.«.H!^ >■•: •'^ ' 1 ^l! 1 *v\ \ / "W ^^^^Wif '^ 1 4«J'.W« .-j-. TAMAR CURZE Tamar Curze BY BERTHE ST. LUZ AUTHOR OF "BLACK BUTTERFUES" »« "Then are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'* R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 18 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK 0. ^^ LIBRARY of CONGRESS Tv Copies Received ' OCT 27 1908 Ccpyriitlil tntry ClWsS OC ^^Xc, No, — ^^ml I Copyright, 1908, BY R. F. FENNO & COMPANY. TAMAR CURZE PROLOGUE. "Infernally hot! eh, Professor?" Kossiter dexterously wheels his horse be- neath the meagre shade of a coroneted palm edging the Assam jungle and a trifle anxiously repeats the question: "Blazing," briefly acquiesces Professor D'Herbelot. "We are on a wild-goose chase, I think," fret- fully continues Rossiter, "instead of " "Wild hogs," grins D'Herbelot, idly tapping with his whip the toe of a heavy hunting boot and calmly regarding the youngster mopping his forehead, from which the perspiration is flowing copiously, as he asks: "Where is Lieutenant Curze? I haven't set eyes on him for an hour or more." "Possibly his elephant has gone 'must' and bolted." ii Prologue. "If so, he'll come back, however, to hear your lecture on 'Evolution' this evening. Professor." D'Herbelot shrugs his massive shoulders in- differently, as his companion, changing the topic, but not his tone, still grumbles : "These lazy natives are such devilish liars; here I am with but one beggarly bear cub to my credit, while you" — enviously — "have had no end of luck ; a couple of hogs, a tiger, not men- tioning that leopardess who " "Ah! that's it," quickly interrupted the other, "her ladyship perplexes me. God! wasn't she a beauty? I'd know her amongst a thousand. But you are mistaken, my boy, she was not a leopardess, though strongly re- sembling one; the spots, if you noticed, were much more even and entirely separated. It was sheer stupidity to allow her to escape. How did she do it ?" moodily. "I could almost swear I hit her." "You did," decidedly; "I'll stake my flask of hendra that you did." Prologue. iii "Hendra! Bless you, hand it over; my mouth seems filled with ashes — Bah !" spatting upon the ground, "the beastly stuff's boiling, and," eagerly, "you think — ^you really think I hit her?" "]^ot a doubt about it," answered Rossiter. "Then," irritably, "perdition seize me! iWhere under the sun did she go ? Disappeared as if the earth had swallowed her." *'Yes, that's what puzzles me, and I also agree with you. Professor, from the glimpse I caught, she was a prize worth capturing. But why waste more time needlessly? The guides have threshed every inch of space. What more can be done ? And see," pointing toward a clearing to the left, where, beneath the scant shelter of several bamboos, a group of spotted deer were herded, "if you are not satisfied with your morning's work, here is game in plenty." "!N'ot for me, Felix," answers D'Herbelot. "I'm not a man of blood ; and it is, to my idea, nothing short of murder to kill those inoffen- sive, pathetic little creatures." iv Prologue. "Better call the men, then, and return to camp," suggests Rossiter. "All right," assents D'Herbelot; "you do look done up." "Yes," answers the lad. "Phew! it's hotter than limbo, and my ankles smart like the dick- ens from those confounded leeches." As the half-clad, lithe, sinewy-limbed ski- karrees came running in answer to the shout from Rossiter's lusty young lungs, and the two hunters turn to depart. Professor D'Herbelot casts one last regretful look jungle-ward in vain quest of his lamented leopardess. The day was, indeed, as Felix Rossiter said, "infernally hot" ; for even the beasts of the jun- gle slink with lolling tongues in search of water, while the sickening reek and twang of spicy odors — cardamom, turmeric, ginger and sandal- wood — sway in the heavy air. The sun is a mighty furnace, whose huge tongue of flame, blazing down, squeezes, greed- ily licks the oozing sap from the "sal," and to whose merciless power bud and blossom pas- Prologue. T sively submit. All, all bow in helpless aban- donment, save the palm, bamboo and towering mulkarai-trees, who, lifting their tall heads, seemingly laugh a proud defiance. TAMAR CURZE. I. The incidents which I am about to relate are so queer, so horribly strange, that I pause with upraised pen, debating within myself, Is it best to proceed or let the affair sink into oblivion ? My inherent timidity and inclination strenu- ously answer "Yes"; but the shadowy presence of D'Herbelot at my elbow authoritatively whispers "Kay." Wiseacres, deeply learned in magic lore, will smilingly shake their gray heads and mutter, "Tut! tut! an utter impossibility, quite beyond the power of human credence." And you, my critics and masters, you, who will mockingly condemn, deride these pages, permit me to remind you of that time-worn phrase, "Truth is stranger than fiction," 7. 8 Tamar Curze. though it has been customary from time im- memorial to first crucify truth by nailing it to the cross of ridicule before embracing it. But, as 1 remarked before, D'Herbelot, my friend and mentor, commands and I obey — fully pre- pared to be called an ass, perhaps worse, for my pains;' but, fortunately, distance has other charms than mere enchantment, and at the pres- ent instance, luckily for me, safety is not the least of them. As I expect but a dearth of believers, so, for those few who have made nature and meta- physics a study, for their sake alone, I write, stating the actual occurrence. And while being fully cognizant that the majority of readers resent truth when garbed in fantastic raiment, yet may not the student of physical science pre- sent, if he so pleases, the result of his researches in fanciful attire, his characters in the glow of colors preferably to stupid dull browns or insipid grays, when by doing so he neglects not the chief issue? In the delineation of the main personage, Tamar Curze. 9 painted, I must confess, in rather lurid shades, I merely follow the course of the novelist's sen- timental vagaries, the riotous, florid fling of the poet, the whimsical artist — to whom none would presume to dictate, when he, slightly prodigious with his crimson and gold, chooses to deck a glowing sunset in more vivid dress than nature's requirements, which act, how- ever, accentuates, not changes, the subject, nor the mighty composer, whose trills, variations, embellish, not detract, interfere nor alter the theme of his divine masterpiece. May not, then, the humblest literary aspirant, meekly following in those illustrious footsteps, timidly venture to lower a few prosaic barriers and claim the poor privilege of magnifying a trifle? For tints and hues are sublime, and what is more beautiful than the soft, evanescent, albeit decided, colors of the rainbow ? Is not Eiction the mother of History ? Must we place the child before its parent? And, pray, is not "Cinderella," "Beauty and the Beast" and other nursery tales founded upon a 10 Tamar Curze. fact basis? Indeed, more frequently than not, when traced to the original source, legendary tales are not altogether mythical ; while the ma- jority of our most successful modern stories, excellent, clever productions, freely conceded, woven upon the flimsy fabric of unreality, have not even the crutch of truth to lean upon. And these traditional yarns, scarcely credible in most instances, yet in many cases resting upon a solid foundation of facts — these so-called fa- bles, springing from the threshold of truth — elucidate my assertion that Tamar Curze is not wholly a fabulous creation. I further beg to say, en passant, this being merely an incident, not a historical event, I have therefore assumed the license of recount- ing it as best suits my ideas and purposes ; thus, if the minor facts are not strictly accurate, surely I am not censurable, and, as the initiated will readily understand me, despite various dis- crepancies, I will, therefore, refrain from fur- ther argumentative debate. The subjoined appendage has been very Tamar Curze. li kindly contributed by Miss Olivia Longnus, si most estimable lady, in whose veracity I place the most explicit trust and confidence. So, in her hands, for the present, I leave you to re- sume the thread of this narrative at a later date. Very truly yours, Felix Eossitee, M.D. 12 Tamar Curze. II. After some little time spent in nervous de- liberation, I have finally concluded to keep my promise and give Doctor Rossiter an account of my experience while at Glandour Court, and whereas I greatly esteem the Doctor as a thor- ough gentleman, and whom I, — But, ahem! that's another subject, — and as I said before, I esteem the Doctor highly, and also for the rea- son of his being a friend to the family to which this story pertains, I could not consciously re- fuse his request — the happenings of which are as fresh in my memory as if it were but yester- day, though it is now some five years since I was employed in the capacity of governess to the only child of Sir Lionel and Lady Glandour. Glandour Court, the magnificent country seat of the Glandours, is but a few hours' ride from London. Tamar Curze. 13 When I first became an inmate of the Court, its inhabitants were the most happily united family in all England. Sir Lionel's affection- ate tenderness for his young wife and son was self-evident, and I, Olivia Longnus, whose heart was well-nigh broken from the recent be- reavement of a dear mother, was treated with all the consideration and courtesy of a sister by the fair, gentle mistress of Glandour Court. Dora, Lady Glandour, without being, strictly speaking, beautiful, possessed a greater charm; she was infinitely sweeter in her fair, pale pret- tiness. I am a plain woman and am trying to write in a plain, matter-of-fact manner without using any nonsensical grandiloquence to assist me. Lady Dora was an angel, if ever there was one ; to me she was the embodiment of all that was good, the epitome of purity, but I will not stop to eulogize her, for tears fill my eyes and splash upon these pages as I write, so with fer- vent, trembling lips I say, "God bless you, Dora jGlandour." Sir Lionel I will not attempt to describe, at 14 Tamar Ciirze. least not minutely. Tall, dark, handsome, proud, hasty, passionate — there he is in six :words. Besides the above mentioned, there was an- other member of the family whom I must not omit, Lady Dora's aunt, the Duchess of Shrewsburg — aptly named — for a more domi- neering, disagreeable old woman never lived. I'm certain that no one but Lady Dora or a saint straight from heaven could have existed in her presence and maintained their equi- librium. Her Grace — how inappropriate the name sounds — had a decided antipathy toward every living thing with the sole exception of a dog and rakish parrot. Where that bird learned those vile epithets is a mystery. For the oaths it used would shame a trooper, and, strange, too, in exact imitation of its mistress' voice. iWhile the dog — a mangy poodle — remarkable for its vicious temper and ugliness, but whose terrible fate, poor creature, turned whatever dislike I had toward it into pity. Tamar Curze. 15 Fortunately, the Duchess was subject to a; malady which frequently excluded her from the family circle. She had two attendants, Max- well, who acted as a sort of general factotum, and Lacey, the maid, whose lives the old vixen delighted in making miserable. And as she had a tendency, when attacked by her enemy, sup- pressed gout (the only thing suppressed about her) , to fling things around, books, brushes, per- fume bottles, whichever came handiest, at the heads of these people; they, as a consequence, walked in a most peculiar fashion, dodging, sidling around, with first one shoulder or arm elevated, then the other, to guard against acci- dents from the playful hands of their eccentric mistress. And, indeed, they had ample cause to do so, for once, in passing the open door, I nar- rowly escaped a shoe, evidently flung by the irate owner in fond anticipation of Maxwell's entrance. One morning at the breakfast table the butler handed Sir Lionel a yellow-tinted envelope. Why is it that a yellow envelope always sends a 16 Tamar Ciirze. shudder through me ? And this morning I no- ticed it more marked than usual. Sir Lionel lazily glanced at the inscription, then leisurely proceeded to open it. He could scarcely have read more than a couple of lines, when, rising hastily from the table, with a glance at his wife, — who quickly followed him, — he left the room. I, sitting alone, regardless of my rapidly cooling chocolate, wondered vaguely what the news might be, occupying myself meanwhile gazing out of the long, low windows to the smoothly kept lawn and white marble walk, whereon a haughty peacock, his irradiant tail expanded to the sun, strutted proudly back and forth. From him my glance wandered to the rose bushes, which each puff of wind sent in showers of pink, yellow and white petals flut- tering in the breeze, flecking the short green- sward with pretty, delicate tints. Through the thickly shaded distance I could dimly discern the timid deer, with which Glan- dour park abounds. The call and song of birds Tamar Curze. It were in the morning air, and occasionally my eyes caught the bright flash of their brilliant wings amongst the trees. Still musing on the letter, whose important contents had evidently caused my host and hostess to slight their meal, I started percepti- bly when Lady Dora, softly entering, addressed me, saying: "Miss Longnus, my husband has just re- ceived sad news from India, informing him of his uncle's death." The yellow letter was in her hand. I re- garded it with a strange fascination. It seemed to hold me spellbound. She, as if divining my desire, smilingly held it toward me. It was a brief letter, written in a clear, smooth, running French hand, with long, thickly crossed t's and the i's heavily dotted. It was extremely concise, without the slightest trace of grief for the writer's father, and end- ing with a fine, bold, black flourish, to which the name signed was "Tamar Curze," after reading which I felt an indescribable impulse to fold 18 Tamar Curze. Lady Dora in my arms and shield her from some deadly unseen danger; ah! would that I had; but, controlling my emotion, I managed to say: "Tamar Curze! What a most peculiar name." "Yes," replied her Ladyship, "it is. You perceive by this letter that she. Sir Lionel's cousin, according to a sacred agreement be- tween their parents years ago, is coming to make her home with us. Poor girl ! She is entirely alone now. Her mother died at her birth." As a rule, I am not given to imaginary fan- cies, nor am I at all superstitious, but, notwith- standing, a thrill of something — impossible to explain— passed through me, chilling me to the heart, as I, with difficulty, asked: "When does she arrive?" quite forgetting I had but just read the letter. "Almost any day," answered Lady Dora, not noticing my mental abstraction, and ringing for hot chocolate; "these foreign mails are invaria- bly more or less late, and this letter," glancing at the postmark, "is no exception to the general Tamar Curze. 19 rule. It has been delayed three days, so I pre- sume we may expect her at any time from now on." Sir Lionel's entrance at this moment put an end to further conjecture or discussion upon the subject. 20 Tamar Curze. III. Subsequent to the foregoing conversation, after a restless, perturbed day — for it was now late in the afternoon — I was alone in my cham- ber, that room so cheerful, comfortable, nay, by Lady Dora's bounty and thoughtfulness, luxu- riously furnished, with its rich upholstery, costly knick-knacks — dainty trifles conspiring to make my life contented, almost happy. For the thousandth time I was vainly en- deavoring to analyze the condition of my mind, fathom that vague, affrighted pain, which had given me no rest since reading the letter from India, causing this medley of disquieting thoughts blended in such a haze of indiscernible, tantalizing shadows, with which the very air it- self seemed filled till the stress of it became un- endurable. IsTever prone to imaginary fancies, my nature. Tamar Curze. 21] on the contrary, from earliest childhood, was thoroughly practical ; therefore, these sensations were an enigma to me. Behind the range of my mental penetration there crouched some hidden, hideous thing that I could not cope with. Yet the more I pon- dered the more deeply immersed I became, till, striving to escape its thraldom, I severely repri- manded myself by vehemently ejaculating: "Fie ! Olivia Longnus, you're a goose, a silly, imaginative goose, to sit here like a foolish child concocting hobgoblins out of nothing," and me- chanically I moved across to where my mother's loved face, from the easel opposite, smiled ten- derly upon me. Bending, I kissed the dear mute lips, whicH act seemed, for the nonce at least, to relieve the heavy oppression at my heart ; but even this was meagre consolation, for intuitively my eyes were impelled to seek another portrait — a girlish countenance resembling some pretty, delicate flower, occupying a conspicuous place upon my desk — Lady Dora; and as I gazed, a mellow 22 Tamar Curze. rift of light from one of the windows lent a symbolic halo to her brow, a fitting tribute. ISTevertheless, as I looked, my recent fears re- turned tenfold; for in the clear depths of those wistful blue eyes, holding me riveted with their intensity, there seemed to be a pathetic appeal to me for aid, causing my heart to yearn in ma- ternal solicitude over her whom I would so gladly shield; aye! even with my life protect from every vexation, ill or peril, smooth, sweep each thorn, stone of sorrow from out the path of her sweet existence, with the faithful broom of love. Presumptuous feelings, surely, for a humble nursery governess to entertain toward the high- born Lady of Glandour; notwithstanding, I slipped upon my knees, praying earnestly, a tri- fle incoherently, perhaps, to be delivered from this instinctive dread that was so heavy upon me. How long I knelt there is irrelevant, when my prayers and cogitations were interrupted by light laughter and the sound of voices. Tamar Curze. 23 And, there, as I stood watching them beneath the lindens, all the warmth, glory of that June day seemed centered in those two. The sight consoled me, even as the languorous odor of jes- samine, violets and hyacinths greeting me from below revived my drooping spirits. Totally inadequate is my poor pen to depict the happiness on Lady Dora's face. All life's joy apparently enveloped her, as she strolled by the side of her handsome young husband — handsomer than ever that afternoon, with his air of proud distinction, his dark face aglow with love, as he bent his tall head, listening with courteous interest, intent upon her every word. As they pass an immense bush of crimson loses saucily tossing their gaudy heads, its thorns catch, sweep the soft folds of her lady- ship's diaphanous gown into a tight embrace, holding her a laughing captive, and stubbornly resisting by sundry jealous pricks and scratches all Sir Lionel's heroic efforts at liberation, which task by patience being accomplished, how- ever, the deliverer, as punishment, selecting, 24 Tamar Curze. steals a half-blown bud from the audacious jailer. Skirting the terrace, they paused beneath the swaying acacia trees, whose creamy blossoms sprinkled Lady Dora's shoulders, strewing her blue gown as with snow flakes, and settling, rested, as with a blessing, upon her golden head, till a playful breath from Sir Lionel's lips sent them flying, scattered in a thousand different directions, while he gallantly replaced them with the rosebud, whose long stem he deftly slipped amid the shining coils of hair. The faint breeze seemed filled with triumph- ant ecstasy, and in the melodious confusion of sound predominated the soft, endearing cry of the wood doves, ending a sweet, low trernulo of cooing conjugal love confidences. The woods were harmoniously fraught with many different notes, each songster vieing to outdo the other in this divine interpretative cadence of subdued song, mingled, marred somewhat, by the shrill, restless twitter of nesting birds. AH, everything seemed redolent with peace, Tamar Cnrze. 25 happiness. The sun shone henlgnantly warm upon the gorgeous roses, lingering, as if loth to depart, caressingly ahout the lilacs and tall, white lilies growing near. While heyondj stretched the shadowy forest, which little Cyril, a philosopher in most things, though somewhat of a dreamer, firmly asserted was inhabited by gnomes and pixies, stoutly maintaining that, hidden behind the border of hollyhocks, he and Trust, his dog, had peeped, seen them dance, and heard the faint, sweet music of their elfin flutes. A natural, delusive belief which many a fully matured mind could easily give credence, for within those dim, mysterious depths abounded cool, dark pools, grassy hollows, narrow, soft, sun-bathed vistas, and further down, amid the spaces of those gnarled, crooked old tree-trunks, covered with thick, green mold, there was a ver- dant clearing like a great canopied hall hung with voluminous blue and purple banners, be- neath whose floor, covered with an emerald car- pet, was powdered with golden stars. 26 Tamar Curze. Truly an ideal retreat, wherein wee Queen Mab, surrounded by dryads and other wood- land nymphs, held court, and her tiny follow- ers sported, showing an occasional glimpse of nimble, glinting feet or a bewitching sight of green petticoat beneath a silver kirtle. A charming background, truly, for them who, still sauntering, paused, and then, as if sud- denly moved by love's compulsion, drew closer together, hesitated, the delicate pink in my Lady's cheek deepening, as both, casting a fur- tive glance about, their lips met in a hasty kiss, after which, like a veritable pair of country rus- tics, these wedded lovers passed from view. And, as they disappeared, I smiled in happy unison. All my recent cloudy thoughts melting, vanished under the warm, bright sunshine of their delight. Tamar Curze. 2% IV. A few days following, while occupied with Cyril, Mrs. Diinlap, the housekeeper, entered hastily, and in a great flutter of importance, without any preliminary explanation, ex- claimed : "They've come!" "They've come," I inquiringly repeated, "who?" "They— the Indians." "Indians?" "Yes, Miss," a trifle impatiently, "the East Indians." "Oh!" replied I, smiling at my stupidity, "you doubtless mean Miss Curze — Sir Lionel's cousin; she is not an Indian." "Well," answered Mrs. Dunlap, with an em- phatic nod, "the one that I was ordered to show to the west wing was an Indian, sure enough. 28 Tamar Curze. or my name isn't Jemima Dunlap; and black, too, black as," looking around for a comparison, "that dress you're wearing." "It must be her maid," I ventured, "or ser- vant of some sort." "Perhaps," doubtfully, "yet the very idea of a human person having an Indian to wait on 'em! An African negro is bad enough, Lord knows, but an Indian, ugh !" Now, I'm rarely given to gossip, or to en- courage it in others, but my feminine inquisi- tiveness in this case got the upper hand, forcing me to ask as calmly as I possibly could : "Did you see — er — the other one ?" "JSTo, Miss ; she was sitting in the library with her back turned when " "Oh, it doesn't signify," I interrupted hastily to hide my disappointment. A devouring curi- osity was consuming me, however, regarding this girl from India, but I replied with well- assumed indifference, "We will see her soon enough, no doubt, as she is to remain here at the Court indefinitely." Tamar Curze. 29 "Heaven forbid !" expostulated Mrs. Dunlap, with upraised hands and eyes, and in amaze- ment I perceived that, by a strange coincidence, this sensible, matter-of-fact woman shared my forebodings in regard to the visitor, whose ar- rival I now looked upon with a more philosophi- cal eye, while, nevertheless, recognizing the era of some new influence, something that would change forever the present tranquil routine, and Glandour become dramatic with many of life's complications. For several days I did not join the family at meals ; the stranger's presence seemed, in a man- ner, to place a barrier between our former pleas- ant intercourse of cordial equality, and for the first time since my advent I shyly realized my inferior position, not in Lady Dora's attitude — she was as sweetly gracious as ever, God bless her! — ^but there was a peculiar restraining in- fluence of weird unreality about the place since the coming of Sir Lionel's cousin. 30 Tamar Curze. y. Hurriedly crossing the hall one morning, I ran against a queer old woman, who, from Mrs. Dunlap's description, I concluded must be Miss Curze's attendant, and later that same day, pass- ing through the drawing-room, I saw Tier. She was sitting or, to be more explicit, reclining upon a low couch, and at my entrance, started ever so slightly, while I, an involuntary ex- clamation of surprise escaping me, quickly cov- ered both eyes with my hands ; then, ashamed of the childish action, stammered awkwardly: "Pardon me. Miss — Miss Curze, I believe." "Yes," curtly, with a slow, imperious glance of survey, "and you, I presume, are the gov- erness." I jumped at the peculiarity of her curiously sweet voice, which had a most decided lisp at the turn of a sentence. Bowing acquiescence, Tamar Curze. 31 my eyes were fixed in helpless fascination upon this woman's bizarre beauty — barbaric splen- dor; I never saw a human creature anything like her. The hair, growing rampantly loose in stub- born, crispy strands about her extremely small head, and springing upward, spirally out from the low, white forehead, was the oddest, most beautiful hair I ever saw — not one color, but mixed light gold, dark brown — the queerest combination imaginable, yet forming the su- preme charm of this magnificent face. Her complexion was of downy whiteness, but those eyes, so wonderfully scintillant — where had I seen them or others similar before ? At- tractive, repellant, and yellow, yes, yellow as saffron, above which the heavy, indolent lids only partly lifted, disclosed the pupils beneath, neither round nor oblong, mere straight black threads slanting downward. On the lobe of the right ear, upon the left temple, and almost at the end of the deeply cleft chin, were three large brown moles. 32 Tamar Curze. One hand, beautiful to behold, was in plain view, the smooth, tapering fingers suggestive of suppressed strength, but marred by the disfigur- ing nails, which grew thick, ending in a long, sharp point at the tips. She was clothed in a bewildering gown of some amber-hued Eastern material, whose shim- mering folds, occasioned by the wearer's recum- bent position, were tightly drawn about her, re- vealing the slender body, shapely limbs to per- fection. Showing just the sharp edges of her small, white teeth, she smiled as if slightly amused at my perplexity, and said : "If you are looking for Lady Dora, you'll most likely find her in the conservatory." And evidently intending this as my dismissal, she again stretched herself, animal-like, every movement grace incarnate, upon the sofa ; while I, as if under a spell, my heart beating, my will paralyzed with the magic beauty of her voice, at- tempted to leave the room, and, despite my ob- stinate, reluctant feet, had almost reached the Tamar Curze. 83 threshold, when, rendered utterly powerless by something which prevented me from moving further — some actual bodily presence which barred my exit, and before which I cowered in a confusion of terror and pain, until an over- whelming impulse compelling me, I turned dep- recatingly toward Miss Curze, who, to enhance my horror, was standing straight in the middle of the room, convulsed with silent laughter. 34 Tamar Curze. VI. I, being skeptically inclined, therefore indif- ferent to all such notions, never had much fancy for the strange or mystical, nor hitherto any pa- tience with those who dabbled in the supernatu- ral ; no, not even when, through genuine admira- tion, I was frequently forced to listen delight- edly to Professor D'Herbelot's many substantive argumentations in support of his advanced thoughts, wonderful, far-fetched theories, plau- sible enough when logically couched, so per- suasively eloquent, though, in most instances, at the conclusion thereof, to me, quite incompre- hensible. That there were certain various conditions of different minds prompted by another's mental machinery, I always firmly believed, but beyond that, no more. !Now, however, my thoughts re- garding the subject have undergone a radical Tamar Curze. 35 change. The ground for reflection upon these peculiarities is vast indeed, and truth in super- stition indisputable, else what powerful hand had thrown that clairvoyant rope of flame which passed unseared, unresponsive countless places to ignite, unite faculties so widely different as ours, Mrs. Dunlap's and mine, two women whose moods, ideas, from every conceivable standpoint, were wholly dissimilar? Surely the above theory is the only one offer- able, and thus our mutual affection for Dora Glandour explained the bond of this secret al- legiance. It is startling to encounter reality with our dream, and I, now, after confronting it, experi- enced a tempestuous whirl of unleashed, uncon- trollable thoughts, rushing pell-mell in every unexplorable direction, yet not to be gotten rid of, ever returning to that woman's weird beauty, whose name, by some caprice of nature, the birds in song reiterated, all trees, bushes at- tuned to their rustling leaves. The morning air, puffing in with demoniacal playfulness. 36 Tamar Curze. tossed it to me. An icy breath whispered it per- sistently. The breast of the forest moaned it. But, worse than all, and at which my fears, despair increased, I could swear that from out the massive woods, solemnly a slow, heavy bell was mournfully tolling a dirge to the ceaseless repetition of "Tamar Curze, Tamar Curze," the wailing monotony of which maddened me, and to escape hence, I fled, seeking refuge, pos- sibly consolation, with Mrs. Dunlap, whom I found, as expected, in her cosy sitting-room, busily stitching upon a snowy pile of household linen. As she raised her kindly face in smiling wel- come, I observed a troubled look in the mild blue eyes, and the recent tracery of an unaccustomed frown still visible across her smooth, white fore- head; whilst the hair, arranged with such pre- cision beneath the neat cap, appeared a trifle grayer. Without broaching the reason of my hurried visit, although anxious to do so, I drew a chair close to the table, and seating myself, industri- Tamar Curze. 37 ously commenced creasing hems, working fever- ishly, swiftly, silently till quite unconsciously a sudden long sigh escaped me, to be instantly echoed by another equally doleful from Mrs. Dunlap, at which I seized the longed-for oppor- tunity and remarked : "I've had a foolish feeling of depression over me lately, Mrs. Dunlap." "And I over me, Miss," apologetically, "these several days past." "Can you explain it, and why we are both af- fected in the same manner ?" I asked. "No, Miss, I can't imagine. I've thought about the matter, but for the life of me don't understand it, unless," doubtfully, answered the good woman, "it's our livers." "Our livers! Why, Mrs. Dunlap, how can those organs possibly interfere with our mental faculties ?" "They do, indeed, though," with conviction. "Seth, my late husband, who was somewhat of a doctor, and, if I do say it, as handsome a man as you ever set eyes on, used to declare that a 38 Tamar Ciirze. healthy liver made healthy bodies, healthy bodies healthy minds, and that the cause of more than half the ills of the world was the work of a torpid or diseased liver. He used to say, too, poor dear, that it was the human barometer, and vowed he could even tell by its actions exactly how the wind blew." More truth than poetry, perhaps, in this homely logic, still I maintained other views, and couldn't altogether convert them to Seth's way of thinking. "And, now, come to look," said Mrs. Dunlap, "you do seem thin and sallow-like;" then, quickly enthused with the idea, "Yes, my dear, it's the liver, sure enough. Ah! I've just hap- pened to think, there is something on that up- per shelf, a speedy regulator, which Doctor Rossiter gave me, bless him, the last time he was here. You're taller than I, just hand it down, dearie, and we'll both take some now, this very instant." I reached as directed, and lifted down the Tamar Curze. 39 huge, tightly sealed bottle, exclaiming at sight of the horrible, brown, nasty looking mixture : "Ugh! Mrs. Dunlap, do you really believe this is what we require ?" "Yes," decidedly. "But," I demurred lamely, "I hardly think we'll be able to remove the cork." "IsTonsense !" chided she, instantly procuring a corkscrew from some mysterious recess, and, deftly opening the bottle, poured out a table- spoonful. I, without any exaggeration, had never seen such an immense spoon before, nor since, which she held temptingly, nay, authori- tatively, just beneath my nose. "Er! Haven't you made a mistake, dear Mrs. Dunlap ?" I cried, catching a whiff of the nauseating decoction; "is it not" — pleadingly — "a teaspoonful that " "No, no, see! here it says plain as day, 'an adult, one tablespoonful,' tut, tut, quick, down with it, child. I've a little currant jam," con- ciliatingly, "and it'll take the taste away in an instant." 40 Tamar Curze. So, knowing further subterfuge and protests would be unavailable, closing my eyes, I hero- ically swallowed the loathsome stuff, which al- most choked me. "There's an empty bottle here," continued my well-meaning tormentor. "I'll fill it, and whenever you feel another attack coming on, be sure and take some." That bottle, I blush to say, was, by me, at the very first opportunity, thrown into the kitchen- garden, where, no doubt, safely hidden amongst the lettuce and cabbages, it reposes to this day. Tamar Curze. 41 VII. Miss Curze, whose objective presence was now inconvertible, visible, tangible, which in- evitable fact I had to accept with as good grace as possible, brought to Glandour the new, en- trancing flavor of a foreign clime. There was, undoubtedly, great magnetic power in her beauty — an exotic, subtle meaning in her inscrutable eyes. To me, there appeared a mysterious object in all her indolent move- ments, languid actions; and, although strongly disapproving it, I must acknowledge there was a most peculiar grace in the wanton drapery of her gowns, which, in color, seemingly ran to yellow and maize. A fortnight had now elapsed; events pro- gressed without any bpecial importance, noth- ing transpiring to give occasion for my fore- bodings; those gloomy presentiments, however, 42 Tamar Curze. nothing could entirely allay, and every trifling incident would instantly cause a smouldering, unextinguishable spark to burst into swift, ap- prehensive flame. But I was surely an alarmist, however, for there were few changes wrought; even the sev- eral fetes and balls planned in the visitor's honor, were, by her urgent request, cancelled. Therefore the beautiful old place was almost as quiet, peaceful as ever. With the servants Miss Curze was unap- proachable, still this did not deter them from busily concerning themselves with her. Thus, meeting the stranger but rarely, never- theless, I frequently heard rumors connected with and regarding her many eccentricities, numerous likes and dislikes, the former being an inordinate fondness for Lucifer, a wild, un- tamed horse, who had hitherto ran at will in one of the adjoining paddocks, which she, appar- ently without any effort, instinctly conquered, controlled and claimed. Tamar Ciirze. i^S The girl's hatred for music was also com- mented on, and it was said that when Lady Dora happened to touch the piano, Miss Curze, clapping both hands to her ears, screamed as if in agony. Sir Lionel was strongly devoted to the chase, and now, since his cousin's arrival, seemingly, became a keener sportsman than ever. They both spent much time in the saddle, riding reg- ularly to hounds. Lady Dora, being in delicate health, never accompanied them. Miss Curze, a most superb horsewoman, was almost invariably in at the death, seldom fail- ing to bring home the brush, of which trophies she soon possessed a score. Lady Dora asked me one morning if I had any objection to giving up my rooms in the west wing, stating as a reason Miss Curze ex- pressed a desire to exchange with me the eastern wing for the west. I informed her Ladyship that I would gladly make the change, for, indeed, I had always felt somewhat timid in these rooms, owing to the 44: Tamar Curze. fact that there was an outside stairway leading into the grounds. After thanking me in her usual gracious man- ner, Lady Dora further stated that, if it waa convenient, her guest wished to occupy the apartments that same night, to which request I again readily assented; and, with one of the maid's assistance, I straightway gathered to- gether my possessions, preparatory to vacate. The old Ayah had already commenced carry- ing in some of her mistress' belongings, conspic- uous amongst which was a large leopard skin, and at my astonished exclamation of delight, proudly nodded her turbaned head, saying: "Yes, Mem-Sahib," proceeding to spread it with much pride and care upon the couch, while telling me in her broken English of a pet leop- ard, a beautiful, tame cheetah, which, twenty years ago, belonged to Tamar's mother, and, strange to say, was accidentally wounded and died the very hour Miss Curze was born. "Why does she carry it around with her ?" I Tamar Curze. 46 asked, admiringly eyeing the glossy, handsome yellow and brown thing. To which question, however, the woman im- perturbably shook her head, without vouchsafing further answer. My life thereafter narrowed into the few dull duties which occupied those dreary hours. A sudden sense of loneliness overwhelmed me, and, yes, I might as well confess, if you haven't already guessed it, there was a faint tinge of jealousy underlying all. Thus my days, for lack of interest, were passed listlessly, and, at night, my trance-like sleep was filled with fantastic dreams, misty visions, in which Miss Curze predominated ; her face seemed to hover over my pillow, till I would awaken in a cold perspiration, quaking with terror. I did not then possess the self-reliance which I have since acquired, attained through the re- markable events and sorrows which I have passed, and taught me now to put trust in my own conclusions and intuitions. '46 Tamar Curze. These nightly horrors were speedily under- mining my health and reason, while those pre- cedent fears, instead of lessening, increased; and to assuage them, I had almost decided to go, leave Glandour Court and all my silly hallucina- tions forever behind me, for I had grown wearied of it all, and while in these morbid moods, would bitterly conjecture that I was but a stranger, a hireling, not united to these people by the frailest thread. We could easily sepa- rate; I would depart, battle against poverty amid other scenes, environments. But then, on the other hand, looking back through the many pleasant months passed be- neath that hospitable roof, I hesitated, discon- solate, knowing full well that my forlorn heart belonged, root and branch, to Lady Dora and her child, clinging to them with indomitable tenacity, and the knowledge of that affection en- tering my dark circle of thoughts, illuminated, disclosed the weary path beyond, from which my timid feet shrank. Tamar Curze. '4:1 VIII. At this juncture the Duchess, whether she considered things a trifle monotonous, and to re- lieve the prevailing tedium, was suddenly seized with one of her tantrums; and as a usual con- sequence in such cases, what with the flurry, scurry of hurrying feet, the thud, crash of fly- ing missiles, combined with the discordant screeching of Ladybird, the parrot, and the poodle's incessant yelping, everything was in an uproar. These two miserable creatures, the bird and dog, invariably took advantage of such oppor- tunities, perchance out of sympathy for their mistress, which I doubt, or goodness knows what, to behave on those occasions worse, if that were possible, than ever, and seemingly taking an impish delight in contributing to the general confusion. 48 Tamar Curze. An hour or so later, after matters had quieted down somewhat, Lacey tapped on my door, with the request that I should read to her mistress. A thankless task, and, from experience, one which I had ample cause to dread, as the Duchess generally amused herself by picking flaws with, and mimicking my enunciation, of which I am, and with just cause, somewhat modestly proud, not to mention the exasperat- ing, sarcastic way she had of addressing me, which I naturally, though secretly, resented. I knew by Lacey's actions that her Grace was in one of her most villainous moods, for the poor thing wiggled and squirmed most pain- fully. "You see, Miss," said she, "it's not only the toe trouble, but it's disappointment, too, in not being able to dine below this evening, as Lord Mayfair, a former suitor of Lady Dora's, and the Professor, I understand, are to be here." I understood, too, for the Duchess was a vain old woman, who in her youth must have been a great beauty, judging by her portrait in the gal- Tamar Curze. 49 lery, and would still be passable, if she hadn't taken to cosmetics and a red wig, and from various little inklings, I learned had at one time, and probably still retained, a decided pen- chant for handsome Professor D'Herbelot, whom 'twas her delight to contradict upon every available opportunity. "And, another thing, Miss," said Lacey, "there's a board loose in the boudoir, which I must take the liberty to caution you about, for if one happens to step there the creaking sends her Grace into paroxysms of pain, to say noth- ing of anger. It is directly beneath the third rose to the left in the carpet. Please," earnestly, "do avoid it by all means." "Thank you, Lacey, I'll try to remember," I answered, quaking inwardly, and accordingly prepared for the worst. For this at the begin- ning was, to say the least, discouraging. There was really nothing obligatory about my obeying the Duchess' mandate, but to relieve my present ennui I decided to do her bidding, and by doing so found ample confirmation of all 50 Tamar Curze. my fears, for she was more cantaiikerous, capri- cious, harder to please than ever, and it was only with the utmost difficulty I could restrain my temper, as she said: "So you've condescended to come at last, have you?" Ignoring this snappish greeting, I silently se- lected a book from amongst a number upon the table, and opening it, seated myself. "What's that you've got there?" she de- manded. "Tennyson," I briefly replied. "Then you can put him down again. I'd sooner listen to the rhymes of Mother Goose! Tennyson be blowed ! Who wants to hear about lily white does and roses in his floating hair, or any such inane nonsense ?" At this onslaught against my favorite poet, I felt my good temper tottering, but, biting the tip of my tongue to keep the sharp words back, I, with a spasmodic effort, managed to maintain my quietude, and laying the volume down, Tamar Curze. 51 meekly asked with nervous repression for her preference. "Byron ; there it is, on the top, right before your eyes." Opening it, I proceeded in my very best man- ner, but had scarcely read a line from the "Bride of Abydos," when she commanded me to stop, saying: ^'Kindly allow me to choose the subject!" "With pleasure," I answered patiently. "Pray, what shall it be ?" "Don Juan!" promptly. This was the last straw. At mention of the shameless thing, the hot blood rushing to my cheeks, I indignantly arose in my wrath, and unluckily, forgetting Lacey's warning, stepped upon the loose board. Ko sooner had I done so, when, with a yell of rage, the Duchess lifted a glass, containing some vile sediment of stale liquor at the bottom, intending to throw it at my head, but, fortunately, in the nick of time, changing her mind, flung it at the parrot in- stead, who, evidently accustomed to such things, 62 Tamar Curze. escaped injury by nimbly hopping aside — an ex- tremely difficult, dexterous feat, which could only have been acquired through long and faith- ful practice. "Hey, day ! You won't, eh, Miss Prudery V* laughed the horrid old dame, highly delighted, now that she had accomplished her purpose by causing my discomfiture, taking a huge pinch of snuff, and then almost sneezing her disagree- able head off, I almost wishing she would. As she sat there chuckling and laughing, the shrill blare of a distant horn seemed suddenly to change her mood. "Ach, ach !" she grinned, slowly winking one eye, it's cakes and ale no longer for the smaller fry now; eh!" her fiery wig awry. Was she going mad ? forgetting my recent outraged feelings. Resuming my seat, I sat and stared, till, quickly leaning forward, she rapped my knees smartly with the tip of her cane. "Eh! Miss Prudery, while the watch-dog Tamar Ciirze. 63 sleeps in its kennel, the yellow cat has now the warmest corner at the hearth and " "Yellow cat, yellow cat!" harshly repeated Ladybird, "throw her out neck and crop," "Ho, ho, ha, ha! Perhaps I ought to hold my tongue," continued her Grace, lighting a cigarette, and deliberately puffing the smoke in my face. "You needn't sit there and glare, you sulky thing, I'm not to blame if the shoe pinches nor am I giving any names, hee, hee ! but you'll doubtless know my meaning soon enough, since it's only a question of time, ach, ach! a very short time, so I'll say no more at present, my dear Miss Prudery." And then I almost jumped from my chair, when, as if prompted by some psychic force, that abominable bird, with weirdly clear enunci- ation, loudly declaimed: "Tell it not in Gath, whisper it not in the streets of Askelon." And as my heart and head throbbed, again came that sharp hunting call, which seemed analagous with those thoughts clambering over 54 Tamar Curze. the outer rim of my mind — a vast, struggling crowd of cloaked phantoms slowly blending into one great fearful reality. Seated there in silence, numb beneath the Duchess' mocking eyes, I could hear the sharp, eager bark of the yelping pack, and, as if in a mirage, view the panoramic scene, my gaze wan- dering into space, beheld the scarlet-coated men and several women, their loosened tresses and habits flying in the early evening breeze! As, against the red glow of the setting sun, the shadowy riders, pausing upon the hilltops, were plainly silhouetted ere swiftly descending to the clearing. Riding close together were two figures, dim, undistinguishable at first, later growing more vivid, whom in the tall, erect form of the man I easily recognized Sir Lionel, and, by the graceful pose of the woman's slender form, his companion, Miss Curze, as, side by side, far in advance of the others, they steadily flew in pur- suit of the distressed fox. "What is more exhilarating than the splendid Tamar Curze. 55 chase of Actium by blood-hounds, eh?" asked her Grace, wagging her head from side to side, "even if it is but a mythical story; yes, the great desire for blood, my dear, that same worthy desire which crowded the benches of the Coliseum to watch a gladiatorial contest, or, bet- ter yet, applaud itself mad when the Christian prisoners, caught red-handed, faithful to their forbidden creed, poor fools! were tossed to the hungry lions." "Heigho," went on the speaker, callously, "those were the times worth living, when mighty Tiberius, Caligula and Nero ruled, Then one's jaded appetite was satisfied by ac- tually witnessing such living agony; but now, forsooth! we cannot even look upon a bull- fight in Spain or Mexico, innocent pastime, which still might in a slight measure answer the purpose, without a lot of rubbishing, senti- mental censure. "Nothing remains now but that," pointing toward the window, "the pretty, tame chase of a miserable little fox, which, however, is vastly 56 Tamar Curze. better than nothing, for naturally our modern pleasure is still to inflict pain, just a slight rem- nant of barbaric times, a proof of our inherent instincts, nothing more." Here she paused, moodily glancing through the open window, seemingly plunged in bygone memories, then, when once more the horn sounded, resumed: "On the present occasion, however, the keen- ness of the sport is intensified by the reflection and fact that the customary position of things is reversed for the reason, in this case, only one out of many, this Christian country can boast, the quarry hunts the hunter." With a roaring in my ears as that of a cata- ract, I watched the speaker, who, unmindful of my interrogative look, carelessly flecked the ash from her cigarette against the carved arm of her throne-like chair, slyly leered at me with a dev- ilish meaning in her wicked old eyes, then, emit- ting a whistle with masculine vigor, exclaimed : "Fie! Miss Prudery," at the same time lift- Tamar Curze. 57 ing her cane commandingly to check the ques- tion she saw. For the gray horror of her insinuations, causing those self-same vague fancies to leap again giddily about in the rear of my mental comprehension, I sprang to my feet, exclaiming : "Oh ! I cannot bear it ; will your Grace not ex- plain ?" clasping the grim old creature's hands ; I was very submissive now, and to gain the knowledge sought would have gladly acceded to almost anything, aye! even to the reading of Don Juan. "Do you mean that — that " The Duchess, after shaking her hand free from my persistent grasp, removed the cigarette from her lips, instantly relapsed from her hith- erto rigid position, slowly sank back into the ca- pacious recess of the chair, while, rapidly over her countenance there came a change difficult to describe, for within the deep set eyes and the withered face strange emotions seemed to min- gle, war, pass. The ugly grin vanished to be re- placed by another expression, a swift transfer- Tamar Curze. mation from sinister malicious sarcasm to gen- tle, womanly dignity. And as we sat in silence, softly patting my still detaining hand, she said : "Please forgive a crabbed old woman's sense- less chatter ; you may go now, my dear, I've tan- talized you long enough." Fully mollified by these kind words, despite the poodle's vicious snap at my heels, or the par- rot, who for the past half hour had sat, a round, green ball, dozing, now arousing suflBciently from her slumber, thrusting her head from be- neath her wing, sleepily croaked, "Good rid- dance," yes, despite all this, I passed through that door with a far more Christian spirit than when I entered. Tamar Ciirze. 59 IX. Having occasion to visit the servants' hall one morning on some mission for Lady Dora, I entered unobserved, and found them all assem- bled, forming a circle about the Ayah, whom they never missed an opportunity to tease, espe- cially Mollie, the cook, a great, big, good- natured Irishwoman, whose chief delight, seem- ingly, was to plague her. At this present instant they were ridiculing the old woman's native attire and tawdry jew- els, of which latter she had quite a lavish sup- ply, and of which she seemed inordinately proud. The Indian, though understanding EnglisK very imperfectly, however, evidently compre- hended the gist of their meaning, which, indeed, required no interpretation, for her little black beady eyes darted venomous glances from one 60 Tamar Curze. to the other, sputtering some shrill words of rage, as Mollie, snatching her turban and perch- ing it jauntily upon her o^vn frowsy head, nim- bly executed an Irish jig, with some other fancy steps, both fearful and wonderful, thrown in amidst hand-clapping, roars of laughter from her colleagues, and at which, I re- gretfully say, I could not refrain from joining. When, suddenly, in the height of it all, Miss Curze, like a fury, swept into the room, and, taking in at a glance what was going on, with one sweep of her arm sent Mollie, who was still spinning around on her heel, flying across the polished floor. As she stood facing the culprits, who quaked before her, with her small head thrown back, her bosom heaving, a trembling current seemed to chase up and about the strong, shapely hips. "So," she said, her red lips drawn tight across the gleaming teeth, while within her blazing eyes tiny yellow flames seemed angrily to leap and curl, "so, a laudable pastime, in- deed," then unfortunately her glance chanced Tamar Curze. 61 to rest upon me, toward whom she whirled, ''but what else can be expected, when your mistress' confidant is the instigator ?" It is not possible for me to describe the sneer- ing insolence of these words, as, with her arms about the old woman's shoulders, she disdain- fully left us all, guiltily ashamed and crest- fallen. From that time on, Tamar Curze treated me with the utmost rudeness, never missing the slightest opportunity to annoy, humiliate me in some manner. I should certainly, under such circumstances, have left the Court, but Lady Dora, who was in a delicate state, begged me so earnestly to remain till after her illness, that I, loving her with all my heart, reluctantly con- sented, though forfeiting my self-esteem by do- ing so, for many times that vixen affronted me, tried my patience beyond endurance, compelled me repeatedly to seek Lady Dora and beg re- lease from my promise, but, at sight of my dar- ling's dear, patient face, all such angry desires ^vould flee. 62 Tamar Curze. I knew it was for some inexplicable reason the girl's wish that I should leave Glandour. However, I stayed on, and that is a consolation most dear. Lady Dora, Lady Dora! with your infant daughter clasped in your soft, white arms, I feel your presence strangely near me to-night. Tamar Curze. 63 Passing the Duchess' room one morning I was almost knocked off my feet by Maxwell, who, rushing frantically forth, followed by Lacey, caught my gown, exclaiming: "Oh! For mercy's sake! Miss, her Grace is most obstreperous, for poor Patrick is " A flood of Billingsgate coming from the in- terior interrupted Maxwell's further words. "Please, do wait a moment. Miss," cried La- cey, "Patrick " "Well, what about him ?" I asked impatient- ly, annoyed at the delay. I cordially detested the nasty little wretch and could afford him scant attention. "Is he ill ? or " "Murdered! cruelly, basely murdered!'* screamed the Duchess from inside. "Yes," whimpered Lacey. "Yes," echoed Maxwell, edging closer to his 64 Tamar Curze. companion, as their mistress still jelled male- dictions on every living thing, "he's dead; we found 'im lying at the end of the corridor, a 'alf hour ago, stone dead." "He's probably died from old age," I an- swered consolingly, "or else eaten something which disagreed with him." "No, Miss," answered Lacey, "Patrick was but four years old next May, and he only ate some cold chicken last evening at the usual hour; it couldn't be that, besides " "Damnation !" screeched her Grace. "Didn't I tell you he was murdered ?" "It's the truth, Miss," whispered Maxwell, answering my incredulous glance, "the creature was killed, his throat torn 'orribly." "Killed?" I answered. "What could have killed him?" "We don't know, I'm sure. Miss," said Lacey, "one of the dogs must have sprang through the window, which " "You lazy hussy forgot to shut," bellowed Tamar Curze. 65 her Grace. "You are a couple of ungrateful, vagabond leeches; but, mark my words, not an- other shilling, no, not one farthing, shall you get from me ; I wash my hands of you. I'll send you both packing, bag and baggage ; I'll found a lunatic asylum; I'll " The rest of this tirade was inaudible, but a brush whizzed past us, barely escaping Max- well's nose, followed by the Duchess, her red wig hindforemost, her cane raised threateningly, at which sight the frightened pair instantly fled, basely leaving me the sole target of their irate mistress' wrath. "Eh! Slyboots!" taunted she, pausing upon the threshold of her domain, "what brings you prowling around here, I'd like to know, unless," with a sneer, "you had a hand in my Patrick's death ? You always hated him, deny it, if you dare." To which unjust accusation I hotly retorted : "True, I disliked your dog. Madam, but it was never my desire to harm him, and it is most despicable of you to imagine such a thing." 66 Tamar Curze. And turning angrily away saw Lady Dora approaching. "What is it?" she asked, hastening forward, "something serious, surely, to bring that big frown on your forehead, my Olive, and," laughing merrily, as she caught sight of the Duchess' wig, which had now slipped sideways, hanging coquettishly over one ear, "what has happened ?" Highly incensed at this levity, the Duchess stalked angrily back into her chamber, followed after an instant's hesitation by Lady Dora, who, vainly striving to stifle her mirth, motioned me to accompany her. "Forgive me, aunt," bending to kiss her Grace's scowling brow, "it was rude, thought- less of me to " "Umph !" shaking the caressing fingers from her shoulder, and sinking back into the chair a huddled mass, "you are all in league together, so enjoy your joke, my dear." "A joke ! What joke ?" inquired Lady Dora, Tamar Curze. 67 to whom I then explained the mysterious death of Patrick. "Aye ! nothing but an ugly little beast," mut- tered the Duchess, "an ugly little cur, whom every one detested, except a forlorn old woman" — the pathos in her voice reproached me. "A waste of affection to you, no doubt, my lady, who fortunately possess the love of child and husband. However, you'd better make the most of the latter while it lasts." "While it lasts ?" repeated Lady Dora. "Yes," answered the Duchess, rearranging the silken folds of the bright-hued dressing- gown she was wearing, and tilting her wig to a sharper angle, her manner flippant, her voice more cynical. "Yes, my dear, the staff of a hus- band's affection, in nine cases out of ten, is a very weak reed to lean upon." "For goodness' sake, aunt," laughed Lady Dora, shaking her fluffy head in charming dis- approval, "what awful things are you thinking of?" "Merely the inconsistency of ideals." 68 Tamar Curze. "Ideals ! what ideals ?" queried her Ladyship. "Woman's ideals, innocent, stupid ideals. One which in youth's early morning we invaria- bly choose, and as the heathen worships his im- age, which for him, more fortunate than we, is harmless, so do we poor fools prostrate our- selves before this self-created god, and straight- way seizing a shuttle, fill it with various silken threads, the gaily hued threads of Romance, and joyously begin spinning a panoply for our idol. "Ah, me, what exquisite fancies, beautiful thoughts do we reverently weave into that glit- tering mass within whose gossamer folds our reason is caught, tangled, lost. How cheerfully, tirelessly do we labor, till finally Truth, taking pity on our blindness, abruptly lifts that flimsy web, and pointing beneath, discloses, to our hor- ror, naught but a huge, hideous delusion. "Thus, at the lava of youth, the sun of life forsakes, leaves us, when love is dead, freezing beneath the snows of knowledge, to greet the noon of disillusion." Tamar Curze. 69 "You are mistaken, aunt," answered Lady Dora gently; "love never dies." "Stuff, nonsense!" suddenly squalled Lady- bird; "where's Patrick?" This startling reminder of her recent grief seemed to stir the Duchess' smouldering anger to greater heat, for she snapped: "Love dies. I speak from experience, having learned my lesson thoroughly. "Yes," leaning forward, both elbows on knees, "that bitter les- son, which you, my pet, have yet to learn, aye, when Shrewsburg, the brute, slighted, neglected me for that shameless trollop, Moll Darby, the vile creature, who kept the tongues of two conti- nents wagging with her escapades ; soit ! Had I my youth again, but, bah! It's a one-sided af- fair, this world, for Duty shakes her fist in a woman's face, while lightly condoning a man's misdeeds, and " "Silence! you old jackass," rudely inter- rupted the parrot, at which rebuff Lady Dora and I laughed right heartily. "Oh!" apologetically cried her Ladyship, 70 Tamar Curze. brushing the tears of merriment from her lashes, and shaking a reproving finger at the bird, "Ladybird is such a chatterbox." "Yes, laugh, jeer!" cried her Grace, in cha- grin, "but, have a care, my Lady of Glandour, or your laughter may turn to tears before long." "Where's Patrick?" again asked that exas- perating bird. "Patrick !" she called, evidently bent upon irritating the Duchess, "Patrick!" in tones of mock grief, then snickering provok- ingly, as she deftly turned a somersault upon the bar of her perch, "Pat " "Shut up, you imp of Satan," furiously or- dered the Duchess. "You hated him, too, aye !" sighing aggressively, "why is it that hate lives and love dies ?" "You are mistaken, aunt," answered Lady Dora, firmly, "I tell you again, love never dies." "It doesn't, eh? Then," brusquely, "if it doesn't die outright, it becomes stale, which is ten thousand times worse; yes, stale — stale as those violets pinned to your bosom, regarding which I would give you a word of advice; re- Tamar Curze. 71 move the silly things, before some one becomes sick, sated with their odor." "Some one," repeated Lady Dora, without taking the meaning of her look. "Aye, a very dear some one ; there's too much sameness about violets, pretty enough things, no disputing, but with which every lackadaisical story, sentimental novel reeks. Love and vio- lets, violets and love, violet gowns, violet per- fumes, violet breaths, violets faded, fresh vio- lets, dewy violets, they deluge, pelt us with them till we read through a purple haze, love, violets from cover to cover, faugh ! each as ephemeral as the other. I prefer a sprig of marjoram, musk or mignonette, these are filled with spice and charm; therefore, I warn you, choose an- other gown, another flower of a different color ; marigolds, for instance, are pretty, and yellow is " "For jealousy, so they say," laughed Lady Dora, fondly toying with her wedding ring, "but, thank heaven, I have no cause nor fear of that." 72 Tamar Curze. "Don't be too sure, my dear," dryly; "Mrs. Grundy is a deep one; but Madam Gossip car- ries queer tales, and she whispers that thistles are growing amongst the roses, and one love drives out another, so " "Yellow cat, yellow cat!" warbled Ladybird, "throw her out, neck and crop." "There are two things a man requires, which to him are as essential as light and air," con- tinued her Grace; "one is freedom, the other variety ; but, in fact, what a man most admires, demands in woman is a — a little " "Ginger," promptly interposed Ladybird, sidling over to the food-cup and carefully select- ing a generous piece of that article, which, seem- ingly, constituted her favorite diet. "Yes, you jade, that's it exactly," acquiesced the Duchess, eyeing the bird admiringly, "for, without it, that trip on the sea of matrimony either becomes deadly calm, which produces ennui, or so tempestuous that it causes mal de mer, and when the marital ship tosses amid the roaring waves of discord, angrily dashes against Tamar Curze. 73 the dangerous rocks of strife, remember, that it is the pilot of strategy alone who can bring it safely to shore." "Amen," piously uttered Ladybird. 74 Tamar Curze. XI. I was surprised one very warm afternoon to see Mrs. Dunlap peering through the half -closed library door. Upon catching sight of me she motioned my presence, at the same time placing a finger on her lips enjoining silence. Approaching, I followed the housekeeper's glance, and to my surprise beheld Miss Curze lying flat, face downward, upon a great animal- skin in front of the hearth. "Watch!* whispered Mrs. Dunlap. At which my eyes returned and saw the girl take something from her bosom, then press it to her lips again and again, while from her mouth there issued low, sensual sounds. Clutching it tightly to her breast, she rolled, laid partly on her side for an instant, then suddenly springing lightly to her feet, walked with long, gliding steps from the room, upon which Mrs. Dunlap Tamar Curze. 75 immediately entered and, bending over the rug, picked up a glove, which still retained the im- print of the wearer's long, slender fingers, and holding it toward me, asked : "Do you know who's it is V* I shook my head. "Sir Lionel's," she whispered, then, at my blank look of inquiry, continued: "Mark my words. Miss Longnus, there will be sad trouble at Glandour before long." "What do you mean?" I asked. It was a senseless question, for now, now for the first time, I knew the import of the Duchess' hints, but still, even yet, with that maelstrom whirling about me, I repudiated the idea, and clasping Mrs. Dunlap's hands, repeated the question: "Dunlap, Dunlap ! What do you mean ?" "Just what I said," dryly answered Mrs. Dunlap, while her face darkened and the soft lines about her kindly mouth grew hard. "Don't you see the end of this ? And will you help keep our poor young mistress in ignorance as long as possible ?'* 76 Tamar Curze. "Indeed, yes, but " "Hush! not so loud. You are young. Miss Longnus, but I'm an old woman, and have seen a deal of the world's wicked ways. This girl is up to mischief ; I knew it from the first. She is charming Sir Lionel away from his wife and " "But surely, Dunlap, she cannot be so vile as that," I protested, still battling with those re- pugnant thoughts, "surely you must be mis- taken." "Mistaken? No, Miss, not I, and for why, pray, may I ask, was she kissing the master's glove and purring like a cat, the hussy, unless, indeed, she is one, as I sometimes half believe, when I see her lying about, never sitting in a chair like any ordinary mortal woman ; flopping around on couches or coiled, crouching on rugs and cushions, the lazy, good-for-nothing." "She is peculiar," I answered, "and subject to moods, and " "Moods!" scornfully interrupting me. "I'd Tamar Curze. 77 [ike to beat some of the moods out of her with my slipper." In the course of a few days I saw that Mrs. Dunlap's prophecy was undoubtedly coming true, for Sir Lionel was plainly neglecting his wife, and, if I had hitherto any latent doubts on the subject, they were rudely dispelled in this wise. Hastening one early evening to gather, as a loving surprise, some late violets for Lady Dora, who was extremely fond of these dainty blos- soms, my eager quest drawing me toward the arbor, when, upon hearing voices, I hesitated, then, naturally concluding it was some of the servants, was proceeding nearer, paused in sur- prised consternation, when Sir Lionel, speaking from within, in quick, unnatural tones, was saying : "Yes, I'm mad, raving mad, for I burn with unholy love for you, Tamar. You have driven me to perdition ; dreaming or waking, your yel- low eyes fill me with love, hope and terror. "Your breasts are twin magnolia buds, whose V8 Tamar Ciirze. fragrance maddens me. Your hair is a golden cobweb, in which my heart and reason are caught, tossed between love and duty back and forth like a shuttle in the loom." [Remaining mute, I listened to her voice, soft, low, purring, but failed to catch a single word she uttered, and then could scarcely refrain, as I heard his lips pressing hers in smothered itera- tion, from rushing in, confronting, upbraiding them for their shameful perfidy, when the more sober, sensible thought came, of what avail would be my, the governess', interference ? I should most probably be summarily dismissed, and they could still have their own guilty way. The next morning, as if aware of my knowl- edge. Miss Curze's hateful yellow eyes seemed to smile, glare into mine with a glow of fierce, triumphant mockery, but, glancing at Lady Dora, and mastering my resentment, deep with- in my heart, I solemnly registered a vow to keep this disgraceful secret from her, even if by do- ing so it required my life. Tamar Curze. ^9 XII. One night I was painfully aroused from sleep by an agonizing toothache. Burying my throb- bing face deep amid the pillows. I thus hoped to allay the grinding pain, but it was useless. I turned, twisted in misery till neither temper nor endurance could stand it any longer, for surely, of all human ills, the toothache is the most exasperating, and remembering hearing Mrs. Dunlap speak of a positive cure which she possessed, I hastily jumped from the couch, hurriedly thrust my feet into a pair of slippers, donned a dressing-gown, wrapped a warm woolen shawl, the latest gift from Lady Dora, tightly around my head, seized a chamber can- dle and, with some trepidation, for the night was far advanced, quakingly descended the stairs, childishly dreading to pass through the library, which would be by this time in almost 80 Tamar Curze. total darkness, and filled with strange, ghostly shadows of the fearsome armed knights sta- tioned at intervals along its walls. Upon reaching there, however, I was agree- ably surprised to see through the heavy oaken door, standing slightly ajar, a faint glimmer of light, at which my fears vanished, remembering Sir Lionel's study was directly off this room, and instantly concluded that he had remained up to read or perhaps to look over his steward's accounts. Naturally, I would have, at any other time, fearing to intrude, retired, but my troublesome tooth kept me in constant torture, so, without further hesitation, I tapped, then, gaining no response, boldly entered, fully expecting to find the study door open, but no, the door was closed, and the light reflected was from a small taper burning dimly upon the long, wide table in the center of the room ; at sight of which I was in- stantly assailed with the fear of burglars, who had been operating in the county for several weeks past, and, in terror, fully expected to feel Tamar Curze. 81 a gag in my mouth, or, worse still, a pistol pointed to my heart or forehead. Thus, quaking with terror, I stood, my limbs shaking, bending beneath me, while a heinous horror took possession of all my senses, and visions of knives, masks, daggers were realisti- cally portrayed upon the distorted camera of my fancy. After an instant's immovability, however, I glanced shudderingly around, my attention caught by some white object lying a few feet from the heavy velvet curtain which separated the library and drawing-room. Rendered almost desperate with fright, I cau- tiously advanced a step, paused, and, mastering courage, by the exertion of almost superhuman will power, ventured another step, then started suddenly forward, for Oh! merciful heaven, it was Lady Dora, in her night-robe, stretched un- conscious upon the floor. Fright snatched the breath from my lips, but reason replaced it. What had happened ? What should I do ? Like a flash my instinct warned me to act with dexterous coolness and make no 82 Tamar Curze. outcry. I knelt by her side, chaflSng the chill temples and icy hands, then remembering that in the next room was a decanter of wine, spring- ing to my feet, I rushed to fetch it, but, in- stantly dropping the curtain, recoiled in in- expressible shame. This, then, explained Lady Dora's condition, to whom I returned and, with energy born of de- spairing indignation, lifted her lifeless form tenderly upon the couch, then flew madly for Mrs. Dunlap, explaining to her in as few words as possible what had occurred, and, between us, we noiselessly carried the still unconscious woman to her boudoir. "Is she dead?" I cried. "ITo, poor pretty, she's fainted," answered Mrs. Dunlap. "Quick, Miss, a little sal vola- til. IsTow hand me that glass of water," forc- ing a drop or two between the tightly clenched teeth. "Ah!" as the lashes fluttered, "now the good Lord be praised, she's coming round." "Oh! Mrs. Dunlap," I gasped, as a sigh and some incoherent words bubbled from the partly Tamar Curze. 83 open lips, "if we could only contrive some mira- cle to let her think it was but a dream." "Ah!' answered the old woman sadly, while hathing the white forehead with motherly gentleness, "it is impossible, such dreams as these no human power can heal nor conceal." Another sigh followed, deep and long, then Lady Dora's eyes opened wide with a look of affrighted bewilderment, then unutterable woe shone from the blueness of their depths. What could we do to comfort her ? All words seemed so cold, so useless. Happily, with light- ning rapidity, some impulse prompting me, I rushed to the nursery adjoining and, lifting lit- tle Cyril from his slumber, laid him, all rosy from sleep, into his mother's arms, who burst into a torrent of tears, which shook her delicate frame cruelly, at which Mrs. Dunlap made a motion to remove him. "Ko, no," she cried, drawing the curly head closer, "let him remain. I want to feel his inno- cent baby arms about my neck, his soft little body against my aching heart." 84 Tamar Curze. Then, as I bent to kiss her before going, she whispered : "Pray for me, Olive." Pray for you, ah! indeed, I never before prayed so earnestly as I did that night for you, my darling. Tamar Curze. 85 XIIL The succeeding days rolled slowly into weeks. Sir Lionel, exulting in his passion, devoting himself assiduously to the shameless Circe, who had so completely enslaved him, was callously, completely unconscious of the change in his wife's manner, her scarcely concealed aversion, the sharp recoil from his indifferent caress. After the first shock, however, during which I knew Lady Dora lived in a purgatorial fire, whose throes of suffering she bore unflinchingly, and from whence she later emerged, seemingly lulled into a lethargic stupor, then again pass- ing from that state, apparently resigning her- self, with a chill, emotionless calm, to the in- evitable, facing situation and fact quietly, which caused me to wonder where this frail creature got the endurance to combat so huge a 86 Tamar Curze. trial, and also the power to bear its burden so bravely, treating Miss Curze with her usual gentle courtesy, and giving no sign, save by the extreme pallor of her face, the dark despair within her eyes, so pathetic in their futile love and shattered idyll. One morning, happening to meet Tamar Curze in the corridor, I bitterly beseeched her to cease from further dalliance with Sir Lionel, to which she haughtily replied : "Pray, express yourself more clearly, my good woman, I cannot grasp your meaning." "You know my meaning well enough," I cried angrily. "Why feign innocence ? Since it is no secret, every servant at the Court knows that you and Sir Lionel are breaking Lady Dora's heart between you." And then, forgetting my pride, anger, all, everything, I knelt to this woman, pleading with her in the faintest hope that surely some latent womanly feeling might turn her heart in pity toward Lady Glandour, imploring this creature, Tamar Curze. 87 more than half devil, to go, leave her Ladyship in peace, and who, after listening in stony si- lence, cried: "What do I care for you or your musty, worn- out platitudes of moral philosophy. Will its inane teachings quench a volcanic passion such as mine ? You imbecile." Verily, civilization, like beauty, must assur- edly be only skin deep, for at these insulting words a frenzy, for the nonce, transformed me into a veritable demon, a taint inherited most likely from some remote swashbuckler ancestor, for the blood surged, beat furiously in my head, thumped loudly against my temples, while I had an unrestrainable, mad, fiendish impulse to clutch that slender white throat so temptingly bare, and seize, shake, throttle her. She evidently read my thoughts, for she sneered : "Yes, Miss Prudery, as old Shrewsburg calls you, yes, but you aren't equal to it." Then, bending tantalizingly toward me, she Tamar Curze. suddenly tweaked my nose most painfully, then with one single bound reached the door and mockingly threw these words over her shoulder : "I love him, do you hear? You ugly bunch of primness ; yes, love him, and all your preach- ing shan't alter nor palliate it. So go, go, tell that to your white-faced mistress, who poses as a martyr." Frantic with rage, I rushed forward, but with far greater fleetness than a deer she was gone, while her laugh still lingered echoing down the hall. Tamar Curze. 89 XIV. "Look here, Dora," said the Duchess, march- ing into her niece's boudoir one afternoon. Lady- bird waddling at her heels, "I want to give you a bit of advice; you can take it or leave it, just as you see fit" "Yes, aunt," indifferently answered her Ladyship, without glancing up from her sew- ing, "what is it?" "Well, I have seen for several days past that you are fretting over something easily guessed at, though you have not confided in me, and now," speaking with tart brusquerie, "since your ver- nal heyday with all its silly glamour has passed, as I said it would, and you have at last caught a glimpse of your idol's ugly clay toes and awakened to the stern realities, what are you going to do ?" "Do ?" dully repeated Lady; Dora. 90 Tamar Curze. "Aye, jou can't stay here, reaping the after- math of Delusion; moping won't help matters, besides being altogether too unpleasant. And, after all, what could you expect? since you would limit yourself to one color and — violets ?" Lady Dora, sitting with drooping shoulders and face dense white with a strange crepy ap- pearance, now lifted her haggard eyes, filled with such impotent apathy, which sight, doubt- less, touched the Duchess' heart, for the raillery left her voice, a new softness crept into her eyes, a tenderness to her lips, as she continued : "Dora, I want you to come away with me and your beloved Miss Prudery here." "Oh! Yes, yes," cried I, grateful to be in- cluded. My ready acquiescence pleased the Duchess, for she smilingly turned to me, saying: "That's right. Miss Longnus; thank you. Champion my cause by helping me persuade her Ladyship. We will go to some nice, quiet place, anywhere she may choose, and by waiting it will Tamar Curze. 91 only be a brief time until things right them- selves." "Why should I go ?" asked Lady Dora. "And wait for what ?" **Your husband, child ; who else ?" "Oh, indeed," caustically; "throw out those violets, Olive, nodding toward a glass bowl, "they sicken me." I took the flowers, which filled the chamber with their illusive fragrance, and at Lady Dora's request placed them outside the window-sill. "Coming to your senses at last, eh ?" smiled the Duchess. "I see also," eyeing Lady Dora's rose-hued gown approvingly, "you've changed your color." "Yes," answered Lady Dora, listlessly, fold- ing a tiny garment, then, stretching her slender arms above her head, "yes, I've been a fool, but my education by a worldly instructor is begin- ning to bear fruit." "Alluding to me ?" asked the Duchess, "Host certainly." 92 Tamar Curze. "My instructions, you cannot deny, will bring your husband back and " "You are well-meaning, but illogical, aunt, for," coldly, "did you not declare but a few weeks ago that love, once lost, was irrevocable ?" "1^0 matter what I said," lapsing into her old mood, "there's always exceptions, different causes and temperaments, besides, love and fancy are two vastly separate things." "No, aunt, if " "They are ; don't you dare contradict me, for I know what I'm talking about, and that deep down in your husband's heart, deep as the sea itself, is his love for you, and " Lady Dora raised her hand protestingly, while over her face a swift blush, radiantly beautiful, swept, but the Duchess unheedingly continued : "Yes, a love no other woman can ever reach, much less hold, and which you, by making the slightest effort, can easily regain." "I," scornfully uttered Lady Dora, twisting a strand of her pretty hair around her fore- Tamar Curze. 93 finger, "have not the faintest desire to regain anything so worthless." "Pooh! You haven't, eh? Don't tell fibs, my Lady; of course you have, but by sitting here isn't the Tvay to do it." "Now, aunt, do, pray, hush. I find no fault with my lot, without which," sarcastically, "life would have no story, and so, have accepted the fact philosophically, precisely as it stands, since," bitterly, "the pendulum of Fate has swung it my way ; after all, it is but the natural tragedy of womankind." "Bah ! tragedy of womankind ! It is nothing but your abominable pride. I have no patience with you nor your stupid philosophy." "And yet," coolly, "it is your own teach- ings." "My teachings, forsooth! I'd like to beat you, and repeat that Lionel's love is deep, last- ing and will return. It is merely that baser part of his nature, which has gone a-Maying, at- tracted, caught temporarily by the false lure of 94 Tamar Curze. Lady Dora laughed, a low, broken laugh, say- ing: "And, then, it is a foregone conclusion, you expect me to welcome back with open arms the repentant truant who has put this deadly insult upon me?" "Yes, why not ? when the time arrives forget antagonism, cast aside aversion, open your arms wide to him, give him comfort, love, it is a true wife's duty to forgive." "Aunt, you are the most inconsistent of women, prating to me of comfort, love, forgive- ness ; I have none, no, not even anger, only con- tempt, pity for a man who could fall so low." "Well said," answered the Duchess, "pity is akin to love, so come away with me." "No," retorted her Ladyship, "your inten- tions, I know, are for the best, and thank you, but my place is here, and here I will remain." "Oh! well, suit yourself, child; at a time like this, I presume, every woman must be her own mentor. Stay with your philosophy, it is a nice, respectable, motherly, old doctrine, if in Tamar Curze, 95 this case a trifle erroneous, and, like religion, is at least sustaining, and during youth will serve their purpose, but wait, wait till old age, that hideous, grim hag, who, squatting, blocks our life's length pathway, toward whom we shrink- ingly approach, and beneath, around whose ugly arms, limbs we shyly seek in vain to wiggle, creep unnoticed, cunningly give her the slip un- challenged, but, alas ! she has us instantly on the hip, and callously, regardless of our tears, pro- testations, sternly demands her toll. Aye! even to the least iota. "Then, my dear, is when you will long for the consolation of your husband's love. But," pausing and regarding her niece narrowly, "in the meantime you must choose a lover." "A lover," repeated Lady Dora, staring un- comprehendingly, "what do you mean ?" "Just what I said," bluntly, "a lover ; merely tit for tat. Young Mayfair still adores you and " "Stop," commanded Lady Dora, who had risen, her face blanched to the hue of marble, 96 Tamar Curze. her eyes cold, chill hauteur in every pose of her slender body, held so proudly erect. At this in- stant the young mistress of Glandour Court was a very great lady indeed, as she repeated : "Stop; how dare you hint such a shameful thing. Because my husband has forfeited his honor that does not give me the latitude to do likewise." The scorn in her voice made the Duchess wince, who, coming hastily forward, said: "You silly girl, I didn't mean it in that sense. Listen, dearest," taking both Lady Dora's hands in her's; "as I said before, matrimony needs a pilot. In this instance, that pilot must be a pseudonym lover. Love will return tenfold if incited by jealousy. Make him jealous." "Why should I make him jealous?" queried Lady Dora, "surely one evil cannot right an- other." "Sometimes it does, precisely as one poison counteracts the other. You cannot keep this up, Dora. It is not in reason for you to live lonely. Tamar Curze. 97 desolate. Your heart demands love, your na- ture craves it." ":N'o, no!" "Yes, it does! You, who in every instance are so suited to enjoy, satisfy love's demands. It is pure folly to waste the sweetness of your beauty and youth in this manner." "Youth ? ISTo, aunt, I'm no longer young, but old," releasing her fingers from the other's clasp and brushing them wearily across her fore- head. "Oh, so old!" "But," persisted the Duchess, "loves reju- venates." "Love! nonsense, what folly!" impatiently. "Aunt, stop this useless discussion, or yon will drive me mad." "Oh, Dora!" sighed her Grace, "this is not the morbid mood to be in when God is so soon to send one of his greatest blessings upon you." At this her Ladyship's lips quivered, but she still shook her head in positive negation. "Beloved, listen to me," said the Duchess, 98 Tamar Curze. putting both arms about her neck, "my poor little girl, I " "Oh! aunt, I loved him so, I loved him so," cried Lady Dora, her head upon the Duchess' breast. "What am I to do ?" "Let me arrange matters," soothingly, coer- sive, "come away." To which Lady Dora, crushed beneath her first great sorrow, only answered : "No." Tamar Curze. 99 XV. One morning Simpson, the head gardener, re- ported that he had found a fawn dead and terri- bly mangled, but by what he knew not. "It looks like a wolf's work, Sir Lionel, but blest if I know how a wolf or any other animal could get into the park ; the gates and entrances are always securely fastened." His master gave the man strict orders to thor- oughly examine, repair all fences wherever necessary surrounding the grounds, enjoining him to take double precautions in the future, for these mild-eyed little creatures were in truth Sir Lionel's especial pride. "Examine every nook and corner well, Simp- son," he said decidedly, "it must not happen again." This incident had almost passed from mem- ory, when Simpson reported the same storj, anr 100 Tamar Curze. other fawn had been discovered dead, killed in exactly the same manner. Upon hearing this, Sir Lionel's anger was terrible; he ordered every dog upon the place shot, all save one, for, acceding to his young son's tearful importunities. Trust was the only dog spared. I was startled and a deal annoyed one night by Mollie rushing wildly into my room, seem- ingly on the verge of an epileptic fit or some- thing equally serious as she gasped : "Oh ! Miss Longnose, I've seen it !" "Seen what ?" I severely demanded. "It, and please. Miss, I'm going to die or faint or something," straightway plumping her stout person into my light willow rocker, smashing it completely. "In the name of common-sense, Mollie," I asked, "what are you talking about ?" *'It," repeated she, still shaking with fright. By this time I was becoming terribly alarmed. The hour was long past midnight, and Mollie, I knew, was in the habit of indulging a trifle in Tamar Curze. 101 alcoholic spirits behind good Mrs. Dunlap's back, therefore I hastily concluded she was threatened with delirium tremens. Her eyes, almost starting from their sockets, rolled horri- bly, and her face was livid, as she stuttered: "Oh, Miss Longnose, darlent, I mean the thing that has been after eating all the deer in the park. Yes, Miss, a horrible, yellow thing, all covered with big, round, black spots, but," leaning toward me confidently, "the worst of all. Miss, ugh! it frightens me to think of it, it's " She stopped, covering her face with both hands and trembled so violently that every arti- cle in the room shook and rattled. "For God's sake, Mollie," I cried in terror, "what was it like ?" "Like?" through her chattering teeth, "it was — " glancing fearfully about and over my shoulder, "Oh, Holy Father!" uttering a shrill scream she dropped like a log from the chair to the floor. Springing to my feet, I beheld Miss Curze, 102 Tamar Curze. who, evidently, in passing, had stopped out of curiosity to hear the cook's story. "Miss Longnus," said she authoritatively, "v7hy don't you order this vs^oman off to bed, in- stead of sitting here listening to her silly twad- dle? Can't you see she's intoxicated?" "No," I faltered, "she is certainly not that, though I was clearly under the same impression at first, but now am quite positive that she is so- ber, and there may be some truth, strange as it seems, in what she says." "Nonsense ! she is drunk I tell you ; just hear her snore." For sure enough, Mollie lay snoring, fast asleep, where she had fallen, and as Miss Curze passed on, I hastened in quest of a couple of footmen to carry the cook to her own quarters. Tamar Curze. 103 XVI. The next morning all the servants went around with white, scared faces, speaking in furtive whispers, and one by one they each gave notice to leave. This mystery puzzled me not a little, as none of them offered Mrs. Dunlap any excuse or reason, and they were mostly long, well-tried servants. It clapped the climax when Raymond, the butler, tendered his resignation, at which the master of Glandour said: "Raymond, as a right, I demand the cause. The others I don't care a farthing about, they may all go. It doesn't signify. But you who have, and your parents before you, served the Glandours loyally and true, why are you leav- ing me? Have I not always treated you as a friend, not a servant? Come, you must ex- plain." 104 Tamar Curze. "Sir Lionel," replied he, "as you say, I and mine have served you faithfully nigh unto four generations, but things are not as they should be here at Glandour. something is wrong, radi- cally wrong." "What damned foolery are you talking?" re- torted Sir Lionel sternly, his brow flushing a deep, angry crimson, "have a care, you may go too far." "I mean no disrespect, nothing against you. Sir," replied the dignified old man, the tears dimming his eyes at his master's rebuff, "but the fawn in the park, Sir." "Why, man," in evident relief, "what under the sun has that to do with it?" "A great deal, Sir ; we consider our lives in danger." "Are you an idiot, Raymond ? Haven't I had the dogs shot, that did the mischief? What else can I do? There have been no more ani- mals molested since then." "You are mistaken. Sir," answered Ray- mond; "there was another killed last n.ight." Tamar Curze. 105 "What?" roared Sir Lionel. "Yes, Sir," repeated Kaymond ; "a doe." At these words like a flash I remembered Mbllie's story. "This is infernal, devilish," said Sir Lionel, sinking into a chair. "Why was I not informed sooner ?" "Mollie, the cook, Sir," said Raymond, mov- ing a step nearer and speaking in an awe-struck whisper, "Mollie, Sir, declares that last night she saw the thing that did it." "Is it possible?" Sir Lionel looked troubled, then quietly said, "Send the woman to me this instant." And Raymond, obeying, walked as fast as his stiff old legs would permit, to return with the cook, up to her elbows in flour, who, after bob- bing a courtesy, stood in simpering confusion. "What was it you saw in the park last night, Mollie, my girl V asked Sir Lionel kindly. "La, Sir, I don't like to think of it, for it frightened me so I'm almost dead. You see, Sir, I'd been out spending the evening with 106 Tamar Curze. Jane Mallony, a cousin of mine, Sir. She was just aftlier having her baby christened that same day, and being as she named it afther me, Sir," with another dip, "Mary Ann, Sir, which was my mother's name before me, Sir," with a still deeper dip, "I thought it no more than right. Sir, that I should take it a present, which was a bonnet. Sir, and " "Yes! Yes!" impatiently, "never mind that part, just tell us what you saw." "I'm coming to it. Sir," reproachfully, "fast as ever I can ; well, I'd come through the south gate, the small one, near the arbor, where the shrubbery grows so thick, you know. Sir ?" Sir Lionel nodded resignedly. "Well, as I came through that gate — Thomas, the gardener. Sir, had given me the key, as," apologetically, "I didn't know just how late I'd be in gettin' in. Well, I was that timid. Sir, crossin' those bushes, but when I got clear of them, I was all right again, so " "Did you drink anything?" abruptly asked Sir Lionel. Tamar Ciirze. 107 "Well," rolling one corner of her apron into a tight, round ball, "well, yes, we did have a glass or two of hot toddy, jest to kape the warmth in, for it was a bitther cold night, as, perhaps, you know. Sir. 'Now where was I?" losing the thread of her story, and lookingly appealingly about. "Where you had passed the trees," I eagerly interposed. "Ah, yes; when I passed the trees, I was walking along quietly. It was very moonlight, when straight in front of me I saw two animals standing close together, and," Mollie began to tremble, "I thought nothing of that at first," here she shook so that I arose and pushed her into my chair, and she continued : "But as I came a little nearer, I saw one was trying to get away from the other and cry- ing almost like a child. I knew it was one of the deers, Sir, and in an instant remembered about the others being killed. I got behind one of the oaks, for I could hardly stand from fright. The poor little crayture moaned so piti- 108 Tamar Curze. ful like, while the other thing growled and snapped like an angry dog. "After awhile I peeped around the tree and saw the deer drop to the ground, and at the same time the animal fell, too, with its teeth fastened in the deer's throat. Then, Sir, it jumped up quick like and stood switching its tail, looking from side to side; it was a great, large, yellow cat, spotted all over with black. And as sure as I live. Sir, belave me or not, just as you choose, as I looked my heart jumped and hit my nose, Sir, for " "Well," impatiently interrupted Sir Lionel, "what next?" "Nothing, Sir," stammered Mollie, "only Then, uttering a shrill scream, she dashed against Sir Lionel, and almost upsetting me. fled through a rear door from the room. "What is it?" asked Miss Curze, who now entered, "what is all this hubbub and confusion about, Lionel?" At this instant a footman beckoned, telling me Tamar Curze. 109 that Mrs. Dunlap requested my presence imme- diately, and hurriedly following the man heard, as I approached the servants' hall, loud noises of mirth and distress commingled. The scene when I entered was ludicrous in the extreme, for one of the maids, evidently ren- dered hysterical through MoUie's harrowing tale, was stretched upon a settee, while some of the others were rubbing, fanning, shaking her, while still another threw water in her face. But the funniest thing of all was Mollie, who probably weighed two hundred pounds or more, down upon her knees, convulsively clasping Mrs. Dunlap around the skirts, and in terror- stricken tones imploring : ^'Good Mrs. Dumplap! Sweet Mrs. Dump- lap !" to save her. As I entered, Mollie, with a howl of fright, jumped to her feet, no doubt fully expecting to experience the novel and disagreeable sensation of being swallowed alive. 110 Tamar Curze. XVII. 'An hour later Simpson substantiated the cook's story. A fawn had been killed identi- cally as the others at exactly the spot described by Mollie. "And," said the man, who evidently put no credence in Mollie's yarn, "sorry as I am to say it, Trust must surely be the culprit." "Then," firmly answered Sir Lionel, "he must die." At this ultimatum, Cyril's grief was pitiful, but this time his father was obdurate. "Oh, Trust, Trust," sobbed the little fellow, with his arms clasped around the huge dog's shaggy neck, "they are going to kill you. I know you never did it, but they won't believe me, and you can't talk, poor Trust." The noble animal, undoubtedly aware of his impendinff fate, his great soulful eyes sad with Tamar Curze. Ill almost human intelligence, industriously licked the small tear-stained face lovingly ere he was led to his death. And to this day through misty eyes I can see the dear laddie with each chubby fist closely pressed to his ears to deaden the sound of the fa- tal bullet, which robbed him of a lifelong friend and comrade. "They are cruel, I hate them," Cyril cried, rushing to my arms. "Hush, darling," I replied, "surely you don't hate your papa, and you know that it is by his orders that this is done." "Yes, I do," he stormed; "I hate him worse than Simpson or any one else." "Oh! my pet, you don't know what you are saying," I answered, deeply grieved to hear him speak so bitterly, "your mamma would feel dreadful if she heard you say such naughty words; you cannot wish to hurt her." "1^0, no, poor mamma, she would cry; she cries so much now, nearly all the time. When- ever I wake up at night I hear her crying. Why 112 Tamar Ciirze. does she cry, Miss Longnus ? Now," medita- tively, "if she had Trust and they killed him, she might have cause to cry, but " "Oh! dear heart," I answered, wiping the soiled little face, "she did have a Trust, and it was killed, cruelly, wickedly." "It can't be, Miss Longnus," shaking his curly head, "you are mistaken. Mamma never owned but one dog in her life, and that was when she was a tiny girl. It died and was buried in a beautiful grave. It's name was Nixie. She has often spoken to me about him. He was not a big dog like Trust, who," proudly, "you know, is a very large Newfoundland, but a teeny-weeny Prince Charles. "Since then she never cared for another dog; besides, why should she wait all this time to cry ? She never used to cry ; she doesn't play now nor tell me pretty stories. "Nurse says we are going to have a baby here soon," regarding me with bright, question- ing eyes. "I've seen several babies and don't care much for them, they are such queer things. Tamar Curze. 113 MoUie's sister owns one. It has neither hair nor teeth and can't walk, but squirms a lot. Of course," philosophically, "if a baby does come, we will have to take care of it, I suppose; I don't know what they're good for, unless it's to punish wicked people; if that is true, I hope Papa and Simpson will be 'fflicted with one for their sins." 114 Tamar Curze. XVIII. Little Cyril grieved long and deeply over the loss of his pet, until finally Sir Lionel, who probably suffered a twinge of remorse, procured him another dog, almost a counterpart of Trust, with strict instructions that it must be chained up at night, but the child never displayed the same affection for this one as for the former. Lady Dora now seldom left her apartments, a fact which they, too much occupied with their guilty love, failed to notice, till Sir Lionel, hap- pening to observe his wife's growing fragility, sent to London for Doctor Rossiter. I was always a firm believer in Instinct, natu- ral impulse. Instinct is a God-given gift, too slightly appreciated, loosely cultivated, and I am satisfied that more than half the crosses, trib- ulations of life, could be averted by simply heeding, following our guardian angel Instinct ; Tamar Curze. 115 for, believe me, if permitted, it would control our actions, moods entirely. 'AH animals, dogs in particular, possess this gift, Aye! and abide, profit by it; why should not we superior animals do the same? Avoid the person whom your Instinct warns you against. It is seldom, if ever, erroneous, for was it not due to its warnings I owed my an- tipathy to this woman, whose frightful beauty was leading Sir Lionel to destruction and send- ing Lady Dora to the grave ? "Oh, why," I repeatedly asked myself, "could not this mere girl, so little fitted for suf- fering, have been spared, or kept in ignorance, and a stoic like I been permited to suffer in her stead?" To my idea Lady Dora was always pretty, but now there was something spirituelle about her, which rendered her loveliness almost un- earthly. So, a piece of advice, then, shun the woman who speaks with a lisp or that other abomination, t^ie woman with moods. Kow, as I stated at 116 Tamar Curze. first, I'm a plain, practical person, and never waste time littering my mind with useless rub- bish. What I stated regarding Instinct is ordi- nary facts, not alchemy. I have no patience :with one who dabbles in magic and is forever running after secret laws, forbidden knowledge. By this I intend no disrespect to Felix Kossi- ter nor Professor D'Herbelot, whose theories in almost every case run in parallel lines that way of course. Felix has, I believe, a somewhat dif- ferent view, more sensible ideas than the Pro- fessor, that is, he did have, till the latter, by a lot of queer, outlandish theories, which I, for one, don't put the slightest credence in, and in which any sensible person would have but little faith, preferring to leave all such poppycock to the archives, has lately, I regretfully confess, totally demoralized the Doctor's otherwise well- balanced mind. For instance, one of the Professor's pet be- liefs is that the departed spirits, the male enti- ties included, are forever, night and day, in our Tamar Cnrze. 117 midst, ^ow, to contemplate such absurd, nay, immoral, ideas is, to say the least, most alarm- ing, for, according to them, a modest, virtuous woman would have no privacy whatever. 118 Tamar Curze. XIX. Which was it, a dream or reality? Even now I know not, but, one or other, the shock, owing to the latent horror of it, still remains a wild, unearthly dread, a dread that haunts me with an awful, undefined distress, for even to this day I cannot recall that fearful night with- out a prickly sensation about the roots of my hair and shiver with a chill of unspeakable an- guish. If a dream, it certainly bore some cryptic im- port, heralding the projection of the calamities which shortly followed ; and if reality, the sinis- ter danger which then threatened me, few women have lived to tell it, but dream, reality or whatever it was, I will herewith explain in brief detail. My tooth, which had troubled me sometime Tamar Curze. 119 previously mentioned, now through neglect had become ulcerated and, consequently, passing several sleepless nights, I was on the verge of collapse when, fortunately, Mrs. Dunlap, al- ways kindly, considerate, compassionately took me beneath her motherly wing. This first night she had spent several hours administering to me, relieving my swollen face with flaxseed and frequent applications of hot flannel cloths, until at last, surceased from suf- fering, I lay soothed, calm, luxuriously repose- ful under her maternal solicitude, contentedly watching the trim little woman bustling softly about the room. "Please go to bed, Mrs. Dunlap, dear," I said, noticing that she looked very tired from her long vigil ; "you must be worn out, do go." "I'm going now, dearie, just wait one mo- ment," and after poking the fire into a brighter blaze, extinguishing the alcohol lamp, she re- luctantly left me. As she crossed the threshold I drowsily no- ticed that the lieht touch she gave the door- 120 Tamar Curze. knob failed to catch, but, being too sleepy, did not bother arising to fasten it. My dreamless sleep, though heavy, was not restful. It seemed, occasioned by utter exhaus- tion, more like a stupor. How long it lasted I don't know, when I suddenly awakened. Frozen with fear, I could see by the light cast from the coals in the grate, that the door, which Mrs. Dunlap had closed, neglecting to fasten, was now nearly wide open, and in the room felt some nameless, malevolent presence. Powerless to move, endeavoring to probe the gloom, my straining eyes were attracted where two bright sparks, blazing gray, green, amber steadily shone from the farthest corner of the chamber, till the intensity of their magnetic lus- ter fascinated, maddened me, and then, every drop of blood crept slowly to my heart, beating in dull, aching thuds, for there, against the wall, directly behind those twin brilliant rays, I still peering, seemed to discern the outline, the dark, ominous shadow of that which, by im- Tamar Curze. 121 perceptible degrees was, yes, a sinuous, couch- ant form. Bathed in the clammy sweat of mortal terror, I lay, as if petrified, helpless, cold, the dull apathy of despair paralyzing my brain and pulse, knowing that to move the fraction of an inch was to hasten my doom, as I awaited, watched that huge, motionless, irresistible, bronze thing, crouching silently in the corner, whose spring would mean swift, agonizing death. Aye! It was coming. I noticed a slight movement, doubling about the loins and shut my eyes, striving to pray, when, suddenly, my tense, taut ears caught a faint but unmistakable sound, the dear, blessed sound of Mrs. Dunlap's slippered feet. Would she be in time to save me? or oh, merciful God! would she, too, be I remembered nothing more. Mrs. Dunlap said she found me in a swoon. If reality, I was nearer death than most women, and if a dream, it was wonderfully real- 122 Tamar Curze. istic, for my hair, which hitherto had been jet black, without one single silver thread, to mark my twenty-six years of life, was on the morrow snow white. When in after years introspectively glancing back, a benumbing languor creeps over me, I single out this one night as the most vivid, and my heart grows sick, for Time's deft fingers have been unable to erase from my memory the acute malignant horror of it. All that remains to be told will be related by Doctor Rossiter, to whom I now resign my pen and bid you farewell. Tamar Curze. 123 XX. Upon the first evening of my arrival I was dining at the Court, feeling it my duty and pleasure by responding to Sir Lionel's urgent request to visit Glandour immediately, when a footman flung open the door and a woman en- tered, whose, weird, unnatural beauty staggered me. Miss Longnus, I perceive, has given you a very fair description of the household's various members, but that of Tamar Curze, — ahem ! She advanced slowly. I never saw a woman walk so slow before, seemingly to pause an age at every swaying step. She was exquisitely tall, tall as an Eastern palmetto, and white, the ex- treme pallor of her face intensified by several brown moles. Her coppery hair, rumpled in picturesque disorder, was golden, no, bronze, now flaming 124 Taraar Curze. chestnut, and her eyes, long, slanting, were not eyes at all, but stars, shot with irradiant darts, which, flashing through the half-closed lids, fringed with lashes of extraordinary length, emitted rays of green, blue and violet. Was I drunk ? No, my wine remained un- tasted. What necromancy then caused by the evanescent faint, indescribable perfume emanat- ing from her presence, overwhelmed me as a narcotic draught? What sorcery of a dream possessed, wafted me with the velocity of light- ning on the wings of Memory, to the Brahmap- tura valley across the great river of Darrang to plunge me into the cool, dark Assam jungle oozing with its heavy floriferous odors, sensual fragrance of the orchids, swaying sullenly or in undulating movements of languorous delight, and whose imperial stillness is broken by the shrill whistle of its inmates, low melodious gamut of noises, which smite, echo from the quivering branches above which sounds the an- gry chatter of monkeys, resenting encroachment upon the sanctity of their domain ; then silence Tamar Curze. 125 save the lisp and rustle of leaves, everything was stilled into a silent symphony, while across those golden aisles, where the sun sifted, little furry creatures scurried. And then I swung my hand to my throat, for with excruciating torture all the blood of my body crowded, gorged my aching brain, aching with baffled memories around which, with per- sistent intensity, my thoughts ran in painful gyrations, in pursuit of something invisible, which mockingly eluded, slipped over the sheer declivity of my mind, down which in vain I shrinkingly peered to behold nothing but chaos till I heard Professor D'Herbelot's voice through booming distance saying: "Not for me, Felix ; I'm not a man of blood, and it is, to my idea, nothing short of murder to kill those inoffensive, pathetic little crea- tures." These words partly awakened me from my ether-like drowsiness, and through an eerie, yel- low-haze loomed the woman, half poised, half drooping, floating dreamily before me. 126 Tamar Curze. No, I'm not drunk, but assuredly threatened with brain fever, or if not, what inexplicable physical force hurled me back a matter of twenty years or more? Yes, it was a hot ride down from London ; I am undoubtedly going to be ill. Endeavoring to bring my wits together, I strive to emerge from this comatose state, and, passing my hand quickly across my throbbing forehead, nervously wonder if the others have noticed my perturbation, and was relieved to see Lady Dora in leisurely consumption of her soup, while Miss Longnus, sitting prim to my left, had finished. Drawing nearer. Miss Curze's eyes, those wonderful eyes, with the peacock's prismatic tints, rested with all their splendor upon Sir Lionel, who, leaning forward, returned their gaze with equal intensity, while every nerve of my body thrilled with the unutterable charm of her presence. She wore a garment of yellow velvet, not fashioned after the prevailing mode, nor any Tamar Ciirze. 127 other, for that matter, for it was twined, twisted, wrapped about her in a way that seemed to harmonize, form part of herself, and from which emerged, gleaming with satiny whiteness, her neck and long, slender arms bare to the shoulders. I cannot recollect now what I said in response to her nod and smile by which she acknowledged the introduction. All during the remainder of the meal my senses stayed strangely deadened. She was full of lazy gestures, and had a most captivating way of twisting her lithe, graceful body. Her conversation, however, as far as I heard, was nothing remarkable, indeed, con- sisting merely of brilliant flippancy, and, but perhaps I imagined it, she seemed bent upon tantalizing Miss Longnus with covert remarks about old maids, spinsters, etc., causing that lady, whose attitude towards her, I noticed, ap- peared unmistakably hostile, to answer sharply more than once, which, however, instead of nonplusing, seemed to please, nay, delight Miss Curze hugely. 128 Tamar Curze. 'Nor did I escape. I knew intuitively during the meal that I was under criticism, and at the end my vanity suffered a secret pang when I distinctly heard her remark sotto voce to Sir Lionel that I was "a sanctimonious cad." Tamar Curze. 129 XXI. At the expij»ation of the third day at Glan- dour, seated in my chamber, with the smoke of a cigar curling above me to the ceiling, I've seen the time when, as a struggling young prac- titioner, I have had to go without wine at din- ner nor never missed my pousse cafe, in fact had cheerfully foregone numerous pleasures considered by some essential to the inner man, but there was one thing I could not dispense with, that was my cigar, and a good Havana at that, in whose seductive breath I forgot the world's vexatious cares. This particular evening, however, my weed failed in its magic work — my mind was trou- bled. It's deucedly unpleasant to be called "a sanctimonious cad," and retrospectively my thoughts wandered back to the good old college days. 130 Tamar Curze. What a jolly set of chaps we were. There was Jack Vettelton, the instigator of every town and gown row, for which he was even- tually expelled, and now, strange as it may seem, he is a bishop, most orthodox of his call- ing. Luke Grimes, another fun-loving ring- leader, now occupies a judge's seat. I have heard, seen how criminals quail before the ma- jesty of his presence. Then, there was lazy, good-natured, stupid Dick Trevor, who, as a Parliamentarian, takes the first rank. Upon the table at my elbow is "The Times," bearing upon its printed columns a brilliant speech from the Honorable Richard Trevor, who for years has found no equal in the House of Commons. Then, too, I must not omit our favorite tutor, dear old Professor D'Herbelot, a true student of Anthropogency, now universally acknowledged, acclaimed the foremost scientist of the day, for having the keenest penetration coupled with re- markable audacity, he has made discoveries of the most astounding character, possessing an aggressive mind always in pursuit of, forever Tamar Curze. 131 seeking, the unknown and seemingly able to pierce the vast, untouched Future and see the advent of things that are not yet. Absorbed in chemistry, anon plunging into, experimenting with alchemy, from which he analyzed, extracted numerous cabalistic myste- ries, holding the perception of his weird subject with the delicate, cool precision of the surgeon, when his scalpel cuts the living flesh. He did not escape calumny, for naturally, his superior will, intellect, which gained for him the distinguished position he held, also gained him some enemies. The medical and scientific world would sometimes, while admiring the originality and boldness of his views, pooh! pooh ! his theories, sneeringly call him a mystic, while others derided him as a madman. D'Herbelot disliked religious discussion, never allowing himself to be drawn into any controversy, causing some to openly accuse him of being an atheist. Ah, an atheist, perhaps so, but, nevertheless, a firm believer in charity, a devout worshipper of Nature, with whom he 132 Tamar Curze. communed, and whose beauty, harmony seemed ever to surround, serve him, developing recti- tude of ideas, correct appreciation of that knowledge, never zig-zagging off into intangible channels. Grimly faithful to his ideas was D'Herbelot, the powers of his mind chained to useful actions, his motives pure, sincere. This large-souled man's ideas, correct or erroneous, were at least fortifying, nor was he a hypocrite, for his motto was "Truth." Dear old chap ! I had seen him but at brief intervals since that delightful vaca- tion we spent hunting in India. I sighed, for since that time a score of years had passed. Aye! What changes indeed since those happy, good old college days. But alas! here was Lionel Glandour and myself entirely out of the running, in fact ignominously left at the post. Yes, Lionel, the finished stroke of the Varsity crew, who as a student manifested such pro- digious activity, now, contrary to his youthful boastings, apparently contents himself to live Tamar Curze. 133 the aimless, uneventful life of a mere country- squire. I confessed myself disappointed in Lionel, from whom all ambition seemed to have fled. He was still the same genial, gracious friend as of yore, but there was, I noticed lately, a differ- ence, a preoccupancy in his manner, which somewhat puzzled me. My thoughts now tramped off in other direc- tions, treading on each other's heels or separat- ing in grotesque shapes. Assuredly I was prodded by the elbow of egotism, constitutedly of a happy temperament, the spirit of morbidness possessed me now, for to be called "a sanctimonious cad!" well, per- haps she was right, for here I was, plodding along in a fair measure, but unable to achieve recognition, which I seemed this evening to de- sire more than ever. Fame's applauding hand was what I craved, but alas ! I was now a mid- dle-aged physician of but indifferent renown, the laurel wreath further from my brow than ever. 134 Tamar Curze. These reminiscences were cut short by a knock at the door, and then in response to my absently spoken admittance an individual en- tered who, without any preliminaries, said: ^'Hit's 'er Grace, the Duchess of Shrewsburg, as wants you, Sir. She's been took with one of 'er bad spells hagain. Hit's the spirits, but," aggrievedly, "she would 'ave 'em, hand has 'er own Doctor Harmstrong is off in Scotland for a few days, she ordered me to fetch you. So, please come. Sir, 'er Grace doesn't like to be kept waiting," I had heard strange and fearsome things about this same Duchess, though whom during my former visits I'd never yet met. But with- out further explanation or waiting to make in- quiries, I hastily caught up my medicine-chest and straightway followed the impatient man. After walking rapidly through several dimly lit corridors and mounting a broad flight of shallow stairs, my guide finally paused in front of a massive oaken door, which at his light tap was softly opened by a female attendant. Tamar Curze. 135 Stepping back a pace or two, I wondered if I was amongst a pair of Bedlamites, for the man and woman, their arms and shoulders, as if moved by springs, jerked spasmodically, seemed to be affected with St. Vitus' dance, while they dodged, sidestepped, ducked heads in a most remarkable manner. Then, from the furthest corner of the murky room, which reeked with the vile stench of patchouli, came a garrulous voice, saying: "Eh, Maxwell, have you got him ?" Under ordinary circumstances I'm not a cow- ard, but at this my heart commenced to beat a tattoo and I wanted to bolt. "Hit's 'er Grace, Sir," whispered the man, evidently noting my apprehensive intention, then hastily, "Yes, Your Grace, 'e's 'ere." "Then turn the wick a little higher. Mercy ! Stupid, not so high !" After Maxwell did as desired, reclining in an immense chair, her left foot swathed in ban- dage, resting on a pillow elevated to a perpen- dicular ^position, which brought it almost on a 136 Tamar Curze. level with her head, was the very Grossest look- ing old woman imaginable. However, I advanced with a low bow, and looked my very wisest. "Umph," she surveyed me critically. "Have I the pleasure," I asked in my best professional tones, "of addressing the Duchess of Shrewsburg?" "Never mind about the pleasure," she snapped, shaking the most villainous looking stick I ever saw. At this instant, to make matters worse, and increasing my dismay, sputtering, scolding, an- other voice exactly similar to the Duchess' arose. "Hush, Ladybird, do," entreated Maxwell, "go to sleep and behave yourself," and to my great relief I discovered it was only a parrot, whose vocabulary seemingly consisted chiefly of cuss words. "Oh, oh!" howled the Duchess in sudden pain. "Oh, oh!" mimicked the bird, adroitly elud- Tamar Curze. 137 ing, with the utmost sangfroid, the spoon the Duchess flung. "Oh, oh!" once more bawled the dame, madly beating the air with her stick. "Oh, oh, fiddlesticks," repeated the parrot, who now drowsily posed, blinking disapproval at the Duchess, who cried: ''Eh ?" and then I gTinned in spite of myself, as leaning forward, with one vicious whack of her cane, saying, "Take that, you impudent hussy," she knocked the offender from off its perch to the floor, where, while rearranging its rumpled feathers, it swore angrily, giving vent to loud vituperation. "It's the gout. Sir," explained the woman apologetically, when at last she could make her- self heard above the din, "her poor Grace is a perfect martyr to it." I stood, feeling like a fool, and doubtless looking like one, for the Duchess yelled : "Yes, oh! damnation, how I suffer. Don't stand there all night gaping and staring like an idiot, but, quick, give me something to stop this 138 Tamar Curze. infernal pain. Oh, oh, Maxwell, you imbecile, why didn't you bring me a doctor, not a don- key?" I turned on my heel. "Where are you going?" screamed the old hag, jumping up in her fury and dancing around on one foot, then, to my consternation, hopping after me, her stick aloft, "Oh, come back this instant, I command you !" "Oh, oh, I command you !" echoed the green imp, climbing again to her perch. "Madam," I replied with dignity, "you have no right to command me nor any authority to insult me that I'm aware of. I wish you good evening." "Catch him," cried she, unheeding my words ; "oh, oh. Maxwell, don't let him get away." "Don't mind 'er Grace," said Maxwell, con- ciliatory, laying a detaining but respectful hand upon my sleeve ; " 'er Grace don't really know what she says or does. Sir, when she gets them 'orful' shootin' pains." Something in the man's and woman's implor- Tamar Curze. 139 ing, troubled faces slightly mollified me, and banishing my resentment for their sakes, I soon ascertained that her Grace's ailment was sim- ply a severe case of suppressed gout, which, luckily, I thoroughly understood the treatment of. And from that evening, owing to the whim or gratitude of a capricious, crotchety old woman of rank, I suddenly discovered those long-delayed, coveted bay leaves resting on my brow, which made me the rage of London, for fickle fortune or fickle fashion rather smiled upon me, nay, not only smiled, but laughed, shaking me vigorously by the hand in right good will. 140 Tamar Curze. XXII. Lady Dora seemed in a chronic state of mel- ancholia, which to a ceitain extent was to be expected, though, in truth, a healthy woman should during that time be at her best and hap- piest. Each recurring period, that delicate, tentative period of approaching maternity which the path of Love lightens, should act as a wholesome moral brace, satisfying to her conscience, strengthening, stimulating her character, and as wife and mother, invigorating, intensifying her dignity, binding her yet closer to her children and husband's heart with that inscrutable bond which is the only true secret of all happily mar- ried lives. So thus, what I at first laid to nature now puzzled me. Therefore, unable to diagnose the case, I sought Sir Lionel's permission to sum- Tamar Curze. 141 mon, consult our old friend and tutor, which request was readily granted. It was late that same afternoon when, in due time, in answer to my telegram, he arrived. Professor D'Herbelot was a remarkably hand- some man of lofty stature, kingly bearing. In his magnificent dark eyes was a vastness, whose gaze seemed to embrace, comprehend everything at one swift glance, but perhaps the main charm of his countenance was its childlike frankness. There was no perceptible change in his ap- pearance since my Oxford days. He still re- tained the tremendous physique and vigorous constitution of youth. His words were terse, well chosen and to the point, and while wholly unaffected, there was an air of imperial hauteur about him compelling instant homage, and in his presence I invariably had a sensation of rever- ence. Possibly this great and wonderful man was spoiled, sated by excessive tributes from the fairer sex, for when presented to Miss Curze, iwhile regarding her curiously for a moment, he 142 Tamar Curze. did not evince the slightest admiration, merely returning her gracious bow by the curtest of nods, while deliberately ignoring her out- stretched hand entirely, then rudely turned his back, directing all his conversation to Lady Dora. She, Miss Curze, was palpably piqued by this marked indifference to her charms, for I heard her remark aside to Sir Lionel that he was : "A crusty old brute." The Professor's previous demeanor was only feigned, however, for I saw, by furtively watch- ing, that he was even more strongly affected than myself at first sight of her. The muscles of his powerful face twitched painfully, as his eyes rested, wandered with a queer, eager expression over her head and shoulders to the flexible hand toying noncha- lantly with a small green caterpillar, fallen from the roses, then roving back again to look perplexedly at her face. This close scrutiny plainly irritated its sub- ject, for she raised her eyes interrogatively an Tamar Curze. 143 instant to his, then still continued teasing the caterpillar, one moment allowing it to crawl nimbly away, then pouncing upon it with the tip of her forefinger, when the grub would in- stantly curl up into a tiny round ball. "Pardon, Madam, do you never eat meat?" asked Professor D'Herbelot. I, too, had noticed on previous occasions that she never ate meat. Again she lifted her haughty head, her eyes blazing like topazes through the half-closed lids as she briefly answered: "No." "Of no description ?" he persisted. Once more she lifted her head, and now I could plainly see the hidden anger in those lurid, saffron depths, as suffering the caterpillar to escape, she almost snarled: "N'o, — why do you doubt that I'm a vege- tarian ?" "Because your temperament and appearance belie it." Then, assuredly something in his insinuating 144' Tamar Curze. glance immediately caused a swift change to flit across her scintillating orbs, while her left hand, slipping along the table-cover, rippled, crumpled it in a sudden clutch. D'PIerbelot noticed it, too, and a smile pinched the corners of his mouth, as he now bent far across the board, looking with a seem- ing challenge boldly into her face, in which ab- solute terror was now plainly deciphered, while the frail stem of the glass, around which her fingers twined, snapped suddenly in twain, spill- ing its contents in a crimson flood upon the ta- ble. But quickly recovering when noticing our puzzled faces, laughing lightly she held her broken glass to be refilled, answering his glance in like manner through half-shut eyes. Then her behavior swiftly changed from its former proud deportment to downright diablerie, as, lifting the goblet to her lips, she bowed him a smiling defiance, saying: "Yes, Sir, Professor, since you so rudely in- Tamar Curze. 145 sist, at certain times, but only at certain times, do I eat meat." "Ah!" he nodded gravely, as at her motion he slowly drained his glass, "ah !" Their glasses were several times emptied, re- filled. Miss Curze, her eyes sparkling, her white teeth gleaming, was on the extreme verge of reckless hilarity. Altogether she was most diabolically beautiful, as lifting the wine to her lips, she drank with Professor D'Herbelot again and again. I was by this time growing somewhat appre- hensive, for at the present rate they would soon, undoubtedly, both be tipsy, when, luckily, Lady Dora gave the signal, and Miss Curze reluc- tantly arose, also Sir Lionel, who, pleading some excuse, followed the ladies from the room. "Well," said I, when left alone, "what do you think of her ?" "Umph," grumbled the Professor. "Her beauty, though of a peculiar order, is wonderful, is it not?" I queried. "Beauty? I saw no beauty in Miss Curze, 14:6 Tamar Curze. for I presume it's she to whom you allude. Lady- Dora, to my mind, far surpasses her both in looks and manners." "Oh," I laughed, remembering the girl's be- ha\dor at dinner, "her manners are certainly nothing to brag about, but her beauty is indis- putable. That glorious blending of color would fill an artist's soul with ecstasy." "Indeed," dryly. "Your idea of beauty, my dear Rossiter, is, permit me to say, deplorably limited." "Professor, you are an icicle," I answered, "for I verily believe that neither Helen nor Venus herself could thaw you." "Tut," he answered sharply, "you are as badly infatuated with that infernal Circe as our unfortunate host himself." "Lionel?" I gasped, a light suddenly break- ing through the cloudy recesses of my brain and recoiling from the thought with a sense of sharp, physical agony. I sat stunned, endeavoring to repel the terri- fying truth, having not realized till now how Tamar Curze 147 she had enchained me, how her beauty with the invincible force of a mandate compelled my whole being to quiver, pulse with desire for her whose image had aroused, unloosened, mad- dened my passions. And thus suddenly comprehending, a tumult of savage rage, wild jealousy arose inchoately against the man who possessed her, and when in the stress of it, remembering their now too obvious secret, I was about to utter an oath, when D'Herbelot's eyes met mine, with a look of vague, ineffable pity. Something in that glance brought me to my senses, stirred me to sudden composure, as he continued: "Aye! Sir Lionel Glandour, who, poor fool, cannot exist out of the vixen's sight." By this time I'd pulled myself sufficiently to- gether to say: "]Srotwithstanding her father was your friend, and. Professor, while I respect, esteem you be- yond all men, I cannot, while enjoying the hos- pitality of his roof, listen to defamatory re- 148 Tamar Curze. marks against Sir Lionel, who is a prince of good fellows and " "Pooli ! a prince of good fellows, no douLt. Oh, the shame, the infamy of it. Rossiter, are you really so dense, so blind that you cannot see the cause, the damnable cause from which Lady Dora suffers, which is slowly, surely killing her? "Why, man, I wasn't in the place five min- utes before I saw what the trouble was. And then you ask me if I think that thing beautiful ! No!" snapping his fingers contemptuously; "no, in my eyes she is hideous, for I see her with- out the glamor of magnetism, wherein she has so powerfully enveloped herself that you, fool- ish boy, see her exactly as she wills, desires you," significantly, "and others should. "This woman, my friend, has the hypnotic gift to a marvelous degree, but she also pos- sesses another power, an infernal power, not human, more wonderful by far than mere hyp- notism, that it was only by strenuous self-con- trol that I resisted her." Tamar Curze. 149 "A power, what power ?" I asked. "I let her know I was her peer in that game, though," triumphantly continued he, ignoring my question, "if not her master, and, having the advantage, will force some truths from her, too. I see her as she really is ; a large, sinewy, well-formed woman, with a white, hairy skin, plentifully sprinkled with big, unsightly brown moles, red, blood-loving lips, sharp, cruel, white teeth, the baleful yellow eyes of a "]^o, I'm not mad, Kossiter. You see, I read your thoughts like an open book, for I've studied the mystery of that art, too, which is simplicity itself, amongst many other so-called mystifica- tions, which abound to such an exent in Tibet and throughout the East, where queer things happen in Nature's Laboratory. "As I said before, Rossiter, this woman is a psychological problem, and has evil, powerful secrets; but what they are I can only surmise for " "Professor," I interrupted, my temper ris- ing at these disparaging insinuations against 150 Tamar Ciirze. my goddess, "will you kindly explain what the deuce you are driving at ?" "Later, my boy," coolly, "have patience, sci- ence will " "Science is the bride of philosophy, and as such plagues or pleases us," I irritably re- torted. "Nay," gravely answered Professor D'Her- belot, "science is a faithful, sensible wife, in whose hands our honor is safe, for it is logical, stern, solid truth, while, on the other hand, philosophy, as the Duchess says, is a comforting solace, a sort of motherly doctrine." Tamar Curze. 151 XXIII. The meal, as I writhed under the dragging torture of suspense, since she was not there, seemed interminable. For Professor D'Herbe- lot's hints regarding Tamar Curze had kept me in a feverish state of abeyance, especially as during the whole day, despite every effort, I had been nnable to see her, and now, at dinner, to my disappointment, her chair was vacant, while to feign attention to the few desultory remarks passing back and forth between Miss Longnus, the Professor and Sir Lionel, Lady Dora being also absent, was maddening. I was forced to admit to myself, for it was clear as daylight now, that during the past two weeks she had from some caprice been merely playing with me, amusing herself wantonly at my expense, and the full opprobrium of that fact was unbearable. My taut, overwrought nerves 152 Tamar Curze. fluttered, resenting further prolonged strain, for outward calmness. Ah! at last Miss Longnus was arising; also, as on the evening previous, Sir Lionel. And now, over the wine and walnuts, I awaited in ill-concealed impatience for Profes- sor D'Herbelot to commence the desired sub- ject, but he, to my annoyance, instead of reliev- ing that stress of anxiety under which I la- bored, his thoughts seemingly thousands of miles away, remained mute, immovably gazing through the open window into the intangible dis- tance of the park, now bathed in shadowy twi- light. The heavy silence actually crazing me, I could scarcely keep my seat. Finally I ven- tured to approach the topic of, if not the rose, however, approaching nearest I could get to it, hoping by tact to lead thither, by remarking : "That was a jolly vacation we spent in India, Professor." D'Herbelot nodded without replying, but not daunted, I continued; Tamar Curze. 153 "Did Lieutenant Curze ever explain why he left us so suddenly that day in the Assam jun- gier Again he nodded. This was the last straw. I wanted to hit him, half-rising to do so, but on second thought repeated the question, to which he answered : "He received a message." "A message," I echoed incredulously, "from whom?" "His wife." "How the dickens could she communicate with him ?" "Ey bearer." "Then she must have discovered the wireless system long before Marconi did," I sneeringly exclaimed, "for I swear there was no visible envoy." "The envoy," turning with a sharp, queer look, "was visible." "Impossible, Professor; I happened to be watching him when he suddenly clambered into the howdah, and was off like a shot." 154 Tamar Curze. D'Herbelot arose, flicking the ash of his cigar out of the window, where he remained standing, till I impatiently cried : "How can you explain that ?" "Easily enough," returning to his chair. "Lieutenant Curze's wife had promised that, in case of pressing necessity, she should send her pet cheetah to summon him, accordingly, when brought to premature accouchement, she dispatched, as agreed, this animal, abnormally intelligent, to fetch him. You surely know that these hunting leopards possess keener scent than bloodhounds, far greater speed than deer." "Humph! I can't quite understand it even yet, for I saw no cheetah." The Professor gave me another odd glance. "Did you ?" I persisted. "Yes," after a pause, "it was the same leop- ardess I shot at." "Ah, yes," eagerly, "and disappeared." "Disappeared into the Lieutenant's howdah, where it sprung after I mortally wounded it." With this D'Herbelot dismissed the epi- Tamar Curze. 155 sode, now maintaining a provokingly strained avoidance of that which, he must have known, most filled mj thoughts, and, instead, contrary to custom, branched off on an entirely different matter altogether, the subject being a Religio- Scientific discourse. "What is your true religion. Professor?" I yawned. "Well," after puffing slowly at his cigar for a few moments, "I've been called an Atheist, which " "Is untrue," I interrupted, "and unjust." "Yes," reverently, "I recognize, serve a Su- preme Ruler, whose existence is sheer folly to doubt, deny, for the evidence of His influence, presence is everywhere. "This, however, is an age when proselytizing, exclusiveness and petty denominations are pass- ing, while Spiritual Science, uncorrupted by hypocritical clergymen and egotistic ecclesias- tics, is practical, while other beliefs are merely philosophical. Mother of all religions, harmon- izing conflicting creeds, Spiritual Science is 156 Tamar Curze. slowly taking precedence, veiling its destined wonders, prudently concealing its truths beneath modesty's manteL "Truths which will afford wonderful facili- ties for extending the sphere of law and na- ture. "It was the creed of the ancients and all great philosophers were its followers, Plato, Pythag- oras and particularly Socrates, who loudly proclaimed it. Its teachings will abolish the term 'Supernatural' by explaining the absolute fact of that which is now, through ignorance, er- roneously called 'miracles.' " "I differ with you there. Professor; nothing can explain miracles," I answered, "and me- thinks, if we mortals, like inquisitive children, loiter about the door of the gods, or dare peep, put a prying eye to the keyhole of To-morrow's portals ; Lo ! those two sturdy sentinels. Doubt and Disappointment, guarding that ponderous gateway, will roughly tweak our ears to teach us better manners." "Nay," answered D'Herbelot, "would the Tamar Ciirze. 157 Creator have given us the evidence, inspired His children with capacities, insatiable thirst for knowledge, merely to irritate them? Ko, there is method in all. It is His desire that we should penetrate, fathom, secure light, reason from every deed which He in his inscrutable wisdom has given us to make possible by faith- fully fulfilling every requirement, obligation imposed upon us fearless of consequences." "Is this wonderful science," I asked, "at the disposal of all ?" "Yes, of any worthy mortal, who faithfully seeks it, but is only acquirable when its follow- ers are truly, conformably loyal to its belief and aspirations are actuated by noble purposes not personal trifles." "Cornelius Agrippa claimed a magician must be born. Professor." "That is untrue, but to gain achievement, as my friend Emoclew-Houssien Eao, an adept, has done, one must be physically, mentally pure, accepting every demand uncomplainingly, heed- less of its severity to iN'ature's dictation. 158 Tamar Curze. "First of all is the law of obedience to Truth, charity and mankind. Spiritual Science is Na- ture's doctrine, though quackery has greatly monopolized, shamelessly abused the true tJieugrie use of the term. For, do not tares and ■wheat invariably grow close together ? It is the souls " "Then you do acknowledge a soul. Profes- sor?" I said. "Some Scientists aflSrm that the soul is merely a logical postulate, just a symbolic abbreviation independent of its expressions, functions of the psychic facts themselves." "Tut !" impatiently answered D'Herbelot, se- lecting, cracking a walnut, "that is all bosh and a leaden, unwholesome, chaotic idea, utterly un- worthy serious consideration, being both hope- less, illogical and besides an insult to the Crea- tive Power, for Nature substantiates the fact of an ever-existing soul or ego attributory to the same, that wonderful system controlling the living faculties. "Yes, my friend, I believe, and say as Soc- rates did, ^I respect my soul, though I cannot Tamar Curze. 159 see it.' For the locus of the soul is there, a direct emanation from the Deity. All united in the immense circle of infinity, we are all de- rived from and must return to the Absolute, who " At this moment Miss Longnus, pale, agitated, hurriedly entered and beckoned, leading us without a word to her Ladyship's apartments. 160 Tamar Curze. XXIV. The day following the birth of Lady Dora's little daughter, the gamekeeper reported that a fawn and doe were found dead mangled most dreadfully at the south end of the park, a mile distant. The occurrence seemed at first a trivial thing to me, but caused the greatest turbulence at Glandour, for it appeared this same affair had happened several times previously, consequently every one was in a state of terror; some of the maid-servants, crying and whimpering, wanted to leave the Court immediately. Sir Lionel, puzzled, angrily censured the man for neglect of duty in not guarding the place sufficiently against intrusion and depredations of dogs belonging to families in the surround- ing country. Late in the afternoon of the same day Miss Tamar Curze. 161 Longnus, pallid and grief-stricken, summoned me to Lady Dora's assistance, who, unfortu- nately, was suddenly taken worse, for I found her, as I thought, dying, when, happily, much to my relief. Professor D'Herbelot entered, who, with a cheery word and soothing gesture, took both her hands in his. There was no mistaking the genuine sym- pathy with which he bent over the couch, that he had conceived a deep, fatherly affection for Lady Dora, while she, naturally of a singular clinging, lovable nature, seemed to find instant relief in his subtle strength and poignant buoy- ancy. "ITow, now, My Lady," he said, softly pat- ting her white fingers, "what's this ? You must not turn back again, now that Doctor Rossiter and I have got you along the recovery road so famously. What do you mean, eh?" banter- ingly, "by taking the honors away from us in this ungrateful fashion ? "Come," drawing from his vest pocket and uncorking a small black vial, "take a little sip 162 Tamar Curze. of this, my dear. Ko, it isn't bitter," as Lady Dora made a slight protesting grimace ; "there, that's right," speaking with almost emphatical tenderness, "now shut your eyes, yes, hold my hand if you want to, tight, tighter. Tut, no, 3^ou won't hurt me ; and go to sleep, there, now, so." And in a thrice Lady Dora, at his command, was sleeping soundly, while he patiently re- mained in the same uncomfortable position, gently stroking the sleeping woman's forehead and frail, transparent hands. The chamber grew dim, ghostly; Professor D'Herbelot, about him hovering a sort of depth- less knowledge pertaining to life and things eternal, still maintained his motionless attitude ; while Miss Longnus, kneeling on the other side of the bed, watched with sad, intense eyes the rim of the sun's crimson disc slowly disap- pearing behind the tree-tops. Tamar Curze. 163 XXV. A few hours later I strolled with my cigar for companionship in the park. It was a fine night, the moon shining so gloriously one could almost see to read, when presently D'Herbelot joined me. He, too, was smoking and the ci- gar, judging from its aroma, was a strong one. "Hello, Professor, how is our patient ?" D'Herbelot, removing the weed from his lips, flicked its ashes against the branch of an elm. "She's improving," I said with optimistic cheerfulness, "eh ?" impatient at his silence. "Lady Dora is worse, Rossiter, much worse." "I wish we could break that confounded apathy of hers," I answered. "We may not have another hour together in confidence," said D'Herbelot, consulting his watch, "as I am compelled to leave for London at daybreak." 164 Tamar Curze. "At daybreak?" I iterated in astonishment; "why so sudden, so early?" "It is imperative that I depart almost im- mediately. One danger has been temporarily removed, but another element which seriously threatens me remains." "Element?" I stammered stupidly, "what element ?" "Here," touching the region of his heart sig- nificantly, "there's a weakness." "Your heart ?" I interrogated. He nodded affirmatively, saying: "Yes, Rossiter, my heart; that potion which I have just given her Ladyship deprives me of a faithful protector, a friend upon whom I've re- lied, depended for years." "And Lady Dora?" I answered, "will she "Lady Dora, my friend, cannot possibly live longer than a week." "Oh, nonsense, Professor," I ejaculated in- credulously, "it is surely nothing more serious than a little nervousness." Tamar Curze. 165 "Nay," gravely shaking his head, "her Lady- ship is dying and has been dying since the birth of the child. That draught which I gave her will prolong life one week. It is an herb, given me by Emoclew-Houssein Rao, discovered in Ti- bet, whose effects are marvelous ; unfortunately, however, it was the last few drops I possessed, and cannot procure more in this country, hence my urgent need to go." "And you," I cried, grasping his hand warmly, "you have jeopardized your life to save Lady Dora? Professor, you are one of God's noblemen." "Tut, it was obviously my duty and may elim- inate one black mark from my account. But, as I said before. Lady Dora will live one week, no longer, perchance not so long, as the drug loses its strength with age." Sighing deeply, he continued : "If I could obtain twenty drops, her life would last twenty days, which would enable, give me time, to procure, return with more, but " 166 Tamar Curze. "As it is ?" I asked. "She must die." At this conclusion of his words I jumped, and although a man of more than average cour- age, shook with fright, the cold sweat trickling in a stream down the small of my back, for a laugh, no, not a laugh, but some horrible sound resembling it, an indescribable, weird, sneering sound, broke the night's stillness. "Hist," whispered D'Herbelot, pulling me with a sharp jerk of his muscular arm uncere- moniously behind a tall cluster of ferns, grow- ing in close proximity. Crouching low, striving to stifle our labored breathing, for the space of several minutes we knelt there. Then, as I was slowly regaining composure and straightening my cramped, ach- ing limbs, came once more, but this time much nearer, that queer noise which, plain, distinct, was now a human laugh, causing my heart to throb with maddening joy, for it was that self- same laugh which I had heard only two even- ings previously at dinner. Tamar Ciarze. 167 I was essaying some sarcastic remark about our recent idiotic fears, when D'Herbelot hissed : "Silence, not a word for your life." For suddenly from the clump of trees to the left leaped an animal, a superb beast, its silky coat shining like richest satin, and whose back and sides were covered with round brown spots, while its breast was of soft, woolly whiteness. Pressing my fingers to my constricted throat, I mentally questioned, was I going mad or dreaming, for once again I was seized with that same sensation which assailed me upon my first evening at Glandour. Losing all fear, I gazed in silent admiration at the splendid creature, who, could it be a mo- mentary hallucination or an ocular delusion, was as beautiful, aye, as royally, damnably beautiful as that day in the Assam jungle, twenty years ago. For retrospection, flashing the truth, solved that hitherto inexplicable connection which linked the two together. 168 Tamar Ciirze. "Bismillah! it's herself/' whispered D'Her- belot, who still clasping my arm, was breathing heavily, his pistol clutched tight, his black eyes blazing with suppressed excitement, "but," he muttered, "how under heaven has the infernal Jezebel obtained the secret of Metamorphosis ?" While Professor D'Herbelot still muttered in- coherently, spellbound, fascinated, with a giddi- ness in my head, I watched the beautiful, rest- less thing before me, one moment shaking, toss- ing its head to the moonlit sky, lifting, scenting the air with quivering, distended nostrils, anon walking back and forth with long, slow, grace- ful steps, then suddenly lying down upon its stomach, yawned, stretched like a young colt, re- minding me of something which having been imprisoned all day, had just regained its free- dom, twisting its lithe, supple body with the sinuous grace of a " "Hush," whispered D'Herbelot, as my ner- vous movements caused a dry twig, crushed be- neath my heel, to crack with a snap. "Hush, you madman." Tamar Curze. 169 For, instantly on her feet, alert, her impetu- ous limbs suggesting greater fleetness than a deer, she was ready for flight, when clear, sharp, a report rang out, followed by a sup- pressed feline cry of mingled distress and rage. "Take that, my Lady," gleefully cried D'Herbelot, as she sank to the ground ; "it will hinder your pranks for some time, I fancy." And as he again took aim I, jumping to my feet with ferocious unreason, that instinct which prompts the savage male to protect its mate, dashed the smoking weapon from his hand. "You ass," raged D'Herbelot, turning on me in a fury, though evidently thinking it an acci- dent, "you thundering blockhead." While he was speaking, I saw with keen sat- isfaction that she was slowly crouching along the grass, making for the shrubbery. By this time the household was aroused and Sir Lionel, loudly demanding the cause of the shooting, came forth, followed by a troop of servants, who in frightened groups stood hud- dled together. 170 Tamar Curze. "It is nothing more serious than that I have just taken a shot at your unknown midnight marauder, Sir Lionel, and will wager my head that henceforth your deer will be safe from fur- ther molestation. Come in this direction." So saying, D'Herbelot seized a lantern from one of the men and hurriedly led the way. Sir Lionel and myself at his heels, the servants lag- ging some little distance in the rear. Suddenly the Professor stopped, glancing about, a look of blank bewilderment on his face. "Rossiter," he faltered, "it was here where she fell ?" "Yes, Professor." "Then I fear," gloomily, "through your con- founded clumsiness I may lose her again. "Ah," he cried, "blood. Yes, this is the spot. And see! here are more traces. Come quick, quicker !" The moon was now almost totally obscured by clouds, but our lanterns enabling us, we traced the blood-stains, losing, then finding them later. Near the ed^e of the graveled walk, where the Tamar Curze. 171 rhododendrons grew high and dense, they were now trampled, broken, plainly disclosing the path through which the beast had dragged her heavy, bleeding body, evidently seeking conceal- ment in the vicinity of the Court walls, which were thickly surrounded by bushes of almost every description. Holding his lantern aloft. Professor D'Her- belot stood peering anxiously around, then asked : "What is this? Steps?" "Yes," answered Sir Lionel, "these are un- used stairs." "Wheredo they lead?" "Eh," a trifle impatiently, "er, to my cousin, Miss Curze's apartments." "Umph," D'Herbelot stopped; then beck- oned us forward. "Look," pointing to the jag- ged stone steps, whereon glowed several bright red splashes of blood. "Sir Lionel, no doubt, this thing is in concealment above. Will you and Rossiter follow me ? The others," indicat- ing the servants, "will please remain below." 172 Tamar Curze. These words were wholly unnecessary, for those people now flew pell-mell in all directions, while we mounted the solid, moss-grown stair- way, fully expecting to be confronted by the des- perate, pain-maddened animal. But, upon reaching the top, however, we found neither sign nor trace. Ah, yes, there were several large pools of blood. "The brute must have bled frightfully," mut- tered D'Herbelot. Then, as Sir Lionel and my- self were preparing to descend, he said : "Will you permit Rossiter and I to search these rooms. Sir Lionel ?" "Nonsense," testily replied our host, "it is an utter impossibility for anything to gain an in- gress through this door," tapping the heavy iron portal with the toe of his shoe, "it has not been opened for ages." An assertion which I secretly knew to bo un- true. "The animal," continued Sir Lionel, "has evidently escaped down the stairs again; after all, Professor," a trifle banteringly, "it may, in Tamar Curze. 173 all probability, have been only a rabbit which you shot." "Sir Lionel/' gravely replied D'Herbelot, "I don't wish to interfere in that which concerns me not, but to my mind this is a serious matter requiring thorough investigation, and this thing, I will vouch with my life, has found conceal- ment within." "Pooh! My dear Professor, it is utterly ab- surd to imagine such a thing, and," continued Sir Lionel, "pray, consider the annoyance, in- convenience to Tamar, Miss Curze, who, assur- edly, at this hour, has long since retired, and " "I should think," hastily interrupted Profes- sor D'Herbelot, "that the lady both for her own safety and others would willingly render all the assistance possible." "Well," doubtfully hazarded Sir Lionel, de- scending, "I shall request Miss Curze's permis- sion, and, if granted, you may search to your heart's content. But, remember, I do not wish her alarmed, frightened in any way whatever." 174' Tamar Curze. "Certainly not," indignantly, "but surely she will have the sense to know that what we re- quest is for her own good." "All right," answered Sir Lionel, waving his lantern from below, "remain there a few min- utes, gentlemen." Accordingly we waited till considerable time had elapsed, then finally heard voices, and after some parley from the inside, permission was granted us to enter. "I beg you to be as quiet as possible," cau- tioned Sir Lionel, before leaving us, while the Ayah pulled the heavy curtains which draped the bed closer together, "Miss Curze is ill, very ill indeed." We searched faithfully every nook and cor- ner of the spacious rooms, even lifting the leop- ard skin from the floor in our quest, which, as I was about to relay, D'Herbelot excitedly seized it, crying: "What is this?" pointing to a small round blotch, then, after pressing his fingers to it, held Tamar Curze. 175 out his palm, stained with deep crimson, grimly saying, "ah." "My han'," quickly explained the old woman, who, hitherto squatted Oriental fashion on the floor regarding us sullenly, now arising, sa- laamed profoundly. "My han'," she repeated in her imperfect English, holding up that left memher, which showed an ugly gash across the yellow wrist, from which the blood was slowly oozing. "See, Sahib, cut." "Humph! strange," uttered D'Herbelot, "I could take an oath her arm was uninjured a mo- ment since." Aloud, he asked: "How did it happen ?" She nodded without speaking toward a crystal pitcher broken and scattered in a dozen pieces upon a nearby table. 176 Tamar Curze. XXVI. "If she had a kitten or even a tame mouse we couldn't have missed it," I said a few minutes later, when seated together in the Professor's chamber before retiring, "for we looked every- where." "Ko, Eossiter, not everywhere. You for- get," dryly, "the most important place was for- bidden us." "Eh ?" I blankly interrogated. "Don't you understand ?" I shook my head in puzzled negation. "The bed," answered D'Herbelot, pouring out a stiff glass of brandy, and pushing the decanter toward me. "Zounds! Yes!'* cried I, reaching for the bottle, "how infernally stupid not to have guessed it sooner, and " "That," lifting the glass to his lips, and Tamar Curze. 177 draining it neat at one gulp, "is where the secret lays." In the silence following this significant re- mark, Peters, the Professor's valet, could be plainly heard in the adjoining room busily pre- paring for the morning's journey. The shak- ing, brushing of garments irritated me and, while my thoughts drifted, started nervously as the Professor sharply struck a match and relit his cigar. As I inertly conjectured, why did I wish to save the cheetah ? What unconquerable force compelled me to prevent the second shot ? Which wild act I now most cordially regretted, vaguely pondering what motive prompted me, brooding moodily upon this one perplexing idea. I again started violently when D'Herbelot, after a few terse moments, abruptly continued : "As I said before, Rossiter, this woman ic a psychological problem, and has evil, powerful secrets. What they were I at first only sur- mised, but my suspicions, during the past hour, have become verified. The one main, devilish 178 Tamar Curze. secret, however, she and her black Ayah still control, for " But my mind, busily traversing the shadowy corridors of imperceptibility, unable longer to concentrate attention, failed to catch the remain- ing sentence. One thing was certain. All hitherto interest in Tamar Curze, from whom my thoughts now in repulsion recoiled, was for some unaccounta- ble reason gone, utterly, forever. This mysterious revulsion of feeling was as swift as that peculiar subtle affinity which in- cited it, and in the realization my first con- scious analysis of this paramount fact was over- whelming self -contempt for my late inexplicable infatuation, in the heat of which mentally I roundly cursed myself for a dolt, an idiotic ass. Yes, thank God, that mad, fantastic dream had fled like froth, vanishing entirely, instead of which remained a frenzied loathing for her, the vile siren whom I had loved so madly, passion- ately, ultimately, and who, strange as it may seem, even up to the very moment, until I trai- Tamar Curze. 179 torously frustrated D'Herbelot's bullet, had so completely, with her witch's spell, enslaved me. However, this hellish illusion now happily passed, I squared my shoulders at the readjust- ment, which brought with it a thankful sense of despotic oppression removed. Then my aberration turned, centered on D'Herbelot. How ludicrous in his sight I must appear, dreading in a shame-faced way the Pro- fessor's well-merited rebuke or epigTammatic gibe. And remorsefully remembering those ill- concealed feelings of distrust which he already entertained, my restless, fretful thoughts con- stantly reverting to the matter, I ruefully pon- dered, would he ever trust me again ? When he quickly in response, as if prompted by mental telepathy, suddenly laid his large, firm hand kindly upon my own, which glowed warmly beneath the magnetic influence of that sympathetic touch, as he said: "Yes, Eelix, I trust you, trust you lutely." 180 Tamar Curze. These assuring words made a proud man of me, as I fervently responded : "Thank you, Professor, it is your faith I most require." "You have it, lad," the pressure upon my arm increased; "we're all subject to tempta- tions. They are inevitable, and come without volition." How thoroughly he understood. His words, presence seemed to redeem, cleanse me from the mire of debasement. "You could," regarding me reflectively, "as- sist me in a matter of the greatest impiort and confidence, if you would." "Try me, my pledge is given beforehand," I eagerly replied. "Later," his eyes meeting mine gratefully, "later, my boy, I may put you to the test. Meanwhile," arising wearily, as the clock on the mantle slowly chimed midnight, "I must order you off to bed." "Pardon, Professor, how thoughtless, how beastly selfish of me," I cried, noticing for the Tamar Cnrze. 181 first time his extreme pallor and the hand press- ing his side. "Here," hurriedly pouring out a glass of brandy, and proffering it him, "drint this." "No," waving it aside, "I'm all right." "You are ill. Professor; it is deliberate cru- elty to leave you." "Nonsense, you forget Peters is in the next room and will attend to my requirements." "But," I hesitated. "Pray, go, Pelix, though I much desire you to remain and discuss certain affairs of vital im- portance, which, however, must wait till some near future time, for I must try before starting to gGkt a few hours' rest, then make off with the greatest possible speed." "Well," still lingering, while the clock melo- diously proclaimed the half-hour, "I will try and most likely see you before you go." "The probabilities are that you will not, so make no rash promises," smiled D'Herbelot, who^ bending over the table, was idly fidgeting 182 Tamar Curze. with some loose papers ; "1 know of old what a sluggard you are." "Twit me not with facts or faults, Profes- sor," I answered, my hand on the door-knob; ''if that duffer Morpheus doesn't hold me too tight a grip, I'll see you in the early morning; if not, at any rate soon in London." "Undoubtedly," answered D'Herbelot, com- ing quickly forward and resting his hand upon my shoulder, said: "I love you as a son, Rossiter; good-night." Tamar Curze. 18S XXVII. Hark, the voice, that whisper. Listen. Oh, hush, I've lost it again, and then, I awaken, while the question my paralyzed tongue refused to frame is reflected, answered with brutal clar- ity in the man's distressed eyes above my pillow mutely attesting that Professor D'llerbelot had passed to that infinite finality which awaits us all. Peters, his faithful servant for years, tear- fully related in an awe-stricken tone how he had found him fully dressed in his chair, lifeless, pathetically indicating he had expired from the cause previously intimated. But, alas! how could I know, guess that fatal hour was so peril- ously near. The following is an unfinished letter ad- dressed to me, over which his outstretched hand was spread, as if screening it from other eyes : 184 Tamar Curze. "My Dear Rossiter: — "It is useless, I cannot sleep, for while, no doubt, by this time, Morpheus has you in his clutches. Miss Insomnia holds me in as relent- less though less welcome embrace. "I will therefore pass the interval before dawn in scribbling this which, if not destroyed, you may pronounce Idiotic and Utopian. "Fitting the subject, I'll take for a principle Insanity, which curious malady some alienists aver contagious whilst others equally positive deny. "Now, different treatises I have faithfully studied and unhesitatingly declare there is no insanity, basing my belief on this hypothesis. "Some humans having no conception of spir- itual existence spurn the idea of life hereafter, with the result, when departed, those same enti- ties are so closely connected earthward, which enables them to produce physical manifestations frequently essaying human or animal shapes. Thus, these sub-humans often possessing mag- netic faculties, easily acquire control of inferior Tamar Curze. 185 minded mortals, consequently constitute them- selves the earthling's master, often using through these helpless puppets a power for shameful purposes, who now for good or evil deeds are completely under this subjection, blindly obeying the mandates of their tyrannical superiors. "Those who have studied the Veda know the Hindoos acknowledge fourteen spiritual spheres, seven above, seven below, the earth included, be- ing the abiding place of myriads of entities with neither heavenly claims nor aspirations, in short those who do not desire to possess the atma or divine soul. "These erstwise mortals, having left the ma- terial body and forbidden higher spheres, peram- bulate that mediocre territory, separating by the merest sheet of astral fluid the visible and in- visible. Thus, those malcontents, inhabiting the various narrow spaces, termed dkasa, be- tween life and eternity, lurk ever watchful to reinhabit an earthly body, and when death 186 Tamar Curze. snatches a soul instantly seize, appropriate the vacant shell. "Naturally that body, outwardly unchanged, is, however, altered internally. The usurper's character, established as the most commanding impulse, nothing can change nor prevent follow- ing the bent of its nature. Thus, this inhar- mony, caused between these two unevenly bal- anced factors, occasions various contradictive complications; therefore, insanity is charged. "But now to the main, most important part, a fact in which my lines of personal investigation have given me many other explanatory details. "Psychology, Philosophy, Patience, Obedi- ence are the four predominate notes, but Sci- ence is the mighty hand which invariably strikes the resounding cord of truth. "Thoughts manufacture matter so surely as mental energy produces action, and these thoughts can take form physically as well as mentally, sometimes transcending restricted limits. Tamar Curze. 187 "In all forms of nature we see various ob- jects, creatures whose characteristics are akin to ourselves, recognizing in an animal's cruelty a relative's semblance j the peacock's vanity some friend; the snake's venom reminding us of another ; for are we not, having sprung from the same source, all related ? "And, as these instincts encouraged, unfold- ing, develops, finally predominating, till, be- coming alienable, assumes human form. "This transformation, wild, improbable as it may appear, I have witnessed, and positively af- firm is accomplished without any so-called genii or magic, aided merely by spiritual, scientific art, and, as surely as man can, through the operation of his will, read the hidden things of another's mind, this, I solemnly state, can like- wise be done. ISTeither need we wait till death for reincarnation; it can be successfully per- formed during life. "Your human understanding cannot perhaps wholly grasp the fact that the possible and im- 188 Tamar Curze. possible may occasionally meet upon an even assumption. Truth eclipses wonders, and the undisputable age of wonders is approaching. "This world, asleep for ages, is now just com- mencing to yawn, stretch itself preparatory to awakening. We are blinking upon the threshold of a glorious new era, more wonderful by far, not judging the future by the past, than which has been lost, regained. "To you, Eossiter, who are a man of stamina, having vastly more comprehensive appreciation pertaining to metaphysics than your colleagues, to you then I'll make my meaning clearer. "You have heard me mention Emoclew-Hous- sein Rao. This marvelous Brahmin, combining Occidental knowledge with Hindustani lore, having familiarized himself, has become un- equaled in Ontology, leaving at will for weeks, nay, months, his body inanimate, commanding when desirous to return his media, who in- stantly uncoffin, anoint, rub with oils the dry, withered frame, rendering ready for occupancy that body as soft, pliant, healthy as before its Tamar Curze. 189 suspended animation. This we know is no new feat, yet wonderful withal. "ISTow, in some such department, this woman, Tamar Curze, a mixture of animal and human, has acquired, though her nurse, the Ayah, is the magnate, the direct instrument through which she operates. "This pair of Theurgists, I must confess, pos- sess more real knowledge concerning Cosmic law than I with all my years of research. That thought is torment, for I constantly fear at any moment, now even this instant, the world may acclaim this woman my superior or perchance alight on some method of its fuller development, for theory first prompts new discoveries, while facts lead to evokement of new theories, which at any moment the analytical, piercing eye of Science will bring to light. "Every age gives birth to some important truth astounding fact, and every age assuredly has, if not in this civilized time, its dungeons, racks to torture the inspired prophet or diviner. It has its scoffing villifiers, wisdom's petty ene- 190 Tamar Curze. mies, all eager to crush, condemn with tongue or pen the hapless informer, for we still retain to a ludicrous degree the fanaticism of our bar- baric ancestors. "This dread sends a faintness to my heart. Is it possible, Rossiter, that I have delayed my departure too long? — faintness increases — a glass of water — relieve me — yet dare not make the effort. Is then this numbness the end? — while a girl may — give to the — prematurely — ah — with my finger now on Destiny's pulse must I " Thus the epistle ended, and as the writer's last spoken words rang in my ears, "I love you as a son, Rossiter, good-night," I am not ashamed to say that the only tears I wept since childhood were shed for this friend, to me the most be- loved of men. Tamar Curze. 191 XXIX. Already the name of him I loved was, after the papers had blazoned it through Europe, now a tender memory over which I was not permit- ted to linger, the living claimed urgent atten- tion. Lady Dora's condition being so critical, demanded my constant presence. The Duchess was in London, and Miss Curze I had not set eyes on since that memorable first night of Professor D'Herbelot's arrival. During this sad time. Miss Longnus, though wan and tired, steadfastly refused to leave the patient's side, nor was any persuasion available, and not till I professionally ordered did she relinquish her post for brief intervals of rest. This is when through an appearance of chill reserve the innate sweetness of Olivia Long- nus' character first appealed to me, winning my appreciation and esteem, drawing me from the 192 Tamar Curze. torrid depths of moroseness occasioned by my dear friend's demise to the cool haven of peace, happiness, for beneath its soothing influence my grief diminished, my heart became buoyant with joyous anticipation, though, however, during the distressing period merely the barest saluta- tions ever passed between us, monosyllabic ques- tions asked, answered, nothing but the strict, curt formality of Doctor and Nurse was main- tained. In perfect harmony we worked. Miss Long- nus with swift intuition comprehending my slightest desires and, not assailed by silly nerves so prevalent with her sex, self-reliant, acted promptly, never irritating with senseless chat- ter, interrogative eye, uplifted brow, nor spas- modically grabbing, reaching from one article to another, as I've seen so many others do, and which to a physician is so annoying. No, there was comfort, repose in every quiet act, serene movement, and my heart suddenly awakened, yearned to possess this low-voiced, Bweet woman, entirely devoid of coquettish fal- Tamar Ciirze. 193 lals, snch as a bow, frill, or an apparently un- noticed escaping tress of hair, clad in her soft, dove-colored gown of Puritanical simplicity, she was neat, plain, refreshingly wholesome. As silently, side by side, we moved by mutual impulse, sympathetically labored, administer- ing unceasingly to our charge, fighting to defeat that grim spectre which, however, despite all desperate efforts, seemed determined to conquer. 194 Tamar Curze. XXX. And now, I grieve to say, at the time speci- fied by Professor D'Herbelot, Lady Dora passed from life, her infant daughter surviving her but a few hours. Shortly before the end she requested to see Sir Lionel alone, who later emerged from the death-chamber like one distraught, staggered, reeled by me to his own apartments, locking himself within; what passed between husband and wife during these last moments I never knew. Lady Dora's interment, with its sombre acces- sories attendant to such occasions, now being over, after which distressing ordeal I was free to leave Glandour and its heavy atmosphere of gloom. Contemplating my return to London on the morrow, and therefore hastening to acquaint Tamar Ciirze. 195 Sir Lionel of this intention, I was surprised to see Miss Curze kneeling in a dejected attitude in front of his door, who, upon my nearer ap- proach, seemingly with great difficulty, arose to her feet, aided by a stout bamboo cane, ex- plaining the reason as rheumatism. After passing a few desultory words with her I knocked sharply upon the panel, but gaining no response, impatiently called Sir Lionel's name, then recoiled as the door was partly opened and he, with disheveled hair, swollen, bloodshot eyes, his ghastly face unrecognizable, confronted me, a crumpled, yellow letter held loosely between his fingers. "In God's name," I cried, "what " But at this instant Miss Curze shot past and frantically throwing both arms about his neck, while, heedless of my presence, her lips clinging insistent sought his. A moment, as if dazzled, he stood, passively submitting to those fierce caresses. Then, suddenly, with an oath, flung her roughly aside. At this brutality the woman's arms dropped 196 Tamar Curze. heavily to her sides, while there was a strange dilation of the pupils as the yellow eyes nar- rowed; then, after a second's deliberation, dur- ing which she regarded him queerly, she limped painfully away. "Rossiter," said Sir Lionel, passing his hand confusedly across his brow, "have you ever un- dergone the hell of remorse ? If not, you can- not form the slightest idea of the torments I am suffering." "Lionel," I answered, taking him firmly by the shoulders, "you have shut yourself up too long and become morbid." "ISTo, Felix; I'm a traitor, false to love, duty, gratitude and that which is most sacred of all — honor." "My dear boy," I began, but he shook his head, retreating into the room, which I also en- tered, saying: "I must speak to you, nay, you must listen; come," authoritatively, "come." At another time he would doubtlessly have resented my tone ; as it was, however, the weary. Tamar Curze. 197 disheartened man, without another word, obedi- ently followed me through the open window out upon the lawn. , "Here, smoke this," said I, offering him a cigar, which he absently accepted, and then, slipping my arm through his, slowly proceeded toward the elm-walk, where, back and forth, with military precision, we paced, soon coming to the end of our weeds, and I, knowing my wal- let to be empty, said : "Wait here a moment, old man, till I fetch some," and straightway starting off on my quest, reaching my chamber, searched diligently, but without avail, for the desired Havanas. Then, concluding Broome, my man, had evidently, in view of the morning's departure, packed them away, I discovered the box at the bottom of a portmanteau, after which, lighting one and fill- ing the case, I hastened thither to join my com- panion, who no doubt by this time would be growing impatient at my long delay. Upon reaching the avenue, however, I was surprised to find it empty. 198 Tamar Curze. "The ungrateful fellow!" I grumbled, not a little annoyed to find him gone, "has given me the slip." However, loath to leave the park, which, after the sweltering heat of the day, was pungent with the fragrance of sleeping flowers, there was a certain alluring enchantment in this majestic solitude, a delightful humidity in the air, which decided me to finish my cigar before turning in. Overhead the moon serenely floated in a sil- ver lake, shedding her splendor over everything, and indifferent to which direction I took, strolled to the accompaniment of a mental sym- phony, building airy castles of the future, wherein Olivia was enthroned as queen. Sauntering along, my amorous aberrations finally ceasing, drifted to Sir Lionel. Ponder- ing how to pull the poor chap out of his present wretched plight, occasioned by his young wife's death, which had so tragically afflicted him. "Dear old Lionel," I muttered; "it is just what was to be expected from a man of his cali- ber. Confound it all ! I'll take him away, we Tamar Ciirze. 199 will leave the cramped, superficial limits of civ- ilization and live a jolly, free, independent life hunting tigers and other big game ; it will " Then suddenly awakening from my enthused reverie and remembering the morning's journey, I consulted my watch. "Jove ! so late," I ejaculated, turning on my heel, for the hands registered fourteen minutes to twelve, when a noise from somewhere sent an uncanny premonition of calamity over me, but, instantly dismissing my presage, doubtless en- gendered by the sudden gloom, for the moon, like a drowsy white lily, had slipped, sheated herself within an emerald cloud, causing the deep, gray shadows cast from the scattered trees to grow weirdly black, while, reflected in the mid-heavens, there was a peculiar bronze, green- ish glow, through which the stars, a brilliant shower of sparks, as if shaken from a flaming torch, ruddily flecked the sky, which, sweeping toward the East, loomed ominously dark. After listening intently, glancing around into the sombre reach of gloomy shadows, wafted 200 Tamar Curze. stealthily amongst the elms and giant oaks, once more it came, a groan, then silence filled with intense vibrancy, and I, recalling the former night's dramatic experience, after a moment's hesitancy, hastily continued toward the Court for safety, when plain, distinct my name was called, "Rossiter, Rossiter," deep, imploring. I faced about, some awful thing urging, im- pelling my assistance, was happening, and, reaching for my hip-pocket, wheeled, revolver in hand, in its direction, making a short cut by crossing numerous neglected paths, treading countless overgrown labyrinthian passages of tangled, flowering creepers, intertwined bushes, stumbling through a thick tangle of vines, a dense mass of cypress, foliage, scrambling, caught, ripping my clothes to tatters amid a wilderness of thorny rose-bushes. Yet, an in- exorable force pressing, something tangible, im- minent, warning me of a crisis at hand, I hur- ried onward, the agonized groans meanwhile growing nearer, though fainter, my way now blocked by an immense row of rhododendrons, Tamar Curze. 201 through which I crashed, then wriggling through a towering hedge of hollyhocks, finally reached a soft, level stretch of glade, holding the pistol poised as I dimly discerned, near the en- trance to the arbor, some huge, swaying object directly in front of me. And now, my fingers tightening upon the weapon, I stopped in horror, my breath and marrow frozen, for the moon, suddenly un- swathed, shining full, plainly disclosed, stand- ing upright on its hind legs, the same animal which Professor D'Herbelot previously shot, wounded, its paws on Sir Lionel's shoulders, who stood unsteadily tottering, its teeth buried in his throat. Realizing the desperateness of the situation, to shoot the brute, I sprang behind the groaning man, then with a wild effort caught at a project- ing branch of the summer-house to keep from falling, for at sight of the pistol, was it imagi- nation or reality ? the beast's head had instantly changed, and, oh, God! through a misty yellow film appeared, though almost distorted out of 202 Tairar Curze. human semblance, the unmistakable face of — was I mad ? — Tamar Curze. And in an illuminating flash I read the am- biguous meaning of D'Herbelot's late remarks. For a moment we looked into each other's eyes, after which, with a vicious snarl, reading the purpose, determination in mine, she slowly re- laxed her fierce hold upon Sir Lionel, who fell to the ground, and sullenly dropped upon all fours. Her eyes, gleaming fiendishly bright from the evil face, never strayed an instant from my own, which gaze, filled with the heat of hell, held, un- nerved, rendered me, though aching to use the weapon, utterly powerless to do so. However, despite that benumbing influence, I still manged to hold, point it threateningly to- ward the thing as now upright, now crouching, meanwhile jabbering some gibberish, a confused jargon of hideous, discordant sounds, neither animal nor human, but a queer mingling of the two combined, it slowly retreated, slinking with blood-covered lips and horrible, protruding Tamar Curze. 203 tongue, reluctantly from its intended prey, a look of furious hate, baffled rage transforming the features till indeed they resembled some ghastly nightmare, imagination of the infernal regions, as backward limping, creeping beneath the fern and brown, matted grasses, which seemed to bend, open to receive, shield her, she disappeared. 204' Tamar Curze. XXXI. Then, thrice, to summon the servants, press- ing my finger to the trigger, I quickly sent three shots echoing into the glittering firmament, and, fainting from his wounds, the dew of agony thick upon his forehead, we carried Sir Lionel in. After dressing the fearful lacerations, ban- daging his throat to stop the flow of blood, I im- mediately dispatched to London for instant as- sistance. For hours he lay between sleep and stupor, breathing heavily, his hands and head feverishly burning. The next day he was tossing in wild delirium, which continued unabated till the third morning, when, a brief interval of reason returning, he feebly pressed my hand, saying : "God bless you, Eossiter; be a father to my boy." Tamar Curze. 205 Thus, with his wife's name upon his lips, died Sir Lionel Glandour, who, perhaps having some presentment of his impending fate, had made a will several days previously, appointing me his son's guardian. This sacred bequest is to my sweet wife and me both a duty and labor of love, for Cyril is equally near, dear, nay, dearer, if that were possible, to our hearts as our other two little ones. It has, and will ever be, our life's most earn- est endeavor to let him, now a handsome, sturdy youngster in his tenth year, remain ignorant of those tragic events which seem now, in our tran- quil peacefulness, more like a dream than ac- tual reality, keep his young life unclouded, happy, and surely we strive not in vain, for even as I write, glancing through the window, we can see the young heir of Glandour on his pony, his cap fallen off, the sun glinting on his bonnie, bright head as he laughingly canters down the wide sweep of leafy avenue, in playful pursuit of a screeching peacock ! 206 Tamar Ciirze. And Olivia and I, mutely clasp, press hands, knowing that Sir Lionel and Lady Dora, if glancing down, would say: "It is well." OCT 27 1302