Democratic Sentinel, Volume 21, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 January 1897 — LOVE AND MONEY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LOVE AND MONEY

BY CHATLOTTEM. BRAEME

CHAPTER XVI —(Continued.) The old housekeeper set apart for Angela’s use a charming little room overlooking the greensward that led down to the river—a room in which the shadowa of green boughs made rich tracery on the floor and walls, a room filled with flowers, and the hanginga of which were pale sea-green and gold. A few picture# In gjlt frames, Some books, a piano, a couple of easy chairs, two large window# that opened on to the grass, helped to make the apartment, if not luxurious, at least most comfortable. One morning Mrs. Bowen broke in upon her solitude. “Mias Charles,” said she,” “I am going through the picture-gallery thi* morning. Would you like to see it? There are some very fine pictures in it; but moat of the collection is modern. There are few works of the old masters.” “I should like very much to inspect It,” replied Angela. “Then come with me now, please.” “What a fine gallery!” exclaimed Angela, as she and Mrs. Bowen reached the long, well-lighted room. “This was the late Lord Arleigh,” said the housekeeper, drawing near to a large portrait; and Angela found herself looking at a kindly, gentle face, not handsome, but with a touch of melancholy In its expression. “I like that face,” remarked Angela; “It la a good one.” “Yes, but melancholy,” said Mrs. Bowen. “The shadow of an early death was always on the Earl’s face. This la Lady Arleigh,” added the housekeeper, pointing to the portrait of a lady. “My lady Is not beautiful,” observed Mrs. Bowen, “but she is very distinguishedlooking. “It is certainly a striking face,” agreed Angela, and then they passed on. The housekeeper had to examine the hangings of the windows, and, while she did ao, she left Angela to wander at her will v All the best modem artists were well' represented—Millais and Ouleas, Alma Tadema, Leighton, Frinseps ana others. Presently her attention was attracted by a large painting hanging In an alcove, and she stood before it, looking at it in silence. It was the portrait of a handsome young man; and why it Impressed her so much was because the face resembled that of her own father. The proud, princely head was covered with clusters of golden hair, and the alight mustache, hiding a mouth that was beautiful as a woman’s, was of a dark hue. Angela stood looking at the picture with delight. “Mrs. Bowen," she asked at last, “whose portrait is this?” The housekeeper came up to her with a smile oh her face, as though she were well pleased to answer the question. “That Is the present Earl; he Is away with my lady in Italy.” “The present Earl!” echoed Angela. She was about to remark that he resembled her father very much, but she refrained. “What is his name?” she asked. “Glenarvon Arleigh,” waa the reply; “but my lady and Lady Maud always call him Glen.” “I like the name,” she said, slowly. “And he is in Italy, Mra. Bowan?" “Yes, miss; they are all there; and I am afraid they will stay for aoma time longer yet.” Angela thought to herself that It was not at all a misfortune; for, if the family had been at home ahe could not have sought refuge at Brantome Hall. After that mornlbg she went often to the picture gallery. The great attraction of the place was the portrait In which ahe saw some slight resemblance to her father. She liked to stand before it, to gaze at it and recall the beloved face. The resemblance was great in the laughing blue eyes and the contour of the brow. She never thought of the original; the picture had a fascination for her because it reminded her of her father. None the leas, the face of Glenarvon, Lord Arleigh, ■tole Into Angela's heart and made part of her dreams, though without any reference to the young Earl himself.

CHAPTER XVIL The days passed on, andwHil no advertisement appeared. Day after day Angela scanned the columns of the Times, but there was nothing to tell her that her mother had destroyed the will. There came a morning In June when everything was at its brightest, but the loveliness of the day had no cnarm for .Angela. She was chafing under the delay, and her thoughts were of her mother, of the Captain and of the will, while ahe asked herself how much longer she would have to remain at Brantome. She went to the library to search for a book to distract her unhappy thoughts, and while there she heard a carriage coming quickly up the drive. She did not pay much attention to the circumstance, although It was a very unusual one, and forgot all about it in a few minutes’ time. She at last found a book that pleased her. She went to one of the bay-windows, which was half open, and, half reclining on one of the great Turkish rugs, forgot all else in the charm of story. Angela’s whole heart was engrossed with the novelist’s grand conception. She found in books what ahe found in real life—noble women, Ignoble men. The character depicted, so grand, so taoble, grew upon her, and she read on, deeply absorbed in the story, until a sound close by disturbed her. She looked up with a deep sigh, as of one waking suddenly to real life. Blue, laughing eyes were looking Into her own; a fair, handsome face, full of (surprise, was bent over her. There were the ideal brow, the pleasant mouth, and the clustering hair that she had been looking at the previous day. The book fell from her hands, and she started up In dismay. “Pray, do not let me alarm you,” said a very pleanast voice with a rich, musical ring. “I was unaware that there waa anyone here.” , Angela knew that it was Glenarvon, Lord Arleigh, who stood before her, and She was at a loss what to do or Bay. He hesitated, evidently waiting for her to give some account of herself. Tkf startled

—j uun(j ciuri s uima. I am Lord Arleigh,” he said, with a low bow. ‘‘l am ” Angela began, bnt stopped abruptly. “I came,” she added “in search of a book.” "I hope yon will use the library and books as often as you like,” he replied courteously. “I have just returned from Italy in consequence of a telegram from my agent, and I had no time to send any notice of my coming to Mrs. Bowen. 1 know that Lady Arleigh, my mother, wishes Mrs. Bowen to give her friends every opportunity of enjoyment. I beg therefore that you will use the library and take from it what books you will.” At the same time the Earl was fully satisfied that the young lady was no friend of Mrs. Bowen’s. To his mind she looked, with her delicate grace, her highbred air, her patrician bearing, far more like a princess than the friend of the homely housekeeper. There was some mystery with which he was unacquainted. Then Angela hastened away, feeling keenly conscious of her utterly false' position. She went in the greatest dismay to Mrs. Bowen. ‘‘l came to speak to you about myself, Mrs. Bowen,” she said. “I cannot remain now that his lordship is at home. It is impossible.” “I do not think so, Miss Charles. It will make no difference whatever to his lordship or to you. You need never see him if you are careful, and he need never see you. It is not,” she added, presently, “as though you were a visitor to the family; you are my guest.” Still, despite these comforting assurances, Angela did not feel quite at ease. She could not forget that she held an utterly false position. She therefore resolved that, while Lord Arleigh remained in the house, she would keep to her rooms, and not go Into that part of the house where she would be likely to meet him. She would go out early in the morning or late in the evening, when there was little chance of encountering him. It was possible that even on the morrow the advertisement might appear, and then she could go away at once. “Oh, mother,” she cried Impatiently, “if you knew all, you would not delay!” The coming of the Earl made a great difference to Angela. She felt both awkward and under restraint, and she hoped fervently that she should never see him again; yet at the same time she had a vague longing to look upon his face once more, because it was so like her father’s. She shrank back at the sound of his voice, yet she would have liked to speak to him again. “I have traveled through many lands,” said Lord Arleigh to himself; “but I have never seen a face and figure like hers. I must know more about her!” He longed to ask questions about her, but was courteous enough to refrain. He said to himself that he must accept the position as it was; yet he was sure there was some mystery. Miss Charles was a lady; why was she on visiting terms with his mother’s servant? Lord Arleigh went to sleep that night with the fair face of Angela Rooden shining through his dreams.

CHAPTER XVIII.

For two or three days Lord Arlelgh ■aw nothing of the beautiful and mysterious girl with whom he had fallen so deeply in love. Angela had been most careful in her movements, and she no longer placed any reliance on Mrs. Bowen’s declaration that his lordship had gone out and would not return until late. Such words were always inaccurate, for he always returned before the time appointed, and then Angela was sure to see bhnShe hardly knew herself how mnCiMjfce had grown to care for him. . They met one morning in the leafy glades of Brantome Wood. Angela had gone thither one day to see the beeches for which it was celebrated, and one in particular, called the Brantome Beech, supposed to be the largest of its kind in the country—a magnificent tree that stood alone in the center of a green plateau. She sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree that had been left there for a seat, and was soon hard at work. The strokes of her pencil were almost magical, and it was not long before the outlines of the Brantome Beech were on her sketchingboard. She was thoroughly engrossed in her work; there was nothing to disturb her but the song of the birds and the hum of the bees. All at once, without the warning of coming footsteps, a shadow fell over the grass and a voice startled her. “Good-morning, Miss Charles,” said Lord Arlelgh. “I must apologize. I cannot pretend that this is an accidental meeting; it is not I saw the gleam of your dress through the trees, and I—youwill not be angry?—l followed it. I have not seen you for some days, and I am anxious to know how you are.” Angela bowed very gravely. Her face flushed, her eyes fell before the delight she saw shining in his, and a sense of unutterable gladness seemed to fill her heart “I am afraid,” he continued, “that you must be very dull. You are almost as much alone in Brantome Hall as you would be in a desert.” What could she say to him 7 She could not tell him that she was only too grateful for the shelter afforded her. The next minute he was bending over her, looking at the sketch, “How perfectly you have caught the outlines of the beech!” he said. “What a capital sketch. Miss Charles! You are an artist.” “Not in execution—only in appreciation,” she returned. “In both, I should say,*’ he said. Then, after a pause, he asked: “May I speak Quite frankly to you 2” She looked up at turn in wonder. What Could he have to say to her? There #as something in his face which caused her own to grow pale, something in his eyes which caused her own to droop. “Certainly, Lord Arleigh,” she replied. “Now that I have your permission, I hardly know how to avail myself of it,” he continued. “I long to speak to yon, yet I am afraid you should think that I

preemne— that I take advantage es year being under my roof, even though not nay guest, to pry into your affairs; but I assure you it is not so. It is simply genuine interest in you—an interest I cannot help, and which is greater even th«n m'y fear of displeasing you.” He did not know how much of tenderness had crept into his voice, bat she noticed it. “Do not answer one of my questions unless it pleases you to do so,” he went on. “Tell me—are you not very uhhappy? Have you not some great trouble?” The miseries of the past seemed to glide before her even as he spoke—her mother's unhappiness, her own danger, the murderous hand that had pursued her for so long—and she looked at him with quivering lips and tear-dimmed eyes. “Yes,” she replied; “I am in- terrible trouble.” “I thought so,” he said, gently. “And your trouble has been caused by others?” “Yes,” she answered. “I wonder,” he said, slowly, “if yon would trust me, if you would let me be your friend, If you would allow me to help you?” She shook her head gravely. “No help can be rendered me,” she answered. “Miss Charles,” he pleaded earnestly, “forget that you have known me for so short a time. Try to think that I am an old and tried friend, and let me be of some assistance to you. Will you trust me with your secret, whatever it may be?” “I cannot, Lord Arleigh,” she replied. “You are so kind and good that, if it concerned myself only, I would tell you at once; but to communicate all the facts would implicate others.” “Shall I never know?” he asked. “I think -not—l hope not,” she replied hastily. “Are yon quite sure that, if you trusted me implicitly, 1 could do nothing to help you?” “I am quite sure” she answered. “You cannot tell me your trouble, and you cannot accept my help?” "I cannot,” she replied; “I would if I could.” And Lord Arleigh never loved Angela better than when she raised her eyes to him so appealingly, seeking yet repelling sympathy. “It there no way in which I can be of service to you?” he asked again. “No,” she answered; and then a silence fell between them. He was the first to break it. “Miss Charles,” said Lord Arleigh suddenly, “do you think that I can be flfontent with this, after having met yon and grown interested in you? I could not endure that you should pass out of my life, and that I should lose sight of you forever.” Her heart beat faster at the words, her face flushed. They were the first of the kind that had ever been spoken to her, and, without knowing it, she loved the man who uttered them. (To be continued.) /lit