Rensselaer Democrat, Volume 1, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 June 1898 — A TANGLED SKEIN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A TANGLED SKEIN

MRS. ALEXANDER

CHAPTER VI. Next morning the sun was shining. ■Mabel declared herself better. She promised to drive with Paul Standish when Tie came as usual after breakfast. Dorotthy set off to keep her appointment with Miss Oakeley, and, their diligent practice over, several idlers dropped in to 'lunch, among them Major St. John and Standish. Lunch finished, Dorothy refused a pressing invitation to drive with Miss ♦Oakeley. “Well, if you will not come, pray take this programme to your sister, and the advertisement. I have just put down what I want to say; she must polish them up, T have no turn for grammar! There,” her neck to look out of the window, “there goes Aunt Callander in state. Lady-in-waiting, lap-dog and all! I know she is going to inquire for Mabel, and inspect her proceedings. Where is Mr. Egerton to-day? I have seen nothing of him since, oh! since yesterday!” “Well, you warned us all off the premises as you wanted an uninterrupted morning. I was afraid to show myself even at one o’clock, until Standish gave kne a lead,” returned St. John. “Well, I must run away now! lam going to drive over to Beach Hall. I want to persuade Lady Geraldine to play the violin at my concert, she would be a great catch. Will you come with me? Do —do, Dorothy.” ~* “I am very sorry, but I cannot, Mias Oakeley. I must go back and support Mabel.”

“I will walk across the common with you,” said Standish, following her into the hall. “Yes, do. please,” she returned, feeling a sense of strength and comfort in his companionship, and longing to be able really to» pour out her heart to him—if it were possible to put her vague uneasiness into words. Even if she were—but Standish was speaking. “You are quite right to hurry back to poor Mabel’s rescue. She is by no means ■equal to encounter her mother-in-law single handed.” “You are right. I don’t think ahe is equal tn anything,” said Dorothy, sadly. “What!” he exclaimed, struck by her tone, “you are not seriously uneasy about her?” “There is no reason I should be, but—oh! I can’t explain my indefinable anxiety —I dare say you would laugh at mesif I could.” Here they were interrupted by a young lieutenant of St. John’s regiment, a warm, though silent, admirer of Dorothy, who returned with them unasked under the plea of imparting the project of a regimental ball, for which he hoped Miss Wynn would hold herself disengaged. They were almost at the gate of the Knoll before he left them, and they did «iot reqjrme their conversation. “Is Mrs. Callander in?” asked Dorothy of the man who answered the bell. “No, miss. Mrs. Callander —the Dowager Mrs. Callander —called before she had finished luncheon —she and Mr. Egerton —and they all went out in the carriage together. “T>id not my sister drive thia morning?” . „ “No, miss. The mistress went out with .nurse and the children. Mr. Egerton came back with her.” “It is probable ahe will not lie back for -some time,” said Standish. “Let us go •down on the beach, Dorothy, you look as If you, too, wanted to be taken care Of, and the open air will do you more good than sitting in a room.” “Very well,” and she turned from the house to go through the garden. “But I am quite wkell, only a little worn out with my practice and two whole hours of Miss Oakeley’s enthusiasm.” “I can imagine it. High pressure—hey ?” “Yes, very high.” They walked on siHently till they reached the water’s edge, when Dorothy instinctively turned her back on a more frequented part of the ■ common and exclaimed: “Let us get as far from the madding crowd as possible.” “By all means, especially as I want a little private talk with you.” “Do you ?” in an alarmed tone, “I hope not a scolding!” • “Do I ever scold you?” reproachfully. “Well, no!\ But just now I always anticipate evil.” “The terrors of an awakened conscience, I suppose?” “I think I am more imperfect than wicked,” said Dorothy, with a sigh. Standish laughed. “Conscience is hard at work, I see. No, Y am not going to scold—why should I? You are really a very good girl, so far I see. I am going to cross-examine .you.” “That is bad enough,” and Dorothy bent her head, her naturally pathetic little face looking so sad, that Standish involuntarily drew closer to her. “You don’t imagine, my dear Dorothy, that I would willingly distress you? I think you can trust, me! Now,” with a . -change of tone —“Tell me, are you aware that I have received overtures for a matri- > monial alliance with my charming ward —from an unexceptional parti?” “I am,” very seriously. “It seems you have refused Egerton. /May I ask you the why and “T don’t like him.” “But why?” urged Standish. “I think,” began Dorothy, thoughtfully •and slowly, “that Mr. Egerton might be charming—perhaps irresistible if he loved —but aomehow or other I feel quite convinced that he does not love me!” “My dear Dorothy, what an absurd Impression. Why should he ask'you to ■marry him? Why seek you at all, were not strongly attracted? You have no -particular advantage, of rank or wealth— Indeed, Egerton wants nothing of that ■Wind.” . “Yes, IMs all very, curious, I know It

seems absurd to say so, but I feel quite sure he does not care a straw for me.” “How do you know? What is at the bottom of this preposterous conviction?” ■ “Nothing at all that any sensible person would consider proof,” returned Dorothy, in a deliberate tone, dwelling on her words, “but there is no love in his voice or his touch—or—oh, no!” breaking off suddenly, “there is no love in him for me, or I could never be so indifferent to him!” “Do you mean to say,” looking at her rather sternly, “that you would love any one whom you felt or fancied loved you?” “No, Paul; but if I felt that a man was really in love with me, I should be sorry for him, and feel kindly towards him, and wish I could make him happy and “You feel none of these amiable emotions tow'ard Egerton?” “Not one! Ido not like him. And now you will promise not to trouble me any more about Mr. Egerton—that is finished.” “I suppose so. I will not trouble you. Dorothy, but Egerton will; and Callander, he is rather keen about the affair. For my part, I ajH a little disposed to be on your side. Still, I think the fellow is in love with you.” “And I —though I cannot argue about it—feel sure he is not”

CHAPTER VII. A few days later Callander presented himself at the hotel, when his mother was resting after her drive before retiring to her room to drees for dinner. “Why, Herbert! I did not know you had returned,” she exclaimed; ‘‘you were not expected till to-morrow.” “I thought I had better break away, as I have had a reminder from my old enemies, fever and ague, and every day something turned up to delay me.” “I thought you were feeling much better. I can’t sny you look it.” “I was greatly better, but the bad nights I get now are against me. I found an empty house, so I came on here.” “Exactly! any port in a storm,” said Mrs. Callander, with a dry laugh. “Yes, the whole party are out in Mr. Egerton’s yacht. They are coming back to some sort of supper at your house. They generally end their very Bohemian excursions there.” , “I suppose so,” he returned. “Mabel ought not to send her friends empty away.” “You are a most Indulgent husband, my dear son; indeed, Mabel ought to think herself the happiest of women; probably she does. We have-seearaomewhat more of each other since you were away. I have frequently taken her out to drives, and I think if she were away from that flippant sister of hers, she ” “I see no, room for improvement in my wife,” returned Callander, coldly. “Of course I should like her to be a daughter to you.” His mother sighed obtrusively. “I am sure I am her truest friend if she would believe it.” Then Mrs. Callander wisely digressed to some other topics connected with friends and acquaintances, and got little more than monosyllabic replies to her questions. The children were at tea when the Colonel reached The Knoll, and received him with rapture. Little Dolly was made quite happy because “Father” sat dawn beside her, and took some sips out of her cup. Then the new toys were produced, and Callander seemed a very different man from Mrs. Callander’s taciturn visitor of half an hour before.

When, after dusk, Mabel and her guests reached home, Callander was most warmly greeted by the whole party, and much desultory conversation ensued in which he took his part. Then Miss Oakeley took possession of his, declaring she had some business matters to discuss, and they, or rather she, talked for a considerable time in a dim comer of the drawing room till Standish announced that he was quite reedy to escort Miss Oakeley to her hotel. Callander seemed to have communicated his talent for silence to his friend Egerton, for he scarcely spoke. Dorothy felt infinitely relieved when they were alone. As soon as she had made a few affectionate inquiries as to Callander’s health, she bid them goodnight, hoping that a little private talk would clear away any shadow of misunderstanding between husband and wife. Next day Oirllander produced some trinkets for each sister, and, after looking at the papers, went off to join the children on the beach. As soon as Dorothy was alone with her sister she asked, “Is it all right with Herbert?” “Yes, quite right. I told you he would not mind. We will try and make him as comfortable as possible now.” “Yes, of course! but, Mabel, he looks awfully bad.” “He does, poor dear fellow. It is this horrid ague; When I bid him good-night he was trembling all over. It is some time since he had had such an attack. We must get his old prescription made up. I will join hipi presently xm the beach. ■What are you going to do, Dorothy?” “Oh! there is the everlasting practice with Henrietta.” “Then I will tell Paul to go and takeyou away dt one o’clock. Herbert would like to see you at luncheon.” Dorothy sped awity with a light heart. The clouds she fancied so threatening were breaking, and behind them lay clear blue sky. The holiday so much enjoyed by Paul Standish was nearly over. Egerton contrived to prevent anything like tete-a-tete interviews between him and his ward during the last few days, to Dorothy's great disgust. There was such a thorough sense of companionship between the two that any third person spoiled their frana intercourse, and Egerton’s third was particularly unpleasant to Dorothy. It was, then, a great relief to her mind when Paul presented himself, unaccompanied, in Miss Oakeiey’s sitting room at the time appointed, and they walked leis-

urely back to “The Knoll,” talking pleasantly of many things. “So Callander took his disappointment about bis intended-second edition of the ‘honeymoon’ very calmly,” said Standish. “Very kindly and calmly, though I think he was wofully disappointed. Perhaps he is better at home, as he has had a return, of fever and ague. He is a dear. I think Mabel is so lucky to have found such a husband!” “I think she is. What shall Ido when you marry, too? - My occupation will be o’er, without a willful ward to manage.” Thus talking they reached the house, and in the hall they found Mrs. McHugh, the nurse. “Has Mrs. Callander come in?” “No, miss; she was going out to meet tifle Colonel early, but just as she was putting on her hat in the hall, two outlandish men came*to the front door —by good luck I hadn’t gone out, so I waited with the missus, for I must say they were ugly customers. They belong to that foreign ship there, and I say they ought not to be let rampage about, frightening respectable people. One was a great, tall, wild-looking fellow with-eyes like a tiger, in a manner of speaking; the other, a fat little ch*ffp, with curls; both nearly as dark as niggers; the little one spoke a queer sort of English.” "What did they want, Nurse?” asked Standish. "Well, sir, they came inside the door as bold as brass, and the little fellow, he asks for the ‘other young lady.’ So I up and says, ‘What young lady?’ for I saw my missus was frightened, and he says, ‘The young lady as came to the ship with the gentleman what speaks Spanish.’ ‘She’s not at home,’ says I. *Then,’ says he, ‘maybe this lady would look at what my comrade here has to show.’ With that the tall one pulled off his red cap, and took a little bag all sewn with gold and silver, but very dirty, and took out a queer green stone all covered over with figures. ‘This is a something,’ I can’t remember the word, ‘a charm,’ says the little man, ‘that belonged to the Moors.’ Now’ I knew that was a lie, for the Moores are an old Irish family, my mother’s people, and no such things as that ever came out of Ireland.” “What did my sister do?” asked Dorothy. “Oh, she took it, and looked at it, and asked if the young lady wanted it. So the little man said the young lady wanted curiosities, and they had none, for they had forgotten this thing, which hung round one of their filthy necks, it seems; anyhow, Mrs. Callander was taken with it, but when the little man asked two pounds for it, I just told her it was throwing away good money. So we bargained a bit, and they agreed to let us have it “for twenty-five shillings. Then the missus says, ‘Stay here, Nurse, I’ll go fetch my purse.’ Then back she.comes, and gives the gold piece and five shillings, With a sweet smile, and says she, so gentle and sweet, ‘I hope it will bring me good fortune,’ says she. ‘How long are you to be here?’ and the little man answers that they might sail any day. • All this time the big, biack-looking sailor never took his eyes off her. I saw him glance at her beautiful rings. I can tell you I was right glad to see the back of them.” "I must show you your amulet,” said Mabel, when they returned to the drawing room, and she took it from the drawer of her work table. It was a dark green stone, roughly shaped in the form of a beetle, and covered with tiny hieroglyphics, and some square, primitive-look-ing characters. One end was perforated from side to side, as if for a chain. “It looks Egyptian; it is very curious.”' said Standish, examining it. “You ought to wear it constantly, Dorothy. It may bring you untold good fortune.” (To be continued.!