The Exeter Times, 1884-8-21, Page 2• LOST
BY MAY MOBS RUINING,
£V HOB or
.`iiient mid 2rua*" " NNor,
riaye," One 1,right's Mystery,"
&o., x&c,
PART L
In mine ayes she is the sweetest lady
that I ever looked on."
MUCE ADO Alaona sornise-
kept it more rigidly, The two actresses
study their part ,; Miss Valentine studies
them through her spectacles vldth a
severe east of countenance, She dis-
approves of theta both.
The May sun is sottiug as they drive
up the noble avenue that leads to the
Hall, the dressing -bell is clanging out.
and young Squire Broughton, flushed
and eager, runs down the steps to meet
and greet them. trio blushes with de-'
light as he gives his hand to his eneban- I
tress.
10. I have been on the lookout for the
past hour," he says. :0.A little more,
Lady Valentine, and I would have
*Haunted why dapple gray and ridden
forth in aearoolh of you. But what is tie
matter x ea are not all,1 hope? You
arc. as pale
-, Oh, no ! I am quite well," Her
tone is as listless as her look, her smile
so flitting, her manner so utterly with-
out its customary youthful brightness,
that the lad looks at .her in real con.
cern,
I am afraid you are not. You do
not look at ail well --I mean, not like
vour•,elf. Perhaps, though, you are
only tired after the drive,"
•' tit bat is that ?" asked Mrs. Brough-
ton, coming forward, " somebody ill?
Not Lady Valentine, surely ! Why, this
will never do—our Pauline as pale as a
ghost ! What is it ? The drive ! Non-
sense, fifty miles would not blanch Lady
Valentiue s roses. Surely you are not
such a foolish child as to let Sir Vane's
abseuce prey upon your spirits?"
Mise Routh, aweeping down the wide
oakou hall, laughs softly her filvery
tiukle. "' That is it, dear Mfrs. Brough -
tont ]< did not like to betray trust, but
your Sharp eyes have found it out.
Coni,ider, a bride of little more than
half a year ; and this is the first separ-
ation."
The blue-green eves glanced back-
ward over her eboulaer,'as she turned
to ascend the stairs.
" Cheer up, Dolores, elterie. You look
as dismal as your name, What will
your adoring Claude say presently, if
he finds his' radiant Pauline all in the
downs? For his sake, if not for yours,
forget the ak,cnt lover for the present."
Dolores looks up at her .blue eyes ;
and green meet, in one long. level,
defiant gaze—the gaze of two swords.
men on, guard.
"" You are right," she says. " You
are always ri„rit, Camilla. I will take
you at your word,"
She does. By a great effort she
throws off her languor, her gloom, and.
my herself es t~i self upto the spirit of the
hour. This is ntime for memory, no
place for cruelly stung and spurred
hearts. Eat, drink, and be merry.
" Gather ye roses while ye may.'' . Vane
Valentine is out of her sight, she will
shut him out of her thoughts as well.
laaeilia est descensus Arena—this poor
Dolores can go the pace as rapidly as
the rest. Presently life and color return
to her, the flush of excitement to her
.cheeks, its fire to her eyes—the last
trace of bitterness is gone.
" That is right," says Harry Brough-
ton, in an approving whisper. "I knew
you would be in first-rate form when
the time came. Gad, I wish I was to be
Claude instead of that lucky beggar,
Deering."
" That . lucky beggar does not look
particularly jubilant at this moment,"
retorts Lady Valentine, Iaughing.
" That is because he is half a hundred
whiles from you, at the other end of the
table, with onlyMiss Routh—the ll'idow
Melnotte—his mother, by Jove !" with
a grin. "Filial affection ought to suffice.
He can't expect to monopolize you.all
the evening, even if he is to marry you
presently. Miss Routh is smiling at
him like an angel, and still he doesn't
look grateful. He locks bored. He
really hadn't ought to, as our transat-
lantic cousins have it."
"" I am a transatlantic cousin, Mr.
Broughton, if you please. Be careful."
"" By Jove l so you are. Butthen you
are a Canadian, aren't you 2" looking
puzzled. " Do you know, I never got it
straight somehow. And it is a matter
about which I don't like to be muddied."
" Naturally 1" laughing. "" It is a
matter of moment.
"" But which are you ? Yankee, Can-
adian, French—which ?" -
" I don't know," still laughing.. "" I
pet muddled myself when I try to make
it out. A little of all three, I think,
with a sprinkling of English extractions
thrown in. See Miss Valentine watch-
ing us—we really hadn't ought to,
Harry. Miss Valentine disapproves of
laughter, and we are laughing shame-
fully—I am sure I do not know at what
—and we are shocl;ing;her to the deep-
est depths of her being."
Squire Broughton makes a feeble
effort to adjust a glass to one eye, and
stares across at the stern virgin down
the table. " Rum old girl," he'thinks,
for in his inner conscience this youthful
heir is slangy. " I wonder what it feels
like to be a venerable fossil like that,
and ugly enough to be set up in a corn-
field. What business , has she with a
moustache when other fellows can't
raise a hair ! Should think you would
find it rather—aw-flattening," ho says,
aloud, looking with compassion at his
fair friond,:ff to see much of that lady.
Elderly paellas° Of that. stripe prey on
my spirits, I know. But then, of course,
you have always Miss Routh."
" I have always Routh," assents
L , i Val 1 • d the smile that goes
wh! the . y a zzles the simple brain
of . ung• ligough.ton.: "Au eeveir, Harry;
Yoe* mamuha gives the singe!. Don't.
staff long,"' she whispers, coquettishly;
as she rises to go.
There 1a, no time fors staying—the
gentlemen speedily follow. the ladies,
and the stage is cleared for action A
last hurried rehearsal is gabbled.
through, while. the •gue• gather
thexe.is nQ #,ime for anythi. g • but the
play. Everybody runs about, chatter.
ing their speee es frantically, with
little books iu their hands, The roll of
carriages ala almost continuous now;
there will barely be time to dress before
the hour, A very large gathering are
coming; every seat in the amateur
theatre promises to be full. The re-
hearsal ends; there is a long interval
during which the audience talk and
lauvil, and flutter into their seats, and
read their bills- haps languidly wave,
jewels brilliantly dash, music tills the
air. The orchestra, at least, is all it
should be; it remains to be seen whe-
ther the amateurs are. The hour
strikes, the bell tinkles, the drop•scene
goes up, the play begins.
All the world Ituows What the "Lady
of Lyons " performed by amateur actors
and actresses, is bee. Youug ladies and
gentlemen, stricken dumb with stage
fright at the sight of all those watchful
eyes, losing every atom of memory at
the sound of then own vaicea; arms and
legs horribly is their owners' way. ;
quivering voices that refuse to be heard
beyond ties lrst row of seats. The
prompter and Colette!. Deering are the
two most audible luau in the troupe,
For the ladies—Pauline docs fairly well,
speaks her words audibly, lets Claude
make love to her as though slip were
quite: used to it, and dees not seem to
fine her hands and arms an Mauna -
Prance. it is not her first appearance, it
will be remembered; the recollection of
that last time, when she wore the dress
of "" La Reins( Blanche," and Rene and
grandinamma sat anti watched, risen
before her with a cruel pang more than
once. But it will not do to think of old
times or old friends to -night; the
present is all alae can attend to. She is
received and rewarded with great ap-
plause, many bouquets, and much soft
clapping of gloved bands. On the
whole the Pauline and Claude of the
evening are a auoceas, and the leaven,
that lightens the whole play,
"But for Lady Valentine and Colonel
Deering it would be a, signal failure," is
the universal verdict, "And a hand-
some pair, are they not? Colonel
Doeriug speaks and looks his part to
the life. One would think he meant it
every word." " Perhaps he does,'' is
the significant answer. " Deering has
been hard hit for some time and makes
no s^eret of it. Watch him when the
daueing begins, and yon will see.'
But there is not much to see. Lady
Valentine does a few duty dances, one
with "" Claude ltleluotte," of course, but
no more. She pleads a headache,. tits
out to the unutterable chagrin of ;it '
least half a score of soup/rents. Colonel 1
Deering follows her lead, and dances as
little as possible also. He keeps near 1
but ,
her,
not athome o o tJ admirers"i
written legibly in my lady's eyes to-
night.
o night. She keeps close to Miss Velem. J
tine—and the luau who can snake love
within ear -shot of the austere Dorothy
would be something more than man.
It is all over at last, and she can go up
to hor room, trailing the white silk
bravery of Madame Colonel Melnotte
after her. Perhaps she is losing her
zest for these things—or is it a presenti-
ment of evil t come that weighs upon
her to -night ?
Next day comes, and brings with it
Colonel Deering and sundry of his
brother officers. The ladies Valentino
were to have depiitted after breakfast,
but their host and hostess urged them
to remain until after luncheon. Miss
Routh yields gracefully, so perforce the
others follow; she is over leader in these
small social amenities. Dolores does
not care. Here, or at Valentine, what
does it signify—it is equally tristeevery-
where. So they remain until the after-
noon, and then, attended by a strong
military escort, set out on the return
march home. That dull feeling of im-
pending evil weighs upon Lady Valen-
tine still. She cannot talk, she sits
silent, listless, languid, the gay chatter
of Miss Routh falling without meaning
upon her ears. She hardly cares what.
may happen; it seems to her life can
be no more bitter, nomorehopelessthan
it is. Her heart lies like lead within
her—the brief, fictitious sparkle of last
night has vanished like the bubbles an
champagne. Life stretches out a dreary,
stagnant blank once more.
She goes up to her room the moment
she arrives. Jemima Ann, for a won-
der, is not tliereto'meether. " Send my
maid, please," she says to one of the
housemaids, and,the girl looks at her
with almost startled eyes.
"" Oh, if you please, my lady, Jemima
ain't here !"
" Not here ?" pausing . and looking.
"What do you mean? Not here
Where is she then ?"
°" Please, my lady, she's gone away."
" Gone away !
Yes, my lady, with Sir Vane. And
if you please, my lady, I think she's
gone like for good." She has been
standing—she suddenly sits down at
these words, feeling sick and faint.
"" There's a letter for you, my lady," the
woman goes on—" there's' two, please,
on your dressing -room table. She oried
when she was going. away. She went
last evening about an hour after you."
Without a word,my lady hurries' into
the dressing -room. There, on the table,
two .letters ' lie—one all blurred and
nearly illegible with tears and blots. arid
blisters.
live that I will love like I do you. Your
ever faithful JEHINA ANN."
She takes up the second letter.; it is
" ii PO
...
,4,7 .,,,_
,rr will ; ,'b0. ` u
iia =re. ` nd T hope you will an- "
swer Yue—I cannot go back home with, Place a can top donward on a hot stove until heated, then remove the cover
out & word from you. 1 hope you will and smell—AMMOIIl!A. This'the test for ROYAL BAKING POWDER
be happy, and not forget your poor
Jemima Ann. 1 have plenty of money, ;ItuiRrh,11"11:741.121%E,,ftii,"
m don't berry about that, Good-by,.my awn besttnd dearest darling, I 14,2 10) .' i S.lattiO0
will not serve any one anaifh as eon as 1 agape
"DoLoa>;s: Yon refused° to obey me,
and dismiss the woman, Jemire . As I
aln determined to be obeyed in all
things, great and small, I remove her
this evening. Do not attempt to go
after her or have her back, You will
defy nae in this, or in anything else, at
your peril.
"Your husband, Vass Va,LssTi,ln."
A shadow comes between her and the,
sunshine. She looks up from, these Last
merciless words, and sees, standing on
the threshold, a sneering smile of tri-
umph on her face, Camilla Reath,
CHAPTER N.KXIV,
" NOP THOS IN OTIIER DAYS WE th5T.'"
It is four hours later. The down ex.
press from London leaves one traveller
at the village station, and thunders
away into the yellow sunset. A foreign
gent, the loungers at the station set him
,gown ; very dark, with a long black
moustache, and n, certain undefinable
stir of cities and travel about him. Ilia
only laggage is a black portmanteau,
also of foreign look, and well pasted
with labels. He inquires in perfect
English, with only the slightest possible
foreigu accent, the way to Valentine
manor. A barefooted rustic lad, under-
takes for sixpence to show hint thither,
and afterwards carry his bag to the
Batherripe Arms, and together they set
out.
It was the hour " between the gleam.
ing and the mirk," the hour of .4r.
bari'a in the fair, far•eff luted wheats
tie stranger and pilgrim has come, The
fields across which his guide takes him
by a short-cut, lie steeped in tints of
gold-graylight; overhead there is a
gold -gray sky, flecked hero and there
with erhmson bars. The sleepy cows
lift soft, large eyes, and regard them as
they pass. A faint, sweet, warm wind
stirs in the treetops, and the dark,
watchful eyes of the stranger driuk it
all in—the quiet beauty of the twilight
landscape.
"At tho eventide there shall be
light," he dreamily thinks. "Ono might
be happy here, if rural peace and loveli-
ness were all.
T117 pass a last stile, and t}ie youth-
ful guide pauses and poiuts to the zig-
zag path betweeu the trees.
"Keep straight up yon," he says,
" t' house is at t'other end."
The traveller bands the promised six-
pence, and the lad scampers away. The
footpath is a contiuuatiou of the shorts.
cut across the park, and ends at one of
the gnu( it Anne flower gardens. The
Manor is in sight now, and lie pauses to
look at it, something more than mere
curiosity in his gaze. With the full
flush of the crimson and gold wast upon
it, gilding climbing rose, and trailing
ivy, and tall honeysuckle, softening its
decay, mellowing its ugly angles, it is a
dquaint and picturesque old house in-
eed, from an artistic point of view,
with its top-heavy chimneys and mil.
Boned windows, and antique -timbered
porches. Hitherto he has met no one,
now the flutter of a lady's dress catches
his eye. A robe of soft "hodden gray"
color, dear to the artist eye, a touch of
deep crimson, a gleam of creamy lace,
the sheen of braided yellow hair, a face
in profile under a straw hat—that is
what he sees. And for a moment the
nian'sheart within flim stands still.
"Therewith ho raised his eyes, and turned,
Ands, "reat fire within him burned,
And his 1'heart stopped awhile—for there
Against a thorn bush fair
His heart's desire his eyes did see."
She is seated on a knoll, her head
testing against the rough brown boll of
a tree, her white hands lying loosely in
her lap, without work or book, and so
still that at first he thinks she is asleep.
But coming closer he sees that she
is not ;• the blue eyes are looking with a
strange sort of vacancy straight before
her, at the red and amber light in tho
sky. She does not hear him; he treads
lightly, and the elastic fur gives like
velvet; she does not see him, she semis
bo see nothing, not even the lovely sun-
set light on which her blank eyes gaze.
He is by her side looking down on her
as she sits, his whole passionate hear;
in his eyes. " Snowball !" he says.
She almost bounds, soft as the
sound of his voice is. She springs to
her feet, and stands looking at him, her
lips apart, her eyes dilated, mute with
amaze. " Snowball!" he says, and holds
out both hands, " I have startled you.
But I hadnothought of coining upon
you like this. I was going to the house
whenl.chanced to see you here."• Ile
stops. She does not answer, does not
take the eager hands he holds out ; she
only stands and looks, too dazed by the
shock of surprise for welcome or foy joy.
For Rene, a terrililepang pierces him.
Is this Snowball —. bright, ' laughing,
radiant Si".uvv ball—so full of impulsive
gladness aid hal pyi greeting always
this pale, silent, stricken shadow ? •
"1 Rene 1" she says, , at last, almost in
;whisper, "Rene!"
And . then,, slowly, a ,great gladness
fills the blue eyes, and a great w.,elcornp
a great joy.- She gives hire tier "liahiad,
and tears well up;and fill the blue, 'sad
eyes. " Reha 1 °Rene 1" she says, and
there is a sob in the voice ; I never
thought to see you again."
"MY EVER DEAREST, DEAR MISS SNOW-
BALL.—pe
NOw-
BALL: 1 e; says I must go away. ' He
says Imust go this very hour, andwith-
out bidding good -by to you. I' hope
you will be able to read this, but I am
so blind with crying I can hardly see to
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He alas ps the ia'ands, wastetl and
fragile, and looks at her, and says noth-
ing, He thinks of the last time when
he came upon her thus suddenly, among
the Roman hilltops. How brightly
beautiful had been the joyous. young
face then 1—how impulsively eager and
joyful her greeting then 1—how different
from this! Now—he has it in .Iris, heart
to invoke a curse on the head of the
man who has. °banred her like this
""How white you are1" 'leo says=" Ill, -.e
a spirit there in the gloaming, my Snow-
ball. You do not look well. Have yen 1
been ill, Carina?"
" Ill ? Oh, no," she answers, wearily;
"I am nerill
ev Do not m'
indmy looks.
—what do they signify 2—tell me what
has brought you to England ?"
" Sit down again, then," he says:
" You do not look fit to stand."
She obeys him, sinking back on the
grassy knoll, hardly yet believing the
evidence of her ears and eyes. "Rene,
Rene—here—how strange 1"
What is it?" she asks. "You look
as if you had something to say. Why
are you in England --at Valentine? It
'seems so strange."
" That sounds slightly inhospitable,1
Lady Valentine," smiling. It is an
effort to call her by this name her hus-
band has given her, but it, helps to
keep in his mind what there is some
danger (Allis forgetting, looking in the
pallid, wistful, too -dear face, but even
wlhilelhe says it, he hates it and,liim.
" You know what I mean ?" she says,
simply. " I am not afraid of being
misunderstood by yeti, Rene. You did
not come all the way' here simply to see
me. You would not have come forthat.
It is something else—something;: im-
portant. What is it ?" ' . ,
" Shall I tell you 2" he looks at her
anxiously, in doubt. "You do not look
well, and' it 'will—it must=shock.yen,.
Snowball. Yes—I have- something 'to
tell you, something distressing,' and
very, very strange. :I' hardly know hew
you will believe it—you niay;not—and
yet it is true. I have felt it rather, hard,
from the first, that I should be the one:
chosen to bear•the evil -tidings, but fate
has thrust it upon me. It is a; lona
story, and I should like to tell yon im-
mediately. Are we ;likely to: be dis-
turbed here ?"
"Not in the leastlikely, NO one ever
comes here. ' It is the most `secluded
spot in the park. Ichoose it always for
that reason. Now what, I• wonder, is
this amazing revelation you :have' to
male ?"
"' It is amazing. It is the story of the
dead ` alive. Dolores, listen —,here —
George Valentine has risen from his
grave 1"
What !,•
"He never, was drowned, yeti know.
It was all a mistake—that ;old story of
long ago. 'He was not drowned. He is
alive to -day 1"
She sits and stares athim, trying to
take this in. A flush sweeps over her
face. "Rene ! Oh, Rene, think what
you say 1 My father--"
"And he is not your father -that is
where the trouble comes. He left his
wife -your mother—within a year of
their marriage. For five; years she heard
nothing of him—when she did it was
what others heard—that he was d7 owned.
nit °"elle "married again.; toui',parents
are both dead, as you 'always,`until of
late years, thought, but ` George Valen-
tine lives. You are no kin of his—no
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BROWNING, Solo a"ontfor liixeter.Ontario
A MARVELOUS STORY
TOLD IN TWO LET ZBS.
FROM THE SON: "Pore 28;>�
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7iouratruly, W. M. Pitmans.”
FROM
i ins."
ROI THE FATHER: both"It
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