Los Angeles herald., 1906-09-09
| NJ |
IEM9|

on her face book lay open on her
knees, but it was evident that her
thoughts far away from its contents
She was twinng her hands together nervously,
and the ieweled rings flashed on her thin white
fingers. Every now and then she looked at the
little ormolu clock on the mantepiece.
Marie de Ia Mothe was a beautiful woman;
there were those who thought her the most
beautiful woman in the whole wide world She
was not yet thirty, and the contour of her head
and features had been pronounced by the most
eminent sculptor of the day to be perfect. On
this particular evening they seemed almost too
perfect-too "cily regular, spenddly null"
The face was motionless, save for the large rest
less eyes
Marie de la Mothe's vocation in life was to
play with hearts, and break her toys when they
ceased to amuse her or when they ceased to
be profitable She had been widow for five
years.
Some said that Mr.. de la Mothe was still
alive; Others took him on trust; few were rath-
er doubtful whether he had ever existed at all.
But all agreed on one point-that his widow
cherished no particular affection for his mem
ory.
There was no sound in the room but the soft
spluttering of the fire in the CRATE and the tick
ing of the clock on the mantelpiece. The door
opened, and neat maid-servant brought in tea.
Mrs. de la Mothe rose and went over to the
window The rain pattered against the glass.
1t was a miserable November afternoon.
She turned away from the melancholy spec
tacle and regarded the tea-table with satisfac-
ton. It was like looking from vision of death
to all that made life worth living.
DRAW the blinds and curtains, Lucy" she
said quietly, crossing over to the freside and
settling herself in low chair.
Il, le,I,4 &c
miserable autumn day, and, moving to the door,
stood there as though expecting some further
orders.
ooh, yes" Mrs. de la Mothe said mechanical
ly. "Tell Mrs. Nixon that tea is ready"
In scarcely more than minute Mrs. Nixon
appeared She was about fifty and rustled like
wthered leaf. In appearance she tall,
angular, and formidable, the personifcation of
respectability.
Suddenly there came a violent ring at the bell,
and faint flush came to Mrs. de la Mothe's
white cheek. Mrs. Nixon stopped with piece
of cake held close to her mouth, and listened as
though she hoped to recognize some voice.
A few moments passed, and footsteps were
heard on the stairs, and the maid ushered
young man into the He stood for mo-
ment the threshold and frowned slightly
ile Mrs. Nixon. Then he advanced smiled,
and shook hands with the two ladies'.
7' You're just in time for some tea, Mr.. Por-
teous,' Mrs de la Mothe said sweetly. " 1 for
get; do you take sugarT f
mo sugar, thanks" the young man replied,
seating himself wearily on straightbacked
chair and laying his hat and gloves the floor.
would YOU rather have a whisky -andsoda"
she asked Eyes, 1 know you would. Just touch
the bell"
He laughed and pressed small button on
the right of the fireplace Mrs. Mixon's face
was study in several subdued shades Of disap-
proval. She had her own opinion of young men
who drank whisky y-and-soda for tea.
When the servant had brought in a tumbler,
a sphon of soda, and a small decanter of
whisky, John Porteous poured himself out a
drink and gulped down half of it at single
draught. Mrs. Nixon made a mental note that
it was a very strong concoction, even for
young who was, in her opinion, confirmed
drunlard. Mrs. de la Mothe noticed that the
hand trembled as he raised the glass to his lips,
and a faint smile of satisfaction crossed her
face.
Jack Porteous, the manager of the South
Kensington branch of Hetherington's bank, was
tall, bearded, broad-shouldered young fellow
of thirty-one, who had risen to his present po-
sition by sheer hard work and extraordinary
capacity for management and organization.
The face was handsome one but it was not
a pleasant face to look upon, even when it had
frightened somewhat after the long draught of
whisky y-and-soda. close observer would have
said it was the face of man who had sold all
man knew that Jack Porteous was willing to
barter all success for love.
The three talked of commonplace subjects.
and Mrs Nixon was by courtesy allowed to mo-
nopolize much of the conversation as she
choseA She turned it to theatrical matters.
Thes other two lit cigarettes, and only occa-
sionally expressed remark. At last Mrs Mix
on caught her employers eye, and, rising to her
feet, expressed desire to find something that
she was sure would interest Mr. Porteous; some
old programs of Drury Lane in 1852. She left
the room, closing the door behind her, and feel
ing that she earning every penny of the
salary Mrs. de la Mothe paid her.
When she had gone Jack Porteous crossed
over to the young Widows side, and seizing her
hands in his, pressed them passionately to his
lips.
"Marie," he said hoarsely. She leaned a little
forward and looked into his eyes. The cold mask
had fallen from her eatures, and her whole
face glowed with tender light. 1t now
easy to understand why some men had called heI
the most beautiful woman in all the world,
"Jack" she Whispered in a low voice, my
dear old Jack" and drawing her hands from his
she placed them on his forehead and smoothed
back the hair from his brow,
He seized her in his arms and kissed her pas
sonately Then he suddenly started back as
though he had been stung, and buried his face
in his hands. The woman leaned back in her
chair and frowned
In fifty previous cases the movement Of dis
gust would have been a source Of pleasure to her
cruel mind 1t denoted the agony of the vic
tim.
But in this particular case Marie de la Moth'
had met her match She had played with love
for her own ends, and had conquered But the
battle had been Pyrrhic victory. She had lost
more than she had gained. For the first timS