HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1887-10-7, Page 7OCT. 7, 1887,
OnelienttlEEEECIMICEVEINVI
PUT ASUNDER;
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Lady Castlemaille's Divorce 1
By BERTHA. M. CLAY,
AUTIRM
Elnunted .11,1fe,,, 4, The Macre Atemo.
Went," A Ntruggle for n Ring?
etc., etc., etc.
graceful figure, dressed in pale rose-
colored tulle, in which were finest flecks
of gold; diamonds formed so as to re-
present a crown of stars graced a beau-
tiful, queenly head. Dawn was closely
masked, and wore her disguise well.
The Snow Queen was Lady Castlemaine.
Dawn was Isabel Hyde. Lord Castle-
maine wore the picturesque dress of a
'Venetian nobleman.
The only person who seemed to re-
cognize Lady Castlemaine was Lady
Heathers.
"I should know you," she whispered,
"where others would fail ; you are taller
than most of the ladies present, and I
should know you anywhere by the car-
riage of your head. I shall not betray
you," she added, "though I am going to
take advantage of the masks and speak
my mind to several people to -night."
"That will not be an unusual luxury
for you," was the laughing reply.
"It will be in the fashion. I shall do
it tomiglat," she answered. "I think
the chief beauty of a masquerade is
that for once one may say just what one
likes."
No one else seemed to recognize Lady
Castlemaine. As the hours passed the
scene grew more brilliant; the lights
seemed to grow brighter. The scenes
were like fairy -land; an artist who
could have sketched some of those
groups would have made his fortune by
the beauty of bis paintings.
There was one group that drew much
attention; Undine in her white dress
and white water lilies contrasting with
Mary Stuart, in her rich velvet these ;
the Venetian noble in his superb cos-
tume of crimson velvet and point lace.
They were only together for a few
minutes, but no picture could have been
more beautiful, as the dancers danced
together, as the different groups formed
and reformed, it seemed as though all
the different colors of the rainbow met,
and broke up, and broke away into a
thousand gleaming lights and shades;
where the radiant Snow Queen stoo,
or danced, or sat she seemed to make
the light brighter.
The Knight Templar walked about
restlessly: he had not yet penetrated
the secrete of the different disguises.
His attention had been drawn for some
tirae to the Snow Queen; he half -
imagined that it must be Lady Castle-
maine—she was tall, and had such a
peculiarly proud carriage of her head.
He smiled as he thought to himself
that it was hardly wonderful that he
should not know her when her face was
hidden, for all the time he had passed
with her had been spent in watching the
perfection of that face.
If it were Lady Castlemaine, he re-
solved upon beguiling her into a long
conversation with him. He would per-
suade her to go into the conservatory,
where the flowers breathed such rich
perfume, or into the cool, green fernery,
where the moonlight was brighter than
the faint glow of the lamps, and he
would the if the future held any hope
for him.
He seemed to have come to his senses
with a sudden shock. It was character.
istic of him that the first great, real love
of his should be for the wrong person.
He never thought of checking or con-
trolling his love because Lady Castle-
man° was married. Marriage, the
sanctity of married life, the holiness of
the marriage tie had never formed the
slightest barrier between him and his
desire. He hardly gave it a thought.
It was the first time no his life that he
had fallen deeply, passionately in love,
all his other pursuits had been fancies—
the foolish pursuit of pretty faces; this
was a very different matter. The pride
and the coldness of Lady Castlemaine
only deepened bis love.
If she would have flirted with him,
have encouraged him, have given him
Miles in return for his profuse compli-
ments, all would have been well, but she
was "a goddess in the clouds." She
liked talking to him, she consideredhim
a great hero, she enjoyed hie stories and
his anecdotes, she thought him one of
the most distinguished of men, but she
never deigned even to listen to compli-
ments, implied flattery, or implied love-
making. It was that that made the
pursuit of her all the more piquant to
The man who had broken so many
hearts, who had ruined so many homee,
who had blighted so many lives, the
man who had forgotten that the true
test of a soldier is not only his bravery
in the battle -field, but his reverence for
women—this man had fallen in love at
last, and, as a matter of course with a
man like himself, had fallen in love
with one whom he could never marry,
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"PICTURES FROM THE MASQUERADE."
Picture the firet is a group of tall,
slender palms itl tho background, nest-
ling at their feet a group of rich Indian
blossoms, scarlet 10 cola, shaped like a
bell, fragrant with rich odors, that be-
long to flowers of the East. A group of
tall vehito orchids on one side, a magnifi-
cent Mass of stephanotis on the other,
between a prettily covered iron seat.
On it sit the beautiful figure already
knowii through the roan as Dawn, in
the charming blush of pale rose and
gold, and a tall, aristooratio figure in
the dreaeof a Venetian nobleman,
Lord Castlemaine not only haa 00
taste for ' flirtation, but ho despised it;
he considered it, and had the frankness
to say so, alwaye the refuge of a weak
utind.
"When a woman has few charms of
mind," Lord Castlernaine was 000138 -
towed to obtierve—"when she leeks in-
telligence, wit, and poetry, the takes to
flirtatiou, because she can do no better.
When a an laths brightnotie and Intel -
loot, he does the same."
Flirtation was a fault of which Imbed
never been guilty, and for which he had
little toleration.
There was no trace of it in his man,
net now, as he leaned over the seat,
talking earnestly to Dawn.
A faint light reached them, and i6
came filtered through the white orthids;
sweet sounds reached them, the "Sweet-
heart Waltz" was being played in the
ba,ll.room, and from the fernery came
the sound of the rippling water as it fell
from the rooky stones to the moss -green
below.
"I cannot imagine who you are," he
said, "that you can say such a thing to
me, above all other men."
"Have 7011 00 idea who I am ?" asked
a low voice, the sweetness of which
was disguised by a faint whisper.
"Not the least, but I should say from
your observation to me that you cannot
know much of me, and that you know
still less of my affairs."
"So you imagine," said beautiful
Dawn. "Is there% nothing familiar either
in my face or figure 1"
He looked at her curiously.
"The light is so faint," he said, "and
you speak m a whisper. No, I have not
the loath idea who you are."
"I am surprised," she said; "yet I
have lived in the world long enough not
to be 'surprised at anything. Do you
think any disguise would prevent you
from knowing your own wife ?"
"No, none," he replied. "But then,
you see, she is my wife. That just
makes the difference."
"And I ought to have been," thought
beautiful Dawn to herself, "I, and no
other."
"If you do not know me," he said,
"it was a startling remark to make; if
yon do know me, the remark is even
more strange."
"1001 not quite sure," she said, "if I
remember what my remark was."
"So much the better," he answered.
"It shows, at least, there was no mean-
ing in it."
",Will you mind telling me what it
was ?" she asked, slowly.
"You said that I was happily married
—yet I had not married the one woman
in the world who loved me best."
She drew a beautiful bough of the
white orchids to herself and bent her
face over there.
"How sweet they are 1" she said. "I
am sure that orchids must have grown
in the garden of Eden."
"Never mind the orchids," he said,
drawing the white bloom from her.
"What did you mean ?"
"Give mo your hand," she said.
"Nay, draw off your golden broidered
glove, or it will be of little use to me."
He did so, and placed before her a
strong, supple, white hand --the clean,
honest hand of an upright man. Sho
touched it with hers.
"Let ine see it more plainly," she
said, parting with the other hand the
branches of the orchids.
She looked at it long and steadily.
The sweet, sad music of the "Sweet-
heart Waltz" came from the ball -room,
and the ripple of water from the fern-
ery; there were no other sounds. It
seemed to her that he must hear the
qui* beating of heart. She had never
held his hand in her own so long before.
While she held it, she repeated the
vow that ahe had whispered to the white
lilacs. Then suddenly she let it fall.
"I am a forfiune.teller after a fashion,"
she said, "a fashion that holds good in
the Moorish camp, and among the gipsies
of Spain."
"She cannot possibly be a Spaniard—
she speaks English too well," he
thought.
"And what has that to de with nay
fortune ?" he asked.
She looked at him thoughtfully.
"Your fortune has interested me. I
know you, although you do not recog-
nize me, and what I read in your face I
have now read in your hand. My ideas
are now confirmed."
From the white orchid and the ste-
phanotis came agreat gust of perfume;
the ripple of the water was sweeter and
stronger.
"And your ideas are—"
"just what I said," she interrupted.
"First, that you did riot marry the one
woman in the world who loved you
best; and now in your hand I read all.
It is better not to speak about it."
"I should like to know," he persisted.
"Well, if the Moorish teaching be
right, it is nob good fortune that lies in
that strong white hand of yours."
He smiled.
"What fortune does lie there 2" he
asked. "Tell ine."
"A ead one," she replied. "There is
a sudden and violent termination to the
line of love, and there are some terrible
lines of pain."
4'What do you deduce from that ?" ho
asked.
"Nothing," she replied; "it is for you
to draw what deductions you will."
"I draw none," ho. replied; "I have
firm • a
Its heart beat and his face flushed, as
it always did when he thought of hie
beautiful Gertrude, whom be ehould
love until death.
"You will remember my words 80030
day," the said.
"I hope it will be only to laugh ab
them," ho replied.
Just then the music ceased, and sev-
eral people came itito the conservatory.
Dawn suddenlyme and shook her long
Skirts of pale pink avith flecks of gold,
THE BRUSSELS POST
and before he could thy more, she hao
vanished from among the Blender green
palms and loft bio there.
Pieture the seermil.—The pole oreseent
moon is rialug in the dark thy, and its
light penetrates into the cool green
fernery, where the humps, like pale
golden stars, are half hidden by the
green leaves, where the ferns grow
strong and moist, and the rippliug water
falls from the stones to the soft spring.
ing moss. A. subdued light, as of pale
gold, lingers there. In the midst of the
rock -work there stands a tall fountaiu,
the spray of which rises high in the air,
the music of which, as the spray falls
into the tamable basin, is soft and sweet
to the ear. By the fountain stand some
elegant bamboo chairs, easy and luxu•
rious as chairs can be.
In one of them sits the white and ra-
diant Snow Queen. She looked bright
and attractive enough in the ball -room;
but here, in the soft light, among the
tall feathery ferns and the ripple of run-
ning water, she looks dazzling, the ouo
centre of white and light in that ocean
of green.
She lies back thoughtfully iu her
chair; the snowy robes form graceful
billows around. her and sweep the
ground; the light falls on the diamond
stars, and trembles in the diadem icicles;
her lovely face is pale ; she has removed
her glove, and laid her hand in the
dimpling, restless water of the fountain.
A shadow falls over the green ferns
and the water, and the tall figure of the
Knight Templar draws near. He stands
for a few minutes in silent contempla.
tion of what seems to him the most
charming picture he has ever beheld.
"Eve in the Garden of Eden was
never one.half so fair," he said to him.
self. Then he went up to the bright
white figure.
"The Queen of the Snow," he said,
with a profound bow. "'Would that I
were Knight of the Frost and the Ice."
"You look much better as you are,"
replied a laughing voice.
"Supposing," he said, "that you had
some'very fragrant roses, and you tried
to hide them between green leaves, so
that no one could discover them, the
perfume would be pure to steal through
the leaves and betray the roses."
"Quite sure 2" was the laughing reply.
"lf a bright, golden star were shining,
you could not, unless you closed your
eyes, help seeing it 2"
"Certainly not," was the answer.
"If the aweetest music were stealing
softly round, you could not help hearing
it while your ears were open and your
senses alive. So, so," he continued,
passionately, "you may hide the fair
loveliness of your face, you may dis-
guise the tone of your voice, bat
should know you among ten thousand.
Yon are Lady Castlemaine, and you
have rightly called yourself the Snow
Queen."
"Just as you have called yourself a
Knight Templar; you are Colonel Len-
nox."
"You have made me the proudest man
in the world," he said.
"I have not given you much reason
for suddenly occupying such a very ex-
alted position," she said.
"Yon are away,' satirical to me," he
said.
"And you will persist in being senti-
mental with me," aha replied.
"You are cruel to me," he said. "The
flowers that lie on your heart aro happy
because you breathe on then; they love
the fresh, sweet water dimpling round
your fingers; they must be happy be-
cause you caress them, while I, who
would give my life for a smile, or a kind
word, can never win either,"
She rose from her seat, a dazzling
white figure, tall, haughty, and ereet.
"I am Lady Castlemaine," she said,
"and you are Colonel Lennox, but I am
half -inclined to forbid you ever to enter
my presence again."
"Why 2" he oried, despairingly.
"Because I do not like those labored
compliments of yours. I decline to be
compared to roses, or musio, or stars."
"I will never do it again," he said;
"never."
"You promise mo most faithfully 2"
she asked.
"I promise, on nay word," he replied.
"Then you eau sit down here, and we
will go on talking.
And with a careless grace she resumed
her seat.
Picture the third. --In the greet draw-
ing room of white and gold Lady Hew
there, as Flora MacDonald, sits leaning
languidly on a dark velvet chair. She
was talking most confidentially to it
handsome man who wore the dress of
Sir Walter Raleigh.
"Yes," she was saying, "I have on,
joyed the first part of the evening bet-
tor than I shall the econd. Wo are to
unmask at supper, then, so far as I am
concerned, all the plethora of the night
'18 over. I have enjoyed some things
exceedingly."
"You always extract plenty of amuse-
ment from everybody," said her coin-
panion. "That is one happy faculty I
envy you."
"I have been talking to the poet, and
he did not know me. I had the plea.
sure of abusing his poen* his themes,
and his ideas to his face, which, you
will admit, was a treat to me."
"I can well imagine that it was so,"
he answered slowly.
"He will never suspect, Poor Oswald!
We are very good fried e to all outward
appearances; but I have often longed
to give him a bit of my mid, and now
ho has had it."
And Lady Heathen began to althea
the characters of the evening.
"I have found out the Knight Temp-
lar," ehe said. "That handsome, brwite,
graceless Colonel Lennox. How the
poet bates him.
"He is sure to do th. The man who
Verde 'The Loves of the Lilies' would
never tolerate a man of the colthere
stamp."
Theo Sir Walter Raleigh bent his
head and whispered to her.
Lay Heathers listened with a sor-
rowful expression of face.
"No," she replied, "I had not heard."
"Not a whisper ?" asked. her dom.
panion.
"No, not even a whisper," said Lady
Heathers, "and I am with her every
day."
"Have you seen him with her 2" he
ask"eder
Yi, continually. I have been at
Heath House once with him."
"And you saw nothing 2"
"Lose than nothing. Lady Castle-
maine is too proud and too cold. She
will never be talked about,"
"But sho is talked about. Lord Mer.
ton told me."
"I do not believe one word of it, Re-
meraber," she added, raising one white
finger warning'y to him, "no scandal
about Queen Elizabeth."
Ho laughed, and moved away.
Plato.° the fourth, and /ma—Beautiful
Dawn, standing in her room alone, still
flushed with triumph.
"He did not know me," she was say-
ing to herself. "I eamo from under the
same roof. True, I did not go in the
same carriage. I have pierced his heart,
and he will never suspect ine. I am
nearer—to the end."
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE wira's TRUE GUARDIAN.
Lord Castlemaine was just a little
puzzled; not suspicions, but puzzled.
Ho had nothing to be suspicious over.
He was in the reading -room of his club,
his face and head hidden by a copy of
the Timm, on which he was intent. Two
members of the club, both well known
to him, came in and sat down close to
him, without perceiving him. They had
evidently been deeply engrossed in con-
versation, and they continued it now.
"There is nothing in it," said one to
the other. "I know her well. I am
quite sure there is nothing in it."
"It is seldom you find smoke without
fire," said the other.
"I do not know. I feel sure this is
all smoke. How many such rumors are
born and die in a day."
This was spoken by Sir Harvey Hope,
who always took a bright and hopeful
view of things. Colonel Charters, who
answered him, was a man who took a
dark view of everything.
"True," he replied, "but I think there
is generally some cause for them. I am
sorry in this ease, for I have a sincere
liking for the lady, and the husband,
too.'
"I do not believe it," said Sir Harvey
Hope. "I know them both, husband
and wife, and I do not think there is a
happier pair in Loudon."
"I must admit the same thing," said
the dark -minded colonel; "whenever I
have seen them together they have
seemed most united, most devoted to
eaoh other. I was utterly astonished."
"But what did you hear," asked Sir
Harvey, "only foolish rumors 2"
"I heard the same old story—that he
had gone mad over her."
"That is not her fault," interposed
Sir Harvey. "Sho cannot be blamed
for that."
"Certainly not ; but knowing the cha-
racter of the man, she should not give
him the slightest encouragement. When
he was in England before, there was
always some scandal or other about
him."
"That is not her fault either," inter-
rupted Sir Harvey.
"True; but it should make her care-
ful," said the colonel.
"Probably, being young, and untie.
eustomed to the world, she knows little
or nothing whatever of the evil side of
his reputation, and only knows him as
one of the bravest officers in England."
"Then her husband should look after
her," grumbled the colonel. "I have
no patience with the men of to -day;
they sit by, in silent inactivity, while
their wives go straight to ruin. I can-
not tell what they aro made of."
"That is rather a sweeping emotion,"
said Lord Castlemaine, laying down his
paper, and. looking both gentlemen in
the face.
They could not have been more hor-
rified if they had suddenly seen a
ghost, Sir Harvey's ruddy face sud-
denly turned pale, and Colonel Charters,
in his agitation, almost dropped his
cigar ; but Lord Castlemaine was
serenely unconscious; he had not the
most remote idea the oonversation had
been about him ; he would not have bo.
lieved it if either of them had sworn it.
"That is a sweeping assertion, Char.
tem," he said again; and, do you think,
quite deserved 2"
"I am sorry to say I believe it to bo
perfectly true. lam amazed at the in-
different, callous fashion in which hus-
bands see young and beautiful wives
launched on the very sea of fashion,
dissipation, and excitement, and make
no effort whatever to help keep them
safe. I say that it amazes Inc. A bus.
band should be the guardian of his
wife."
Sir Harvey Hope laaghed ; but his
laugh was not a bright one.
"I do not think many wives would
like that notion," he said.
Lord Castlemaine remarked:
"I ani proud of the reputation the
Castlemainee have always enjoyed, of
being good husbands."
The twogentlemen looked at eaoh
other. Their oyes met, but they spoke
no word.
"ft would be indieoreet," he continued,
"to ask of whom you were speaking 2"
Sir Harvey admitted that it would.
The colonel waa
"I could not hit overhearing the con-
versation," sal , "Mad 111 10 no matter
Of mine—no business Whatever of lath;
hut. if I undoretaild You rightly, ruiner
, INIMUSWEAP
is busy with the natio of seine young
and beautifulyoung lady,"
The two friends looked at each other
etraogely.
"That is it," replied Sir Harvey.
"That some man describes himself as
going mad about ber, while the is 0
married 'woman ?"
"True," nodded the colonel.
He wished himself far away, and
evidently thought the loss said the
better.
"If she is married, she has a husband
to take care of her, I suppose, and to
keep, all such men at a distance," said
Lord Castlemaine.
Both ontlemen nodded, but did not
answer. The Bituation, to say the least
of it, was piquant and peculiar.
"1 should. very quickly decide what to
do in his case, be he whom he may,"
continued Lord Castlemaine. "If he
has dared to speak in that way of any
married lady, let her husband take tip
her defence. There is no need to
-whisper it in corners. Let her husband
find a whip with a strong lash; then let
him seek out the coward who has so
spoken of his wife and lash him in pub-
lic. One or two such examples would
cure such seoundrele of trying to make
love to other men's wives"
Again the two gentlemen looked help.
lesslv one at the other.
"That is the right thing to do," added
Lord Castlemaine. "To quarrel with
such a man hi to encourage him; 110
fight with him would be to dignify him.
The right thing is to horsewhip him."
"How oan you horsewhip a gentle-
man 2" asked the colonel, helplessly.
"A gentleman 2" repeated Lord Castle-
maine, with infinite thorn. "We are
not speaking of gentlemen; we are
speaking of cowards and traitors, who
have no respect for women, and no re-
spect for the honor of their fellow -men.
We do not call such persons 'gentle -
met.' I would brand such men, I be-
lieve ;" and Lord Castlemaine's face
shone with a noble light as he spoke.
"I believe in the sanctity, of marriage
and in the honor of women. "
"A noble fellow," thought the col-
onel; "but what a situation 1"
"Curious things will happen," he said,
aloud. "The world is pretty. much what
it has always been. The sins of Adam
and Eve, of Cain and Abel, of David
and Solomon, are our sins."
"We may all be sinners," said Lord
Castlemaine, "that lies between us and
our God ; we may all be at the same
time loyal and honest men, that lies be.
tween us and our fellow -creatures."
Colonel Charters rose from his seat
and yawned as politely aspossible, Sir
Harvey imitated him as quickly. Lord
Castlemaine wondered why their
interest in the subject died so soon, and
why they seemed in such a hurry to
leave.
I. am going your way," said Sir
Harvey to the colonel; "shall we go to-
gether ?"
The two gentlemen left the club to-
gether, arm in arm.
"Of all the strange things," said Sir
Harvey, solemnly, "that is the strangest.
To think that we should have gone into
the very room where he was,have taken
seats near him, yet never have noticed
it was he."
"And to think that within sound of
his own ears we should have discuss-
ed his wife and Colonel Lennox."
"He had not the faintest idea of
whom we were speaking," said Sir
Harvey.
"Not in the least," replied the colonel.
"It would not have been a pleasant hour
for us if he had done so, and it would
have been harder still for Lennox."
"Yes," said Sir Harvey, with a grim
smile; "even his victories in Zululand,
the Victoria Cross, and all the honors
he has received would not have saved
him from that terrible whip."
"I have seen so mach," sighed the old
colonel.
"I wish that I remembered less," said
Sir Harvey.
"Nothing that we can say or do will
make the world any better," sighed the
colonel, again.
"No, unless we begin by reforming
ourselves," said Sir Harry.
And the prospect seemed so remote and
so desperate that Sir Harvey, for the
time being, looked quite a gloomy man.
CHAPTER XXX.
A CHARACTER PHOTOGRAPHED.
A photograph hardly gives the light'
and abodes of a face. The grand out-
lines, the features, the curves of the
mouth and the brow are all reproduced,
but not the dainty bloom, not the sheen
of the hair, the color of the eyes. or the
crimson of the lip.
It is not more easy to photograph a
character, to reproduce the lights and
shades, the delicate tints, the faint
coloring: To show where a fault almost
widens into a virtue, and a virtue nar-
rows into a fault; to show how closely
they are allied to each other; how many
fine qualities lie there latent, and how
malty evil qualities are hidden there ; to
show great possibilities, grand possibili-
ties even, and great failures.
The photograph of Gertrude Cathie,
maine's character was full of these
dainty and delicate tints, full of those
variable shades of coloring, full of the
finest and noblest qualitiee, with almost
intolerable faults. The photograph
wonld thew magnificent generosity,,Nvith
perfect unselfiahness, a noble reliance
and belief in others, a freedom from
email vanities, an appreciation of all
that is most beautiful in art or nature,
O spiritual and religious state of mind.
Auything bordering on atheism er mate-
liOiisifl diagusted her. She had aper-
feot and featlees love of truth ; no false
or meau word ever sullied her no. She
had a clear, bright mind; she was not
suspieiouis ; out of the candor of her
ITO no CONTINUED.)
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