Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 32, Number 144, 16 June 1907 — Page 7

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V THIS STOIIV OF TEMPERAMENT

Of which the Conclusion ia here presented, opened last week in the drawing room of a fashionable London lady with a penchant for patronising both rising and risen genius. There appear there a brother and 6ister, Mortimer and Vivien Monmouth, who come iindtr the former classification, and Rendel Paget, a young man who has already won a name as a singer, but who is desirous of winning greater fame and fortune as an operatic composer. Paget is Infatuated with Vivien in whom he believe3 he has at last found his inspiration. That evening Paget is isited in his chambers at the Albany by a leading actress known as Mrs. Otway. Thev greet each other as friends. Their conversation discloses that they are man and wife, the parents of a seven year old boy, but that they had lived apart for several rears, their marriage unknown to the public. "Mrs. Otway," insists that for the sake ofher own reputation and for their boy's take theii marriage must be- made known. Paget reluctantly assents, but his face grows worn and haggard as he faces the prospect of telling Vivien that he is married. Mrs. Otway's parting concession of a month's delay, however, brings him temporary relief CONTINUED FROM' LAST WEEK. Copyrig,ht, 1907, by Thomas H. McKee. CHAPTER IV. Taget matched the carriage till it passed out of Eight. He admired her enormously she was pretty, feo plucky, so high-spirited, so kind. A robin woman. She was right, however, when she raid she -.vas no genius. She had a personality, an 1 had been perfectly trained by the nuns at a convent school and an old French professor from the Conservatoire in Paris. From the nuns she h.d learned distinction, and from the professor she had learned technical skill; she had inherited a vivacious, emotional temperament. Paget had been drawn to her in the first instance by her sympathy. He felt himself interpreted, justified, and subtly flattered as he had never before been interpreted, justified and flattered even by hi3 own conscience. That she, was very young, very attractive, and sweetly in love with him added to th enchantment of their relationship. On his siJe it was a marriage of tender devotion she was always sacred to him, and therefore a little remote. On her side, it w a3 a marriage of romantic sentiment longing for self-sacrifice. The longing at least was destined to be gratified. Her unselfishness was a constant reproach to Paget, who was manly enough to appreciate her virtues but not saint enough to emulate them. It shameu him to see the refined, delicate girl living with patience, in surroundings which he found absolutely intolerable actually degrading. They vhad between them something under two pounds a week she washed, and swept, and cooked, and mended: cleaned windows, and boots, scrubbed floors, and worked, as he declared, like a deckhand. Hut whereas she never surrendered, and kept up her gaiety, laughing at the squalor, discerning humor and divine intentions under every repellent appearance, he became morose, ill-humored, unhappy, and at length crushed by despair. She could think of her unborn baby; he couli only think of his wasted career. The suggestion that they should separate came mercifully from strangers. They had been together for a year; the boy was six weeks old; tha mother (sfce wa3 n'ot seventeen) was ordered change of air, as some fears were expressed lest she might sink into a decline. The nuns who had 'brought her up, and from whom she had run away in order -to marry Paget, offered to take her and her baby as boarders for a trifling sum for an indefinite term. Such a promise seemed the opening : of Paradise, and for the child's sake it was claimed with thanksgiving. Paget pav.ned his father's old meerschaum, in order to pay the cab fare from Edgeware Road to Charing Cross, and his watch paid the journey money first-class, to Paris. Funds did not allow ' him . to accompany , them further . than Boulogne, but he saw them safely into the train for the joyous , city, and wildly kissed the two poor creatures, . mother and child, and, after their departure, wildly ' wept during the solitude and under the cover of the : njght as he raced the quay. It was al! for the best ' but what a best! What a downfall! Youth, hovever, la full of resources, even whila it seeks annihilation. Paget thought seriously of leaping into the sea, but while he comtemplated tho action, he strolled in the direction of the hotels, wnlfh w.ere glittering with lights and from each one of which the strains of a hand, plyir.g lovn songs and dances, put a S&7 lilt Into h!3 flagging puis. I3y chance or destiny he entered the largest and "brightest of these establishments and studied its register in th- fnr.tastlc hope th?.t h& might find some uara-5 there that he knew. Tb tifth name under, h's haul vas the autograph of the conductor of tine 0:eru at Brussels. "Was" he Jr.?" ''Yes, Monsieur was In his roota.' T'aiet had no card, but ho wrote a. noto saying that he vraa in Boulogne, without plans seeking an ns-igernent, and, bv way of Introduction, he rjenlioaed the name of hi3 teacher at Milan. "If. ha Mil see rr.e. I need not throw mvself over txe edg to-day," thought Paget. H? was surprised to find himself waiting calmly for thu answer. It came after twentv minutes delay. Th; great man would fee him. Paget's appearance, although he was travel-stained and his eys sbowe 1 the traces of misery, astonished Monienr R;bardo, his two secretaries, and hJs manager. Whit e trouvaille: Wh-n he sang, althoueh' h sels. , "What for!" "I might do sotrelhlng for you." "1 can go nowhere on an uncertainty." Th raanger now felt Quite certain that there would be something. Ten dar? Liter he made his first emphatic success an a !r.ger appearing in Les Huguenots. The rst check he received, vas spent In purchasing & VEXT V

was a nine noare, fcis Hearers exchanged glances "A foi tnrel Another M, rep" He sang a second song. The conductor urged him to come to Brus

bracelet for Cara and a coral for the boy. He felt sure, he wrote, that they were happy in the convent. News of his triumphs reached all the relatives who had broken -with him on account of hi6 imprudent marriage. They sent him congratulations, and, when ho returned to London, he was Invited to their houses, introduced as a coming celebrity, and praised as a brilliant fellow. He sang at fashionable parties and at ballad concerts; he gave recitals, and his photographs were reproduced in tho illustrated papers. Money was made but it was never sufficient for his expenses or his wants, and half of it was cent, scrupulously, to hi5 wife and little Rendel. Cara. after two years' devotion to the child, regained her t-trength and accepted an engagement to "walk on" in a Shakespearian revival at one of the large theaters. She, too, found friends; she, too, obtained a hearing; she, too, made a success; ehe, too, spent her first considerable check in gifts a gold cigarette-case for Rendel and an absurd perambulator on C-springs for the child. "But wo must each go our way," she told her husband. Life together under the same roof was unimaginably. Both decided to keep the fact of their marriage a secret. "Why make talk?" "Wo were both too young to avoid mistakes," she would always say; "now let us both be too wisa to make them." They remained friends, but, by common consent, they met seldom and wrote seldom There was. about the time of Cara's return to London, a small school of dramatic art established by some really accomplished persons. Its classes were held in a hall near Regent Street, and its presiding genius was the famous Isabella Dallas Glyn, now deceased. A fierce instructor but a noble friend, she exerted herself to help the pathetic Mrs. Otway (as Cara was now called); secretly and for nothing she gave her extra lessons, and at last arranged the special matinee of Romeo and Juliet at the school. Paget, on hearing of his wife's ambition, became alarmed, and the tension of his mind was not eased when he found her, in calling at her lodgings, learning her part and rocking the baby to sleep at the same time. She was crooning a kind of lullaby, to which she had adapted the words

of Juliet's speeches. As Paget entered, she motioned him to remain silent while she continued hermusical murmur: "Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day; It was the nightingale, and not the lark That piere'd the fearful hollow of 'thine ear; Nightly she sings, on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale." "You cannot work In this way," exclaimed the Indignant artist; "it is absurd." "I'm only learning my words." "But your mind Isn't in them." He never forgot the scene. It was on a third Soor of a dingy house in Titchfield Place, Tavistock Sou are. From the window he could see back-yards and chimneys; tho door opened on to a dark and narrow landing. The room Itself was clean but hare; lis furniture consisted of a cradle, a high chair pushed against the table, which was littered with toys, a child's bath, a small wardrobe and a smaller bed. He noticed, on the mantel-piece, . spirit lamp and contrivance for preparing the child's food. Cara's red cloak and blue serge skirt hnng en the hooks of the door. She herself was wearing a dressing-gown of violet color, which made her blonde skin seem very fair and her auburn hair full of ruddy lights. The child,' with one small loving arm pressed close to his breast, was fast asleep and superb far too heavy for the slight mother whom he did not resemble. .Paget stooped and kissed the boy's cheek, which looked like a fresh peach and had the soft perfume of a flower. "Your !Ight is not day-light, I know It. It is some meteor that the sun exhales.

Week " The

But as the boy was now deep in slumber, she laid him in his cot, rocked it tenderly for some seconds, then turned to Paget with flashing eyes. "i must work in my own way. Would you now like to hear 'Gallop apace,' and the potion scene? There'.! the book give me the cues,, and I'll run through the third and fourth acts. But you musn't speak too loud." She began nervously, because he had hurt her feelings by not praising the child's splendid appearance. But she soon gained confidence, and he was astonished at her beautiful delivery of the difficult verse. They worked together at her part for pearly two hours; he was a fastidious critic and an incomparable coach because he had the creative faculty, which not one actor ia ten thousand possesses at all. A multitude of recollections and impressions rose up before Paget after he had watched Cara's carriage drive away, and he had returned to his rooms. He tried to think he was sorry for Cara, and he blamed himself savagely for having disturbed her life. "And I have never really admired blondes. I like dark women; they are more uncertain and more subtle." CHAPTER V. Cara said to herself as she drove away. "Who is tho new love?" Before twenty-four hours had passed, she knew. One of her many friends had been at the Dallas-Brookes' party, seen Paget, and seen tho girl, Vivien Monmouth. "What is she like?" asked Cara. "A little slip of a thing," said the friend, who was an artist; "not unlike you." . "Not unlike me!" exclaimed the actress, astonished. "But she's dark and pale as though she were a Japanese print, taken from a portrait of you, in oils, by Whistler." "I must see her." "That's easily arranged. She's going to play at Barllloa's concert to-morrow afternoon." "Take me," said Mrs. Otway. She attended the concert; she saw Vivien. "He'll

MRS. OTWAY ENTERED THE ROOM. SHE WrAS PALER THAN

break her heart," she thought; "I must save her somehow." She went behind the scenes to congratulate Barillon, and she asked to have Vivien presented to her. Vivien was much touched by the kindness of tho celebrated Mrs. Otway, and when that lady offered to drive her home, she accepted the proposal gladly. Their talk on the way to Blenheim Crescent was trivial enough. But when Mrs. Otway reached the house, she, too, stepped out of the carriage, and entered it with Vivien. "I love to see an environment," she explained. Tho drawing-room, which overlooked a square, was plainly furnished; a grand piano was the costly object; the few picture on the walls were photographs of paintings in the National Gallery and of statues in the British Museum. A sallow man about five-and-forty was sitting by thy window, smoking a cigarette. Vivien introduced him to Mrs. Otway as Mr. Bembridge. "Where's Cecil?" he asked, after some forced remarks about the concert and the weather. "In his room, I suppose," said Vivien, coldly; and Mr. Bembridge. with an ashamed air, left the two ladies together. Mrs. Otway realized that Bernbridge was one of the girl's admirers; that the girl was tired of him; that he was by no means tired of the girl. "He's a very old friend of my brother's; said Vivien: "he's a barrister." Mrs. Otway stood by the mantel-piece, looking at the ornaments. "Who's that?" she asked, suddenly, as her eyes fell on the miniature .of a handsome man in a red uniform. "It's some relative," said Vivien; "a distant one." F

By Gelett-B

"Indeed." said Mrs. Otway, still staring. It was her own father the dashing, inconstant, unprincipled Captain O'Reilly. "I seem to know his, face," said Mrs. Otway; "who painted the miniature?" "My mother," said Vivien. "Your mother?" "Yes- she painted miniatures." "Is she living?" "O. no! I don't even remember her." "And did your father marry again?" asked Mrs. Otway, subtly. "He too, is dead. I never saw him." Then they both studied the miniature. When thev looked away, they looked into each other's eyes; then they looked, with flashing eyes, into the mirror in front of them. There was no mistaking the resemblance. "I was especially anxious to see you," said Mrs. Otway, in husky tones, "because I was told we were so much alike. Are we? We are certainly like him." She pointed to the miniature. "I may as well tell you at once as he is one of your relatives. I'm very lonely I haven't kith or kin. If you are a cousiit or anything I should be delighted. Ha ho was ray father." Vivien was more emotional than Mrs. Otway. She was also ten years younger less trained to conceal or to control her girlish feelings. "Your father!" she repeated, bursting Into tearful laughter; "then I may as well tell 3-ou. He was mine, too. I knew all along that I should hear something extraordinary in a minute. What a world!" Mrs. Otway threw her arms round the girl, and they wept together with joy because it was so new, strange, ani overwhelming to feel the right to love another human being in peace and unquestioned. "I'm engaged to that Mr. Bembridge," said Vivien, presently. "And I'm in such trouble. It Is all fate that you came to-day. I never believed in prayer, but lately I have been praying for a woman friend who would understand this and help me. I don't love Bembridge any more. I have met somebody else I love ten thousand times better. Bembridge has been waiting for me to grow up it is dreadfully hard on him, and he has been so good

USUAL. to me. But I cannot marry him." "Can you marry this other man?' "Yes but not for a year or two." "Has he spoken of marriage?" "Not in so many words." "Ah!" "But he means that, of course!" "H'm!" "Don't say Hm!' If you saw him, you would know ho was in earnest." "How long have you known him?" "A fortnight." "Good Heavens! And how often have you met him?" "Six times. He's coming to call on Uncle this afternoon. Now I have just found you, I don't want to send you away. Won't you wait and see him just for a minute?" "No! said Mrs. Otway. . "He might think it was arranged. Men hate being stared at when they call. I'll go away now, but I'll come again and see yoxi to-morrow morning." "If you w?int to be an angel and a real sister, you can help me very much. You might take Philip with you into tho Square and keep him thetg until Mr. Paget has gone. I don't want them to meet." "So Paget is the man's name?" said Mrs. Otway. "Swear to keep it a secret!" "I'll swear," replied Mrs. Otway, drily. She walked round the room, meditating as she went. "It isn't a bad idea to take this Bembridge into the Square," she said; "I'd like to know him. But don't let this Mr. Paget stay too long." Vivien ran out into the hall and called, at the foot of the staircase: "Philip!"

"She call. him Philip." thought Mrs. Otway; "I should be more hopeful If she had said 'Phil However.". . . Vivien soon re-entered the drawing-room, followed by th? sallow man of forty-five. He vai well-bred, rather plain, somewhat melancholy, and dogg'd. Mrs. Otway thought the girl fortunate In having secured such a fiance by every indication born to make a devoted husband and father. "I ara expecting an agent every minute," said Vivien, glibly; "so will you show Mrs. Otway the Square while I see him? He won't stay long." Bembridge could but say that he would be too happy to walk with Mrs. Otway in the garden. "This i3 too kind of you," said the actress, when Bembridge had led her to some chairs, under a tree. "Let us talk about that dear, clever child. Must she go into public life? It will never suit her." Bembridge's countenance lit up: "I hate the whole business," said he; "I wish to goodn?ss I could take her away from it all." "Can't we manage to do that?" said Mrs. Otway. and they began to consider the case. CHAPTER VI. Vivien, meanwhile, had barely time to take oft her hat Paget preferred her hatless, as he adruired her brow and the shape of her head before Paget himself was announced. The sight of his wife's brougham being driven slowly up and down the Crescent had given him many misgivings. But he knew sho had a number of acquaintances, and he inferred that she was calling on some one in that street. That she could be calling on Vivien was a suspicion which never occurred to him. Still, the coincidence had disturbed his temper, and, as he was shown into the drawing-room, Vivien's resemblance to Cara struck him for the first time. "Good Lord!" he thought; "now I know why I seem to know her so well. She's a dark, thin, white, Immature Cara." The shock of this discovery took away his breath and his presence of mfnd. He stood gazing at Vivien as though she were ghost. "What Is the matter with roe?" she asked. . "I have found out you are the image in some amazing way of a woman I know a blonde, utterly different woman, with pink cheeks and blue eyes." "You mean Mrs. Otway?" He was too startled to reply. "Every one says I look like Mrs. Otway," said Vivien with impatience. "Have you never heard that before? And it isn't surprising. We are Bisters." "Merciful Heavens!" The human countenance can be so swept by certain Innr emotions that it becomes a blank. Paget a face really seemed to fade before the girl's eyes, and she was aware only of a most unhappy presence in the 100m. "What is the matter?" she asked again almost In "It is dreadful!" he said; "too dreadful! O, I am sorry. I'm so mortally, bitterly sorry. I can never forgive myself. But it's the fault of the type." "The what?" "Tho type," he repeated. She paused a moment before replying. . "You say that as though I was nothing at all, and you didn't love me any more." "Don't try to make me explain. Forget all about me. I'll go on loving you, but I must never see you again." The girl had spent her whole life among men and women of the artistic temperament. She never thought them mad, and she accepted their vagaries as calmly as the Philistines accept false sentiment. Nevertheless, she fixed her dark yearning eyes on hid, and taid, with a sob: "It's so extreme to part forever just because I look like Mrs. Otway." "There are other reasons." She shrugged her shoulders: "You have got some Idea on your nerves." .' "No It's more serious than any Idea! Good-by, flear little girl! Sweet little Vivien!" But she brushed away her tears: "You're heartless, or you wouldn't sacrifice me for the sake of a fad. I must say what I think. AH the same, you made yourself quite ill. Yoti look half-dead. I asked Mrs Otway to wait and see 5'ou. I was so proud of you." His jaw fell: , "Is she here?" "Yes; in the Square. I'll call her up. Sh knows you are with me." Before he could stop her, she moved to the window and beckoned to the pair in the garden. "I don't want to see her," he exclaimed, when he could trust his voice; "she's the last person I want at this moment." "She's my sister, and you've got to see her," said Vivien; "I won't be treated in this off-hand, casual way. You must make it seem as though I had broken with you. That's only gentlemanly." "But don't you understand, or won't you?" "I can't pretend to understand. Still, you must let mo save self-respect. Mrs. Otway entered the room. She was paler, ani yet more merry than usual. "Ah, it is Mr. Paget!" said she, holding out her hand; "we rarely meet nowadays." , "I was thinking," said Vivien, "that you could give him a lift in your carriage. He's got a nervoui headache." Siie had forgotten Bembridge, till his form loomed behind Mrs. Otway's in the doorway. Mrs. Otwav was all graciousness and concern for Mr. Paget's headache. Before he could realize the difficulty, the inconceivability, the desperation ol the situation, he was sitting by Cara's side In hei single brougham. "How much does that poor little thing know?" hi whispered, at last. "Nothing," said Cara. "Who can tell her?" "Mr. Bembridge."

This reply roused him from the torpor of hli humiliation. "Who is Bembridge?" "The man," said Mrs. Otway, "who has beei waltiag to marry her for nearly five years. Bui he won't tell her till they are married." Mrs. Otway, who had a heart of tender kindness, nodded her head and looked away from the sufferei out of the window. "How she deceived me," he said, with indignt tion. Even then Mrs. Otway never smiled. Sh touched his hand lightly, and glanced at the sunset "What can one expect," she asked, "from hamai nature I. It hurts everybody." ---.-, 99