Barry Dock News

[ALL EIGHTS RESERVED.J THE LOVE OF A LADY; OR, ROWLEY LE BRETON, BY ANNIE THOMAS. AUTHOR OF •4 Dennis Bonne" Played Out,EyreofBlendon"tfo* CHAPTER IX. KITTY MEETS WITH A MODEL! T-,Tr,re,torof Stretton was having apleasanter break- fast than he had enjoyed for a year. The coTee was no stronger, the e;gs were no fresher, the toast no crisper, nor the devil'ed chicken and kidneys more finely flavoured by flame and cayenne pe per than usual No more than the ordinary number of lowls of roses deco:a'ed the table. There was nothing special about the warmth and brightness of the sun- beams that streamed in through the open French window on to a oor covered with Persian carpet and St. Bernard doses. Nevertheless, though all these cor.ditonso" his daily life were just as usual, the Eev. John Dauleny had measureless content this morning, for opposite to him, looking thoroughly at home, sat h's n ece Kitty That Lis sister-in-law sat on his right hand was a source of mr-re chastened joy to him. His esteem and fraternal affeition for his brother's widow were established facts, but he found himself able to live in a state of comfortable fonjftfiuness of her. But Kitty was always vividly in his memory. Kitty was the emboJiment of all that was best in he family of whi,.h he WflS now proud to be the head. Kitty, with her breed ng and brains and beauty, her fault- less physique, her clever yonng mind, her charming face, and her indisputable artistic talent, Kitty was his "Joss." He had been a mighly hunter in his day, and even now, thou 'h he was over seventy, his good grey horse and he were always there or thereabouts on real hunting days lawn meets he eschewed, but he had a wny of dropping in on working days, and of see'ng all the sport that was shown Consider- ing that he did this, it was rather extraordinary that the enemies of the Church did not quote h!m against her. But no one—not even the most g this. ForParson DnnLeny was hlOwn to be a real sannel diYine as well as a mighty hunter, and no one had a word to say against one of the handsomest, kindest, and most courteous old go-tie en in Christendom. Kitty was the weakne s and strength of his life. A wi eless old man, with a (ig fund of fam ly a ection to draw upon, he had mr.do a sh-ine in which he had plante 1 a pedestal uron which he had placed his bro' her's daughter. If only Kitty and Kitty's mother had been less independent-minded, he would have given them alu m'iou' home atStretton Rectory. but Kitty urged her mother to refuse this. We will take-all the love and kindness v/hi.-h he shows us, but nei'her money nor money's worth while I can main- tain iryself by my pencil, mother dear," she Imd said with decision when the subject was first mooted. To this decision she bad ar1! e cd even when times were hard and mnga^'ne editors disinclined to buy her wares But though she would not accept a home at her dear old uncle's hands though she preferred work and independence to idleness and luxury—she en'oyed few things more in li e than staying with him, and bringing a good portion of her sunbeamy nature into his quiet life. Just at this hour of the day the brea' fast hour— she was apt to be a lit tle less sunbeamy than at other tinier, for she had rather a large professional correspondence, and until she had grasped that, she had little inclination for the social life around her. Much of her professional correspondence —all that wa, unplea-.ait, in fact he grasped in alsolute privacy, which not even her mother ventured to unravel..All the rebu""s she kept to herself, all the brightness she hared with those around her. But this morning she was at her brightest and best. Letters from London had not pursued her, and her uncle bad given her one of the grandest St. Bernard dogs that ever made a woman proud to own herself his mistress. I shall call him Wag, uncle," she was saying. "I shall call him 'Wag,' after the dog in" Mr. Le Breton's novel." Why Wag is the name of Mrs. Marchant's dog. Mrs. Marchant, of Walmsey." Is her Wag as handsome as mine, uncle ?" Yes- he's a grand fellow, one of my own breed. I gave it to her. I should like to see him. Where is Walmsey ? And-what is Mrs. Marchant li' e ?" Walmsey. Surely I hwe taken you there before now, haven't I ? Well, Walmsey is about a mile from the village, and Mrs. Marchant is one of the lo-eliest and most charming women I ever saw in my life." Dear enthusiastic old uncle Do take me over to see her. I'm in search of a model for a beauty in this same novel I've been tel!ing you about, but, alas I don't think I shall ever find her." Mrs. Marchant is a singularly attractive woman with a fine character," Mr. Daubeny went on enthusiastically there is about her a charm that is more subtle than 1 eanty, but you shall see her, my dear. I won't spoil my case as Beauty's advocate by overstating it." My time is short you know, uncle. I have to he back at my work in two or three days. Can you ta' e me over to see the rival Wag and his beautiful mistress to-day?" Certainly! delighted this afternoon. We'll go over in the mail phaeton, and I shall have the pleasure of introducing the two prettiest women in England to one another." Kitty bowed a pretty little half-petulant, half- gratified acknowledgment of the compliment. If she's not a prettier woman than I am a girl I shan't think much of her. Uncle John. But you're evidently infatuated with her, and I'm much too discreet to disagree with your verdict as you are infatuated. But what w 11 you do, mother, while Uncle John and I are out on Beauty's war-path ?" I think I shall go for a nice, quiet little walk through the parish, and have nice, quiet little chats with some of the dear old people who remember your brother, John." I would, I would certainly, were I in your place," he said with hearty acquiescence. Kitty and I will give you up for this one afternoon." So the arrangements for the day made themselves pleasantly for all of them. Kitty made endless studies of Wag that morning, She was quite satisfied that he was as grand a creature as the ideal dog in Rowley Le Breton's novel. Half-shyly. even though no one saw her, she put in the figure of Rowley himself, drawn from memory, not w'th the intention of publishing it, but just for practice she told herself. When the had done this several t'mes she grew impatient and tore them, decla-ing that "it was not half handsome enough for him But she instantly fell to doing the same thing again, excusing herself to herself on the plea that his was a face that couldn't fail to attract and rascinate any artist. It was about-the middle of the afternoon that they reached Walmsey. Mr. Marchant was out, but by a lucky chance Mrs. Marchant had not started for her daily drive. They were shown into the drawing- room, where she was lounging away an hour over magazines, and as she rose and came forward to receive them. Kitty saw—Doris! She had not a moment's hesitation about it. She was not on the war path at the moment in quest of a resemblance to Rowley Le Breton's heroine. It was forced upon her. She! this lovely, graceful woman who was gliding forward leisurely to meet them! This woman, and none other, was the love of Rowley Le Breton's life and the heroine of his story! Involuntarily Kitty Daubeny reared her handsome, proud young head as she confronted the married woman whom she felt convinced had been the beautiful bane of Powley Le Breton's life. As she (Kitty) looked straight into the starry eyes of her hostess, some lines which she had seen somewhere and half forgotten rushed back vividly and vehe- ment'y to her nrnd, and she found herself mentally repeating them and ap- ly ng them to Mrs. Marchant. They call thee false as thou art fair, They call thee fair and free A creature pliant as the air, And changeful as the sea." This,"said Mr Paubeny,ho!ding Mrs March ant's ilim hand tenderly and speaking impressively, th's is my niece Kitty, my artist niece, of whom I am very proud." "And with what reason you are proud of he/no one knows better than I do, dear Mr. Daubeny," Mrs. Marchant responded with that smile of hers which alltvfeo fell under its influence felt to be so winning for a time. On the present occasion, the one on whom that smilo was tlashed would have found it more winning if it had not strengthened her in the belief that it could be only this woman and none other, who had stood as the model for Doris. Dora Marchant invariably found it easy to talk to anyone provided that one listened with decent atten- tion. This young girl was a no elty to her. It had not been within her experience before to come in contact with a girl who looked as if she might be a yjung unconventional duchess, and who at the same time was proud to proclaim herself a working woman, a professional artist." Accordingly, Mrs. Marchant was at her most insinuatingly fascinating best this day. She con- versed with the air of one who knew" about matters of which she had not the faintest under- standing. At last she asked the direct question which Kitty had been anticipating and dreading r from the moment she had recognised Mrs. Marchant as "Doris." And what are you engaged on just now, Mis-, Daubeny ? I don't see those delightfully famil'ar K. 1. T. at the bottom of any illustrations in the magazines this month?" I'm illustrating a novel." A novel! by whom ? and in what magazine will it appear ? Tell me, in order that I may forthw th order that magazine myself, and do my friends the kindness of recommending them to do the same thing." it's coming out in numbers. Not in a magadne at all." Really Then of course it's by one of the veterans —one of the reigning monar,hs of fiction ?" It's by a beginner a Mr. Le Breton," Kitty said as quietly as if every vein in her body were not tingling with angry emotion. For one moment the starry eyes dilated, and the exquisitely shaped bust heaved a tri 'e quicker. Then Mrs. Marchant was herself again. How interesting—to me," she said, turning with an air of frank, sweet enthusiasm towards Mr. Daubeny. How interesting—to me for I know a Mr Rowley Le Breton, and probably this is some relative of h:s." Her eyes were rivetted on Kitty's as she spoke, and Kitty, feeling that after her next utterance there won'd be v ar to the lmire between Mrs. Marchant and herself, said w th great distinctness t is Mr. Rowley Le Breton himself, whose no el I ba e the honour to ha e been chosen to illustrate," CHAPTER X. TUB OTHER WOMAN'S DOG. No v I must give you tea and some of those a'mond cakes that you always like so much," Mrs. Mar hant said, turning and addressing Mr. Daubeny o-a.]y the moment after Kitty's last speech—which the married woman" did not find it e pedient to answer. The cakes are deliciou ■». My cook must certainly have the recipe for making them. Kitty, my love, you're ertainly not go'ng to efuse them ?" At the moment Kitty felt that she would surely cho'e if she attempted to tave either bite or snp in Mrs. Marchant's house. Eage ly as she had been see'.ing for a model for Rowley Le Breton's Doris," it was a source of un qualified pain to her that she should have found her model in Mrs. Marchant. T t was the first pang of jealousy the girl had ever experienced in her life, and the novelty of it be- wildered her. Why should she feel sich and sore because Mr. Le Breton had known this mitchles ly fascinating woman ?—known her and found her fas inating enough to reproduce her n his pa es so vividly that those who ran mu-ht read the truth, that she had been the one wo pan of his I fe. It stabbed kitty's pride when after a few moments' commune with her own heart, she realised that the secret of her sudden antipathy to Mrs. Marchant 'ay in the fact that she was ealous- actually and un- reasonably jealous of her on account of R w/ley 1 e Breton's former knowledge of her. His knowledge might have been great, or it m'sht have been of the most rasual description Kitty had no means of gau jug the depth o- breadth of it. No matter! she was jealous just the same. Jealous that the same scenes should have been looked upon, that the same bree es had blown upon. the same sun shone upon Mr-. Marchant and Rowley Le Breton in the bygone days before she (Kitty) had known him. Had' known him ? did she know him now ?" that -vras the quest ion., All 1 liat was slightly contra- dictory in his manner and apparent mode of life came to the fore in her menory now and challenged her to answer the question. She could but ask herse'f,' Did she know him now ?" Was he in reality the struggling, hard-pressed young man of letters he had tacitly permitted her to consider him ? She re- minded herself that all his anxiety was for the literary and artistic succe-s of his novel, and that he rcareely seemed to have a thought about its possible com- mercial value. He was always well dressed he always drove up to her mother's door in a hansom he smo1 ed the best cigars r And all these things she knew meant money. Yet he had accepted her sympathy when she had condoled with him on being in a similarly pitiless monetary plight to that in which he own brother had be3n placed when he had been compelled to leave the Serv'ce. What did it all mean? Was he deceiving her much or little ? Was he deceiving her a' all in Hot ? Bather was she not deceiving herself ? These thoughts rushed through her brain at express speed in the course of a few moments. Then she was brought back sharply to the present by a direct question from Mrs. Marchant. I suppose the artist who illustrates a novel must see a great deal of the author in order to get in toir h in perfec1 sym athy with him ?" "It is better to tar' to a man about what he means than to write to him." Kitty replied brusquely. Exactly; I can quite understand that. If your Mr. Rowley Le Breton is identical with the Mr. Rowley Le Breton I once had the pleasure of know- ing you could hardly have a frioae agreeable collaborateiir/' We haven't collaborated," Kitty said, incisively. I am merely the illustrator of the book that is entirely his own—a story written from his heart, I should say." "If he is my Mr. Rowley le Breton, I am sure that whatever he did he would do from his heart," Mrs Marchant said, with a subtle inflection of her voice on the words my Mr. Rowley Le Breton that made Kitty wr the. Then she went on to ask unconcernedly, What is the name of his heroine ?" "Doris," Kitty said. throwing up her head and facing her unavowed foe steadily. Doris! and she has a dog called Wag. I feel sure that he is your Mr Rowley Le B eton." The girl drew a deep breath as she ceased speak- ing—a breath so dee i that it sounded like a defiant pant. The married woman half closed her lovely eyes, and regarded her innocent rival critically. "Old friendship entitles me to call him that," she said sweetly. "We were such capital comrades— the Rowley Le Breton I mean, and I. When you see your Mr. Rowley Le Breton again ask him if he remembers Dora Marchant, and then you will Pnd out, you know, whether or not we mean the same man "I think we do mean the same man, and I don't want to find out anything more about him," Kitty said haughtily. In my line of life professional intercourse and social intercourse are quite apart. Mr. Rowley Le Breton probably classes 'me in the same category with his publisher—hardly that. because his publisher is an important person, who pays h:m money, and can ma1- e or mar his book — but with his printers and h's critics. We are all useful in our way to an author, therefore he or she knows us. You see I quite know my position, Mrs. Marchant." Kitty spoke steadily and sweetly. Under the influence of strong excitement—when her pride was in arms — the girl's manner grew outwardly cooler, but it was a coolness that to the initiated indicated the white heat within. At least, I see that you will maintaifi your position aga:nst all comers—whatever it may be," Mrs. Marchant said suavely. "Mr.st you go, really? this is snch a short visit. But before you go you must see my Wag." It was only one more turn of the screw! Kitty de ided on seeing Wag. He came in huge and magnificent! surpassing the young dog which had been presented to her by her uncle in the morning, as completely as .-he felt herself to be surpa-sed by Mrs. Marchant—that early lo eof hi, wh > -would have the power she kvnn to tear him from her at. any given moment when she (Mrs, Marchant^ 'hf se to reassert her sway I will not be a hopeless idiot! I will admit to her that. her dag—the dog he described-Leat.s m ne." Iu making this foncession Kitty was making an unacknowledged one, for in her heart of hearts she Was adding ''As you beat me." I Mrs. Marchant took no mean advantage of her young rivals generosity. The married woman who had pledged herself to this that during her husband s l.fe Lowley Le Breton should be as one who diet not exist for her," could a Tord to be niagna- nim us. f-.he may have as much of his society as his serene sel t-hne"s chooses to give till I cross his path again, Dora thought, as she watched the en'ort. .Kitty made to show unfeigned admiration fo.- Wag. if I el-osslai-- i t -'aLibei-iy." In desperation, becau e she would not admit even to herseli that she was demo alised by jealousr, Jiitty made a sketch of that other woman's dog! Dog and mistress made such a per ect air—were so pe feet a realisation of Rowley Le Breton's ideals-- that her artistic sense recoiled from the idea of neglecting the opportunity of immortalising them. It was no credit to the girl that she conquered herself in this way. Art was ran ing itself against heart, and in the earl'er stages of this contest art is almost sure to get the better of its rival. Aecord- irg-y Kitty made her sketch with all her skill and strength, and when she had made it she had the satisfaction of feeling that it woidi surely please him and renew his memories of the subjects of it vivi ly! I shall watch for the appearance of the first number with wrk interest now," Dora said cord'ally. A took written by one friend and illustrated by another can't help bold ng a very subtle charm for a woman." certainly have no rkrht to claim the hon ,ur of being a friend of yours, however it may be with Mr. Le Breton," Kitty s id quietly. There was con- centrated rage in her soul at the audacity with which this woman annexed Howley Le Breton, and she tried in vain, poor child, to make believe to herself that the rage was solely on her own account. How dare sheto speak of me as her' friend' when I've never seen her till to-day," she asked herself tempestuously. But all the while she knew that resentment would have been less strong had Mrs. Marchant not spoken in that Indescribable tone in which a woman speaks o' a man when she means to make another woman understand that the man is hers very much to command. There was not much conversation between theuncle and niece as they drove ho e. For the first half- mile Mr. Daubeny was lavish in his expressions of ad m (rationfor Mrs. Marchant'sbeanty. grace, geniality, and general nobility of character. Elderly men of un- impeachable morals, who arepossessedofthe uality of tasteful appreciation o" feminine charms, are apt to leaven their admiration for the phy. ical attributes of "the object," with a judicious admixture of approval of her "nobility of character the said nobility generally exhibiting in incessant acts of more or less flattering devotion to the man himself. On the present occasion the avour of those almond cates lingered on Mr. J aubeny's palate, and sweetened h's memories of the fa;r, free, fascinating woman from whom they had just parted. We must have the Marchants to dine with us, Kitty, while you're down he: e She'll be a very kind and useful friend to you. my dear. I see that." "(inde John, T don't want anyone to be kind or useful to me, excepting yon." Nonsense, nonsense, my child! A sweet, true woman riend such as I am sure Mrs. M rchant will prove herself, is the best ally a girl can have." Oh I don't want her; I don't want her friend- ship and as to having her for an 'ally,' I 1 as soon enter into an alliance with the biggest tigress in the oo," K tty said ringingly. After t'aat they drove in silence till they reached the rectory. (To be continued.)

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BARRY MAN'S DEPRESSION. CUTS HIS THROAT WITH A RAZOR. Mr E. Llewellyn Reece, the deputy coroner, conducted an inquest at the Police Court, Barry Docks, on Monday afterncon last, on the body of George Elston (57), a labourer, of 67, Upper Morel- street, Barry Decks, who died on the previous Saturday at the Town Accident Hospital, — From the evidence it appeared that the deceased was a widower. He had been in ill-health for about two years, but was obliged to keep his bed for the past fortnight, suffering from bronchitis and influenza, which developed into pneumonia. Elston was looked after by his sister, Mrs Susan. Humphries, of 47, Morel-street, who went in to see him about 11.30 on the previous Thursday morning, when her brother's manner seemed strange. He thought there were a lot of men and women in the room, but this Mrs Humphries attri- buted to weakness, She went out, and returned in about twenty minutes, to flnd her brother lying on the bedroom floor with his throat cut, and a razor in his right hand. There was a considerable quantity of blood about. Elston was living, but unconscious. Mr S. B. Sommerfield, town sanitary inspector, was passing at the time, and went to Mrs Humphries' assistance, and after the man had been temporarily attended to by Dr Bray, he was removed to the Town Accident Hospital by Police- sergeant D. Phillips.—Dr W. Lloyd Edwards, who was in attendance at the hospital, state a that there was a deep wound about five inches long across Elston's throat, the windpipe and several veins having been severed, but the main arteries were untouched. The gash was stitched, and Elston lived till Saturday afternoon, when he succumbed to exhaustion and shock caused by loss of blood, An attack of influenza upon deceased's long illness might have made him depressed. — The jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence, and added that they believed deceased inflicted the injuries upon himself whilst tem- porarily insane.

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