Democratic Sentinel, Volume 21, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 September 1897 — AT LOVES COMMAND [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AT LOVES COMMAND

BY CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

CHAPTER XV. When Beatrix entered the grounds, she saw three gentlemen all waiting for her . —the Huke of Heathland looking quite sure of her, yet vaguely expectant; the Prince de Ferros with his dark eyes following her sadly; and quite apart from the others, Beltran Cnrew with a lotus lily in his hand. Lady Rayner was there, looking veryfragile and very lovely in blue and silver. Beatrix felt greatly relieved when Lady Rayner joined her. The two ladies made a beautiful picture standing under the green trees—Lady Rayuer, so fair and fragile, v ith her golden hair and sweeping train of blue and silver; Beatrix, like a picture by one of the old masters, with her dark, splendid eyes, her richly colored face, and her trailing dress of white lace and scarlet silk. Every one admired them. One by one the gentlemen left less lovely women ami gathered round them. Beatrix longed for one word from Beltran. He stood leaning carelessly against the trunk of a tree, with the lotus lily in his hand. The duke, on her right hand, suggested a row in one of the pretty pleasure-boats; the prince, on her left, was trying to persuade her to join the croquet players. “Go with the duke, my dear,” said Lady Lennox. "I am sure a row on the lake will be very pleasant." Beatrix knew well that if she went upon the lake with the duke there would be what she wished so much to avoid —a love scene. She turned to Lady Rayner. “Will you go with us?” she said; and Lady Rayner, seeing the distress in her face, consented. Beltran had bided ids time. When the boat touched the green glittering banks again, he was there to help Beatrix. The duke, whose wooing had made so little progress, looked angrily nt him; but a loaded cannon would not have checked Mr. Carew. “Lady Lennox fears you will grow faint, Miss Lennox,” he said. “I promised her to show- you where to find some ■trawberries and grapes.” The duke angrily turned round. “Will you introduce this gentleman to me, Miss Lennox?” he said, and Beatrix complied. With a look of mutual defiance the gentlemen raised their hats. “Mr. Carew will permit me to remark,” said his grace, “that I am quite capable of attending to the requirements of the ladies whom I am honored by escorting.” “No doubt,” returned Beltran, calmly, “but a monopoly of honors, your grace, is hardly fair. The sunshine has been on the lake; permit it now to brighten the land.” Then, bowing with the air of a prince, he offered his arm to Beatrix, Lady Rayuer looking on with an amused smile. Beatrix turned with a bow and graceful words of thanks to the duke. “It was very pleasant on the water,” she said. “But I think mamma is right —a little fruit will be very refreshing. Will you come with us? Lady Rayner looks tired.” After that he could do nothing but ask Lady Rayner to take his arm and follow them.

“Who is this gentleman?” he asked, half savagely. “Carew? I do not remember to have heard the name. What Carew is be, Lady Rayner? Do you know?” “He is the son of Mrs. Carew, the great artist; she is painting Miss Lennox’s portrait —and a very beautiful picture it is.” “I understand,” said his grace, in a more satisfied tone. “I do not think it quite in good taste to invite artists and people of that class everywhere, though; do you?” “That was a bold stroke,” said Beltran to the beautiful heiress. "I have never attempted a bolder. How angry the duke looked! If these were the ‘good old times,’ he would send me a challenge.” “Why should he? I have surely a right to please myself,” rejoined Miss Lennox. “I was tired of the water; it made my eyes ache; and the sun was very warm. I am quite content to be here.” The reason of this was obvious; for Beltran, making what he considered a still bolder stroke, had contrived, by turning down a shady out-of-the-way path, to lose sight of the duke and Lady Rayner. He found a pretty seat for Beatrix under the close drooping branches of an old cedar tree, and after a short absence brought her some strawberries. “This is like being in a green, silent city,” he said. “How beautiful this old cedar is!”

. “Yes, Miss Lennox, I like this Fairyland of ours,” he said. “So do I,” said Beatrix. “It will seem quite strange to go out into the garish light of day.” “People do as they like in Fairyland,” remarked Mr. Carew. “I am going to be very presumptuous; but you have perfect command over me—you can kill me with a frown if you will, you can frighten me so terribly with one cold look that I should never have the courage to speak to you again.” “I do not think that I shall ever try to frighten you,” said Beatrix. “You have not yet heard my •request. Miss Lennox. As 1 sit here, the odor of those roses you are wearing comes to me like a message—a sweet message full of hope, full of promise. lam going to ask you if you will give me one—just one—the little one with the green leaves, which just touches the white lace you wear. Will you?” “Yes,” she replied. Her face burned like flame as she unfastened it and gave it to him. He looked up at her suddenly. “Have you ever given any one a flower before?” he asked. “No,” she replied simply. “Then I shall treasure this one,” he said. “Miss Lennox, here is a lovely little leaf —kiss it, will you?” She took the flower from his hands and did as he requested. “I did not think that I might presume so much,” he said. “You are not angry with me, Miss Lennox?” “Why should I be angry?” “But it is the first you have ever given,” he said; “that makes it priceless.” Beatrix smiled and answered: “I think we had better go back to ev•rrdav lite again, Mr. Carew.”

CHAPTER XVI. Peter Lennox hud left the arrangements for a dinner party to lus niece, and “Prince Charlie’s” daughter had not acted with her usual transparent candor. "Write out a list, Trixie," her uncle had said. “You know who should meet those learned men far better than I do;” and Beatrix made out a list which included Lady Rayner and excluded the Duke of Heathland. Mr. Lennox had not noticed the omission, nor did he think of his grace of Heathland until the morning of the dinner party, nnd then it was too late to rectify the oversight. “Why, Beatrix,” he said, with a face of dismay; “we have not asked the duke!” “No, uncle, we have not,” she acknowledged. “But why did you forget, Beatrix?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “I intrusted all to you.” “I did not forget the duke, uncle; but I thought that for once we might reully do without him.” I’eter Lennox looked at his niece—he could not understand her. “I should have thought that seeing him here would have been a great pleasure to you,” he said; “but then I never did comprehend or understand women, and I never shall.” “I am not a woman, uncle," she rejoined; “I am a girl.” Miss Lennox went early into the drawing room. She wanted to be there before any of the guests arrived. She felt an unaccountable shyness at the thought of meeting Beltran again. She longed and yet feared to see him! She was impatient for his coming, and yet wished to run away when he did come. She hoped he would never talk to her in that strange way again, yet she garnered each word in her heart. She sat looking at some photographs and talking to Lady Lennox, yet all the time was listening intently for his footstep. She would have detected it 'amongst a thousand. Presently his name was announced, and the proud face of “Prince Charlie's” daughter burned with deepest crimson; then she grew deadly pale, so pale that she was fain to hide it for a few momenta over the photographs, until she fancied it had regained its natural color. Very quickly, however, she rose with her usual proud, careless grace, with the harmonious movement peculiar to her, nnd returned his greeting. She raised her fair face to his, but the dark eyes were dropped, and did not meet his own. During the evening Beltran was very attentive to Lady Lennox, who had a sincere liking for him. Fortune favored him—he took Beatrix down to dinner; and ICvirry osr glvan his attention to them, he would have seen how very secondary a matter dinner wus to Beatrix and Beltran Carew. The scientific gentlemen had to leave early—they were due at a conversazione at some hall—and several other gentlemen, Peter Lennox included, left with them. Lady Rayner had to be present at a ball given by one of her husband’s relatives. The party dwindled until Beltran remained alone with Lady Lennox and Beatrix. Lady Lennox looked fatigued. “You are tired, mamma,” laughed Beatrix. “It is of no use looking amiable, and saying that you are not tired. Those scientific friends of Uncle Peter’s have kept your mind on the stretch for hours. Y'ou have entertained them well, and you shall rest.” In hcr caressing, loving fashion she made her mother lie down upon a couch. She ordered a cup of tea for her, and found her an amusing book. “My dear,” said the gentle lady, “you make me quite ashamed. What will Mr. Carew-think?” “Never mind Mr. Carew, mamma,” laughed Beatrix. “He makes quite as much fuss with his own mother." It was a pleasant home-scene—the placid lady on the couch, her affectionate daughter anxiously solicitous for her comfort; the handsome man, so tenderly attentive; the room all golden in the light of the pearly lamps. Beltran read for them for some minutes, and then Beatrix looked up at him with her finger on her lips. “Mamma is asleep,” she whispered. She drew the lace shawl round her face and head. “I need not excuse her to you, knowing that you love your own mother so well. My dear mother is not very strong; she needs much care. She has had great sorrow in her life.” They sat quite silent for some few minutes—perhaps the same thought was flitting through the mind of both, that it was a home-scene. Then Beatrix looked up at him. "This is dull for you,” she said. Lady Lennox stirred, and Beatrix held up her finger in warning. “If we must talk,” she whispered, “we must leave mamma. Come out on the balcony and watch the moon rise.” She took up a rose-colored scarf of Lady Lennox’s and wrapped it round her shoulders; and then, drawing aside the white lace bangings, they went out on to the balcony together. “What a sweet summer night!” said Beltran. “Tell me about the ■ summer nights on Loch Narn.” They talked so happily, so easily, as though they had known each other for years. Beatrix forgot her shyness. She only remembered how clever he was, how like everything she had dreamed that was noble and gifted in man. After a time she asked him about his profession, and he spoke, of it to her in a simple frankhearted fashion that delighted her. Once she gathered a spray of jasmine that lay near her hand. “How beautiful the color of that leaf is!” she said; and he bent over her to look at it.

The fragrance from the scarlet rose in her dress reached him. He could not account for the madness that seized him; he bent his head and kissed the white hand that held the spray of jasmine. She did not rebuke him; that appeared somewhat strange to him. The little hand trembled for a minute in his clasp, and then lay still. He dared not trust himself to speak; all the hot, passionate words that seemed to surge from his heart to his lips were driven back relentlessly; so tempted, so sorely tempted was he to clasp her in his arm® for one moment. The

impulse was ■trong; he trembled as he resisted it Just then there was a sound in the room. “Mamma is awake,” said Beatrix. He bent over her and whispered hurriedly: “Tell me, when and where shall I meet you again? Be kind to me. The time is approaching when it will not be so easy to see you.” "We shall be at the opera to-morrow evening," she said. “You can come to our box.” In another moment Lady Lennox drew aside the white lace hangings and looked out with a smile. “What considerate children!” she said. “I ought to offer many apologies to you, Mr. Carew; but you are so kind that I think I need not utter them.” They bade each other a cordial goodnight; but, when Beltran said good-night to Beatrix, he did it with a heightened color. Miss Lennox stood quite silent; the dark eyes did not meet his, but her little hand rested for a minute in his warm grasp. If Lady Lennox had been one degree keener, that “good-night” must have told its own story.

CHAPTER XVII. Beltran saw Beatrix at the opera the next evening, where she sat with the Duchess of Elmslie in that lady’s box. But the presence of the Duke of Heathland, who was also there, prevented any tender intimacies. On the following evening one of Beltran’s professional acquaintances—a persevering, stolid young barrister of the Temple--said to him: “I saw you at the opera last night; that was the beautiful Miss Lennox you were with. I saw the Duke of Heathland, too. Are you taken captive, Beltran ?” “1 have the greatest admiration for Miss Lennox,” he replied, haughtily. "Take my advice and let it be nothing more than admiration,” said the other. “I was afraid it had gone further than that; and with the golden prospect of success that lies before you there could be no greater evil for you, my dear boy, than an unhappy love.” "There is nd thought about love,” declared Beltran, haughtily. “Even if there were, I do not see why it must be unhappy.” "But I do,” opposed his friend. "Miss Lennox is heiress of Erceldean; she is the niece and heiress of a millionaire. You have nothing but whut you earn by your own industry. There is no similarity between such lots. The world will say strange things of you if you appear as the admirer of a great heiress.” Beltran Carew sat in his room alone that night. Hd had never thought so long or so seriously in his life before. The few careless words that his fellow barrister had spoken had pierced his inmost heart. For the first time he realized the difference in the social position of Miss Lennox and himself, and saw plainly whgt the world would think of him—how the world would judge and calumniate him. She was the heiress of a millionaire, he was a barrister struggling at the commencement of his career. “1 wish I could make her a princess or a duchess,” he said. "For the first time in my life I envy the rich man his title and his wealth. »I would fain be a prince —I would fain have a dukedom.” Then he thought to himself that, after all, the grandest honors, noblest titles, were those a man won for himself. Ah, if he could but win them! “So I can,” he mused, and he stretched out his strong hands as he threw the hair back from his brow—“l have the strength and the energy; but then I could not ask her to spend the best years of her sweet life waiting for me. It would not be fair, it would not be just—l cannot do it.” There rm. only one thing for him to do, but he decided upon going to see his mother before he did it. (To be continued.)