went on the Continent for changa and recreation; for I missed Spencer more than I should hare :;n---ticiptitcd — more, perhaps, than if he hud been dead. I renewed my acquaintance with Naples and Tenice, with Constantinople and Madrid; at last, oae spring day, I found myself in Paria. Sitting in a cafe on the boulevard, I took up a copy of Galiffnani, and read in it that Captain the Honourable Arthur Tn?ernoj had died of fever in Bombay. Thd paragraph added that he left a widow and an infant daughter in England.

I returned to London in June. My heart was Boftoned towards Mrs Taverney, and I wished to renew my acquaintance with her, and to make that of the little child whom its father had never seen. I found her living alone in a small house in Hampstead. It was a lovely spot at that time of year ; and London, with its busy season, might have been a hundred mile 3 away for all that crtuld be seen or heard of it. I found l'<!rs Taverney looking very haricliome in her widow's dress, and the baby was a henlthy and energetic litLle creature, with its mother's eyes and hair. Our talk wa3 friendly and quiet, and mostly kept clear of the things thai, lay nearest to heart with both of us ; but the two men whom we did not name waited behind our words, and spoke in our silen-03. Yet I was pained to believe that I detected something in her tone occasionally indicating that she hold poor Spencer to be in some way the origin of her griefs. "If he had never crossed my path, all would have gone well," seemed to be the gist of her feeling. Nothing more unreasonable and unjust could have been imagined ; but there is no lo^ic in a woman's suffering. I was confirmed by this in my previous conclusion — that she could never have heard of Bpencer's insani'y ; indeed, it was known to very few persons. I was half-minded to tell her of it then ; but on second thoughts it seemed to me best rot toassum? the responsibility of the revel;> Jinn ; it should come to her from son.* 1 other s-nirco, if at aIL

I met Colonel Masters sev-ral tines in London, and he seamed incline - to * • ew the cordial relatiana which had sui- •>:! Ij-t-.rocn xis previous fco the recent erat^z. ;• j<v>£t.h he invited mo to come down with iiiui t.j -i i 3 country gaat for a couplo of days ; there were to be "a few friends, and plenty of quicf. md fresh tar : nothing elaborate." After soaie hesitation, I agreed to go. A parlj of us went out by special train, and we found the house and grounds at their loveliest : but in the afternoon some heavy showera came on, compelling us to take shelter ir.« logra. Here we amused ourselves as best we might ; but it began to be rather dull, and we looked forward to the time when dinner should bo ready. At length, just before the dre-?t:)^---bell rang, T saw, from the window afc which I happened to be standing, a carriage dri-c up to the door. A lady, dressed in black, jrot out of it ; following her, a maid with a baby inhi:rarni3. It was MrsTavernoy. She had come in complete ignorance of therj bcinj; any company in the hou3e ; and as she had not faced society since her loss, and there were no ladies among the Colonel's guest?, the situation promised to ba rather iwkw.:rd.

She accommodated haraelf to i 1 very gracefully. Sho greeted us all with courtesy tvid composure, and was prevailed upon to pr.^i'Je at the dinner table. After dinner sho announced her intention of retiri"? to U>o H'tle chilet in the park, -where a beo am i--d ben fitted up. One and ail of v- ere r.a.i) to give up our rooms to her. but aae r'-.u.-Tii \ll offera. San had often before slept i-i *.' o chAlet, and jjroferied it to the house. Finding her reaolu! ?, the Colonel and I accompa:iii»(i her over there, the maid bringing the cliiH. The clouds had cleared aw»v, and it wai i:o.v bright, moonlight. The interior arrangement of the cl?:ai '. -.-,•.» Tery Bimple. There were tw-- roo: 1 ? ••. ■''. about fiteen feet square opei. ng into . h other. The first of tho?e was the bed , in, and had one large window on the ri^'it. :.c> you entered. Tho other room wa? used us a parlour ; it had books and a writing tubl.\ and a sofa in tha bay-window. Adjoining it was a small chamber, at th.-t tiuio used for iuinbrr. The only entrance to tho building was by tho front door, which wait of solid wood, and could be eecarely fastened. Y-it tin- neighhourhood was a Tery quiet or , ano euch a thing as a burglary had not bfc i heurd of for yeara. After having seen Mrs Tuveraey safely into her little hermitage, therefore, we left

her there without any apprehensions. The maid went back with us. We locked tho door on the outside, it being arrangod that the maid was to go over early in the mommy to attend to washing and dressing the baby. Mrs Taverney stood at the open window, and waved her hand in adieu to us as we set off on our homeward journey. Then she closed the window and fastened it.

"It seems rather a lonely place to leavo her in," I remarked to the Colonel, as we strolled along over the damp turf, smoking our cigars. " Bless you, her baby is all the company a mother wants," replied my gallant companion. "As for safety, she couldn't be safer if she was in our house in town. Not but what I wish the poor girl had some better protector than a baby, too!" The Colonel said this with a sigh ; and no further words passed between us till our arrival at the houße.

(To be continued.)