"PAINIED BUTTERFLIES,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, 11 March 1932, Page 7

"PAINIED BUTTERFLIES,"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

| CHAPTER Xl.—Continued. ; A less keen intelligence than that of I Jennifer would have deduced the reason for the cruel treatment that her j mother was receiving at her hostess’s I hands. She knew now why she had been placed in such close proximity to Frank’s parents; she could sense the triumph, see it waving flags in the big china-blue eyes that now and again smiled on her from the other end of the table. As a move, its success was quite hopeless. All the sparkle and joy represented by the success of “Black Cargo” had disappeared. People spoke kindly and graciously of Jennifer’s talent, and predicted for her a brilliant future. One or two, to Madame El iso’s great delight, made definite arrangements for the discussion of gowns to be specially designed.

Frank’s place at the table was novery near Jennifer’s, being close t< her mother and Adela. Yet, without speaking across the table in a raised voice, he could not be of any conversational use to Mrs Lome, much to his chagrin, for, without definitely sensing malice on Adela Creighton’s part, he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was making Jennifer’s mother both look and feel like the proverbial fish out of water. It was only when, with a palpable relish that outraged even his good-na-tured masculine tolerance, Adela found a fresh way of “showing up” her guest, that Frank proved the truth of one of the indubitable facts of life — that emotions which have not a door into the open will inevitably make havoc within.

The change in the fresh, sunburnt, boyish personality was remarkable. In some intangible but definite fashion, Frank Yardley seemed to leave his boyishness behind him for ever that night. His eyes were flashing, the lines of his face had grown harsh; even the angle of his jaw had become aggressive, while a wave of intense pity seemed to surge out from him and comfort Jennifer.

But, though one side of her deplored the ill-timed action, the woman within exulted and gloried in the fierce, almost elemental passion of the man whose choice she had been out of all the women who had bloomed in the flower garden of his life. .. Those interested heard the crashing of breakers ahead as Frank Yardley, leaping to his feet, and flashing a smile round the table, getting the attention of them all, gave a little bow to his hostess and asked, “Have I your permission to say something, Adela?”

The pale blue eyes narrowed the merest trifle, and Adela Creighton experienced a strange, inexplicable unwillingness to let Frank have his say. He seemed all keyed/up, afire with some strong emotion that certainly did not owe its origin to his fellow-guests, nearly all of whom had been known to him since his boyhood. But she had no choice in the matter of giving a smiling permission for whatever it was that Frank wished to announce; so, with a smile that curved her lips but left her eyes cold, she said, “Certainly, Frank. We’d all love to hear whatever it is.”

Every face round the long table, with tlie exception of that of Jennifer, her mother, Carlos Alayhew, and his hostess, was woven into the background of Frank Yardley’s life. His mother and father were looking at him strangely. and both were a little pale and tight-lipped. Their outward composure, when the bomb burst, was an altogether gracious, kindly, and charming thing.

“As we arc all here to honour Afiss Lome, it seems a splendid opportunity of telling you that to-niglit she has done me the honour of promising to be my wife.”

Afterwards, Frank vowed that he could not in any way account for the sudden impulse that had caused him to jump up and make the announcement, but if lie had been a world-famous' actor, timing the highest ponit of a drama, lie could not have better succeeded in startling his hearers.

Silence. Eighteen pairs of frank i.v----;i inn zed eyes—nineteen, if one included Saunders on ’ s fastened themselves upcn Jennifer Lome, whose small, exquisite face had gone as pale as death itself.

“Why? why? why?” she hept a Ling he me If. the word spinning round and , round in her brain with the futility of a squirrel running around its cage. Sir Ralph Yardlev was the first to rise to the occasion. With an apologetic bow to Adela for leaving his seat, he rose, and going round to his son, first of all shook hands with him, and then, before everybody, took .Jennifer’s little, cold face in both his hands, and kissed her on a cheek as soft as a baby’s, and as fresh. “Oh, you young moderns!” he smilingly chided, as he gave the caress. Whatever she felt inwardly, Frank’s mother behaved beautifully to Jennifer, in front of them all. “You were naughty children to spring it upon us like this, but then, from a boy, Frank has always loved surprising people,” the charming woman told those around her, who knew Frank almost as well as herself. Adda’s face was exactly as her butler later on described it to his fellow servants —faintly tinted with green. Her feeling of intense hatred against the girl who was sitting at her own table was almost beyond human expression. In the first moment of shock, Adela Creighton felt as if everything that her world held of beauty and pleasure had come crashing down about her, like a flimsy doll’s house in the fierce breath of a hurricane. Pbe stared, shaking in every limb,

while her soul dwelt for a moment

BY MRS PATRICK Mac GILL. Author of “Dancers in the Dark,” “The Ukelele Girl,” “The Flame of Life,” etc.

“Congratulations to both of you. Saundcrson, bring some of the special champagne,” the wretched, heartsick girl heard her own voice ordering her bujder. Then: “Here’s health, happiness, and success to both of you. ’ ’ Those whom life had instructed in a true sense of values were touched and delighted by the sweet little romance which seemed so charming an accompaniment to the success of “Black Cargo. ’ ’

“I have to leave town early tomorrow morning, my dear, but Frank must arrange to bring you to Overslev —our place in the country —for the week-end. Wo can th.cn have a little talk together, for this lias been a tremendous —er- —-’’ Lady Abardley bit back the word “blow” just in time — “a tremendous surprise- to us,” she finished. About, Lady A'ardlcy’s face, voice and manner was something of the smoothness of polished marble, and Jennifer argued bitterly to herself that perhaps one could hardly expect them to be elated at the prospect of a match between herself —a penniless girl with her way yet to make —and their only child, the son in whom lay all their hopes.

A marriage with the enormously wealth}’- and socially important Hon-

ourable Adela Creighton would have had their fervent blessing. That the rich Society girl was in love with Frank, Jennifer very well knew. What she did not know, for her essentially sane, loving nature was a stranger to such a destructive emotion, was the power of hate—the virulent hate of one woman who- considers herself robbed of her lover by another.

Very soon after the announcement of Jennifer's engagement, Mrs Lome had made an excuse to her hostess, and, escorted by Carlos Mayliew, had been bowled swiftly and smoothly home to the little house on Hampstead Heath which enshrined the greatest happiness that her life had ever known. ‘ ‘ I suppose I ought to be as ’appy as a queen over Jennifer, Carlos,” Airs Lome confided to the strangely silent, unelated young man by her side- on their homeward way. “But, somehow, I’ve got a ’eavy ’eart, ’stead of a light one. 1 don’t like that there Afiss Creighton. It was barefaced the way she showed me up in front o’ them ail, on purpose-like, I’ll take my dying oath. Well, if she’s* a sample of what a Society lady’s like, give me a plain woman, that’s all I’ve got to say. The young gentleman seems all right—l’ll say that for ’im —but even so, I wish Jennifer had fallen in love with some nice, steady chap, without so much money, and a title some day.” Carlos Mayliew said nothing, only looked straight in front of him, ‘ his dark, passionate eyes apparently absorbed in a single pink carnation which stood in a slim silver vase placed high on the opposite wall of the car. In reality his eyes were the mirrors of little flash-like pictures which kept coming and going in his brain. He was seeing a dead man in a chair—a white, frightened slip of a girl with blue eyes—eyes that seemed to find some irresistible fascination in the hole torn by a bullet in the wall above the dead man’s head.

“Ch, girlie, I’m so sorry I went and disgraced you like I did at that grand supper party Yliss Creighton gave for you. I shouldn’t have gone. 1 on-must have been ashamed of me, dear.” The contrition in the upset, quivering voice was a heart-rending thing. Like a flash, Jennifer’s arms were around her mother, her young voice a thing of sheer beauty as she said, with that generous understanding which all her life was to make her beloved: “I am not ashamed of you, Mother, but of the woman who could have fallen so low as to invite you to her board and treat you in such a way. 1 am certain that was why Frank spoke up as he did —-because he wanted to let everybody know that it was the .moth-

er of his future wife who was her victim. Darling, I'm so happy, say that you are, too. I shall not sleep unless I know that you are glad for me.” Instead of answering her child directly, Jennifer’s mother dropped on her knees beside her child’s bed. Xot since her childhood, when she had been teaching Jennifer to pray, had she done such a thing, and quietly, with a hushed feeling in her heart as if angels knelt beside them and joined them in their prayers, the young girl knelt beside her mother and sent her thankoffering up to the Throne of Grace. (To be Continued).

that seemed an eternity in the lowest hell. A dark curtain seemed to rise before her, and for the first time in all her self-centred life, Adela Creighton looked upon the mysterious world of moral suffering, discerning at last the immensity of pain that can be represented by an infinitesimal space of time.