Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 December 1896 — LOVE AND MONEY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LOVE AND MONEY

BY CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

CHAPTER 111. Captain Wynyard secured an introduction to Lady Itooden and her daughter, and, remembering what Mr. Ashton had •aid, that the man who won her ladyship ■would be the one who flattered her most, fce fashioned his conduct on this intimation. He allowed her to see very plainly his admiration of her beauty, his astonishment that she should have n daughter so tall and well grown, and he spoke more freely on the point than most people would. Sir Charles Rooden, in his great love for his wife, had not been able to discern a single fault in her. Captain Wynyard had not talked to her for half an hour before he understood her character perfectly, and knew that selfishness and vanity formed no small part of it. Angela, generally quick in reading character, might have spent a life-time with her mother, and yet never have detected what Captain Wynyard had read in half an hour. Lady Rooden was distressed that Angela did not like him. She never appeared to enjoy his society, and always seemed anxious to escape from the room. When he tried to draw her into conversation she would make him only the very briefest of replies. Her mother could not understand this method of treating one whom she considered the most charming of men. Her wonder was that Angela was not delighted withjiiin and eager for his society, but then she consoled herself by remembering that her daughter was mot like other girls. Thus matters went on for some time, Angela herself being the last to perceive what was about to happen. It was plain enough to the rest of the world that Wynyard was doing his best to win the rich young widow; but Angela, who always thought of her mother as one with the father she lmd lost, never for one moment allowed such un idea to enter her \end. No one saw or understood less itac giic to whom it was of such vital Importance. Among the invitations which Lady Ilooden and her lovely young daughter received was one to a garden party given by Lady Avon at her beautiful villa at Richmond, the grounds of which sloped down to the River Thames. The party was one pt the most successful of the season. The guests were the creme de la creme of London society, and the weather was tnost propitious. i LaJy Rooden looked more beautiful than ever in a dress of palest bUt# velvet, elegantly trimmed with white lilac. Angela wore a dress that suited her slender, girlish beauty well—white, with a profusion pf rich carnations—a most effective costume.

•.Wherever between the trees the blue velvet and white lilac gleamed, there was to be seen also a small gathering of ardent worshipers; but Angela's happiness was unclouded until she saw jCaptain Wynyard, with a smile on his handsome face, take his place by her mother's side, when a feeling of uneasiness possessed her which she could not shake off. As Lady Avon and her young guest were strolling through the grounds, Angela's eyes were riveted on the face—darkly beautiful, yet with a shadow on it —of a young girl coming toward them. “Who is that?” she asked, in a quick, low voice, of Lady Avon. “That is Gladys Kane,” was the reply. Was it her fancy? She could not tell, but it seemed to Angela that a curious expression passed over Lady Avon’s face. It must have been fancy, for, when she looked*again, the strange expression was gone.

In a few well-chosen words Lady Avon introduced the two who were to cross each other's lives so strangely. When the dark eyes of Gladys Kane rested on Angela, something dashed into their depths, something that was like hate and despair. Miss ltooden asked herself if this was funcy also. It must have been fancy, for the next time she looked, Gladys Kane was regarding her with smiling eyes and lips. Later on in the afterneon Angela found a cool quiet nook where she hoped ahe would be nble to muse alone; it held a email wooden seat and was hidden by a clump of alder-trees. She sat down to rest and to enjoy the quiet her shady retreat offered. Not many minutes had passed before she became conscious that ehe was not alone —that some one was sobbing in deep distress, and some one else administering consolation. “You know my heart is not in it.” a man's voice said—“you know that I hate it; bnt what;can we do? I cannot help myself.” “I cannot bear it,” replied a trembling voice. “She is so beautiful, I am sure that you will love her in time.” “I never shall. I love you, and you only; but in our case love and marriage cannot go together. Marriage would mean ruin to both of us.” Then Angela, unwilling to be even an accidental listener, rose from her sent and hastened away. She had no idea who the speakers were; bnt half an hour later she saw Gladys Kane with Captain Wynyard, and a sudden suspicion darted through tier mind that the conversation she had overheard had taken place between them. It was but a suspicion; yet it was strange how deep a root it took at once in her mind. She saw them together again, and, from the expression on Miss Kane’s face, she felt sure that, whatever the Captain’s sentiments might be, the whole love of the girl’s heart was given to him. Late that evening Lady Rooden and Angela were seated in her ladyship’s cozy dressing-room, discussing the events of the day. They had doiined their dressinggowns, and their hair was flowing loosely oret their shoulders. “You have beautiful hair, Angel,” she said, caressingly. “I admire its natural ripple very much; no art could imitate it.” “I saw a girl this afternoon with hair just like mine,” angela remarked. “Did you?” questioned Lady Rooden. Angela's face brightened suddenly. “Mnuuna,” she cried, “you often say that I do not see much of what passes around me, but I did take notes this afternoon. The lady Whose hair resembles mine is named Gladys Kane. She is a perfect brunette, surpassingly beautiful,

and I found out something about her.” “Did you. Angel?” asked Lady Rooden, with a careless smile. “Pray, what was it'; “She loves Captain Wynyard, and he seems to be in love with her,” replied Angela, promptly. “And I found it out in this way, mamma. When they spoke to each other, their voices had quite a tender ring, and there was a something in both faces that betrayed tbeir love. Yon see, mamma, I am improving in social note-taking. A month ago I should not have found that out.” There was no smile on Lady Rooden’s face now; it had grown pale, and a shadow had crept into her blue eyes. “I do not believe it,” she said sharply. “Who is this Gladys Rane?” “She is the niece and reputed heiress of i.ndy Kinloeh,” replied Angela: "and she is a fashionable beauty besides.” A sweet flood of jealousy seemed to course through Lady Rooden’s heart. She gasped for breath, her lips trembled, and her face quivered with passionate pain. Could it be possible that Angela was right, and that, after all. Captain Wynyard loved Gladys Rane? She had believed most earnestly that it was herself whom he loved, and no other. Angela’* words now fell upon her with painful suddenness. “I shall ask him to-morrow,” she mentally decided, “if it be true about Gladys Raue,” and she owned to herself that if it were true, life would hold uothing more for her. It was noon next day when the ex-Cap-tain called; it was an early visit, but he wanted to persuade Lady Rooden to go to a flower show. He made many apologies for his early call, but he could not help seeing that it wus welcome enough to Lady ltoodeu. "I heard some news about you last evening,” said Lady Rooden, with a bright smile —a loveless smile she tried to make it, but he was clever enough to see beneath the surface. “News of me?” he questioned. “I should hardly haTe thought there wus any news* left to be told. I should think more stories have been told of me than of any other man in London.” “The cost of popularity!” she remarked. “The news I heard surprised me just n little." “What was it, Lady Rooden?” he asked calmly. ‘I heard last evening for the first time of your .great admiration for a beautiful woman named Gladys Rane. Is it true?” Now was his opportunity—here was the chance he had waited for. He must not loaa.lt. “It is perfectly true,” he replied, “that I both admire and love the most beautiful woman in the world; but the lady I love is not named_Gladys Raij^f.” Lady Rooden’s Tace flushed, and her eyes drooped before his glance. She knew wjiat was coming; the very desire of her heart was attained. “The lady I love is far above me. She ia lovely beyond compare. She has every gift and every grace. In my eyes she is a queen and I am her most loyal knight. The name of this most sweet and gracious lady is Laura Rooden.” Her ladyship dropped her fuce upon her hands; the victory was wou.

CHAPTER IV. Lady Rooden sat that same evening in her boudoir, a brooding, tender smile on her face, a love-light shining in her eyes. She had gained her heart’s desire; she was ! going to marry the man she loved with such deep, passionate love. “Come and chat with me, Angela,” she said. “I do not want the lamps lighted yet; this soft gloaming,is the fairest light of all. How sweet the air is! Oh, Angel, I am so happy! I am so happy that words fail me.” The girl drew a footstool near her mother, and sat down at her feet. “I am so happy, Angel,” repeated her ladyship, “that words fail me.” Angela looked up, her face bright with smiles. "I know why, mamma,'” she said. “This beautiful night has made you think of the Abbey, and that has brought papa to your mind. I always think of him on these lovely nights.” If she had suddenly dashed cold water into her mother’s face, her ladyship could not have started more violently. The words came to her like a staggering blow. She remained silent. Her task was rendered doubly hard now, and she moved uneasily. She laid her white, gemmed hands on her daughter's flair. “Your papa's memory is sacred to me always, Angel,” said her ladyship; and the girl looked up in wonder, noting the constraint in her mother’s voice. “But it was not of him I was thinking just theu. but of some oue whom I hope you will learn to love as much as you did him.” “That could never be, mamma,” returned Angela. “You are jesting; for you know I could never love any one one-hun-dredth part as much as I loved papa, in life or in death.” Lady Ilooden’s lips grew stiller and colder as she continued: “Let me tell you in few words, Angel. I love with all my heart, and I have promised to marry, Captain Wynyard.” A dead silence seemed to fall over the room, a terrible chill silence that was broken only by a passionate cry from Angel—a cry so full of anguish and despair that Lady Roeden's heart was touched by it.

“It cannot be true,” the girl gasped; “it is not true! Oh, mother darling, I would rather die than believe it.” “It is true, Angel, and it makes me happier than words can tell.” With a cry even more despairing than the first the girl slipped from her mother's arms and fell to the ground. Deep, passionate sobs shook the slender figure; it was a very tempest of grief that seized the girl and rendered her helpless for the moment. At last Lady Rooden said, sadly: "Oh, Angel, do not weep so bitterly; you will break my heart. You know, my dear, that I am still young—hardly more than thirty-five—and every one says that I look quite ten years younger—that I have the prospect of a long life before me; and if I find some one who loves me, and who will make the remainder of my life happier than it is, why should I not marry again, if I choose?” She started back the next moment in real alarm, for Angela had sprung from

the gronnfl, and stood before her with flashing eyes and burning face. “Why should you not marry again?” •he cried. “Oh, mamma, how can you ask such a question? You are my father’* wife!” “I am your father’s widow, Angel,” corrected Lady Rooden. Withering scorn flashed from the girlish eyes. “There is no difference!” she. cried. “Y'ou told me yourself that my father had but gone before you. Y’ou said he would love us just the same. Y’ou told me that the boundaries which separated us were very narrow. You told me that love, true love, began iu time and lived in eternity. Oh, mother, mother,” she continued, wildly, “uhat will you say to my father when you meet him as another man's wife? It is horrible to think of!” “You speak too strongly, Angel,” said Lady Rooden, iu n trembling voice. “You could not expect that I should live all the rest of my life alone.” "You are not alone, mamma; you have me with you.” “But yon will marry some day. Angel. “We need never be parted, mamma, darling.” “That is all nonsense, Angel. You must marry, just as other girls do. Be reasonable, my dear, and we shall all be happy. I am sure that in time you will learn to like Captain Wynyard.” The name gave a new turn to Angela’s thoughts. Hitherto she had realised nothing but the horror of the fact that her mother cared for another man; now, she remembered who that man himself was, how from the first she had always mistrusted and disliked him. She sank upon the ground at her mother's feet. “Oh, mother,” she sobbed, “it is like a hideous dream to me that you are going to put the man I dislike above all others iu my father's place!” “Hush, Angel—you are going too far!” said Lady Rooden. “You forget that I love him.” “Love him! Oh, mother, how can you love one who is ignoble, who bus nothing but a handsome face—and even that is spoiled by a selfish and cruel expression! Mother!” Angela appealed, “forget him; give up all thoughts of this marriage. Let us leave England and go back to the dreamy old Italian cities, and be happy as we were before. 1 will love, you and take care of you—l will live with you always, and never leave you. I will do anything to save you from the hands of a man whom I dread and mistrust.” Lady Rooden was touched by the passionate appeal, by the misery of the beautiful young face and the pain in the entreating voice. “My dearest Angela, I do not want to be what you call ‘saved.’ I love Vance Wynyard, and I wish to marry him.” "Mother,” she urged, earnestly, “I am certain that he loves Gladys Rane. I saw love iu his face when he looked at her.” '‘And I, my dear Angel, am equally sure he does not. I asked him, and he told ij« so. He denied it most positively. He has been the spoiled darling of London society for many years, and 1 am, he assured use, the first woman he has ever loved. Y’ou musj not say that Captain Wynyardilpves Gladys Rane, anil you must nol say that he does uot love me, or that he is going to marry me for my money. I will not hear or tolerate any such disgraceful charges. If you wish to please me, you will learn to love and respect the man I am going to marry. Good-night, Angel. You had better leave me. You will be calmer tomorrow.” “Yes,” returned Angela; “I shall 1 be calmer; but I shall never be happy again. To-night I have lost all that is best and brightest in my life; to-night my hope and happiness have died.” “You will be wiser to-morrow, Angel,” said Lady Rooden, coolly. “Now, say ‘Good-night.’ ” (To be continued.)

CHAPTER V. It was late when Angela woke the next morning, and even as her eyes opened, a dark shadow seemed to settle upon her as ®he remembered that her mother was going to marry Captain "Vance "Wynyard. A weight as of lead lay upon her heart; her brain seemed bewildered. “My misery is greater than I can beaT!” ■he cried in an agony of despair. The pretty breakfast-room, usually redolent of roses, was empty when*she entered; her mother was not there. Thinking she was in the drawing-room, Angela made her way tuither listlessly enough. She liad opened the door and entered the room before she saw that Captain Wynyard was there, too. “Angel, come here;” said Lady Rooden. “I have something to say to you.” Slowly, and with aversion in her eyes, ahe went up to her mother, Captain Wynyard noting keenly the expression of her face. “She does not like me. and does not like the marriage,” he said to himself. “L ■hall have an enemy in this slender girl; but it will not matter.” “Axtgel,” went on Lady Rooden, “I am glad you came in. I want to speak to you.” *Tlien a flush rose to her face, and ■ certain shyness came over her manner. “Let ane speak for you, dearest Laura,’’ Interrupted her lover; and Angela started at the words. Never since her father's death had she heard her mother addressed by that name. “l am sure that the daughter who loves you so dearly and so devotedly will Jio pleased to hear of anything which will add to your happiness.” Tue Captain spoke fluently enough, and he turned his handsome face with a smile to Angela; but there was a certain uneasiness about him, a restraint that almost made his manner, ungraceful, for- he knew well in his heart that he did not love this woman whom he was so anxious to make his wife. “Tour mother,” he continued, “has been so good and generous as to look on me with favor, and I have promised to devote the remainder of my life to her. I shall do my best to make her happy; and with the love of the mother I hope to win the love of the daughter. I •will do my best to deserve it.” A* Vanoe Wynyard spoke, Angela’s lace grew white even to the lips. A burning feeling .of bate rose in her heart against him. 'She could not control it for’ a few minutes so as to answer him, and he, almost glad.of her silence, went on; “I promise to .devote myself to your interest*, and, .as far as I cun, to fill worthily your father’6 plaoe.” This unfortunate allusion to her father roused the girl at once. She raised hor lace to his with an indignant flash of anger that, callous as he was, he quailed before it. “We will leave my father’s name quite out of the rjuestiou. Let ue say. .onoe and for all, that you will never fill his place, and that to my mind it is a desecration of his memory even to say such a thing. He was my mother's husband; he loved her; he was a noble-minded man!”

“I hope in time to win your good opinion.” he said. Vain, cold and calculating as he was, there' was something in the attitude of the girl, standing at bay, as it were, that touched him. “My dear Angel,” cried Lady Roodem, "speak to Captain Wynyard; kire yon nothing to say in answer to his kindly words?” '‘Nothing, mamma,” she said, wringing her hands. “I hare not a word to say.” “Then, Vance,” said Lady Rooden, turning to Captain ? Wynyard, “I must love yon doubly, to atone for my daughter’s ungraciousness.” “I shall hope,” he said, suavely, “to win from Miss Uooden greater grace and greater kindness.” Then Angela raised her eyes to his; and there was something both pathetic and wistful in their expression. “Captain Wynyard,” she said, “my mother and I have been very happy together; we shall never be so happy again. Why do you want to marry her?” Somewhat taken aback by so straightforward a question, he replied quickly nevertheless, and with great presence of mind: “Beenuse I love her, Miss Rooden.” “I do not believe it,” said the girl, promptly. “I am sure that you do not love her; and time will prove that I am right.” “Angel,” cried Lady Rooden, “I have told you that I„wiil not allow you to say •uch things.” "I cannot help it, mamma,” she answered. “It is the voice of my heart that •peaks, and I cannot control it.” Lady Rooden, finding that the interview was not likely to be a pleasant one, thought it prudent to put an end to it. She dismissed her daughter, therefore, with a few words, and Angela left.’ the drawing-room without touching the hand that Capt. Wynyard extended to her. She went to her room and remained there until the bell rang for luncheon, “I am so grieved,” said Lady Rooden, apologetically, to her lover. “I saw last night, when I told Angela about our marriage, that she did not like the idea of it; but I never dreamed she would treat you as she has.” CHAPTER VI. The Captain was on his guard. He felt angry, and resented Angela's manner hotly; but he was wise enough to see that assumed generosity would best answer his purpose. “I hope, my dearest Laura,” he responded, “you will think no more about it. I shall never resent Angela's dislike, but shall, on the contrary, do ray very best to overcome it. Let us speak now of our wedding day, Laura, darling,” he said. "Can I persuade you to let it be the tenth of July? Why should we wait? I love you with .all my heart, and shall never be happy again for one moment out of your presence. Why need we wait until August?” “It seems so very soon,” she objected, shyly. "There is no such thing as time in love,” declared the Captain; and, after • few more persuasive words, Lady Rooden consented.

"We need not have any delay over marriage settlements,” he remarked, carelessly; but there was a keen, shrewd look in his eyes which belied the lightness of his words. “Ah, Laura, dearest, how I wish now that I had been more careful! How I regret that I have lavished my wealth in idle fellies! I wish 1 had it all to lay at your feet.” And in the blindness of her love she responded: “There never can he any question of ■money, Vance, between you and me. It matters little which has it. As it happens, I have enough for both.” No wedding that took place in London during that season created such a furor as that of Lady Hooden, to be known®in the future as Lady Laura Wynyard. The beauty of the bride, the fair loveliness of her young daughter,, her ladyship’s great wealth, the popularity of the bridegroom, all combined to make the marriage one of the events of the season. The ceremony took place on n bright July morning, and was witnessed by a large and fashionable gathering. The toilets were most elegant, and the wedding was pronounced a great success. Unnoticed in the gallery of the church stood a tall, graceful woman dressed in dark colors, with closely veiled face. No one dreamed of the hot, bitter tears shed beneath the safe shelter of that veil, no one knew of the agony endured of the heart that was being rent, and the life that seemed to be ebbing away. On that sunshiny morning all that was good and brightest and best died out of one woman’s heart, never to live there again; and that woman was Gladys Kane. The .newly-married pair had decided to go to Switzerland for their honeymoon. Lady Laura had made every arrangement for her daughter’s comfort and convenience. She had invited Miss Jameson, a second cousin of„liers, to stay with her daughter while she was abroad. They were to remain in London two or three days longer while the household was arranged and set in order; then they were to go to the Abbey. Angela longed with her whole heart for the old home and the sweet, green country. When the confusion of the wedding was over, and Rood House had returned to its normal quiet, the two ladies went to the Abbey. It seemed to Angela that the picturesque old building had never looked so bright and cheerful. The ardent rays of sun brought into prominent relief the battleraented towers and hold outline of the building. Never to her had the green, rippling foliage looked so fresh; never had the grass such an emerald hue. The gardens were in their full beauty; the roses hung,in richest profusion; the air was sweet with the breath of flowers tall, white lilies, clove carnations, purple heliotrope, sweet mignonette. But a shadow fell over the life of Angela Rooden. This grand old home—her father’s home—would never be hers in the same way again. The brightness would be Clouded, its beauty marred by the constant presence of the man she disliked. It would be a constant source of agony to her to see him there, to hear his voice, to endure the restraint of his presence. “Home will be home no more,” she said to herself.; .and the words proved to he only too true.

CHAPTER VII. Vanoe Wynyard found the autumn long; and the winter dragged still more monotonously. However, he managed to get through them'by dint of continued gayeties. There seemed to be no end to them. There were fancy balls, private theatricals, charade parties, .dinner parties—hardly a day passed without something of the kind; and Rood Abbey soon became as famous for its hospitality as it was for its natural eharms. The Captaiu lost none of his popularity as master of Rood Abbey, and it was generally agreed that Lady Laura had done a wise thing in marrying him. She was just then the most envied woman in the country. “Plenty of invitations!” said Captain Wynyard, laughingly, one day, as he looked over the pile of cards on the drawingroom table. “ ‘Countess Rawson,’ ‘Lady Hubert,’ the French Embassy, ‘the Duchess of Pemburn,’ ‘Lady Searshohne’ —an embarrassment of riches—‘Lady Kinloch, to meet a royal duke!’ We must go there; I have not seen Lady Kinloch for an age.” * “We can manage three in one evening,” said Lady Laura. “I know some who can manage even more.” The Captain laughed. He was in the best possible humor, and the prospect of seeing Gladys Rane once more added greatly to bis delight. He had resolved to see as much as he could of Gladys; but he hajd also resolved to be very cautious in bis conduct. He longed with all his heart to call on Lady Kinloch, but he knew it would be more prudent to refrain. If he wished to enjoy Gladys Rane’s society, he must be careful how he proceeded. He would not put it in any one's power to say that he rushed off to Palace Place on the first day he was in town, but would wait and meet Gladys at Lady Kinloch’s ball. Angela had noticed his quick decision with respect to Lady Kinloch’s invitation, and glanced at her mother to see how she accepted it; but the beautiful, unsuspecting face was calm and radiant. Her martyrdom had not yet begun. The evening of Lady Kinloeh’s ball arrived, aud no oneibut tbe Captain himself knew of his agitation and excitement. He disguised his feelings by an assumed light-heartedness and an uninterrupted flow of conversation. Lady Laura thought she had never seen her husband in such high spirits before. Fortunately for her, she had not given one thought to'Gladys Rane. It was in her aunt’s magnificent ballroom that Gladys Rane met Captain Wynyard once more. She had seen his name in the list of fashionable arrivals in town, and had wondered when and vyhere they should meet. Now the moment was come. He was in the same room with her, looking handsomer than ever, his face full of delight at seeing her, his eyesifelling of the love that burned in his heart. From the moment he entered the room until he left it he bad but one thought, and thnj was for Gladys Rane. Much ns he had gained by liis marriage, he almost repented it when he ■aw her face once more. He kad re-

solved that he wo old not show any *lgn» of haste, that be would not seek her as soon as she entered the room; but, when his eves rested oa her fair face, all his resolutions vanished. It was as though she-bad stretched out her white hands and touched his heartstrings. He forgot his wife, be forgot Angela, and left them standing alone while be went slowly up to Miss Kane, walking like one spellbound. “Gladys!” he said; and the* all further speech failed him. “I knew you wo aid come,” she whispered. • She laid her hand oa his arm, and they walked away together. For some moments there was perfect silence between them; then Gladys spoke. “This is the first time I have seen you since your marriage, Vance. I was in the church. I witnessed the ceremony.” “I wish to heaven that it was you who had been my wife,” he said, in a low voice. “Are you happy?” she asked; and her voice trembled. “Happy!” he cried. “I am happy enough, so far as money and luxury can make a man happy; but 1 am horribly tired of all the rest.” “Then your wife " she began. But he interrupted her. “My wife,” he said, hastily, “ is the most beautiful, most loving, most soulless and inane woman I have ever met. She has never amused me for five minutes since we have been married. She thinks of nothing but making me costly presents and giving me the whole of her tiresome society.” “I understand,” said Gladys, softly. “I was obliged to marry for money,” he urged, apologetically; “and certainly my wife is all that any man could desire, except that she is a great deal too affectionate; but Well, I must not complain; no man can have everything. Life at home bores me. Gladys, will you taka compassion on me; you will letune come and see you sometimes?” “Yes; but you must not come too often, Vance. My aunt will not like it.” “I wish your auut were at Timbuctoo!” he said, hastily. ' . “In that case I should probably be with her, so that you would not gain much,” she replied, with a forced smile. “But, Gladys, you will be kind to me—you will let me spend some of my time with vqu? I know I must not come here too often; but there are many other places where we can meet.” “Bjit, Vance,” she said, >sadly, “how will it end? You know it is useless; you know that I must not iearn to care for you more than I do. It will make me only the more unhappy. How will it end ?” Neither she nor he had the faintest idea. “You will give this waltz to me?” he said. “I cannot refuse,” she replied. And the next moment Lady Laura Wynyard, crossing the ballroom to speak to her hostess, saw, to her great surprise, her husband waltzing with Gladys Ilaue. . (To be continued.)