GOLD AND GLITTER.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 21, 20 February 1891, Page 23

GOLD AND GLITTER.

(By VICTOB O'D. Power, author of " Bonnie Dunraven," "Anasmore," ■' Sister Angela's Story," etc. The two sisters were singularly alike. Constance — the younger by two years — was considered a strikingly handsome girl — a fact of which nobody else was half so well awareastheyounglady herself. She was fall and lithe, with dark, languid eyes, an aquiline nose, a peachy complexion, and rosebud lips, which had the habit of pouting at the least provocation, or of curving haughtily whenever the damsel believed her dignity interfered with, even in the smallest way. Mary, on the contrary — the elder sister —was not evea passably good-looking, if you go by the chiselling of the features and the contour of the face. Bnt there were some who said (or rather whispered) the irreverent suggestion that of the two gills Alary was the more attractive, by reason of the frank good-nature beaming in every line of her face, in every curve of her rather large but well-shaped moutb, ifi every glance of her kindly blue-grey eyes. Mary was the household drudge, while Constance, the beauty and pride of the family, spent her time over her embroidery, her flowers, her canaries and her lap-dog. The girl's mother, Mrs. Bellew, was a vain, silly little woman, and had always petted and spoiled tbe younger girl, cramming the child's mind with many absurdities, which, day by day, became so rooted in tne heart of Constance that, as many of her old acquaintances said, "That girl of the Bellews doesa't know her&elt, ana very soon won't know any ot us Il'I 1 ' And they were right. By the time Constance had developed from a vain, selfish child into a tall handsome girl, she had come to appreciate t^ie facts (first instilled into her mind by her mother) thit none of her nld fneuds and acquaintances was exactly up to the mark for her — that her lines in life should be cast in loftier places, and that a giowi ig fuiurj lay before her — a splendid matrimonial alliance, a carnage or two, a beautiful maneion-house, sei vanis, balls, garden parties, dress, f dshiou, admiration, and so fort h . And why not ? Was she not the handsomest girl going into the chapel of a Sunday ? As her mother declared, " she hai quite the aristocratic air, and was evidei-tly taking atter the Da Bray.* !" For Mrs. Bellew had been a Miss De Bray, once upon a timpani! necessity alone, she admitted, compelled her to mate with p.ain George Bellew — who, after a'l, was bat a better kind of gentleman farmer in the district. George Bellew was the owner of a roomy oil country bouse, it was true, and at the time ot his marriage rented one of the riaest farms in sunny Cornwall. Since then, however, things had looked less hopeful. Mrs. Bellew's t-oul yearntd after dress and fashion, entertainments, and going b-visiting to other houses Poor George Bellew — hitherto a hard-working, sensible, persevering, and quiet-going man — found himself sjddtnly wrenched out of his ol i gnoves and made to dance attendance on his pretty, extravagant wite ; to drive about with her here, there, and everywhere — to hunt-meets, flower-shows, regattas, and so on. And this was not the worst either. Belkw House " was thrown open to the public," as some spneful people said. Visitors flocked to the quiet grey mansion which, up to this date, hai been pretty much forgotten by the world. I: was necessary, ot course, under the new regime, that the house should be refurnished. Mrs. Bellew declared that "Uese ruuny old chairs, tables, and carpets would neier do !" So Geoige Bellew, who had fallen head over ears in love with pretty, featoer-neaded Milly De Bray, and had taken her without a penny piece to blet.B herself withal, could oniy sigh a little and yieid the point ; and when he came to tot up the expenses of that first year of wedded bliss, 1 should not like to tell you the exclamation which burst from his as'ont^hed lips. Then, for the first time btnee his marriage, he had a " scene '" with his wife, and thencefoiward Mrs. Bellew found it advisable to retrench a little. But from that time forward the fortunes of Bellew House and farm waned and wanei. George Bellew found it necessary to raise money to meet some of his liabilities ; then, in order to pay off these sums, he was forced to sell his interest in portions of the land, So year by year, he became more and more embarrassed, until at the time of which we now treat, the hopes of the impoverished family were centred in tbe chance ot their younger daughter makeing a wealthy marnage. " Theie is no doubt in the world that some rich nabob w.ll fall in love with Constance." gushed Mrs. Bellew. ''Just look at her ! Did you ever see bo lovely a girl / Look at che arch of her neck I It is like the neck of a princess, 1 declare. Look at her nose and m^ith, and the pose of her head ! Ah, the is so like Lucinda de Bray, her great grand-grand- iunt / The very sameeyee and nose and ears too ' Aud then her accomplishments — her beautiful voice, her painting, hex " " Tee, yes, I know, my dear," George Bellew interrupted at this junction. " Our gui is all that she should be of course. But don't

you think," he ventured to remonstrate, in a low tone, " that this kind of talk of yours is not exactly wise in the girl's hearing f " For Constance was seated by tbe window over her embroidery, her eyes cast down upon her work, as she listened to her mother's eulogy. '• Oh, nonsense I " was Mrs. Bellew's reply. " Bhe is old enough now to know her value. She is eighteen this very month. Really, we must be thinking of marriage soon. I buall bring her about a little daring the summer to some fashionable tourists' resort. That is just the kind of place where a handsome girl picks up a millionaire." "Yes — in penny novels I " said Mr. Bellew, with a perhapi pardonable flash of temper — seeing that his arrears of rent bang like the sword of Damocles above his head just at tbe present time. " That is all absurdity, Milly," he added ; •• o«»lieve me, millionaires 1 are not so easily picked up as The Duelwss's Weekly Treasure would lead you to suppose! But by. the- way," he added quickly, anxious to uhange the subject — for the colour which had mounted to his wife's temples was ominous, and easy going George Bellew hated a scene—" What about young Roberts ? He is very well off, they say, and seems a thoroughly decent fellow. You know he has come as chief engineer, to superintend the building of tbe new bridge.'" " But we have never met him, George I " said Mrs, Bellew sharply. " The name is a good name ; and I daresay the young man's profession would suit very wel). What do you say, Constance, darling 1 " Constance lifted her heavy eyelids languidly and sighed— the sigh of sheer indolence. "He visits the Townsands and tbe Danesfords," she replied slowly, as though the effort to say so much were no light call upoo her energies. " 1 heard that Dora Danesford was going in for him," " Dora Danesford I Indeed !" ejaculated Mrs. Bellew, for the Danesfords were among the blue-bloodei ones of the country side. '• Ob, then, by all means, George, Bee abont Mr. Roberts at once, this very day ! You met him once or twice, didn't you 1 Can yon manage to bring him here to the house 1" "Yes, I daresay I can," was Mr. Bellew's reply. He is fond of shooting, and I promised to accompany him some day and bring 1 Ivan,' our setter, along with us. Roberts has his eye on ' Ivan,' by the way. Well, I can tell him to come any day you wish, and we can invite him to a little informal dinner after we have tramped the bogs and mountains," " Charming !" cried Mrs. Bellew. " Well say Wednesday — the day after to-morrow. I must tell Mary at once. The room 9 will require a li'tle brightening up, anl the blinds must be washed, and— Oh ! here is Mary herself." Mary Bellew entered at this moment, an enormous apron covering her almost from throat to ankle. All tbe morning sbe had been busy in aud out of doors. Of late years the Bellews were compelled to discmtinue the services of the parlor maid and cook ; and now one female domestic alone was to be seen in the Bellew kitchen, and M-wy found it necessary to take upon herself the duties of tae absent tlrVO. Yet she never complained. You always saw the same open, genial expression in her good-natured face and eyes. You always heard her sweet low voice as she worked ; a cender, contralto voice it was, thrilling to the ear of the true lover of musi ;, and very different indeed to Constance's ebrill soprano. Mary bad come in now to make inquiries as to dinner ; for she had nearly all the cooking in her own bauds. It never even occurred to this noble-hearted girl to feel annoyed at her sister's utter uselessness in the household. Sne was proud of Constance, proud of her beauty and accomplishments. While she herself slaved morning, noon, and night, while she contented herself with a very scanty, almost a shabby wardiobe, she seemed to think it quite the correct thing that her lovely sister should 101 lin an armcuair, balf-aaleep over the perpetual embroidery, change her dress at least twice every day, lie abed in the mornings until ten o'clock, and then trip down daintily in her silver-buckled slippers to partake, in ajcondeecending 8 )rt of way, ot tne buttered toast or muffins, which poor Mary placed within the fender, in readiness for her sister's breakfast. In the meantime, Mrs. Bellew was giving Mary tbe important information as to dinner. Sbe addressed her older daughter in pretty much the same tone as sbe was wont to speak to her cook, when she could afford to keep one. She took all Mary's industry and uncomplaining toil quite as a matter of course. It never so much as occurred to her to thank the girl for her goodness. But then you will kindly bear in mind that Mary was not a " De Bray. ' All the Do Brays were remarkable, more or less, for their personal beauty. Mary was " a stamped Bellew," as her mother cften declared ; "a well-meaning poor thing and all that, but very rural, of course, in her tastes and ways." In his inmost neart George Bellew loved his elder daughter with a love which ha bad never been able to feel for Constance. But ha bad never dared to express his feelings openly. Even Mary herself was ignorant of her father's true leanings towards her. The girl had almost a morbidly depreciatory opinion of herself. Her belief was that nobody could really care for her plain face and homely manners. She always kept in tbe background wbtn visitors called at Bellew House, and she never dreamed ot accompanying her mother and sister when returning these visits. She went to an early Mass) every Sunday, and the moment she came home she removed her best gown, and lo I the big apron was again called into office. Her life was, in truth, colourless enough, and only for her unceasing activity I am inclined to think that poor Mary Bellew — who was at heart a painfully sensitive girl — would have had a hard time of it during this period of probation. But among oue class, at all events, the girl was truly loved. All the poor householders in the district — the beggars who came for alms, or food, or clothing to the Bellew House kitchen, the blind

men and lame men, the widows and orphans— all these would, I verily believe, have bled their arms to do " Miss Mary " a service. She was always kind and good to them. Whenever she met them she had a friendly smile and a sympathetic smile for one and all/ " Not so Constance ; and many a time the younger sister would call Mary to account for " so lowering herself as to enter into conversation with Buch people as these !" " But they are good-natured and well-intentioned," Mary would say, " and they are so grateful, poor creatures, for trifling kindnesses." " They don't know whit gratitude means 1" was the other's retort. " They are a low, designing, cunning lot, every one of tbem. I never even notice them." This was, of course, conclusive, and Mary never pressed the point further. But she was so far unmindful of Constance's wise counsel as to persevere in her folly and want of respect. She was. I am afraid, a hardened sinner when charity, love of one's neighbour, and tender, human pity for God's poor were concerned. I doubt whether any advice would have corrected the girl's habits in these matters. Well, it so happened that the Bellews' little plot to beguile young Mr. Roberts to the house succeeded admirably. George Bellew and the young engineer spent the day shooting, and when they returned to Bellew Housn in the evening, lo ! a very dainty dinner ir deed greeted them, and the shabby rooms were shining, the muslin window-hangings, fresh from the wash tub and the iron, the pictuie-frames on the walls polished to almoßt a painful degree, and all this the work of Mary's busy hands. Constance, got up in an irreproachable toilette and looking her very best, sat beside young Roberts at dinner. The proud mother, usually so talkative, held her tongue this evening, so that her daughter should entertain the guest. But, truth to say, Constance Bellew's conversation was empty, vapid, purposeless chatter at its best. So accustomed was the girl to be regarded as a beautiful object of whom nothiDg intellectual was required that she had lapsed naturally at last into this groove, and found it well nigh impossible to converse with ordinary intelligence on any subject under the sun. Mow, Mary was, on the contrary, bright, animated, and intensely natural when she began to talk, and possessed even a sparkling cleverness and native wit which were strangely attractive. Frank Roberts glanced once or twice at the elder sister during dinner, and laughed heartily at one or two of her remarks. He was a tall, well-built young fellow, with frank, brown eyes, dark, close-cropped hair, and a bright, winning smile. In manners he was simple, genial, and thoroughly natural. He found it difficult enough to carry on the conversation with Constance, and it was a relief to him when dinner was over and he was left alone with Mr. Bellew. C Concluded in our next.)