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A Fear/Hhrobhing fomance 7 /astionatle Society Life
Continued from Preceding Page.
“No doubt” with & youthful
gneer. “He has too good an opln
fon of himself to risk a faflure. His
fame must not be imperflled. But
the progress of a conquering hero
gets a little trying after a time.”
“To ordinary people?” she guer
fed, innocently. “Yes, I can quite
understand that” And the dance
for which Mr. Rendel had waited
g 0 impatiently proved to be a fall
ure. He began to think that the
night which had promised so glor
fously would end In unbroken
gloom. .
“What an {dlot I am!” he 'pon
dered, miserably, as Felicity pat
down by Lady Sarah and he felt
himself dismissed. “Of course, she
put me down as a contemptible,
4ealous, envious beast. But [ don't
like Delacour, and in any case she
{8 miles too good for any con
founded foreigner.”
“Archie Rendel is a nice boy,”
Lady Sarah remarked. “You and
he ought to get on well together.
You must have plenty in common.”
“On the contrary,” Fellcity re
plied, with some hauteur, “I do not
think we found a single toplc on
which we could agree.”
Lady Sarah laughed.
“] had no idea Archie was so
difficult,” she sadd, “But when one
{s young one is apt to have very
decided opinions and to alr them
in and out of season.”
“] think older men are more in
teresting,” Felicity sald, geriously.
1 11ke to talk to somebody who has
thad some experience of life and
xnows the world” Lady Sarab
Jooked at her with amused eyes.
“Oh, my dear, you are at an age
when all our sympathies go out to
gloom and secret BOrTOWS, and we
flatter ourselves we could console
or reform-—as the case may he—
though every one else has falled.
In my day we went over Byron and
his woes, which we didn't under
gtand any more than you under
gtand his successors in the present
generation, It is queer, though It
{s pathetic, too, that young people
ghould clamor to know what their
elders would gladly forget.”
But Felicity was a little offended
at being treated as a child and
gently laughed at for rqyuantie
fdeas. Mr. Delacour had talked to
her like an equal and evidently ap
preciated her sympathy and never
questioned her capacity for under
gtanding. She thought Lady Sarah
very hard and worldly and said no
more,
“] ses you have Mr. Delacour
here to-night,” Mlss Lethbridge
suld to Estcourt when they were
talking together in a qulet reccss.
They were neither of them very
fond of dancing, so that it was not
difficult for her to get him alone.
“Yes,” a little surprised at her
remark. “He Is one of the best
dancing men, isn't he? He always
seems in geeat demand on these
occasions.”
“I don't think” slowly, “that he
‘will be in quite such demand In
future.”
“Why not? What do you mean ™
“Well, 1 don’'t want to be 11l
‘patured, and yet, perbaps, Yyou
ought to know, as and Lady Est
court are such frignds, I thought
you might have h rd something.”
" %I have heard nothing. I am al
ways the last to hear any gossip at
the clubs.”
“They say,” reluctantly, “that
there was something queer about
the way he left the French Embassy.
It is even hinted that he was asked
to resign his appointment. ot
courss, 1 don't know how true it
may all bs, but I thought at the
time it seemed strange that he
should throw up his career so sud
denly.”
“It {8 only rumor, you say? He
may have enemies.” "
“It {8 only & rumor in a senss,
dut it does not lack confirmation.
It seems to be supported by a cer
tain amount of reason. It is cer
tainly a fact that his former con
freres are very cool to him. He
used to be & great favorite with
Colonel de Ligny, but I saw them
meet the other night and he passed
him with the slightest inclinatlon
of the head, Mr. Delacour was ob
viously embarrassed. Of course,
one {s never likely to get at the
truth if there has really been any
thing wrong. The Embassy people
will hush it up for their own
sakes."
Lord Estcourt looked grave. e
was more particular than most peo
ple as to his visiting list and he
avolded any one to whom a doubt
or a slur attached, On no account
would he have allowed his wife to
receive such a person on intimate
terms. But at the same time he
was too just to condemn on the
sllght evidence which was all, ap
parently, that Miss Lethbridge
could bring forward against Mr
Delacour.
However, Estcourt did not forget
what she had sald, and when he
came across an old friend, who was
not only in & position to know most
singe but who seldom talked
about them, he made a point of
asking him whether he had heard
any unfavorable rumors about Del
acour, &
“I ask you,” Estcourt sald, as his
eriend hesitated, “because he comes
to my house a good deal, and it
there is anything wrong 1 should
break off the intimacy.”
“Yes,” was the deliberate reply,
*as it 18 you I will acknowledge
that 1 have heard that Delacour
was concerned in his official capac
jty with some deubtful transaction
a:‘d‘ that he was requested to re
by his Government,*
10
“And you belleve him to be
gullty?”
“As a matter of fact, I know noth
ifng, and as he was not punished
it 1s reasonable to suppose that
nothing was proved. All (he same,
i 1 were in your place I should be
tnclined to keep him at a distance.”
And, knowing his man, that was
enough for Estcourt,
“Norah,” he gald to his wife that
same day, “there 1s some unpleas
ant mystery about Mr. Delacour.
Heo 1s more than suspected of dis
honorable conduct when he was at
tached to the French Embassy. I
cannot exactly forbid him the
house, but I do not wish him to be
invited hore again, and yon must
have as littls to do with him as
possible.”
CHAPTER XIII.
“The Moving Finger Writes; and
Having Writ, Moves On.”
OR a minutes Lady BEstcourt
F oould not speak. She did not
know what to eay. Her hus
band had spoken quite quietly, but
she knew that a few words from
him meant mors than a great deal
of angry bluster from many men.
When he had once made up his
mind he was very hard to move,
She doubted her power to alter his
decision now, but she was bound
to try, Bhe knew how much de
pended on it ?
“It does not seem like you to
condemn any oné a mere evil re
port,” she said, warmly., “You are
generally more generous,
Mr, Delacour is looked
npon @as one of our
{ntimate friends; how can
1 suddenly let him drop
without any excuse?”
“I do not think you will
de the only one to change,”
he replied, “but, even {f
you are, I cannot permit
you to show him the same
attention as hitherto. Ido
not choose to receive as a
guest a man whose honor
has been smirched.”
“But nothing has been
proved against him or we
should have heard of it.
Surely now is the time for
his friends to rally round
him; it is a poor friend
ghip that falls away at the
first whisper of evil. 1 do
not believe he has done
anything to ddserve such
crnel treatment.”
She was a little sorry
for Delacour, she thought
he was being treated un
justly, and having once
nearly forfeited her own
position she could imagine
what it would be for him.
“Can’t you trust me, Norah?
Don't you know I shouldn't speak
ke this without very good reason?
1 do not think I have ever inter
fered before with any friendships
of yours; I am quite content to let
you have your own way in most
things, but this is something of
which you are hardly able to judge
—in which you must take my opin
fon.”
“I am sorry,” she said, more
gently; “1 know how good and kind
you are, only this seems rather
hard—unlike you, Won't you think
it over?” with a pleading hand on
his arm. “At least, can we not
break with Mr. Delacour gradually?
1t would be such an insult to drop
him all at once?’
“You seem very careful of his
feelings,” he sald, coldly.
A tinge of color flushed her
creamy glkin and her eyes dropped.
“We have been such friends™
she murmured, confusedly. “He
has come and gone as he pleased.”
“Yes, it would possibly have been
better if he had observed a little
more ceremony,” he answered,
dryly; “it he had taken me more
into consideration, However, all
this 1s beside the question, Though
he was neyer a favorite of mine, I
did not object to your being friend
ly with him. It {s different now.
He must’ know the reports that are
floating about and he takes no
steps to disprove them. One must
draw one's own conclusions.”
“Then your mind is made up?
You practically forbld him the
house?”
“That is what it amounts to, no
doubt,” he replied. " “If he is never
asked here he can hardly continue
to call. If he does—if hc ahould
attempt to keep on an intimate
footing with you—l shall know
what to do. But Ido not suppose
there will be any trouble.”
Then he left the room. He had
sald all that was necessary and he
did not intend to refer to the sub
ject again. He saw that Norah was
troubled and vexed, but he thought
it very natural that she should be
a little upset at having to dismiss,
o pleasant companion so abruptly.
He regretted the necessity, but he
did not belleve In half measurea,
“What shall I do?" she asked her
selt when ghe was alone. “What
‘will he say?" Delacour had given
her a taste of his temper at thelr
last interview; she had felt the
fron hand in the velvet glove and
she was afraid. “My help was to
be the price of his silence. Now I
cannot give it. Wil honor be suffi.
clent to close his lipa?” At one
time she would not have doubted,
but she doudbted now.
The fallowing afternoon Norah
was “At home” to her friends, and
s good many people dropped in,
including Mr. Delacour and Mlss
Lethbridge.
She was rellieved that her hus
band was out of the way; he al
ways avolded such affairs, having
little taste for the soclety of fash
fonable idlers. She must contrive
to get a few words alone with Mr,
Delacour; it would be impossible to
tell him here what had bhappened;
ghe must arrange a private inter
view, preferably out of doors. It
would be a difficult interview and
ghe could not risk an interruption;
ghe dreaded what he might say or
do in the heat of the moment,
thml” 2
wh bridge, _ i :
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S WYL e
Harassed by such forebodings
she could pot laugh and talk as
usual, and to hide her distraction
she asked Delacour to sing. He
had an expressive temor voice,
which never falled to charm his
numerous admirers. While he was
singing Lady Estcourt knew that
no one would notice or talk to her,
“What shall it be?" he asked
Felicity, who was to play his ao
companiment, as he turned over
some musie. Then, befors she
could answer, he picked up a song
and put it on the plano.
It was a curious choice consider
ing all the circumstance, and he
himself would have been puzzled
to say why he had chosen it. Per
haps he was consclous of a certain
coolness, to which he was unao
customed, and wished to charm his
adience back to their old alleg
fance, His volice was suited to
pathos and sent!ment, and he could
sing this song perfectly. Perhaps,
a 8 sometimes happens with a sensi
tive nature, he had a warning of
things to come, though he was un
consclous of it
“We have drunken of Lethe at
last, we have eaten of
lotus;
What hurts it us here that
gorrows are born and die?
We have sald to the dream that
caressed and the dread
that smote us,
Good-night and good-dbye.”
He lingered on the last words as
if reluctant to say farewell, Did
he realize, Norah wondered, that
the old life waa leaving him? That
the things he had valued so highly
—popularity, ease, destinction—
were on the wane? That he had
had the best of existence, as he
understood it, and that the future
would give him over less and less?
There was a chorus of applause
when he finished; only Felicity
sald nothing.
“Did you not like my song?” he
asked, as the conversation flowed
on again more merrily for the brief
pause.
“The words are beautiful, of
course,” she said, “but I don’t like
the sentiment. Why should we let
everything drift by us like that?”
This girl, just out of her convent
school, began to interest him, Bhe
had fresh ideas and opinions of her
own and did not hesitate to express
them. Of course, they were crude
and exaggerated, but they struck
htm as more wholesoms than most
of the ideas that prevafled in his
world,
“Because so few things are worth
the trouble of holding on to, I sup
pose,” he replied, wondering what
she would say.
“Oh, you cant think that,” she
eried, indignantly, “It ia such a
beantitul world, th«m? I pee al
ready that it {s the fashion to scoft
at it, and {t seems to me to offer
us 80 many good gifts, If we paas
them by until the time has gone
for enjoying them, or take them
:xp:l. misuse them, whose fault is
t
“Ours, no doudt,” he sald, look
ing at her flushed face and shining
eyes and wondering if he had ever
been roused to enthusiasm in his
youth over such abstract questions.
“At the same time, I suppose we
were mades so, and consequently
are not altogether responsible for
the havoc we most of us make of
our lives, Human nature is a cons
trary thing."
“It {s so easy to throw the blame
on fate; to sit down with folded
hands and say such things have to
be. If I were a man I would strug
gle and fight. 1 should glory in
getting the better of destiny——in
bending it to my will. I-—1" with
a sudden hesitation, “am sure you
could be famous it you wished.
Haven't you any ambition? 1 have
$0 much, and it is no good to me.”
“Then endow me with {t—inspire
me!” he exclaimed, and a new light
leaped to his eyes,, “Be my good
genlus; stop me from drifting.
Help me to strike out a new path
for myselt.” .
His volce was eager and excited;
his friends would scarcely have
recognized it. She saw that he
meant what he sald and her eyes
flashed back the light in his,
) 1919, Intermational Feature Bervice, Ise Gread Britala Bights Ressrved
“It I ocoxld!™ ghe sald, softly,
“If X could, But I know notking.
What help could I be?”
“Have fxith in me™ he said,
earnestly, “Let me fsel that there
is some one who thinks me capable
of fine things and who will be my
friend even if I £all on evil days,”
Felicity would make a finer,
stronger woman than her sister.
She had more strength of character
than Lady Estcourt and was less
inclined to walk in econventional
ways. Though ghe was so young
she could think and act for herself
i 2 need be,
a:n no vight to aak for such
a t; mn on. *“You vfi:y
come my presumption
bitterly some day, but I will risk
that, If I can think of anything
that I can do, and if I try my best
to do it, will you take an interest
fn my work? ]am not such &
fighter as you, and I shall want &
little encouragement at first.”
*oOf course I will take an inter
est,” she said, looking straight at
him with her \rkht. foarless eyes,
“the greatest interest, lam proud
that you have trusted me. I shall
be still more proud some day to
remember that I prophesied your
fame—that I even perhaps had
something to do with {t”
“Everything!™ he cried, gayly.
*lf my laurel crown ever arrives
it will be you who have sent it.”
“My dear,” Lady Sarah said, softly,
to her niece, “if I were you I should
go and interrupt that evidently
very interesting interview between
your sister and Mr, Delacour. He
s just thie kind of man to fascinate
a young girl and we don’t want any
more complications.”
Lady Estcourt strolled over to
th:lplano.
r. Rendel has deen walting
quite a long time for a chance of
showing you those photographs you
asked him to bdbring” she said to
Felicity, And the girl got up has
tily, afraid that she had allowed
this absorbing conversation to
make her neglectful of other
friends,
3“ Archie Rendel found her at
tefffion rather apt to wander,
“You seemed so interested In
photography the other day,” he
sald, aggrievedly; “but I am afraid
1 am only boring you now.” He
could scarcely fail to note her lack
of appreciation as he enlarged on
the charms and difficulties of his
favorite art. *“I thought you in
tended taking it up.”
“No, 1 don’t think I shall” she
sald, carelessly. “After all, the
amateur photographer is such a
trial to one's friends.”
“Really”~—— he began.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she in
terrupted with a merry laugh;
“of course, I did not mean that to
be taken personally, But you know
how frightened pecple are of being
taken by an amateur, and not much
wonder constdering what ghastly
productions some of them are. It
seems s pity that there is nothing
between the professional photog
rapher who turns you into a pio
ture that none of your friends reo
ognize and the amateur who turns
you into & caricature.”
“l hope™— he began again,
stiffly.
“Now you are applying that to
yourself again,” she sald, petu
lantly, thinking how absurdly sen
pitlve young men were. *I wish
you wouldn’t, it makes me
quite nervous, I shall be
afraid to talk to you”
Her displeasure made
him almost abject and in
ocoherent in his haste to
appease her, and when she
geod-naturedly put an end
to his explanations he was
thorotighly convinced that
his behavior had been out
ragecus,
Lady BEstoourt had
stopped to talk to Mr, Del
acour for & minute, As
she was going away she
dropped her voioe and
sald:
“Can you meet me
Kensington Gardens sbout
12 o’clock to-morrow morn
tng? I have something of
fmportance to tell you™
“Yes,” he answered,
with uneasy astonishment,
in the same tone, wonder
ing what was the matter,
As she turned round she
saw Miss Lethbridgs close
behind and looked at her
sharply, But that lady’s
face was a well-bred blank.
It expressed no emotion
or interest whatever,
Could she have heard?
Surely she would have
given some sign If she
had.
“l was looking for you”
Miss Lethbridge sald, hold
ing out her hand. “Good
bye. Do bring Fellcity to
sae me soon. lam so fond
of young girls. They are
80 {nnocent and refreshing
to a jaded palate—don't
you think so, Mr, Dela
cour?”
“Ah, you. and I, Miss Lethbridge,
bhave lived long enough to realize
what a very pleasant thing youth
is,” he replied. “Nothing makes up
for it, does {t? Not all the per
fumes of Araby, to misquote Lady
Macbeth, can make age as sweet as
youth.”
But Miss Lethbridge, who prided
herself—and with a certain amount
of reason—on her youthful appear
ance, flushed with annoyance,
Regular habits and a complacent
conscience had kept her figure slim
and stralght, her face smooth and
unwrinkled, and st three-and-thirty
she did not look much older than
et three-and-twenty, She had the
same neutral tints, But she had
never been young as Felleity
Marchmont was,
“Have 1 been making a fool of
myself? Delacour asked himself,
as he was walking home that after
noon, “Or is the girl right? Can
I do something to get out of the
beaten track? At the moment I
was carried away by her enthus
{asm—her spirit made me eager to
do and dare.” He laughed a little
eadly. “If I had met some one like
her years ago I wonder if I should
have been different to-day?
“It would be difficult, but not
perhaps {mpossible,” he reflected,
when he reached his rooms in Duke
street and threw himself into an
arm-chair, *“I know [ can write; I
might make a name for myself in
literature, or at least a more honest
living than I am making now.”
He thought of the unfledged
youths and the aspiring rich out of
whom he had made money lately
by his skill at cards, and his lip
curled with disgust. His own In
come now was not sufficlent to
keep him in the luxury to which he
was accustomed, and he had aug
mented it in this way because it
geemed the easiest and most natu
ral. Such as they were the prey
of such as he had become,
Suddenly he sprang to his feet.
“I'll try {t!-—before heaven, I'll
try 1t!” he ‘cried. His hand shook
as he poured some wine Into a
glass. “Here's to Fellcity, my Mas
cotte! She shall be toasted as
once upon a time they toasted the
Queen.” He emptied the glass at
a draught, then threw it behind
him, where it lay, shattered in a
hundred pleces,
CHAPTER XIV.
“A Straw Misplaced May Make
Us Enemies.”
LGA LETHBRIDGE had
O heard the appointment made
by Lady Estcourt with Mr.
Delacour, and had drawn her own
conclusion.
“He must he the man"™ she
thought. “Everything points to
him. It seemed too easy & guess
at first, and they put me off the
scent, but there is no one else
who seems in the least likely, I
bave made careful inquiries, and
I canmot hear of any other man
who has been on any special terms
of friendship with Lady Hstoourt
Besides, she would mot make an
sppointment with him in Kensing
w:,oudmnxmm
they were om an exceptional foobd
mmdnohummhcnq
tmportant to say.” :
But Miss Lethbridge di motwisk
to hurry events, She was gquile
content that things should go on
as they were at present, Lady
Estcourt was beginuing to feel her
power, to watch for her ocomiag
with dread, to Hsten, with strained
perves, for her every word. She
had lost the hope that had buoyed
her up during her holiday in Scot:
land, She kmew that har enemy
had peither welemted mor lost In.
terest tn the muystery.
“You are not looking st all
well” Xstoourt sald, glancing
across the tadbles at his wile as
they sst at luach, *“Gtve up that
affatr this afternoom, You do too
muchy you are not as strong &8
you think yourselt”
“But I have promised the Duach
es 3,” Norah szid. *“Besides, lam
taking & stall; so it is tmpossitle
for me to stop away. Ido not sup
pose,” g lttle wearily, “that ¥ shall
be any more tired daing that than
anything else”
When Lady Hstoourt-Qrove swway
to take part in the charity basaam
which the Duchess of Exmoor was
holding st her house in Plocadilly
she showad lttle trace of her pre
vious weariness and @apression
But her maid knew, perbaps bettar
than anybody else, that her jady
was not as easy to dress s she
had been. At ome time nothing
came amiss; she could wesr sny~
thing and everything. Now Marie
had to exercise a certaln amount
of discretion, -
To-day, noting the fatat hollows
in her lady’s cheeks, she has
dressed the plentiful redgold halr
more loosely tham ususal, and sug
gested a dlue velvet gown, which
gave an artificlal roundness to the
too-slender figure, Having afided
& sabls boa which threw into re
llef the dellcate coloring, Marie
was satisfled at last with her handl
work.
“But her clothes are almost drop
ping off her, she’s got so thia™
she sald to herself, “and {f she
doesn't mind ghe'll look haggard
before she’s five-and-twenty.”
Norah had plently of courage,
and it she gave way ococasionally
in private she aslways faced the
world with a smile, Now, con
scious of looking her best, for she
had heard the little murmur of
admiration that greeted her en
trance, and anxious to escape from
her own thoughts, she threw hemr
self heart and soul into the busi
ness before her. Her stall was
besieged Dy anxious buyers who
had pald a guinea for the mere
privilege of coming in—and she
and her helpers had cleared out
half their stock before other etalls
showed any 'perceptlblo decrease.
“You've simply romped away,”
Paul xDelacour sald to her, during
an ifterval for tea, “but I don’t
know whether her grace likes be
ing left so far behind.” ' And he
glanced at the wellfilled table
where the Duchess sat enthroned—
large, banghty, and Bevere.
“But she frightens people away,”
Norah sald, with a laugh, “They
haven't the courage to ask such
a magnificent person, who looks
as though she ought to be roped
apart from the common herd, to
serve them with one of those ter
rible wooly articles which set your
taeth on edge to look at. Be
sides, as the bazaar is for one of
her pet charities, she ought to be
grateful to me for doing so well.”
She had met Delacour in Ken
sington Gardens, and had an ex
planation with him. Greatly to
her surprise, he had taken the news
of her husband's decision much
better than she had expected. Of
course, he had been both annoyed
and disappointed, but he had not
attempted to coerce her in any
way, or even intimated that as ghe
could not carry ouit her part of
the bargain, he was free to break
his. She could not but acknowl
edge that he had taken the re
buff very well, and she felt more
sorry for him in consequence. '
“I only ask you,” he had sald,
in conclusion, “to show yourself
as friendly as possible to me im
other people’s houses and to put im
a good word for me when you can,”
and she had readily promised.
So that, though he had almost
glven up going to Belgrave Square,
people had not begun yet to sus
pect that there was anything
wrong between him and the Est.
courts, especially as Norah and her
slater were constantly meeting him,
Lord Estcourt, whe shirked a good
many soclety functions, having gat
fafied himself that Delacour had
given up coming to the house, was
satisfled, and held his peaca.
(To Be Continued Next Sunday,)
Copyright, 1918, by Star G