Rensselaer Democrat, Volume 1, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 May 1898 — A TANCLED SKEIN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A TANCLED SKEIN

MRS. ALEXANDER

CHAPTER I. The last notes of an air from the “Trovatore” were dying out over the shining sea. The crowd which had gathered on the pier to listen to the band began to move and disperse, the music being over for that afternoon, a fine glowing August afternoon, tempered by the fresh, soft air breathing across the bay, crisping the waters here and there and bringing a delightful saltness from the rippling waters. The scene is Fordsea, a flourishing bathing place on, the South Coast of England, Hot altogether dependent for its prosperity on summer nomads. Its attractiontf~are of a more permanent character. Being in the close neighborhood of the naval and military station of Eastport, the officers of both services are glad to establish {heir families in the villas, terraces, crescents, which border the grassy common intervening between them and the beach. At the end of this pleasant common a pretty two-storied villa stood on an abrupt rising ground. A veranda, its supports overgrown with roses nnd honeysuckles, ran along the side facing the sea. This veranda was evidently used as a morning room, comfortable lounging-chairs, a work table laden with books, bright-colored silks and wools, a doll und a cup and ball lay about. On the beach in front of this dainty mansion a young lady was sitting on a ridge of shingle, bleached by sea and seawater to perfect cleanliness, which afforded a comfortable resting place. The young lady seemed much at her ease. Her skirt of blue serge was turned up over a second skirt of white and blue and caught up at the back in what used to be called “fishwife" fashion—the bodice fitting her slight supple figure easily, perfectly; n little foot in a dark blue stocking, and an incomparable shoe peeped forth as she supported an open book on one knee, and a wide-brimmed sailor hat almost hid her face as she bent over the page. A big brown boat drawn up beside her made a shelter from the level rays of the sinking sun. Altogether she presented a pretty picture of quiet enjoyment. As the last strains of the band died away a gentleman in boating attire strolled slowly across the grass, paused, looked round ns if searching for something, and then came straight over the shingle towards her. She,heard his step and looked at her book with renewed attention, nor did she move till he stood beside her. Then she raised her face, an interesting, rather than pretty face, somewhat brunette in complexion, and pale, with a warm paleness—a small, oval face, with a delicate chin and a very slight downward curve at the corners of the soft red mouth, that gave a pathetic expression to her countenance when in repose. Her eyes, too, which were her best feature—large eyes, with long, dark lashes, had a wistful, faraway look, more suited to a saint than to their piquant owner. The man who paused beside her was tall and slender, with a grace of movement not nsual in an Englishmen. He was darker, too, than ordinary Anglo-Saxons, Who rarely possess such blue-black hair and flashing dark eyes as his. His wellcut, refined, but determined mouth was unshaded by mustaches, though a strong growth of black board showed through the clear olive-brown skin. He smiled a soft, caressing smile as he threw himself on thesnnd at her feet, saying: “I thought you had gone on the pier with Callander?" “No; he has gone to the station to meet Mr. Standisb, and Mabel has had the honor of a command from the Grand Duchess to drive with her.” The- saintly-pathetic expression entirely disappeared as she spoke with a swift, arch smile, and a flash of scorn from her “holy eyes.” “Ah,” he returned, in an amused tone, “why did you not go to meet your beloved guardian?” “I never meant to go. I came ont of the way to listen to the band here. Music is so charming as it comes fitfully on the breeze, and I enjoy it most alone.” “Well, it is over now, so I may venture to stay?" “Oh, yes, if you like! But I am tired of sitting here. I want to mnteh some silks. Do you mind, Mr. Egerton?” “Don’t you think it would be cruel to waste this lovely evening matching silks in a stuffy shop? Let us go along the common towards the pier. We may meet 6ome of your party returning.” “Yes, let us go along by the sea.” They walked awhile in silence, Egertou’s expression hardening as though his thoughts were not pleasant. Presently he began to speak on indifferent topics, and suddenly, after a pause, Miss Wynn asked: “Do yon really think Col. Callander seems better?” “Yes, I do. I fancy the sunstroke which knocked him down was not severe. Good as an excuse to come home to his wife, perhaps, and—here she is!" he exclaimed, interrupting himself, as a smart victoria and pair came up at a brisk pace and stopped beside them. “1 thought we might meet you,” said the elder of two Indies who occupied the carriage, a stately lookiug woman of perhaps sixty or more, with iron gray hair, a thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, and eyes too light for her complexion. Her companion was a beautiful young woman, exquisitely fair, with soft blue eyes aud light golden brown hair. Except on her lips she bad scarce a trace of color, and her delicate face expressed pensive weariness as she lay back in the carriage. “I thought we should meet you,” repeated the elder lady, who was the Dowager Mrs. Callander. “Now Mabel can w'alk home with yon, fcr I must return to receive my niece, Henrietta Oakeley. You ought to have come with us, Dorothy, but no doubt you- were better engaged ” Egerton bowed, and raised his hat as if he had received a high compliment. Dorothy smiled and gave a saucy little toss of her head as her sister alighted jflrom the carriage.

“I hope yon will ail dine with me tomorrow, to meet Miss Oakeley,” continued the Dowager. “May I have the pleasure of seeing you, too, Mr. Egerton?” “Certainly; I shall be delighted!” Mrs. Callander opened and upreared a grand white, much-beflouneed parasol, bowed graciously and was whirled away to her hotel. “You do not look much the better of your drive, Mabel!” said her sister, looking earnestly at her. “I assure you Mrs. Callander was unusually amiable. I don’t think she stabbed me more than once or twice.” She slipped her arm through Dorothy's, and turning towards home, walked on slowly between her sister and Egerton. Mabel and Dorothy Wynn were the daughters of a military officer, who in the days of purchase, never had money enough to buy the next step beyond that of eaptaiq. When both girls were babies, Captain Wynn lost his wife, and then, in consideration of his junior officers’ wishes, expressed in bank notes, retired. He did not long survive the combined loss of wife and career. His daughters remained at the school where she had placed them, in order to acquire the means of adding to their diminutive income. They bad apparently no relation save their guardian, Paul Stnndish. He was a distant cousin of the late Captain Wynn, and his nearest friend—he was also executor to bis kinsman's will, as well as guardian to his children; and very faithfully did he fulfill the duties he had undertaken, The young orphans soon learned to look upon him as an elder brother; indeed to Dorothy, who was five years younger, than her sister, he seemed in their childish days quite elderly. One afternoon he brought a married sister to see them. This lady invited the two girls to dine, and go to the theater. A supreme joy in itself, and productive of important consequences. At dinner they met Colonel, then Major, Callander, a grave,' sedate man, who had run the gauntlet of many garrisons without any serious affairs of the heart; and now, in the most unexpected manner, he fell utterly and absolutely fathomß deep in love with the defunct captain’s lovely daughter Mabel. Colonel Callander carried out his project, and Mabel, won by bis quiet kindness, and pleased at the prospect of a home which he assured her she should share with her sister, consented with sweet, frank readiness, and in about six months after their first meeting Mabel Wynn beeiyne Mabel Callander, the object of tier-grave husband's profound devotion, of her overbearing mother-in-law’s deepest dislike. This event wrought a considerable change in the life of Mabel’s sister. The first grief of parting over, Dorothy found that many pleasures and advantages had come into her hitherto rather meager existence. She had prettier frocks, more abundant bonnets, and more frequent expeditions to concert and panorama with those better-off elder girls whose superior lot she had hitherto envied. The Christmas and midsummer holidays, spent with Major and Mrs. Callander wherever they happened to be quartered, were glorious periods of fun nnd frolic, and when little baby niece was preitmted to her, her joy and exultation knew ntrbounds. Towards her brother-in-law she felt the warmest regard, not untinged with awe, and her highest reward, when sh.e did not resist her natural tendency to idleness, and attained any school distinctinetion. was Callander's grave approbation. This halcyon period came to a close when the baby girl was a few months old, and the regiment being ordered, to India, the commanding officer retired and Callander got his step. But a warm climate did not suit his fair wife, who was never very strong. After the birth of a boy she was ordered home. Dorothy, now close on the serious age of eighteen, by Callander’s wish, left school to reside with her sister. The only drawback to this blissful arrangement was the neighborhood and supervision of Mrs. Callander, the delicacy and depression of Mabel. This, however, seemed likely to pass away, as, in a month or two, Dorothy gladly recognised an improvement in health and spirits. The winter was a pleasant one, for Paul Standish proved himself the best, “guide, philosopher and friend” they could have had. The gayety of their lives was considerably increased towards Christmas by the arrival in London of Egerton, who had known Colonel and Mrs. Callander in India, where he had gone for sport and travel. He loaded the sisters with flowers, stalls at the theaters, small presents, endless attentions, managing nt the same time to stand well with the Dowager, who respected his wealth and position. CHAPTER 11. Mrs. Callander's little dinner was a greater success in her own estimation than perhaps in that of her guests. She had what she considered a distinguished party, which included nn Honorable Major St. John, whose pretensions to exclusiveness nnd superiority were upheld by masterly taciturnity; her niece, a much-trav-eled and experienced young lady of good fortune, and beyond the twenties, to whom the Dowager once thought of marrying her son, aud who-was nothing loth; nu eloquent Low Church divine, the Rev. Septimus Cole, who was her spiritual director; Egerton, sundry nonentities, naval and military, of good position, and her son with his wife, who looked provokingly elegant. Dorothy had been unceremoniously put off to make room for St. John, who was especially asked for Miss Oakeley's benefit, and as Egerton, who was, Mrs. Callander thought, the greatest man there, was more silent than usual, and looked slightly bored, she began to fear before dinner was over that she had made a mistake in dispensing with that conceited, insignificant chit Dorothy, for really Mr. Egerton seemed to miss something.

and that something might be Dorothy. The rest of the company, with the ex* ception of Miss Oakeley, “made” conversation more or less stiffly. She rattled away on all possible subjects to St. John and Egerton, between whom she sat, being divided between the desire to make an impression on the latter ah inanimate the former. Colonel and Mrs. Callander remained to the as he acted host, aßd when the family party were left alone, Miss Oakeley took a low chair beside her cousin’s wife. “I have pot had the chance of a word with yon,” she exclaimed, “and it must be more than two years since we met. I protest yon are prettier than ever, but paler and graver.” “Thank you, Henrietta. Please remember I have two babies to think of now.” “Horrid little brats! I hate children!” “Heretic! they are sweet things, but certainly troublesome. How do you think Herbert looks?” “Oh, very well. I would not trouble about him. Tell me, how do you come to be such friends with Randal Egerton? He is the most exclusive of men, and never allows himself to be bored.” “Then I suppose we do not bore him. He was hurt when out tiger shooting, and carried into our bungalow, where we nursed him. He fancied we saved his life. Herbert is very fond of him.” “And Dorothy? I fancy she has grown pretty. May I come to luncheon to-mor-row? I promise not to murder the children if you show them to me. And so Mr. Standish is with you. Why in the world didn’t my aunt ask him to dinner? He is so agreeable and so popular.” While Miss Oakeley chattered on, Mrs. Callander was pouring a few grievances into her son’s ear. “I am sorry Mabel was so bored at dinner to-day, but I am quite aware of the reason.” “Indeed! Well, I did not observe her being bored, nor do I know why she should be.” “Oh, 1 am the offender! I did not ask Mr. Standish to join us. He is, I confess, a man I neither like nor approve.” “There is no accounting for tastes. He is a good fellow enough.” “A mere worldling. I fear his want of faith has had an evil influence on Mabel and Dorothy.”' “Oh, come! If there are no worse women in the world than my wife and little Dorothy it would not be a bad place!— Mabel, it will be late before we reach borne.” The Dowager (as she liked to be called —it somehow smacked of ducal rank) bade them a glacial good-night, but Henrietta ran downstairs to see them off. “You will be at Mr. Egertou’s picnic on Tuesday, will you not? He has asked me and Aunt Callander. Just fancy her yachting! She will bore aud be bored. Mind you are at home to luncheon, Herbert; I am coming!” “Certainly! As to the picnic, nearly every one is goiug, ourselves among the number. Good-night.” (To be continued.)