4SS 
il'itrrary gtistfllang, 
WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
(Continued from page 143.) 
The Baronet, wlsUed to give tills 11 t.tlo party to re¬ 
move any‘bad Impression tliere might 1 a? on the 
minds of the people after the ball, ilo had resolved 
upon being roost, amiable, polite and attentive, to 
his wile especially. 
But circumstances were against him. Ills fa¬ 
vorite horse that very morning had been round 
lame, and the groom hart the insolence or the 
courage to tell him ills! he had caused it h tinsel t 
by his reckless riding. He turned to dismiss the 
man on the spot, and then suddenly remembered 
that he could not replace him, for he was One of 
the most valuable servants that lie had. Tie was 
obliged to rein In his temper, which In itself was 
enough to drive him almost mad, so little was he 
accustomed to self-control. Ills favorite mastiff, 
too, was III, and ho was annoyed about that. The 
veterinary surgeon suld that the dog had better be 
shot, and sir uweo swore roundly at him; to 
which the surgeon answered by saying that he 
could please himself, ami that for the future he 
should not attend at Harswood If he were sent for. 
Sir Owen was very angry. It was Incredible tin 
a Baronet worth forty thousand pounds a year 
could not swear as he liked; such a thing was not 
to be borne. 
So when the guests sat down to dinner, Mr Owen 
was not In the best, of humors. He was a discon¬ 
tented man by nature. The Jirst thing i hat al¬ 
ways occurred to him was to complain, to nnd 
fault—never to praise. H he saw a clear soup, he 
was cross because it was not thick; if it were 
thick, he wanted thin. II one (Usli were placed 
before him, he was quite sure to complain because 
it was not another. k 
On this particular day he was very much an¬ 
noyed because some of his favorite lish was not 
cooked as he liked it. In vain Lady chevenix, 
seeing a storm brewing, tried lo avert It; the more 
amiable and complacent she looked, the blacker 
and angrier he grew. An uncomfortable silence 
fell over the guests. Felix did bis best; he tiled 
to make conversation, but It was difficult with 
those muttered growls running on like an under¬ 
current. At last some Other dish raised sir Ow¬ 
en’s Ire, and he exclaimed— 
“ If 1 had married some one who understood 
these things, I shoidd have been better off.” 
The guests saw Lady Chevenixs face grow as 
pale as the pearls she wore. Her silence Irritated 
her husband, for be riled out angrily against her, 
with a word so coarse and Insulting that there was 
not a man present who did not long to horsewhip 
him, she rose with quiet grace and dignity to 
quit the room; she fell that she owed it to her own 
self-respect not to remain. No sooner did he see 
her do so than he sprang from his seat and cried— 
“ Go back to your seal,, my lady -do not show 
any of your airs here!” 
The gentlemen rose quickly, but she mastered 
herself with an effort, for which they commended 
her. She repressed the hysterical cry that rose to 
her Ups, smiled, and went back to her chair. 
“Sir Owen does not always choose his jests 
wisely,” she said; and order was at once restored. 
They admired her more than they could say—It 
was Impossible to help it. Her grace, her beauty, 
her self-possession, her self-control, her met, all 
struck them. There was no oue present who did 
not think highly of her for her behavior through 
so trying a scene. Sir Owen tried to iaugb.il oil. 
He made some awkward .apologies about having 
been annoyed by horses, dogs, and servants; nev¬ 
ertheless the Incident left two disagreeable re¬ 
minders for him. Darcy Lonsdale told him that 
same evening that the next time he Insulted Lady 
Chevenix In his presence he must seek another ad¬ 
viser. Captain Hill dirt better. 
“I want to say a lew words to you, Sir Owen,” 
he began, when on the point of departure. “ You 
Invite gentlemen to your house," he told 1dm, 
“ and then presume to Insult them by behaving in 
the most brutal fashion to your vile. Do not 
repeat the experiment, Sir Owen. I have broken 
bread with you for the last time:” 
And no further word would the sturdy old sports¬ 
man exchange with him. 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
Sir Owen was alarmed—lie found that, although 
he was a Baronet, he could not do as he liked with 
Impunity. Society had certain laws that must Tie- 
kept—and one was that a man must, If he wished 
to be considered a gentleman, treat hls wife with 
respect, sir Owen found that he must alter, for 
people were beginning to give up hls acquain¬ 
tance ; some of the best families In the county, 
who had welcomed him with open arms, now did 
not even invite him to their formal parties. Ue was 
losing caste as last as he could lose it, and he said 
to himself that something inust be done; lie must 
alter, or every house In the county would be closed 
against him. 
Withal there was something good In him—he 
was not without some redeeming qualities, on 
the day after the. discreditable scene in his own 
house he rode over to Captain Hill's and asked i.o 
see that gentleman. The Captain looked very 
black when he saw who hls visitor was, but .sir 
Owen held out hls hand. 
“I disgraced myself yesterday. Captain,” he said 
“ and I am come to beg your pardon—to say bow 
sorry I am. 1 deserved every word that you said to 
me, and now I make you the most ample apology. 
Will you shako hands?” 
It was Impossible to refuse; but captain Hill 
assented with an 111 grace. 
“Have you apologized to your wire?" he asked. 
• That la the chief thing.” 
“ Yes; I have made It all right with her. Upon 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
my word, I am quite ashamed of myself. It shall 
not happen again." 
For some time he did not give way to an excess; 
and In a shamefaced kind of way lie tiled to make 
up to hls wife for hls recent outburst of violence, he 
always did when he had offended her almost be¬ 
yond forgiveness. He lavished new dresses, new 
jewels, new ornaments of all kinds upon her, for 
in hls heart he loved her better than anything else, 
on earth, though lie Insulted and Ill-treated her. 
Mrs. IJaye had gone home, pleased at leaving 
matters a little better than she had found them; 
blit Lady Chevenix had vowed to herself that she 
would not, tf possible, be left alone with her hus¬ 
band again. She found that the presence of a 
third party made some difference, was some re¬ 
straint,, some cheek upon him, she Invited Miss 
liethcote to spend a few weeks with her, and that 
young lady, who had a girl’s adoration for the 
beautiful, graceful Lady chevenix, gladly con¬ 
sented. Marian Hethoote was a bright, pretty, 
clever girl, and her companionship was very 
pleasant to the Lady oi Garsw ood. 
They spent the greater part of the time together 
dining the nrst few days of her stay. Sir Owen 
was most gracious to her. Then, as was usual 
with him. familiarity bred contempt. Miss IJcth- 
cote herself could not endure him. When her 
father remonstrated with her one day about her 
openly-expressed dislike or the Baronet, she said— 
“ f could never like a man who swears at hls 
wife, papa—and sir Owen very seldom speaks to 
Lady Chevenix without doing so. A man who 
swears at his wife, will do any tiling.’ 
Iler dislike to him was not unjustllled. she. was 
sitting one morning with Lady chevenix in her 
boudoir, the room that was like a shrine lor the 
woman who used it. They were talking gaily and 
happily enough, when In the distance they hoard 
the voice or sir Owen speaking In most, angry 
tones. The sound grew nearer and nearer. 
“lie Is coming here,” said Marian liethcote; 
and the two ladles looked at each other In distress. 
’The door opened with violence, and sir Owen 
strode luto the room, hts face purple with rage. 
He did not speak to Miss liethcote, but looked at 
bis wife. 
“ Where Is my silver-mounted riding-whip ?” he 
asked. 
“ 1 do not know, Owen.” she replied, 
“ You do know. You had It last, and now it is 
gone; no one can find it. 'The grooms say you had 
it last week.” 
“ 1 do not remember having had it,” she replied 
gently. 
But the gentle words did not touch him. ills 
temper was, as he expressed It, “all In a blaze,” 
and when that was the ease lie spared neither 
man, woman, nor child. Miss liethcote shrank 
back, startled and scared at the insults and abuse 
he lavished upon hls wife. Lady Chevenix stood 
quite calm and sllli. When the angry oaths hud 
ceased, she looked up at him. 
"1 will go and try and Hud it, owen,” she said. 
“ I am sorry if 1 have annoyed you by misplacing 
It.” 
She left the loom, and the Baronet went to the- 
window, lie felt rather ashamed of himself, for 
In hls anger he had quite forgotten Miss iletlicote’s 
presence. lie stood there looking out for some 
minutes In silence, Then he turned to her. 
“ Women are so stupid," he said. 
She was young, and loved Lady Chevenix very 
dearly, so she was not unwilling to take part In 
the. fray. .She had not yet learned that all-impor¬ 
tant lesson, that It is never safe to interfere be¬ 
tween a man and hls wife. 
“They are remarkably stupid,” she replied, “ to 
tolerate such words as you have just used to Lady 
Chevenix. If I were In her place, I know what I 
should do." 
“ What would you do?” he asked snceringly. 
•• When 1 did And the silver-mounted riding-whip, 
I know what use I should make of It,.” 
lie laughed The idea of a rldlng-whip in those 
delicate little hands for the purpose hinted at 
amused him. 
“ If you were in Lady Chevenix’s place," he said, 
•• you would do Just as she does—submit; it is wo 
man’s lot.” 
•• l should not mind submission ; but my sub- 
‘ mission tvould be to a gentleman, not to a swear¬ 
ing, loud-voiced tyrant.” 
“You speak pretty frankly," lie said. “Do not 
vex me, though." 
•* I would rather vex than please you." 
She was niterrupted by the opening of the door. 
Lady Chevenix entered with the rldlng-whlp in her 
hand.” 
“ I have found It, Owen,” she said quietly, as 
though no unkind word had passed hls lips. “ l 
am sorry to say that I did mislay It. it was put 
away by mistake, with mine.” 
“ i must request you, tor the future,” he return¬ 
ed, “ not to touch anything belonging; to me. What 
is mine Is mine, and not yours. Do not let me be 
vexed in this way again." 
He left the room with a quick angry bang oi the 
door. Lady Chevenix quietly took up her point- 
lace and resumed the conversation. Marian Heth- 
cote looked at her, wondering tears in her eyes, 
she went over to her, and clasped her arms round 
her neck. 
“Dear Lady Chevenix,” she said, “is it possible 
that you do not really care ? I thought you would 
come back broken-lieai ted " 
“ Care, my dear, for trifles 1 am so thoroughly 
used to ?” questioned Sir Owen’s wife. *• Certainly 
not.” 
“ 1 do not understand how you can bear it. it is 
wonderful to me. I should run away. I could not 
live under It." 
“My dear child, we learn patience as we grow 
older,” said Lady Chevenix gravely. 
But sweet, Impulsive Marian would uol be satis- 
lied. 
•• l think It is dreadful. Do not be angry with 
me, Lady chevenix, please I have never heard 
such words before. They have tilled me with hor¬ 
ror. I cannot bear to think that you listen to them 
dally, you who ought to hear only sweet, kind, ten¬ 
der words." 
“ We will forget all about It, Marian,” said Lady 
Chevenix- “ It does not matter; everything comes 
to an end at last.” 
But Marian’s heart, had been stirred. 
"Dear Lady chevenix," she went on, “do not 
think me rude—that which would be rudeness In 
another Is only love In me. I do love you so dearly, 
and I cannot bear to bear you spoken to In that 
fashion. Jf I were In your place, f should run 
away.” 
Lady Chevenix smiled. 
“ That would not be of much use,” she said. “ I 
lind as the days pass that 1 cannot run away from 
my trouble.” 
Marian stood watching her, with a sad look on 
her fair young face. 
*• I often think about, you, Lady Chevenix," she 
said, “ and l wonder why—pray do not be angry 
w 1th me—you married .Sir Owen; you are so gentle., 
and he Is so much the reverse." 
“ Dear Marian, marriages are made in heaven," 
she returned, with a slow sad smile. 
“ Are they? Well, dear Lady Chevenix—do not 
think me Irreverent —If your marriage was made In 
heaven, mine shall lie made on earth. I often won¬ 
der if I ever shall marry. Do you know that In my 
short career l have not seen very much happiness 
in married life? i am not greatly in love with it, 
therefore.” 
“It Is like everything else —a lottery and a 
chance.” said Lady chevenix. 
"1 have quite made up my mind what kind of 
mail 1 should like to marry," went on Marian. 
“ lie must be good, to begin with—clever, distin¬ 
guished and handsome, gentle, and yet brave— 
something like—do not laugh at me. Lady Cheve¬ 
nix—something like Mr. Felix Lonsdale; he is my 
bmu-uirnl of a man." 
She wondered why Lady Chevenix turned away 
with a little low cry on her pale Ups, 
“You like Mr. Felix Lonsdale then, Marian?” 
she said, alter a time. It was a jdeasure to talk of 
him, to utter his name and to hear It—a pleasure, 
that she had long beon deprived of. 
“ Yes, 1 Uke him better than any of the gentle¬ 
men I have met—much better, ife seems to me a 
gentleman in every sense of the word, l nice him 
very much," she continued warmly, quite uncon¬ 
scious of the pain she was llifllcllng on Lady 
Chevenix. 
“ He would be flattered If he knew how highly 
you thought of him, Marian." 
The sweet girlish la ugh rang out gaily. 
"Wouldhe? 1 do not think so. He does Mot 
seem to care very much for the society of ladles; 
lie talks more to Lady Maude Arlington than to 
a ny one else. He Is not what most people call a 
lady’s man.” 
“ lie lias other things to think of," said Lady 
Chevenix. 
“ Perhaps so. Mrs. Olayburn told me he had 
had a great trouble, a great sorrow, in hls early 
life." 
“Did she tell you what It was?” asked Lady 
Chevenix; and Marian liethcote did not. see the 
trembling of the white hands. 
“ Yes; he loved some one who forsook him ; she 
married some oue else. Mrs. Clayhurn did not tell 
me much about it, but she said that that accounted 
for hls not caring much lor the society of ladles ; 
he had loved tills lady so long and so truly that he 
had taken it deeply to heart, and he had never 
recovered from the sorrow." 
“ r do not believe it,” said Lady Chevenix slowly. 
“ Indeed, it is true. I watched him after she had 
told me, and I saw that whenever hts face was In 
repose It was sad." 
Lady Chevenix was quite silent for a few min¬ 
utes, and thou she said— 
“ Did Mrs. clayburn tell you who t he lady was ?" 
“ No, it is no one near here, 1 think,” answered 
Miss Ucthcote. “ she (lid not say very much; but 
it was Just what 1 had thought myself. 1 said to 
myself the very lirsL night, that 1 saw him. ‘ That 
man has had some great, sorrow In Ills life.’ " 
o I have noticed nothing In him to make me 
think that,” said Lady Ohovenlx. 
“ You see so many people that it has escaped 
you. I am quite sure that, lie has wasted all the 
love of hls noble life on some one quite undeserving 
of It. 1 have an instinct that tells me so.” 
Lady Chevenix stood up before her all pale and 
trembling. 
“ My dear Marian,” she said, “ never speak to 
me of tills again. Some one else will tell you If 1 
do not. It was I whom Felix Lonsdale loved; It 
was I who gave him up to marry sir Owen. Hush: 
Do not cry for me. I deserve It all, and much 
more; but, Marian, never talk to mo of Felix Lons¬ 
dale again. We will go now, dear. The bell has 
rung for luncheon.” 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
“ Violet,, ” said Sir Owen to hls wire, “ I want 
you to give a garden party ; they are much In 
vogue. There could be no more beautiful time for 
one than during this lovely weather. The grounds 
look superb; we have not a tree that. Is not In lull 
leaf, send out your invitations to-day.” 
" I will do so with pleasure,” replied Lady 
chevenix; nnd Marian liethcote, who was pres- 
sent, appeared delighted. 
“ You are growing quite amiable, sir Owen,” 
she said, 
" If one garden party makes me amiable, two 
ought to make me charming.” 
•* Perhaps they will rlo so,” said Miss liethcote. 
“ We will give, one now worth remembering. 
I think I can get the military band from Ordstone 
—I Shall try to do so —and we will send to London 
for u chef rU- culxtru 3 . We will have everything of 
the very best.” 
Tile Invitations were numerous. Lord Ailing- 
ton decided to accept hls. 
“1 do not like the Baronet.,” he said, “and I 
am grieved for his young wife; still we cannot send 
him to Coventry. We must visit him sometimes 
—and a garden-party is better than a dinner- I 
party. We need not stay so long and we need 
not see very much of our host. 
so sir Owen was made happy by a polite note 
from Brambcr, saying that the Fail and his wife 
and daughter would be present at the gather¬ 
ing. 
The Lonsdales all promised to be present, and 
it seemed as though the garden-party was to be a 
success. 
One day sir Given sat with Lady ChevenLx and 
Miss Hethcote after dinner discussing the coming 
event, lie turned to hls wife. 
“ violet,” he s;dd, “ I saw a very pretty girl the 
other day—a girl that, quite took my fancy. I met 
her at Darcy Lonsdale’s office.” 
“indeed!” returned Violet. “ Who was it, 
Owen?” 
“Let me see now—what did they call her? 
Evelyn—Eve Lester—the niece of a certain strong- 
minded Miss Lester who lives at the outlands. 
You must know her—of course you know her!” 
“ Yes,” was the quiet reply, “I know Eve Lester." 
“ YOU ought lo like her too. I quite admire her. 
I have not seen such a pretty face for some time— 
yours ot course excepted, Miss liethcote,” he 
added laughingly. 
“ Lady ChevoiUx’s race excepted, you mean,” 
said Miss liethcote ; “hers Indeed Is a most beau¬ 
tiful face, sir Owen.” 
“ 'There is too much pride anddeiiance, or rather 
pride and Indifference,” he laughed, “ In my lady’s 
face. Now this girl. Eve Lester, Is as fair and sweet 
as a dove; she reminded me of a dove, so fair and 
gentle Is she." 
" Very sweet people are apt to be very Inane,” 
said Miss liethcote. 
“ inane or not, 1 wish you would invite her to 
the party. Violet.” 
“ I will do so with pleasure, but I do not think 
she will come.” 
“ Why not ?” lie asked Impatiently. 
“ Because, though we were friends once, we are 
not friends now," said Lady ChevenLx, 
“Then you must be friends; violet. I am de¬ 
termined to have her at the gathering. I liked 
her sweet fair face.” 
“My dear Owen, l would do anything to oblige 
you or please you, but 1 cannot make any over¬ 
tures of friendship to Eve Lester.” 
“ But I say you must, Violet." 
“ 1 am sorry that I cannot, if you are deter¬ 
mined that Miss Lester shall come, you must go 
yourself and Invite her.” 
“It Is the usual way If I want anything," he 
said angrily, “lean have every thing except the 
one thing most desired. I only wish that 1 had 
hart the sense to make such a girl as that Lady 
( heventx : there would have been no opposition 
to my wishes then.” 
“I am quite sure that I wish the same thing,” 
rejoined Mold quiet ly. 
“ Do you ? I might have expected such a con¬ 
fession from you,” he exclaimed. 
All that was disagreeable seemed to be forgotten 
when the day of the fete arrived. The party was 
likely to he a wonderful success. All the elih- of 
the neighborhood had assembled. 'The sun was 
bright, the trues were In luxuriant leaf. Had there 
been no other attraction, the beauty of the grounds 
alone would have been one. 
Sir Owen looked proudly around; It pleased him 
to see such grea t and noble persons hls guests. 
The one whom he cared most to honor was Major 
Itawson, the great Victoria Cross hero or whom all 
England and even all France had been talking— 
Major Rawson, who was heir to a Baronetcy, and 
one of the most popular men in England. Mr Owen 
was very anxious to Impress him in every possible 
way. He was visiting at one of the houses In the 
neighborhood, and was received by Sir Owen with 
great emprfl$senifini 
“ldo not see Lady Chevenix," said the Major; 
“ J am unfortunate in arriving so late.” 
“ We Shall ll ud Lady Chevenix somewhere In the 
grounds,” said Sir Owen; and he proudly intro¬ 
duced him to the county magnates. 
Suddenly the Major touched hls arm. 
“ M ho is that beautiful woman yonder?" he ask- 
od In wonder. 
“ Which 7” said sir Owen. 
“The one iu blue and white there, talking to 
that dark, handsome man.” 
Sir Owen's lace brightened with pleasure. 
“That is my wife, Lady Chevenix,” he said. 
“ Come, and 1 will Introduce you," 
“ I had heard that Lady ChevenLx was beauti¬ 
ful," he replied, “ but I had not expected to see 
such perfection. And the gentleman—who Is he ? 
Hls face Is a striking one.” 
“ He Is my lawyer and agent; hls name Is Felix 
Lonsdale. It Is strange that on the llrst occasion 
of meeting them you should see them together, 
lie was a great admirer of my wife years ago." 
Major Rawson was not surprised to hear It; such 
a woman as that might have any number of ad¬ 
mirers. He looked from the handsome face of the 
young lawyer to the dark, evU, dissipated counte¬ 
nance of the Baronet by hls side, and wondered In 
silence how any woman could have chosen between 
the two men, and have chosen so badly. 
Later on in the afternoon he stood by Lady 
Maude, and they were both watching Lady Cheve¬ 
nix. The brave soldier who had won hls cross by 
acts or valor worthy oi a hero was wonderfully 
Impressed by Lady Chevenix, 
“I shall never forget that face," he said, “al¬ 
though 1 may never see ll again. How beautiful 
It Is! And yet there Is a Shadow over it. it, i,i not 
the face of a happy woman, Is It, Lady Maude?” 
“ No, not quite.” she replied hesitatingly. 
“Is Lady chevenix happy?” he asked 
She looked up at him. 
“M.Y dent Major, what, a question to ask me!" 
she replied. " who sliullsuy which of us is happy ? 
I think Lady Chevenix loves wealth and position 
better than anything in Die world—and she has 
both.” 
“ Is it well for u i to have our heart’s desire ?” he 
asked gravely. "I have often wondered about 
that." 
“ l cannot tell," replied Lady Maude—“ I have 
not mine." 
“Nor I,” said the Major; “but this beautiful 
lady, you say, has hers?” 
