Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 39, Number 100, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 August 1907 — A SMILING VILLAIN. [ARTICLE]

A SMILING VILLAIN.

By VIOLET M. FLINN.

CHAPTER llL—(Continued.) The Rector greeted the young man with his usual cordiality. It was impossible for him to be anything but genial in his own house, and perhaps Bertram knew that. But the Rector also possessed an easy facility for forget-' ting unpleasant things, and Bertram had been so long away and had been so young when he had taken an abrupt and somewhat mysterious departure from bls native land, that wjien he reappeared, fresh, unihug, debonair, with all his old charms of manner and face intensified, and showed such a flattering desire to resume his old relations at the Rectory, Mr. Beresford was tolerant-enough to ignore the past, to remember that, after all, Jia had been little more than a boy, and to reflect thankfully that Moyra was a sensible gift. And as the days went on and Bertram became a frequent and familiar visitor the past grew very dim to the Rector, and he was ready enough to join in the approval expressed by all save Moyra She could not forget the past; hers was aot the nature to lose the remembrance of past unhappiness and grief- She often wonoered how Bertram could laugh nhd jest as he did. She marvelled that he could throw off so easily the recollection •f everything awkward and disagreewle. Trouble, anxiety, shame bad left no depths in the dark laughing eyes, had h' , 't untouched the smooth face. Yet Moyra •onld never cross the threshold of father's study without a throb of the old pain.

Her silence now passed uhnotieed in the general talk. Bertram spoke well and fluently; he had a quisle perception of the graphic and picturesque ,portions of his narrative and a happy power'of de; •cription that enchained his audience. They all hung on his words. Lulu perch- < ed herself on his knee; even Delda looked interested nnd forgot her superiority for the time. But Bride, lovely Bride —Moyra’s heart sank as she watched her. She sat, her chin resting on her hands, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her eyes fixed with absorbed attention on the handsome speaker, who might himself have been the chief actor in the drama he described, so foreign and romantic was his own appearance. - Moyra clasped her hands with sudden anger. No—she would speak to Bride. She would* not let her suffer as she had done. She kept firmly to her resolution, which was strengthened by a chance remark made by the senior curate as they arranged the details of a concert later in the evening. "What a lovely girl Bride is growing!” he exclaimed suddenly. ‘‘l think young Charteris has discovered the same thing, eh? They make a Very handsome couple —she so fair, he so dark.” “Yes,'’ Moyra answered faintly. Her steps were very slow as she climbed the narrow stairs that led to the attic bedroom shared by Bride and Delda; What was she to say to the girl? Would ■he not perhAps do more harm than good by speaking upon matters which might never have entered her innocent mind? Moyra sighed. There were times when she felt that too great a responsibility had ben laid upon her, when she cotild have sunk under, its weight. "If only it had been Delda, I would not mind,” she thought. “She is only sixteen, but she's far more grown up than poor Bride. But if Bride—oh, I couldn't bear any trouble to come to Bride!”

CHAPTER IV. Del da was fast asleep, her clothes neatly folded on the chair beside her bed, her —4wd nf the room in perfect order. But at Bride's end —just as she removed her things so they lay—the white gown in a heap on the floor, the bronze shoes far apart, everything in disorder, and Bride herself in the airiest garb placidly brushing her hair and munching toffee at the same time. How could one talk of fascinating ineligibles to a big, overgrown baby with a lump of toffee in her cheek? She was surprised to see her sister, but she smiled very affectionately and offered her some of the sweetmeat. •'lt's a little burnt, but it does not taste much," she said. “1 say, Moyra”—the color rising in her face—"don’t you think Bertram is %n awfully brave man?" "We have his word for it,” Moyra answered, with a little bitterness; and then, with an inward prayer, she plunged into the subject on her mind and scolded Bride very gently for having admitted Bertram by the school room window. "You see, dearest, you are grown up now and must behave like a woman.” Bride's face grew pink; her lips pouted like an injured child’s. “f—l didn’t mean anything. 1 hate being grown up I I didn’t want to be. And 1 like Bertram. He’s clever, but he doesn’t worry me, as the curates do, or tease as Terry does. „ It's beastly to be grown up! It's nothing but you mustn't, you mustn’t, and all the nice things aren't proper. I wish 1 was Lulu I” Moyra consoled her as sympathetically as she could. She pictured the delights of the coming-out ball, of theaters and afternoon teas, bnt Bride’s spirits did not revive to their customary cheerfulness. “I’d rather go skating with the boys and make messes in the school room!" she sighed. "But I will really try t<J remember i I’m grown up, Moyra. Mr. Charteris wants to paint my portrait as Desdemona, he says,” Bride continued, looking at her dim reflection in the glass with nearly a wakened interest. " He—he says he’s been looking for his ideal Desdemona for years." “And he thinks he’has found her in you?” Moyra rose, "Yes —we will have your portrait painted some day. dearest, but not by Bertram. I, think. He is only an amateur. I must gd now. Good night, my darling! Sleep well!”—and she took the slender young form in her arms with a closeness of embrace that only faintly shadowed the intensity of her love. She had recovered her customary serenity when morning came, and at dinner time she was delighted by the news brought borne by the twins that Bertram had gone away.

"He said he had been summoned to London,” Gerry said, “Isn't it funny how h« goes away so suddenly?” Brid* reccived the news s > unconcernedly that Moyra'S heart was gladdened, and she began to wonder if she .had been unnecessarily anxious. For the time being she dismissed Mr. Charteris from her mind and began to prepare for the newcomer, Who had announced by wire his arrival at a Portuguese port, and also his acceptance of Mr. Beresford’s invitation. The interest in him was confined to the two elders, the others being absorbed in speculations concerning the big house, as the Mount was generally called, in contradistinction to its smaller lower-standing neighbor. The young ones were inclined to resent the intrusion of’tbe newcomers, who were evidently arriving soon, for workmen were in full possession of the house and grounds. “We aha’n’t be able to have any more of those Ribston pippins,” Bride sighed, “They are such nice apples, too!” The morning of the lara's arrival at Caterham was marked by a heavy fog that enveloped river r* and land in its stifling embrace. All day there was the booming of fog horns on theriver.lbe .unceasing shrilling of steam whistles, as boats crept cautiously up and down the crowded river. At the Rectory*"fc was '"impossible to see a yard from the winder s As evening drew near Lulu, who hated being cooped indoors, began to grow decidedly cross and to prophesy all sorts of casualties'as she-sat on the drawing' room hearthrug. With the advent of ten, nnd the twins in their second-best garb, and lamplight Lulu revived her usual sunny self, and the family clustered round the table with bright faces and lively tongues. It was the hour of day Moyra liked best —when her babies were around her and she sat enthroned amongst them. Every worry and anxiety faded away at such times, and she could laugh and joke as blithely as any of them, even while she felt a happiness they were not capable of expcriencing. • ' Tea was in full swing. The buttered toast and macaroons were vanishing rapidly. Lulu was growing critical as to the little cakes with colored stigar in the cake basket. Bride and Gerry were sitting on, tlie a plate of egg-sandwiches between thorft\while Delda was describing with much faithful detail the frock she wanted for the prize distribution. “I really think you must make your white summer alpaca do,” Moyra began. “You are growing so fast that your silk would be of no use to you next year ” She stopped short. Delda, who was facing her, had suddenly stared with stupefied amazement at some point behind Moyra, apparently, judging from the direction of her-eyes, in the middle of. the wall. Moyra twisted round in her chair, and then, like Delda, stared aghast. The crown of a head appeared above the high painted screen that was placed before the door. In another second the Rector came 4 into the room, his face brimming over with amusement, and behind him towered the biggest man 4 Moyra had ever seen, and, she decided in that brief inspection, the ugliest. ■ “My dear;" said the Rector, “alow me to introduce Mr. Angus Robertson to you.”

CHAPTER V. "He's a beauty I He isn’t a patch on Bertram in looks, but he's a brick and ‘good class,’ which, between you and me, Delda, Bertram isn’t,” The occasion was, a Sunday morning several days after Mr. Robertson's arrival, -and the Bercsfords were going to_chiirelL Angus Robertson had won golden opinions at the Rectory in the short time that he had passed there since his arrival. He had slipped at once into the family circle, yet without presuming on his intimacy. There was nothing showy or superficial about him. He talked very little, being naturally of a silent, reserved nature, but what he had to say was worth hearing. Few men had traveled as much as he had done. There was no trouble in entertaining him; he was perfectly content with a book and Lulu’s chatter, although the occasional light that shone in his eyes and the line.s in his big, fair, tanned face seemed to denote that he was not naturally of a placid, unenterprising nature. He had no precisions to good looks. His features were without distinction, and there was a decided ruddy tinge in his thick hair, but he had a wonderfully sweet smile, perfect teeth, and an expression that made Moyra decide at the first glance that he was a man to be trusted. He bad been intensely amused to learn they had expected a small schoolboy, and had astonished the Rector by divulging that his mother bad been the cousin whom Alec Robertson had been forbidden to see. Before he had gone abroad his father had paid his love a stolen visit, and the outcome of it had been that she had left her home, joined him in Glasgow, and they had been married before leaving the country. “Of course, her family disowned her utterly, but in spite of poverty and hard times sho- never repented her marriage. Her death when I was five years old was an awful blow to my father. He worshiped the trod, and it has always been an added grief to him that it was the hard life for which she was totally unfitted that killed her. Since then* he and I have wandered all over the He cannot sbwte; he has the spirit of unrest in him”: —with his quick smile. "When T~was sixteen 1 went to an American university for two years, while he was gold-prospecting in Alaska. Then 1 joined him ih Melbourne, and we have been in Australia ever since. Eight months ago he determined to revisit South America, where he was interested in a ranche, and as he seemed likely to stay there some time T determined to visit the only country pdid not know.” Moyra. did hot think that in thia ceaseless travel and trying .of new ventures the Robertaaas had acquired wealth. He always spoke as if poverty was a wellknown thing to him. never as if money

Was plentiful. His belongings ®t the simplest and-plainest order,, and once, talking to Moyra and Bride as they sew>od. he said, speaking of his first voyage to Australia, that be had worked his passage out. i \ "But why?” Bride askdd. “B.ecause I could not have got there otherwise,” he answered, laughing., "The chief”—he often spoke so of his father“had sent meno .moneynod-I-had non*. I got ’a pass over tlie railway, and T sold everything I could, but in the end I had to ship as a handv-man. It was a new experience,” he added placidly. “A very horrid one, I should say," Bride answered. “I should have waited for some money from my father.” “Not when my father told me to go to him at once!” he said. “He is ’the chief* and must be obeyed. Woe betide any one who ventured to wail!” Bride looked astonished, and Angus’ eyes twinkled. He admired her frankly, bu°t Moyra felt no anxiety concerning him on her “account. Bride’s color was never heightened by his presence. It was only Bertram Charteris who could make her flush shyly, who could bring the timid light into her*childish eyes. And for the present Bertram had passed from her. Robertson liked the service at the handsome modern church with its suggestion of old-world transepts and far-reaching columns that was the pride of the Rector's heart. He sat behind the Rectory bench with Gerry, and, although he showed conspicuous reverence and attention, "the school boy noticed that his eyes wandered during the sermon from one face to another and finally rested on the three directly before him-*—Bride placid and lovely. Lulu with bright eyes telegraphing di vers'greetings to friends-scattered aropnd, and Moyra with her sweet, grave face and unaffected'piety. It was at Moyra he looked longest, Gerry noticed. The sermon, an unusually brief-one, came to an end, and the congregation found itself dismissed some ten minutes earlier than usual. It was a ctear day—more like a February afternoon than a December morning—and the sun shone with a warnith and brilliancy that were most unseasonable but very pleasant. The river lay very still, lapping on the 'firm sand witlT'a' child-like murmur. Here and there was to be seen the far-off smoke of a steamer far down the estuary, but for the most part all was bathed in Sabbath quiet and rest and illumined by a golden haze" the—distant: city and the dock walls under transfiguring influences. “One of the most important cities of -the world is within__two_ milesof us,” —Angus -suddenly exclaimed, as the others, ran down to th.' water's edge, having him alone with Moyra, “yet we might be on thp edge* of the Australian—ibush—it is all so quiet and deserted—in spite of , the Rectory chimneys peeping above the ''sandhills,” he added? “VVhat a lovely day! Do you know, I fancied it was always raining in England?” They dropped iuto a quiet desultory talk of a somewhat personal kind, only interrupted now and again by Lulu racing up with a strip of seaweed or a shell lor inspection, or the calls from the quartet at the water's edge. For some reason or other that sober hour on the sands impressed itself vividly on Moyra's memory. Certain phases of atmosphere, that peculiar holy-day hush on the river, or the sandy hillocks always recalled to her mind that pleasant December Sunday and the big form, the long, steady, swinging , walk, of her companion. (To“be continued.)