Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 January 1894 — AT WAS WITH HERSELF. [ARTICLE]

AT WAS WITH HERSELF.

Tbt Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAWEK XXV—OaallWMd. All preparations were completed then, and Crown Leighton had never looked so magnificent, never even in those days when kings and queens had held hign revel in the vast apartments. Lady Charnlelgh's vivid imagination had been allowed to riot; every beautiful combination of flowers, lights, velvet hangings, and marble statuary which it was possible to imagine was there. Nothing was wanting. There were endless vistas of light and blossom; fountains, the silvery spray of which reflected manifold hues; perfume so sweet that it seemed to fill one with ecstasv; music so clear, so harmonious, all assiduous and attentive, rejoiced in this return of olden times, j All the elite of the country had been invited, and Lady Charnleigh remarked with pleasure that scarcely one invitation had been declined. As she went . up-stairs to dress, satisfied with the | tour of inspection she had made, she met Lady Fanshawe. | “I must express my surprise, Leonie,” said that lady, with au amiable smile. , *1 have never seen anything in better 1 taste; the decorations are superb. My dear child, where have learned to arrange all these things? I have no wish to flatter you, but you were indeed | ‘born to rank.’ It would have been a thousand pities if such talents as yours had been lost to the great world. And Lady Charnleigh, well pleased, passed on to her dressing-room, where her maid, with a most anxious face, awaited her. There lay the superb costumes ready for the charades and the ball; jewels gleamed from their velvet bfeds: satin, lace, velvet, and glistening silk lay in picturesque disorder. Lady Charnleigh glanced round with a smile of content. All this was hers. The proud feeling of -possession swelled her heart as it never had before. All this was hers to give and to take, to do with as she would. This brilliant festival had sprung from one word of hers; these people, the aristocracy of the county, were all assembling at her bidding and to do her honor.

Presently her eyes fell on the two bouquets, Doth placed on the toilet table, and a slight shade of perplexity crossed her beautiful face. “Divide those flowers,” she said to her maid; “I shall wear some of each. If Bertram had brought me only a bunch of wild bluebells,” she added to herself. “I would rather have them than exotics from a king’s garden, but I cannot make Paul unhappy to-night.” A magnificent toilet, in which was to receive her guests, had been prepared; it could be changed afterward for the charade costumes. “I have never seen you look so well, my lady,” said the maid, when the arduous duties of the toilet were completed; and Lady Charnleigh, looking In the glass, felt satisfied. Her dress was of fresh white, glistening Bilk, covered with silver net, and trimmed with green leaves; with this she wore the Charnleigh diamonds, known by connoisseurs a 3 the finest stones in England. She was a marvel of beauty, light and brightness. As she descends the stairs she saw Sir Bertram; he approached her very humbly. “Do not be angry because I have waylaid you,” he said, “I could not rest until I had seen my queen. Oh, Leonie, how lovely you arel Your beauty dazzles me.” “If it pleases you, Bertram," she said, gently, “I am pleased to be beautiful.” His response was one that brought a vivid flush to her face, and sent Lady Charnleigh into the drawing-room looking more radiant than ever.

CHAPTER XXVI. The festivities of that night were not soon forgotten. It was as though all the beauty and elite of the county were gathered together; and the queen of the brilliant assembly was Leonie, Countess of Charnleigh.J. It was perhaps the happiest, certainly the most brilliant, evening of her life. The golden glamour of first love was strong upon her. She knew that one glance from her beautiful eve 3 would bring the man she best loved on earth to her feet; she saw the bravest and noblest in the land gathered at her bidding to do her homage. The charades were most effective; people were eloquent in their expressions of admiration. The lights and flowers, the gleaming jewels and shining dresses, the rippling fountains, the banks of brillant blossoms, rising one above the other, the superb hangings, the statues half hidden in the foliage, all presented a scene of beauty as dazzling as if it was a novel. The theater, with its pretty stage, was much admired. Lady Charnleigh was surrounded by admirers; her guests seemed never to weary of praising her tact and graceful management. Several times Sir Bertram tried to approach her, but she held up a white anger as though to warn him away. Captain Flemyng looked around on the scene of magnificence and splendor. Lady Charnleigh was standing where the light from one of the large chandeliers fell full upon her; there was a smile on her radiant face, for the chief magnate of the county, the Duke of Burdon, was complimenting Jier, and Leonie was young enough to enjoy flattery from a duke. “She looks like a queen among her courtiers,” said the young soldier to himself. “I say from my heart that she reigns here far better than I should.”

Some softening thought had evidently passed through her mind, for she smilingly invited him to join her, and he thought she preferred his society to that of Sir Bertram Gordon. Then the brilliant company went in long procession through the broad, fragrant corridor to the theater, where everything was prepared for them. A pretty little greenroom had been fitted up for those who were to join in the tableaux and charadel One after the other each beautiful picture was received with great eclat, the two favorites being Miss Dacre as Elaine and Lady Charnleigh as Marie Stuart. There was a general demand before the tableaux came to an end that the ladies should wear the same picturesque costumes for the ball. The music was well chosen. The band had been sent from London, and the first strains of a dreamy German waltz seemed to float away from the flowers and lights. The procession from the theater to the ballroom was Oven more brilliant than the former one, owing to the picturesque dresses of the ladies. “My costume is not complete,” said Lord Holdene to the young countess; *1 want a pair of silver shoe-buckles—-those of the regular old-fashioned type.” Lord Holdene had been one of the most efficient actors in the charades, and Lady Charnleigh was very desirous to please him. “I must dance this first waltz,” she said; “then I will see that some are found for you.” The first waltz was with the Duke, and before she could attend to Lord

Holdenat request she had to danoe with* Sir Bertram. Never while the sun shone and the flowers bloomed did Lady Charnleigh forget the happiness of that hour. The lights, the flowers, the fragrance, all seemed to bewilder i her. ms arm was around her. his eyes were lingering on her sweet face. He 1 was thinking to himself, “She will be j mine: to-morrow she will promise to I be my wife. ’ When the dance was ended, ani the last sweet strains had ; died, Lady Charnleigh turned to him. I “I am going to the housekeeper’s room,” she said, “to send Mrs. Fearon in search of some silver shoe-buckles.” He. was pleased to linger a few minutes longer at her side': * “I will accompany you,” he said; and they left the ball-room together. She gathered up the sweeping train of purple velvet and threw it over her white arm. “I wonder if queens ever feel inclined to run,” she said; “it is to be hbped that they are not always en reine. One ; of my childish delusions was that they ; i eat all day with crown and tcepter. How many more of my girlish fancies are but delusions, I wonder?” Before he could reply they had reached the housekeeper’s room, and j Mrs. Fearon was made acquainted I ! with the difficulty about the shoe- j : buckles. “There are sure to be plenty of them, | my lady,” she replied, “in the large ' wardrobe in the oak room.” “Then let one of the maids go for some at once," said Lady Charnleigh. I Mrs. Fearcn smiled, i “I do not think, my lady, with all due 1 submission, that any of them will dare | to go; I will go myself the instant I have finished here. * “I cannot wait. Why will no one dare to go, Mrs. Fearcn?” “Thore is a belief, my lady, that the oak chamber is haunted; none of the servants will enter it. lam obliged to attend to it myself.” Patience was certainly not one of Lady Charnleigh’s virtues. The color flushed in her beautiful face, and the, white, jeweled fingers flung back the violet velvet train. *1 will go myself. If I wait until you find a sensible maid-servant, or until you have finished, Lord Holdone will not have his buckles to-night—that is certain.” The housekeeper was far too wise ever to contradict her imperious young mistress. \ “As you please, my lady;' Shall some one carry a taper for you?” “No, I will carry it myself. The next time you engage any maids, Mrs. Fearon, take care they have no absurd fancies.” Sir Bertram had stood by, an amused spectator of the little scene; he admired Loonie s impetuous spirited manner, and thought her moro beautiful than ever when she was impatient. . Mrs. Fearon provided a silver candlestick and a wax taeer. “Pray, let me go with you, my lady, to carry this,” she said. “No, I will not take you from your employment. Is this the key?” For the housekeeper with great sjlemnity had unlocked a small iron .chest and taken from it an antique key. “This will open the wardrobe, my lady. It used to be a rule of the house that no one should ever open it except the mistress of the house. ’ “What does it contain—anything very precious?” asked the countess.

“Old-fashioned court dresses and ornaments, antique jewelry, valuable point lace, and other things.” “I wonder that I never thought of looking in it before. Make haste, Mrs. Fearon.” Then, with the lighted taper in her hand, she walked quickly through the corridor with Sir Bertram by her side. “I am very much afraid,” she said, laughingly, “that my manners have not that repose which stamps the class of Vere de Vere. How impetuous I am! I could have carried that good Mrs. Fearon offin a whirlwind because she was not quick enough. ” “Let me carry the lignt to the room,” he said; but she, in her graceful, imperious way, refused. “Then let me wait here until you return,” he begged; and to that sho agreed. Suddenly Sir Bertram took the taper from her hand, set it down on ono of the broad window seats, and took both her white jeweled hands in his. “Leonie,” he said, “you look beautiful enough to-night to bewilder any man. You ought to have been a queen: that diamond crown and these royal rotes suit you well. Oh, my queen, my queen, do you not know that I have loved you so long, and have never even dared to touch those soft sweet lips? Your beauty has bewildered me; blame that—not me.” He stooped down and kissed the fair white brow. She was not angry, but she drew back with a quick, sudden movement that made the light in her jewels shine like scattered flames all round her. “When shall I find those buckles, Sir Bertram? Let me go now, and wait here until my return.” She gathered up her violet train, threw it over her arm, and went up the stairs. When she reached the top, she turned round and smiled on him, the light gleaming in her jeweled crown and cn her fair face; and then she passed from his sight, leaving him more deeply in love than ever. As he saw her then, he never saw her afterward, for the same light and brightness never shone upon her face again.

CHAPTER XXVII. Lady Charnleigh walked on quickly until she reached the door of the oaken chamber. She did not remember ever to have entered this room, which in olden days had been the sleeping-cham-ber of the mistress of Crown Leighton. The last Lady Charnleigh had died there, and for seme untold reason a rumor had arisen that her spirit was not at rest, and that at night she might be seen wringing her hands and weeping bitter tears. None of the servants cared to go near the place after sunset. Lady Charnleigh looked round with some curiosity; she placed the silver candlestick on the toilet-table, and glanced with wonder at the beautiful ancient room; and while she stood there quite’ silently the sound of the distant music seemed to float nearer and nearer. There were four large, lofty windows in the room, and they were hung with dark velvet, bordered with golden fringe. The bedstead resembled a huge hearee more than anything else; the furniture, all made of solid oak, was massive and magnificent; the reached all across the Footia. This last was wondrously carved and . had huge wings; and near it stood a large mirror in an antique silver frame. She went to the wardrobe, but stood for a few minutos before the mirror; she still wore thd royal dress of Marie Stuart, a robe of violet with a long train, and the fam'ous Charnleigh diamonds, which had been formed into a crown. As she stood before the mirror, the light seemed to center on her; the dark, gloomy oaken room lay all in deepest shade. She was like a vision of light and radiance, “every inch a queen.” She looked at her imago shining there so fair and bright, and a pleased smile at her own loveliness rippled over her lips. •It is good to be fair,” the said; and

bar fanoff amused Itself by picturing life as it must be for a queea. Perhaps that was the crowning moment of her life; she never ugain knew one so cloudlessly happy. She could hear the sound of music floating around her; her lover, impatiently waiting for her, was not far off. She was pleased with the charm of her own loveliness, and she turned from the mirror with a sense o perfect content. She unlocked the wardrobe. It was one of unnsual size, and on the shelves lay wonders of dress, antique jewelry andoruamggts. On the vsry first wet day that comes I will look at all these things, * thought the young countess to herself. She saw dresses of damask, silk velvet trains, ostrich feathers, all the grandeur that had dqlighted the dead Ladies Charnleigh, anil then her attention was attracted to what Bcemed to be old-fashioned court suits, such as gentlemen might have worn. “I shall find 6ome buckles here,” she thought, lifting up a velvet coat richly embroidered. She was right; there were several pairs of silver shoe buckles of great value, and she chose the prettiest. When she had done so, she replaced some of the velvet garments, and there fell from amongst them an old dressing-gown made of quilted crimson satin. It fell to the ground, and Lady Charnleigh, with a little murmur of impatience, stooped to pick it up. She held it carelessly in her hand, and as she did so there dropped out of one of the oapacious pockets a large parchment carefully folded and sealed. There wa3 no warning, no foreboding of the truth as she bent her fair face wonderingly over the document. Presently her eyes grew dim with an untold horror, her face grow white oven to the lips, as she read what was written there. She tore open the parchment—her lips trembled—her hands shook. This was the missing will—the will to find [ which that old mansion had been i searched and searched in vain. With ’ dim eyes, full of horror, she road: j “I, Clrio, Earl of Charnleigh, being ! of sound mind, make this my last will and testament. I give and bequeath to 1 Captain Paul Flemyng, son of Charles ! and Alice Flemyng, my estates and for* I tune. I bequeath to him all the property of which I am possessed—the mansion and estates oi Crown Leighton, j together with all the other estutes belonging to me, furniture, plate, jewelry, carnages, horses, books, without reserve; and this I do, not because he is nearest of kin, but because he is the son of the only woman I ever loved; and I wish him to givo suitable legacies to all my servants', but I absolutely forbid any division of the moneys or lands left to him. ’’ The witnesses to the will -were Harriet Simmons and James McCarthy. The parchmt nt fell from her trembling hands to the floor. It was a scene that would have attracted the notioe of an artist—the. grand, gloomy room, with its magnifioent carvings and furniture, lying in deep Rambrandt-like shadows; the silvery light of that one taper falling on the jewels and the shining queenly robes. The will had fallen from hor hands, and she was half crouching, half bending over it, a wail of unutterable misery issuing from her white lips. |TO liE CONTINUED. |