"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7806, 10 September 1903, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

m : ■;>■: ♦ ■ fe •*■ KIMG HOLGAR." P- -:\ &V BARONESS VON HUTTEN.). - ! - Elinor Antrim awoke one morning to tine |v laalisation that her husband was a potem r-?- %iai scoundrel. . & ' • S&s lay in the green dusk, trying to re- & ftwnber what had occurred the ev«*nug be- - 0 :. |^ to bring about such, a crisis. Ivothmg £' bad occiurred. , . s> : - 'George Eustis and Bojandwski had conxo li *, koino with thoai^after the concert, tlhey P-\ Jiad had supper, smoked, andi discussed tlve if: music they had just heaxd— in parliculari I*-'' Some of Bojanowski's 1 , new to all of tlwmi '$/« tecept felie little Pole himself. V ; It had been a pleasant evofotipg, ltke sot W fcittoy others passed in Che sam© room by ;% &c sojoia people. !- Elinor had sui\g, too, shortly before the P H»reaking up, Bojauowski acoompauymffher the soft pedal down, for it was late. X' ; They were his songs, M Lied der Aimulka, I-." fend a new one, "To Him I Love.' • had wept- * little, uiwdemon- & iirativelv, as he was wont to do at hearing I, fcfe flings expressed in S l^' "Jj .1 Voice, and then, with cwdial good-< * , »ights," the two men had! kft. That was. £;■■ gll. ' " , r< had been neither mar© nor less & v farming than usual, the conversation suck |« she had heard under mudi the same ourr- cumstanoes a hundred times before, chiefly r :/ .'about "King Holgar," has forthcomiagl i' '/ opera. Yet the crisis had come. i'- Years before, she had seen, and sbnxg-fe.y-'-fted against, his innate untruthfulness, and ££•* then, quieted' by Ms o^vn insouciant accept-, ?^T ihee of it, and' the uselessrjffss of fighting B-' I''tigaicst1 ''tigaicst rhs unchangeable", she" had become ■:K : ■ fecar»cil^ to it. now, suddenly, without ap.pai->?nt |^> tthttediate reason, cante tile conviction that p. Antrim was capable of anything 1 . Of anys tlJlng but njurdiav. Sue could not see* his I:- killing anyone, but any situation other fe Attain that of solving a. problem, llv **uld, she felt, find him ready, wijh. has p «fctractive smile. I*; ; It wes so veay attractive, that smile. *>' ISliSbis, a mam of whose unf altering honour ■iv ws^ sure, was bound to Antrim by t : ' teething like the a-ttraction Antrim) had $'i for women ; and poor, little, inissha.pea I Bojanowski adored PauL Magnetism was J< : - the, man's strength, and the commonest £ : ' ilpeionstration of it wass the "smile that s^ : ''.fcfought such sympathetic, ' enchanting %. to and around 1 his -balf-hidden : |^with. . ■■ _ , fV: ;.'."'.'.■■ ':&n hour later ahe stood in the dining- ?-■ »oom, ■waiting for 3ter 'husband, who had %:* not yet come in from his morning's ride. I itier rather classic face looked much as |- : ;;- .nsuaK as, turning from the window whence I^."-\ ehe •had seen him cantering down the .street, P , tffca sat down in her place at the table and Iv- took up her letters. ir- ;; Antffm showed, when ?te came rather *H noisily in a few minutes later, the face of %'' «rihan of iorty, who looked, to casual eyes, I' ftiliy ten years younger. . |v ■'■;"■■■■ .";Wlien he saw his wife, his face broke |^- ; ,%ito the smile of which she had been thinkiC .big; and he kissed her. £"•'.. v - ""Mornings old girl," ihe said, sitting I •;-■. ; jrJowßy as she Tangfor breakfaist. "A f-'y glorious! day» I hav<Thalf a dozen inspir- %: atiorai just "from the sun and the foliage !" if As Sic spoke, ha opened his letters and % ■ f "began to reacK Elincr watched him an> f:, aapnsly for a minut* and then, turning to If : lier own, opeaed ihei last- one that, written I \ln a. joeaningless hand, she had taken for an |\ Invitation. •• : fe;";v .'lt 'began abruptly i "Your husband's I •pera," it said;, ' *is stolen. Every note of S: :; the second act is written by another man's |;l; :iando He believes the other man to be in |i ; ! ;• p«aitiGn that makes him, Antrim, safe, ftv'v/imt he is wrong. Warn him. if you would &'l v pbject to an esclandre th? First Night." ?i ■■l.'EJiiKur read it slowly, twice, and then ?- ; - '/pat it in her pocket. A curious, little Smile that hardly stirred her lips was dis- ; ; toarted, she saw, to a. horrible grin in the S I iajver cream- jug before her. fv r, °Her enra mental attitude was, she knew, W iprprising. Instead of ibeing overconie [:' v *ith anger or even disgust, she found hery )ielf watching her husband's face: with ai |j/. - ipjt. of malicious amusement. ; |v£ :-^Aiiirim was much) pleased 1 with Ws let-&;:-O)K&, and with his ride. The tulips were fe 't-f splendid in the parfc, he told her ; his- '"*' { >; r torse's slight lameness vs-as (juite gone, jand / , s»e lhad seen poor, dear, old Bojanowski, r "footing it down-town, with a roll di musio L Bmder his arm. U, ' " Tlie man has talent^" he added', reflectively, helping himself a second 1 thne to I broiled kidney ; "undoubted talent. His ,-"* stuff is- original and forceful — what is it ij that he lacks? Is it the power of sustadnT Ing interest? Or the dramatic verve?" ? T Antrim handed her his cup. "I be- * lieve that if we and Eustis didn't encourage ?' lnm, the dear, old chap would hardly have '■' the courag* to keep on composing." I " You are wrong there," she said, coldly ; !: " Bojanowski will ooreipose as long as he r" lives, whether he succeeds or not. He L cin't' help it — it is stronger than, ire." : t '" Oh, I'm not .abusing Bo ! I love- Bim. ' Eveiybody does who .knows him. By the way, I'm thinking of offering to 'have * ' Hilda ' sing ' Annulka's . Lied.' What do you think? It fits in well, and anight give nim a lift.'' "In which act?" '"In which act? Why, what difference ■ wo^ld that make?" ' "None in particular. Only — I wouldn't put it in the second, if I were you." "Why not?" She looked calmly at Em. * Because

; the second needs the least bolstering, Paul. It is distinctly the best." He flushed. "You're not complimentary!" That afternoon, when Eustis came in for al cup of tea., she led the conversation to books-, and then asked him wfiat he thought of Besant's "Armorel," then newly published. The incident of the artist who did not paint his own pictures had interested her, she said. Could such., a thing be? Eustis didn't see why not. The man in question, the real painter, was a- poor devil; and money goes a long way. "I'm sorry the method can't be applied to music," she returned, laughing, and reaching for- his cup. " Paul and I would steal some good scenes for ' King Holgar.' " " Yes, you would ! So far as .possibility is concerned, however, it would be just as possible as Besant's case. Some poor chap dies, for instance, and leaves a lot of manuscript music behind him. Antrim might easily fake some of Henry Bioadwood's. All of Broadwood's papers came into Paul's hands,- didn't they?" '• I don't know — yes, I believe they didr," slio retttru-od', with aa effort. For Broadwood had been hopelessly insane for fifteen yeats. 'Eustis watched her as tliei firelight played over her face-, softening it into fcendeniiGss.- Her beauty, her way of carrying it, and the splendid calm with which she. .pofd Us Rowing love for tar, interest-, ed him keenly.. After a short talk, he took his leave, and made his way down-town, stall thinking of the woman; he had left. "Poor little 80, too," he thought, as sic passed the musician. .Whether she knew, or not, v her attitude was very fine.. Women are usually unpleasantly keen about such things. Bojanowski dined with the Antrims that ni^ht an he did once or twice ©retry we/ek, Antrim's good nature turning; naturally to the easy virtue of hospitality. She had known him very slightly. She had never seen, the woman who tortured* him, but, of course, later, Antrim, had told* her all the particulars of tfhe scandal. What had become of May Broadwood, Elinor had never heard ; but it was, of course, she who had written the anonymous letter. After tUnner, when Paul had gone fco his study. t</ finish his work. Elinor safc'diowii opposite) Bojanowski and, taking up heir needlework, began abruptly:—"Mr Bojanowski, whatever "became .of May Broadwood?" " May Broadwood? What makes you think of that woman?" ; ( "I.doai't know. Something reminded me< of poor Heniry-*— -" v , " Thai woniam was a — a devil." Elinor looked up in surprise. " Why, what did she ever do to yon?" "To me, nothing.- But Henry she killed) as surely as — -as— '■ — . He> had* ai need oij kindness, of tenderness, Mrs Antrim, suchf as few men have; and she — starvedi it) as il it had' beeu a little helpless child!" "Vest she must have been, a very cruel Woman-— but what did you say had' become 1 of her?" ; -■•■- He. rose. "I didnt say. I don't know. Good-night, Mrs Antrim, I must go." She sat leaning on the arm of her chair, Kc-r eyes fixed on the little fire, for half an hour ; and when Antrim came in, she said, withoat moving : " Why did you never tell me that Henry Broadwood was- musical''" " Broadwood? I don't know, it never occurred 1 to inc. He nevei published^ you know. Bo gone?" "Yes, fee's gone. . What- kind of thingßl did Broadwood write V" , " Oh, nothing) much. Songs chiefly. What on earth has put the poor chap into your head to-night?" "I was only thinking." she answered, in an even voice, "that it would be very awkward if he had ever happened to show anyone else the opera-scoro you have used in 'King Holgar.'" Antrim paled and, for a second, did not speak. "I don't see," he began, at length,moistening*his lips with his tongue, "how you can bo so unkind to me, Nell." " I— am sorry for you," she answered, turning her eyes from his stricken face. " Someone, probably the woman—has written me that— well, that it is known, and that you must give it Tip." He looked at her, dumbly interrogative. "Or— ot — a scandal the First Night." "My God!" 'he said, slowly. There was a long pause, during which Elinor watched him, with a curiously impersonal interest. " I suppose it's too late to — give up the opera?" she asked, at last, rather kindJj^ "Too late? Of course, it is; I've signed the contract with Grau/ 5 The*follqwing a second letter arrived, mjjte circumstantial than the other, giving aV^^light sketch of ; Broadwood's ope-ra/iits title v and its date. "I have the original manuscript," the writer went on, " and it is for sale. Th& price is' fifteen thousand? dollars. My address is Mrs G. Betts, 104, Carson Avenue, Belknap, New Jersey." • * That Mrs 6. Betts was the erstwhile 'May Broadwod she had no doubt, and of the woman's line of action, in the case of the manuscript remaining in her hands, there was no question; It meant ruin to Pau4 Antrim. For neither Elinor nor i:er husband had any money. While she sat pondering her husband cams in. " Elinor," he began,, (briskly, but with a new harshness in his voice. "There is only one way out of it. We must buy her off. She'd giv9 the thing up for a couple of thousand dollars." Without speaking, she handed; 'him the note. As *he .iead it he paled, and sat down. "But it's an outrage I An absolute swin " Ho broke off, biting his lips, nervously. '"A. swindle. Oh, yes, of course, it is!

Ifc is— blackmail, isn't it? Or does black- , mail imply that the accusation is faJse? " Nell, Nell, for God's sake don't speak to me in that way ! If you knew what I've been through since last night you'd be sorry for me 1" "I am sorry for you, Paul. Very sorry. Please don't make a scene." '" Broadwood is -hopelessly insane it could nevei. do him any good 1 /had the score (we were doing it together) it secured so easy " 7) »She rose. " I am going out for a waJk, she said, gently. "Good-bye." As she closed .the door she heard hiim sobbing. She did not see her husband again until jusb before dinner, when she came into the drawing-room to find him chatting gaily with George Eustis, whom she then remembered! t6 have asked' to dine. She looked very handsome in Jier black gown, and Eusti.s's eyes jested frequently on 'her. He 'had been more or less in love with her for years, but of late his feelings were beginning to be- a trifle troublesome. Then, toward the end of the meal, something happened. Her lace sleeve caught fire at a candle, and blaaed up her arm. She gave a little cry, but stood quite still while Eustis deftly extinguished it with his hands. It was over in a moment, and they sat quietly in their places, smiling, but Eustis's face had told his tale, and not only Elinor had seen it, but Antrim, and each knew that the other had Seen it. Eustis left early, . and when the others were alone, Antrim said, carelessly: "I've been thinking, Nell, that the easiest way out of 'this— this,, hobble — is to buy the manuscript from that woman." "And the money?" "Ob anyone would lend it to me, you know! Eustis, for 1 instance." " You. mean-— — because of what you ssw in his eyes when my sleeve was on fire. You a.re wonderful !" , " Wonderful? .What the devil are you talking about? The man is my friend, and if I choose to borrow money of him- " She walked slowly to the door., and stood looking back. "If you ask him to lend you one cent I shall go away, and' never come back." BojanowsH's happiness at being 1 asked by Mrs Antrim to come to her that morning, on business that might talce a. whole day, wa.s almost grotesque. He read the note several times, wiped his eyes, rushed 1 to the apothecary's and! broks^ by telephone, all his j engagements 'for that day, and then, after a careful toilet, took a cab, and in. ten minutes' time stood before her. "Did you mind?" she asked, smiling down •at him with affectionate eyes. { " I am going to take you out of town! To Belknap. New Jersey!" He did not s*»y that he wcnild gladly po with heis to Thibet, if she should find* Mm useful, but he meant it, and 1 she knew ifc. On the ferry-boat, as they sat outside, watching the sun, on" the water, she told her story. i ; . "Paul has used part of an old opera of Henry Brondwood's 'King Holsrar.' and, somehow, this woman. May Broadwood,; or Mrs Bettp, has found it out. and threatens an e-sclandre on the First Night. 'She has the oriff.inaVmanuFCT.ipt, it apwars, but the price she asks is beyond Paul's means. I don't quit© know what we— you and. I — are grofnc; to say to her to-day, but— l thought I could tell better what to do when I had seen -her." ' . \ Poor Bojanowski sat with his M% head fallen on his breast, his face as white as chalk. , "f am sorry. 'for you," Elinor added, looking at him , pitifully ;' "I know you were, so fond! of him but- I had! to tell saroeOTe, and you were, the only one I could." ''....- ' ■ His splendid, dark eyes, in wtaoh the softness of one used to anudh pain, was ming'ed with the glow of genius, were moist as he spoke. "If only you could havo bought the manuscript." "She asked fifteen thousand dollars for it," answered Elinor, simply. . The Carson Avenue residence at Belknap, New Jersey, was a small, red-brick house, one «f a dozen, identically alike, that stretched), treeless, along the dusty road, on the other side of which was a goafc-h&uqted common. Mrs Antrim was expected, and at once ushered by a very untidy maid into & small room. . . vA.t last Airs Beits came in, and as Mrs Antrim rose to greet her, there was a short, eloquent pause. £ Mrs Betts, a very tall, extremely handsome woman still under forty, bent her bronze^t>rown head deliberately, and inspected the woman she had 1 been blackmailing. At last she said, quietly. "You are surprised to. find 1 me a lady? The uses oi adrersity are varied and unexpected, my dear Mrs Antrim." | "They are, indeed— Mrs Broadwood 1 !" The elder woman started, auu then gave a short laugh, in which her innate and acquired vulgarity . sounded distinctly. "So you. know me? So .much .the better. Please sit down." "Thanks. I have come to tell you that I cannot possibly pay fifteen thousand 'dollars to save my husband from disgrace, as together he and I have not so much, money in the world." Elinor had forgotten 'Bojanowski, who in his dark corner behind Mrs Broadwood, did not move. " Fifteen thousand dollars is a small sum." "It is too large." " Then — why did you come?" "I came," she said, deliberately, "to see to what the woman must have fallen, who, having been a gentleman's wife, could stoop to do what you are doing." "Fallen! I? You fool! How dare you? What are you, with your cheat of a husband, that you dare>-— — " Then Bojanowski rose, and coming forward, held his /white face -up toward the angry woman. "Be still!" !he said. She 'started, paused, caught her,, breath, and then laid her hand on his shoulder. " You? You here? In God's name, Ignaz " " Yes, it is I. Sit down." She obeyed him, trembling visibly, and visibly still incredulous. " Where have you been all these years ?" she -said at length. "In New York," She put her hands suddenly up to her facs and hid it for a moment. "I am glad to see you*,'* she whispered. Her face was softened, her eyes wet with tears. Elinor looked on in a be-

wilderment that gradually grew to a certain) knowledge. "Did you know I was here, Ignaz?" the woman 1 went on, after a pause. "Ye?. Mrs Antrim told me." "And — you still came •!" "I still came." "Then have forgiven me?" .. Elinor came forward. " I am going, Mrs hr n! rGoodbye." The woman drew a deep breath. " I adi sorry I was so mdc. I—^-all our family have badi tempers." . Bojanowski took up his hat. "I will put you in your train, Mrs Antrim, and then I will come back, May." The self-styled Mrs Betts stared at him as if she did not understand, and then she repeated slowly: "You will c.ome back!" Her eyes were wet as she accompanied them to the door and said good-bye. Her manners had returned, and were indefinably better than they had been even at the beginning of the interview. " You will really come back?" she asked Bojanowski once " more as they left the house without a word about the manuscript. "I have said so, "he returned gravely. "It is extraordinary that you should have known her," began Elinor, as soon as they were out of hearing. " Do you remember the divorce case?" " Ye."*— no — I was very young. I only know that she ran. away with some man, and that Mr Broadwood divorced her." " I was the man with " whom she ran away.",. • i. "You!" • • He turned and smiled whimsically up at her. " Even I. Hump and all. Can you believe it?" ' ■ She flushed. " Oh, I didn't mean that. Only — I am so surprised." . " Ah, yes.- It was very wrong, very wicked, but I loved her, and I believed until afterward that the fault, was his. Whem I learned the truth-rl left- "her. 1 had not seen her. from that day till this." < "But I thought it was some nobleman and surely he —^rjon- — anarried her," stammered Elinor."; "Oh, yes, she is the Princess Varilewski this minute. But when I became poor, my father disinherited me for marrying her. I dropped the title. Later, when I-^— was hiding from her — I took the name of Bojanpwski. It is my name too. It is a property of my brother now," They 'had reached the little station, % and stood on the platform. ; " Do not worry about the play,, dear Mrs, Antrim," went on the hero of the pitiful little tragedy ; " I will send you "the manuscript toTnight." "Thank you," answered Elinor, absently. Mr Bojanowski — she loves you." He shrugged his shoulders, and made a little grimace. "Ah, yes. That is the worst- of it. She always loved me. It'is a morbid fancy." "Poor soul. And— what will you doV "The least any man should, the most any man can. My best.. Here comes your train. Dear lady, I will see you no more. Good-bye." "But— we can't lose you!" She laid her hand on his arm. " I have lost Paul," he returned sadly, shaking his head, " and you—^aiq, I will see you no more. Go home and ds happy. Antrim is. in no danger." She raised her eyes heavily to his. "You have lived and suffered, and you tell- me to go home' and be happy!" There was a short- pause, while the train thundered in and stopped. 'fTheii — go home and be brave. One cannot shirk. I / have tried and 1 failed. And the burden is fitted to the back." She took ids hand-in both hers; "Good-bye, then, and God bless you!" Then she was in the train, gazing through the dusty window at the whirling green landscape, on her way home.