Democratic Sentinel, Volume 21, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1897 — AT LOVES COMMAND [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AT LOVES COMMAND

BY C[?] M.BR[?]ME.

CHAPTER Xll—(Continued.) Beatrix gave her mother and uncle a most animated account of the interview with the aitist; but she refrained from telling them that she had mistaken Beltran Carew’s photograph for a fancy photograph meant for King Arthur; nor did she tell them how the clear, bright, blue eyes had seemed to look into her very soul. “I want you to like Mr. Carew, uncle,” she said; “he is most intellectual.” “I will like him then, Trixie; I will ask him to dine with us. lam glad you have met some one whom you admire.” “He is a man—he is a hero.” On that evening Beatrix went with Mrs. Carden, a fashionable brunette, to the opera. Looking round the house during one of the intervals, she saw a face that impressed her greatly. It was very •lovely, fair, and framed in shining golden hair—a proud face, with wonderful scarlet lips and chiseled features. What impressed her so greatly was that the face at different times wore quite a different aspect When anyone was in the box talking to the owner of it, it was most brilliant, most animated; but when she was alone, a mask, almost like a mask of stone, came over it —the ripple of laughter died away, the warm, sunny coloring fled, the light in the eyes faded, the whole face changed. Beatrix watched it for some time, and then appealed to Mrs. Carden for information. “Who is the lovely blonde lady with the blue velvet and diamonds, in the third box?” she asked. Mrs. Carden raised her opera glass and looked. “That is Lady Rayner,” she replied, “one of my dearest friends.” “How beautiful she is—but how sad!” said Beatrix. “Sad? Some people are never content, never would be content, if they had all the world,” declared Mrs. Carden, contemptuously. “Is she not happy, not content?” asked Beatrix. “You say she looks sad, so I imagine fehe cannot be content, though why, I cannot understand.” “Is she married?” was the next question. “Married! Yes. She married Lord Otho Rayner, who was supposed to have a very large income. She has the finest diamonds in London; they are something wonderful. And she drives the finest horses in the park. If you like, 1 will introduce you to Lady Rayner.” “I should like it very much,” replied Beatrix; and when the ladies stood together in the crush-room, the introduction took place. From the first moment Beatrix liked her new acquaintance. She liked her fair, lovely face, with its curious changes from gay to grave. Now, as they stood talking, Lady Rayner looked bright, animated and happy; a few minutes afterward she was standing alone, and looked as though a sudden blight had affected her; and then again, when Beatrix spoke to her, the grave sadness vanished as if by magic. They talked for a short time longer, and when about to separate Lady Rayner took Beatrix by the hand. “Something tells me we- are to be friends,” she said. “I hope such will be the case.” The sweey sad face with its strange gleams of laughter touched Beatrix. “I shall be pleased,” she said simply; but the tone was sincere.

“Is Lord Rayner what people call a nice man?” Miss Lennox asked of Mrs. Carden. Thrtt worldly lady laughed. “He ought to be,” she replied—“everyone looks at him through a golden haze.” “Does his wife look at him through a golden haze, Mrs. Carden?” inquired Beatrix. Mrs. Carden laid her hand on the young girl’s. “Will you believe this,” she said—“that the most miserable people in the world are those who take life in earnest?” Before the eyes of “Prince Charlie’s” daughter rose the earnest face of an earnest man—Beltran Carew—and her whple soul rose in hot rebellion against the foolish words. “How can you speak so?” she cried. And then, feeling ashamed of her warmth, she said: “It is not right of you who should know better, to teach the young and the ignorant such a doctrine. Suppose I were to believe you?” “You would do a very wise thing, my dear,” replied Mrs. Carden, calmly. “I repeat that to be happy in this world you must take life more as a jest than in earnest.”

CHAPTER XIII. Beatrix looked forward with some interest to her visit to lovely Lady Rayner. She was out of the common order; there was something about her different from the frivolous people who talked about life as a jest. “I am so glad to see you,” said Lady Rayner, when Beatrix entered her tasty little boudoir. If money could give happiness, if magnificence could produce comfort, Lady Rayner ought to have had it. The little boudoir in which she sat was exquisitely furnished. The hangings were of violet velvet and white lace, the carpet had a white ground with violets lying as though they had just fallen upon it; there were a few rare pictures; a masterpiece by Canova stood between the violet velvet hangings; there were a few beautiful bronzes, exquisite vases, jardinieres filled with rarest flowers. Lady Rayner herself was very lovely, but her face was pale, and her eyes locked as though she had been weeping. She held out both hands in greeting to “Prince Charlie’s” daughter. “I am so glad you have come,” she said. “Do you know, Miss Lennox, that I have fallen in love with your face—you look so true, so earnest; and I want a friend who is truthful and earnest.” “I am truthful,” returned candid Beatrix—“l come of a truthful race. lam earnest because I cannot help it. If you like me, and want a friend, I shall be very pleased to be that friend, Lady Rayner.” “Call me Leola,” requested the young wife, with a quick shudder—“l like that name best.” “I will be your friend, Leola,” said Beatrix. Quick, warm pity stirred her heart—she did not know why—quick, ten-

der pity. She bent down and kissed the pale, sweet face. Lady Rayner told her of a home in the country where she amused herself and did as she liked all day long, Beatrix noting keenly how pale her face was, how transparent were the white hands, how she strove against the sadness that seemed to master her; how at times she even forgot what she was saying, and went off into a train of painful thought. Beatrix was very gentle with her. They were laughing heartily at an escapade of Lady Rayner’s, when suddenly she rose from her seat; her face grew white as death, and her hands trembled. “That is my husband,” she said. “I thought he left home early this morning.” Beatrix beard the sound of a quick, shuffling footstep, the door opened, and Lord Rayner entered the room. “Prince Charlie’s” daughter almost cried out in surprise as her eyes fell upon him. That Lord Rayner! Why, he was surely one of the most insignificant and contemptible looking men she had ever seen! He was very little and very fierce; he had a parrot face, with small, twinkling eyes, and a great hooked nose; and he spoke in a nasal tone. Was this the husband of the superb blonde who trembled before him? He did not see Beatrix at first, and in a voice indescribably fierce and shrill he began: “I thought I told you to write to Jnvins about that carriage?” “You did,” said his wife, trying to speak calmly. “1 am very sorry, Otho—l quite forgot it.” He went nearer to her. “You did not forget it!” he screamed. "You did it purposely. You knew that I wanted to go to Richmond. You knew that I wanted that particular carriage. It is your spiteful, jealous temper that prevented you from writing—and you shall suffer for it!”

“Otho,” said the pale, beautiful woman, “Miss Lennox is here. You do not see her, I think." The moment he saw the lovely heiress, his manner completely changed—he was all that was obsequious. “You will pardon me, Miss Lennox, but I have been compelled to assert my prerogative. No one in this miserable house ever obeys me—no one ever attends to my wishes—no one studies me.” Without another word, Lady Rayner sat down and wrote the note; when it was finished she gave it to her husband to read. “I shall say no more about this now,” he said, with the air of one who would be generous; “but the next time I express a wish or give a command, see that it is carried out—see that you obey.” “I will be careful,” promised his wife. “You have spoiled my day,” he continued, reverting again to his wrongs. “I had intended going to Richmond; I really believe you knew’ with whom 1 was going, and were jealous.” He laughed again, with an air of selfcomplacency, which made him appear doubly absurd; and Beatrix thought to herself that if he repeated his laugh she could almost go mad. She looked at the pale, beautiful woman who was compelled to hear that laughter whenever he chose to inflict his presence on her. “What could have induced her to marry such a monster?” thought Beatrix; and then she began to wonder. His mood had changed. “I told Hanson to send up a diamond necklace for you to look at,’* he said to his wife; “they tell me that some of the imperial stones are in it. You can have it if you like It.” Then he rose from his seat, and after paying a few fulsome compliments to Beatrix, and saluting his wife with marked disdain, quitted the room. “And that,” thought Beatrix, “is a man!” Lady Rayner turned to her with a look of great lelief, and, without alluding to her husband, began to talk again about earlier dayr. Beatrix was greatly interested in her new friend. She stayed longer than she had intended, and rose at last hurriedly to take her leave. “You will come again?” asked Lady Rayner. “Or shall I come to see you ?” “Whichever will suit you best. You go out a great deal, I should imagine?” said Beatrix. “Yes,” was the reply; “I take my ‘worldliness’ as other people take drugs and drams. It answers the same purpose. I go out a great deal; I am seldom at home.” When Beatrix was taking her leave. Lady Rayner said to her, with a faint smile; “There is a skeleton in every house, Miss Lennox, and it is generally hidden; but you have seen mine. You will not betray Lie?” “No,” promised Beatrix, "I will not.” “I—l married for money,” said the pale, lovely lady, “and I have more money than I know what to do with; Good-by, my dear,” and without waiting for another word Beatrix departed. “Married for money!” The words sounded in her ears all the remainder of that day.

CHAPTER XIV. “I have never seen you so pleased about a dinner party before, Beatrix,” said Lady Lennox, when her daughter consulted her for the twentieth time concerning her dress. “Is any one going whom you very much wish to see?” "Yes, I told you, mamma—Mrs. Carew, the artist—the lady who is so anxious to paint my portrait. The duchess says she would not paint the portrait of an empress if she did not like her.” Beatrix stood attired for the dinner party at E.mslie House, looking far more beautiful than she had ever looked before. Her graceful head and flower-like face, her white neck and lovely shoulders, rose from clouds of rose-colored tulle. She wore white roses in her hair, and carried a bouquet of white hyacinths; a superb knot of flowers was fastened in the bodice of her dress. She looked lovely enough to disturb an artist's dreams. Her uncle had declined the invitation to the dinner party—he had not been well of late—but he desired to look at his niece before she went. “Well, I am of opinion that that rose tulle will give the duke his coup de grace. I have never seen Trixie look so well before,” said Peter Lennox; and he began at once to think about the marriage settlements; while Beatrix, as she drew near Elmslie House, asked herself what she

should do. There would be two gOßtlomen present, of whom one wnnld wish to talk to her—to the other she would want to talk. It would require some astuteness to manage to please herself without displeasing others. Yes, there was the duke! He waylaid her at once when she entered the room; and she was compelled to listen to a string of compliments that she thought would never end, wondering all the time whether Beltran bad arrived. At last she saw the tall figure and the fair, princely head towering above the others. Her face flushed; she answered at random. Oh, if the duke would but leave her in peace! To her great relief the Duchess of Elmslie called the duke away—she wanted to introduce him to the wife of one of the embassadors—and Beatrix was free. In another moment Beltran Carew was by her side. “I was afraid," he said, “that I should not get near you. Miss Lennox. The Duke of Heathland guards you us though you were a crown jewel." She looked up at him, wistfully, longing to say: “It is not my fault that he is always near me„” but she was silent. Perhaps he misunderstood her silence, for after a while he added: “I hope 1 have not been indiscreet.” In a moment her face was in. a flame. “Certainly not,” she said, and then she added shyly—she was so unfortunately frank —"I was just wishing that he would go and wake room for you." “Were you? I am the happiest—” He paused suddenly, for the confusion in het' face pained him. Then they walked through the superb suite of rooms, so interested each in the other that all else was unheeded. Every now and then Beatrix raised her fair face with a look of unutterable content, the light of perfect happiness in her eyes. Then her words became fewer, sweet shyness came over her, and presently it was time to go. She was rather puzzled on reaching home; for, when Lady Lennox asked her about the dinner and the soiree, she could remember nothing except that Mr. Carew was there. Beatrix was startled to find that she did not even remember saying good-night to her grace. What she did remember was standing in the hall with Beltran Carew by her side, he declaring that the opera cloak would not come into the right folds and lingering so long while he drew it round her that she hud looked at him with a wondering smile, then he had bent his handsome head over her and whispered such sweet words that the very memory of them made her heart palpitate. Beatrix was quite unconscious how much Beltran Carew was beginning to fill her life. When she awoke In the morning, it was to think of him, to wonder if she should see him on thut day, if he would call, if she should meet him accidentally, if he would send a note or message. The days on which she was to meet him were red-letter days; but then, as she said to herself, she had longed all her life to know a hero, and at last she had met one.

They met almost continually. Beltrun, although constantly occupied during the day, went out a great deal. Since he had known Beatrix he sought the people who knew her. He contrived to discover at what houses she was to visit. But the best time of all for him was when Mrs. Carew began to paint “The Lotus Lily.” Mrs. Carew herself had designed the dress. It was a mantle of cloth of gold thrown over one shoulder, leaving the other undraped. The lovely neek rose flower-like from the superb costume, the queenly head was crowned with blue Nile lilies. Nothing could have been more artistic or more beautiful. Beatrix enjoyed those sittings. Lady Lennox generally went with her; but Lady Lennox was not worldly wise, and, when she saw how the young lawyer interested and amused her beautiful child, when she heard them conversing of everything most poetical and artistic, she never dreamed of danger. They all met one day at a fete given in the beautiful grounds of Twickenham Palace. The Marquis of Ersdale was the originator of it, and, as Mrs. Carew had set all London talking about the wonderful portrait of his beautiful marchioness, he had sent cards both to the gifted artist and to her no less gifted gon. Beatrix and Lady Lennox went with the Duchess of Elmslie. Peter Lennox disliked garden parties, and summer fetes were not to his mind. He preferred dinner parties where he could play a solemn game of whist. (To be continued-)