Fate's Grim Sport

Part I. Chapter

I. Gildas O'Donnel was in a towering rage. Perhaps, considering his nationality, the fact is hardly worth recording, for it was not more difficult to provoke him than the majority of his countrymen, but that he should need all bis self-control to disguise the inward tempest, was most unusual, and proved he had right eous cause for anger. A mild statement that his mission was to represent The Evening Star, had called forth a curt reply, and he had been told by the ticket-taker, with an air of disdain, that reporters must stand at the back of the room. A FA TE'S GRIM SPOR T. He did not want to push himself forward, neither was he ashamed of his profession, but the change from civility to impertinence, made him long to knock the fellow down. Even reporters have human yearnings after re venge, and Gildas was already planning to give him honourable mention in the account he was to write of the performance.

Nearly every seat was taken when he entered the long, narrow hall, hired by the West End Strollers for their dramatic entertainment. The unfledged journalist fancied in his ignorance that most of those present must belong to a very vulgar set, for shrill, high-pitched voices were raised, sometimes in dispute, and ladies were levelling glasses at one another, while indulging in audible criticism of a spiteful kind. He was watching the dear creatures push, and wondering how many tender arms would show bruises on the morrow, when a violent prod with a fan startled him considerably. He turned in some in dignation, and found the dig had been given with friendly intent by an acquaintance, a middle-aged lady, who wrote under the pseudonym of "Wor shipper." " Glad to see you," she said briskly. " What are you here for ?

" "To view the performance in the editorial interests. Does that look as if I were here to enjoy myself ? " " It will be rather jolly, I think. What are you on ? I forget." " The Evening Star." " He's a mean screw. I'm The Aristocrat. Of course you know the smart people by sight ? " " Are there any present ? " "My poor boy, these are all the smartest of the smart. Where is your instinct ? Can't you guess it from their appearance ? " " More likely, certainly, than from their be haviour." "Don't get bitter. I used to be, but now I am wiser. It's the thing to have no manners now. If you're civil, you're taken for a 'nobody' — a snob. Now, I wonder what kind of ' copy ' you'll turn out. If you know no one, I — " " Oh ! I suppose I can criticise the actors and actresses well enough without troubling about their exact social status."

" Well, you are a treat ! You're not fit to be sent out by yourself, that's evident. You'll make some awful mistakes, unless I take pity on you. Stay near me, and I'll help you." « " Thanks, but I'll get you a chair first," Gildas an swered, seizing on one that was being borne past by, as he supposed, a young attendant. PATE'S GRIM SPORT. 4 "Hulloa, sir!" exclaimed the bearer of the prize, when a forcible band was laid upon it. " I want that for a lady," explained Gildas. " Daresay you do ; so do I. Very sorry, but I can't let my sister stand, even to oblige you." Gildas muttered an apology, and went in search of another, which he secured without opposition. " Aha ! you made a mistake then, didn't you ? " chuckled " Worshipper." " That's one of the com mittee. They are all gentlemen to-night."

" For this occasion only ? " he inquired, but on observing more closely the young men who were hurrying about showing late arrivals to their places, he discovered the marks of birth and breeding, — vacancy of expression, hair parted at the right degree, stooping shoulders and correct angle of the elbow, when bestowing a limp hand-shake. " It's a most representative gathering," continued " Worshipper," making ostentatious notes. She, at least, was not ashamed of her calling. " There's the Duke of A talking to the Earl of B , and that's Lady Alicia Bowers ; isn't she sweetly pretty ? " " Do you mean that damsel with the butter coloured locks ? " " With the golden hair, yes. It's so seldom, you know, one sees that tint with black eyebrows and lashes." Gildas thought he had seen that particular contrast before — on heads that were not aristocratic.

" And there's dear old Sir Patrick Rathmelton with his handsome wife. They are such a devoted couple ; it is quite a pleasure to see them." Her companion regarded those indicated with keen interest. They were connections of his, a fact he preferred to keep to himself. Sir Patrick was a fine specimen of a latter-day diplomatist, slow and courtly in manner, and un fathomable in expression, owing to the absence of any. The very man of all others to pose successfully as a representative of Her Majesty, and to act wisely — so long as no extraordinary diplomacy was re quired. Lady Rathmelton was an expensively dressed, carefully preserved woman, who treated her maid according to the complexion with which the despised dependant sent her ladyship out into society. " And that is the Countess of Seaport with them," Worshipper went on, complacently.

" It is strange to see her here, for she is almost a saint, and does not like town life. I had the pleasure of interviewing her last week, and the result will appear to-morrow. I do hope she will be pleased." " She is sure to be," said Gildas politely. " Here comes a fellow with programmes; shall I get you one ? " PA TE'S GRIM SPORT. 6 " Thanks, I'll buy one for myself. It's Lord Moor stone. One pays what one likes you know ; and it's such a deserving charity— Oh, what a pity ! he is going down the other side ! " " Here's another salesman though ; now's your time—" "Don't stop him, please. That is only— I mean that is Captain Wolfe, and I don't care to trouble him." The second vendor, a pompous, sandy-haired man, with a bull-dog cast of face, elbowed his way towards them, and came to a standstill beside Gildas.

" Pro-grammes, pro-grammes. Anyone want a pro-gramme ? You got one ? " Before Gildas could reply, one was thrust into his hand, and the zealous seller remarked airily : " Pay what you like. Half-a-crown is the usual price, but we don't limit you, you know. Take another for the lady with you ? " "I have one, thank you," "Worshipper" replied boldly. Gildas groaned inwardly, aware that some small coins and a five-shilling-piece were all that he had with him — very nearly all he possessed, in fact, until the editor made his monthly payments. A flush rose to his forehead, but he did not hesitate. " Half-a-crown, I think you said ? " he observed, producing the larger coin, and hoping the other man would take the hint, but all he received was a short " Thanks," as Captain Wolfe continued his triumphal progress, blackmailing right and left in the name of charity.

Certainly, from a philanthropic point of view, he was the right man in the right place, for few had courage to refuse his unblushing demands, or argue with him, when be playfully refused change. " Worshipper " only restrained her indignation until he was out of hearing. " What swindling ! I would have demanded the rest back ! No wonder the man is hated ! He is a brute — and so rude ! " Gildas gave a sickly smile. A perfect stranger could hardly be expected to know how much that small sum meant to him. He had dipped largely into his scanty reserve fund of late to buy decent clothes, and he was hard pressed just then. " Is he ? " he asked indifferently. " No one really likes him. He's a toady who gives himself airs. Look at him now, bending over Lady Rathmelton; odious creature ! That's his wife talking to Sir Patrick.

Why are they such friends, I wonder ? " " Do you know them ? " " Not personally ; but, of course, I know all about them — if you mean the Rathmeltons. Sir Patrick belongs to a good old family, but being Irish, and consequently poverty-stricken, they didn't count much until— why are you laughing ? Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. O'Donnel,— I was about to say, until Sir Patrick fought his way up, and by his talents,— are they about to begin ? It's high time they did." " Not yet. Well ? " "Well, being like yourself, a talented Irishman, with a firm belief in himself, he got on, was eventu ally knighted — he distinguished himself in one of those horrid little wars of ours, I believe — and is now high in Ministerial favour, with a fair prospect of being made governor of — goodness knows where — I don't." Someone pushing past interrupted her reminis cences, but, finding her listener was interested, she resumed.

" Sir Patrick's grandmother's sister married the late Duke of Highbury, and, as I told you, his sister is Lady Seaport, but, strange to say, he has made two bad matches. His present wife is the daughter of a manufacturer, who failed three weeks before the wedding, and his first one was a woman of no par ticular family, I hear." " She was my father's first cousin, Miss Chorcutt." " Ob, Mr. O'Donnel ! why did you tell me that ? Do you want me to sink through the floor ? " " On no account ; it would cause such a sensation ; besides, I am thirsting for further information." " Presently — see, the curtain is going up. We mustn't talk. What is the first subject? Robin Hood and Maid Marian ? How sweet, bow perfectly one's idea of them." While she made copious use of her note-book, Gildas suppressed a yawn behind his expensive pro gramme, after which he consulted it, hoping the performance would not last long.

He calculated there were ten tableaux, and each one was shown for so many minutes, with a lengthy pause between each, and an interval, and finally an idiotic piece — for he was certain in advance it would be so — entitled " Living Toys." He had better re sign himself, he thought, to the prospect of some hours of weariness. Miss Chorcutt praised each picture with great discrimination, according to the rank of the per formers, and, as her comments amused Gildas, he found time pass more quickly than he expected. After the fourth scene, Captain Wolfe bustled up to Lady Rathmelton, who rose, and was bowed out through a side door. "She is in the first one after the pause," Miss Chorcutt whispered, and Gildas read : Queen Eleanor Lady Rathmelton. Fair Rosamund Miss Wolfe. " Captain Wolfe's daughter ; and such a pretty girl," she added.

" Is she ? " he answered absently. He was thinking of the contrast between Sir Patrick's first wife and the second. " Aunt Fanny," as he had called her in those days, had been very kind to him, none more so. He was sorry she was dead, and supplanted. The necessity of studying the tableaux was for gotten. Gildas went back, in spirit, to the tumble down old house, proudly called Castle Derg, where his boyhood was spent. His whole life did not pass before him, for few take the trouble, or own sufficiently good memories to recall every bygone incident in an orderly, business like manner. Various recollections crossed his mind, and were quickly banished again. His father's merci less ridicule of a poem, which he had discovered in a book left about bj7 his son, and which he took the pains to learn by heart, with the laudable object of curing "the young fool" of "sickly sentimentality."

Gildas could never think of the weeks and months that followed without a hot flush of shame, nor forget the intense gratitude he owed Aunt Fanny for her valiant defence of him. It was she who silenced his father's biting sarcasm, and maintained there was merit in the verses — little as a youngster of his age might be expected to know of metre — in " Sonnets to A " He was well aware she guessed who A was, and for her honourable silence, he was bound to cherish her memory for ever. Yes, his father had made it veiy uncomfortable for him, and Gildas bore more malice, perhaps, for the jeers directed at his first literary efforts, than for any of the hard things said in the more serious quarrels of those last months at home. Poor old man ; it was his birthday, and he was spending it alone. It all came back to Gildas so clearly, and he asked himself, was he entirely to blame for the hot words he could never unsay, while his father remained sternly obdurate, and refused all attempts at reconciliation ?

It was a bad business. The sudden row, which neither of them had anticipated an hour before, the hasty departure, the frightful struggle amongst strangers. What was the good of dragging it up again, and making himself irate over his father's injustice ? Far better to look at the bright side. The O'Donnel would relent some clay, and, in the mean time, Gildas was gaining success by sure means, if slow. As a journalist, he was compelled to do much uncongenial work, but he was gleaning valuable ex perience, and learning many things wliich would be useful to him when he was in a position to choose what he would, or would not, write. " Twenty minutes' rest," proclaimed his companion. " I spoke to you once, but you were too busy admir ing those pretty girls to hear me." " I fear I was thinking too deeply of my own affairs to bestow upon them the admiration they merited."

" I foresee that you will get into trouble with your chief," Miss Chorcutt responded warningly. " Re member you are not here to please yourself." " I am enjoying it mightily all the same," he re plied, with an insinuating glance. " Humbug ! " she said, but she was gratified, having reached the age when compliments grow scarcer, or more insincere. She was ready to take a benign interest in her fellow-worker, as most women are, when a man has good manners, flirtatious ways, and is more than ordinarily presentable. Mr. O'Donnel would be an agreeable escort now and then. " You've written for The Aristocrat, haven't you ? " she inquired abruptly. " Yes. On ' Gloves of Yesterday and To-day.' " I remember. It appeared just before my ' Kitchens of Mayfair.' It wasn't at all bad. Do you know anything of goddesses ?

" " Only by hearsay, not personally." " I think I can get a column or two accepted for you, if you'll set to work at once. Nothing deep mind, or — or — leave out the — the — " " The leave-out-able-ness ? " suggested Gildas. " Exactly. Just an airy, dainty skimming, suitable for a high-class ladies' paper. Something in this style, you know. Just such a splendidly in tellectual lady as the Duchess of So-and-so, must Minerva have been — the same touch of hauteur, of high-born pride ; the identical stately magnificence must have characterised her, etc., etc. While the gentler graces of Lady What's-her-name irresistibly remind us of — don't be too hackneyed — of Arachne, for instance." Gildas felt some justifiable pride in the solemnity of his countenance. It would have been most un grateful to smile.

" I'm afraid I should make some awful blunders," he said. " You see my knowledge of goddesses is greater than of the ladies to whom I am to compare them." " Never mind that. You write the stuff, and leave blanks for the names, which I will fill in. That will be capital. What a pity you're not on our staff," she added, little foreseeing how soon Gildas was to join, and at the expense of whom. "There's the bell." " What is this last thing — ' Living Toys ' ? " That's an idea of Miss Wolfe's, adapted from a foreign ballet. She dances beautifully, and wishes to show off, I suppose." The curtain ascended, and disclosed Fair Rosamund at the mercy of the outraged queen. Terrified, shrinking, with one hand pressed to her throat, and dilated eyes fixed imploringly on Lady Rathmelton, an imposing figure resplendent in purple velvet and ermine — thus did Gildas behold Miss Wolfe for the first time, and the vision was so soul-satisf}7 ing that he had no eyes for her majesty, or he might have remarked how well she also enacted her part.

The cold hate in Lady Rathmelton's gaze, and the set of the thin lips, was not to be detected from the genuine article. Too soon the vision was hidden from bis startled eyes. He did more than his share of applause, and the curtain was raised for the third, and even tbe fourth time, until Lady Rathmelton swayed slightly, and began to breathe hurriedly, and then the clap ping continued in vain. "Isn't she lovely? Didn't she look charming?" Miss Chorcutt exclaimed, and Gildas answered with fervour, " She did." " Lady Rathmelton's gown was magnificent, wasn't it ? It must have cost a fortune. You'll have to de scribe it." " I shall attempt no such impossible task. When a man writes on dress, he not only fails ignomini ously, but becomes contemptible. I leave such difficult themes to feminine genius."

FA TE'S GRIM SPORT. 15 All the while, he was wondering how he could say enough of Fair Rosamund's bewildering beauty and the exquisite taste of her white and gold raiment. " Miss Wolfe was very cleverly painted," Miss Chorcutt continued reflectively ; " I suppose she is used to getting herself up, for they say she is passion ately fond of acting. I fancy I might vary my 1 Queens of the Teapot ' series, which is nearly ex hausted, by a new departure. I could sketch all the most popular girls under the title, ' Society's Pets,' or ' Fortune's Favourite Children,' or some other attrac tive heading. She would do for number one. I'll suggest it to the editor to-morrow." " And will you interview her ? " " Naturally. Does she appear again ? No, not until the last piece." For that Gildas waited impatiently.

Would the lovely Rosamund look as well in the guise of " Baby, a dancing doll " ? He was still wondering when the curtain drew up for the last time, disclosing a toy shop, and a figure in white satin and spangles, with curly hanging locks, and a set smile of the vermillion lips. Round tbe eyes were hard, black lines. Heavens! was that really the same girl ? Attached to the front of the skirt was a large ticket with the words : — " Latest Novelty. Dances by Clockwork. Mar- FA TE'S GRIM SPORT. vellously realistic and life-like. Price £1,000 Is. llfd." Gildas gasped, but a delighted titter ran through the audience, and loud clapping proved the taste of the audience had been successfully gauged. Nothing which had gone before pleased them as did the sight of Miss Wolfe smothered in paint and bedizened, the living image of a doll, surrounded by a motley collection of clowns, harlequins, witches, and real mechanical toys already in motion.

A customer entered, and the comic showman rushed forward to display his wares. Gildas watched the pantomime with strained attention, marvelling how any girl of refinement could arrange anything so silly. First a Jack-in-the-box sprang up, nearly knock ing the customer down. Then a sorcerer drew cala bastic circles, and almost poked his eyes out with the wand. It was painfully stupid, but everyone, except Gildas, seemed enchanted. The dancing doll remained motionless until all had been exhibited, and was then wheeled to the front and wound up. " Doesn't she do it splendidly ? " whispered Miss Chorcutt, as " Baby " moved her arms stiffly, and began to jerk her feet in time to the last popular tune. " So puppet-like, so utterly unreal ! " The man beside her felt as if personal injury had been done him.

He wished he had left sooner. The customer thrust a cheque into the shopkeeper's hand, and was in turn presented with a huge parcel of toys, on which was printed, " Your change with thanks." That brought down the house. " That is clever," remarked Miss Chorcutt, making a note. "That's a skit on shops where they give you needles and cotton instead of money." The applause was deafening, and Gildas imagined the performance over, but he was mistaken. The shopman turned out the lights on the stage, and at the same instant those in the room were lowered. After his exit, the band commenced the waltz of the day, and coloured fires began to glow behind the wings. A clock struck twelve, and as the last stroke died away, the dancing doll came out of the high cupboard in which she had been packed away awaiting removal.

Tbe idea was new in England then, and Gildas was unprepared to find Miss Wolfe trans formed into a fairy, with all the disfiguring paint gone. He forgave her all. His stern judgment was re voked. A girl who could dance as she was dancing — was she not justified in exhibiting her talent ? She was a genuine fay, a dream of beauty and of grace, far lovelier and more bewitching than Fair Rosa mund, a glorious being to worship humbly from a distance. u All at once she stood still, and then, as it appeared to him, floated back into the cupboard and vanished. "It isn't over?" he said, as if just awake, when, after more thundering applause, everyone rose pre cipitately, and rushed down the room as if determined to be the first to leave. " Yes, indeed, and nearly midnight too. But it's been a great success, and the length of the pro gramme was the only fault.

A very pretty idea that last dance, but rather daring for an amateur, es pecially for a girl whose parents are straining every nerve to get into the smartest set. Well, nothing succeeds like audacity. Mark my words, that girl will make a grand match before long." "No doubt," assented Gildas feebly, as powerless to read the future as she.

Chapter II

There was joy at No. 0 Portland Place. With one bound the daughter of tbe house had leaped into the wide notoriety which nowadays usurps the place of fame. An account of the performance was in all the papers, but The Aristocrat carried off the palm for sheer flattery. An article signed " Worshipper " was enthusiastic over the " high-souled generosity of the ' patrician dames ' and ' chivalrous noblemen ' who had made such untold efforts in the cause of the suffering poor." That the starving and needy exist, and have a way of falling ill when, and as often as they please, the society organ reluctantly admitted, but that people of position, of title, should seek to alleviate their sufferings ! How noble ! How gracious ! How delightfully aristocratic of them! The mauve-coloured journal contained two whole columns of gush and adulation, dwelling on the fas cination of Queen Eleanor, and declaring that had the original been one-millionth part so stately and regal, so altogether charming, his majesty would never have wavered in his allegiance.

But the praise bestowed on Lady Rathmelton was faint and lukewarm compared to that lavished on Miss Wolfe. Both as the unhappy favourite, accepting her doom at the hands of her cruel and infuriated rival — Lady Rathmelton did not like that — and as the dainty fay in her thorough up-to-date later performance, she might safely challenge comparison with any professional on tbe London stage. Her unique style of beauty was equally suited to grave and gay, and so on, until Miss Wolfe yawned over the exagger ated praise. To do her justice, she did not lose her head, in spite of her wonderful success. She already knew she was marvellously pretty, and a clever actress and dancer ; thanks to hard work and good train ing. Perhaps she felt a little elated when she received a polite note from the editor of Tlie Aristocrat, beg<rincr permission to publish her portrait, and to send one of his staff' to interview her, but she gave herself no airs, even after that high honour.

Mrs. Wolfe was more delighted than she. Much might arise from the circulation of Rosie's photograph, and the judicious advertisement afforded by an in terview in so popular a journal. Therefore, consent was readily given, and a new tea-gown ordered for the occasion. The momentous hour was approaching. All was in readiness to make a favourable impression, for Mrs. Wolfe was very wise in some ways, and knew the value of surroundings. The room was adorned with flowers in every nook and corner; a cosy table hinted at tea and cakes. Mrs. Wolfe herself was reading a scientific review which made her head spin, and Rosie, gracefully settled in her chair in the most becoming light, held a piece of some intricate work, while a desirable book, suggesting earnest thought, lay open at the right page, as if just cast aside.

Miss Wolfe glanced at the clock more than once. " Still a quarter of an hour to wait for him, her, or it," she remarked. " Another time we will not be ready so early. My shoes pinch me horribly." " Put on an easier pair, dear." " I have nothing so pretty as these, and it is a poor martyr who cannot endure pain, mitigated by such lovely bronze beads, besides, I want to make them comfortable for this evening." She smiled to herself with pleasant anticipation. " Shall you sing ? To this person who is coming, I mean." " I must save my voice for to-night. Mind, mother, if it's a woman-thing I would rather you didn't stay with us." " If you do not wish it, dear, I will leave you, but I would not worry you, and I should like so much to hear what passes," Mrs. Wolfe responded obediently. " That is the reason I don't want you to be present.

I should feel nervous and artificial." " My dearest child, no one would expect you to be quite natural. I should understand. We are not called upon to display our real natures to perfect strangers. You are doing this for the benefit of the public—" " The public will not care one bit about my genuine self ; what our house is like, and how much we spend a year ; whether we know the Blanks, and where our dresses are made — those are the vital points. I could write the interview myself, in case of need. I know the style perfectly." " That reminds me, have you the last number of The Aristocrat ? I should like to glance through that sketch of Lady Seaport before this person comes. I haven't read any of the 'Teapot' series, and I shall look so foolish if I make a mistake. One cannot own to never having read them, you know."

" I'm so sorry, I gave it away. However, I can give you a very fair idea of what we shall read of our selves. To begin with, the writer — ' Worshipper,' I think, is the nom-de-plume — invariably speaks of FATE'S GRIaM SPORT. 23 him, or herself, as ' you.' You are ushered in, and in reply to your inquiry, are told that Miss Wolfe is at home, and anxiously awaiting you. As you ascend the stairs, a quick glance aside shows you a dining room, richly furnished in terra-cotta plush and old oak. Magnificent portraits of dead-and-gone Wolfes, or Wolves, ought one to say ? which formerly adorned Wardour Street, hang on the walls — " " Do they really say such things ? " " Not about the origin of the ancestral pictures, no. That was my own addition." Mrs. Wolfe frowned. Rosie was so silly about those " heirlooms " sometimes.

Heaps of people did the same. " Your guide hurries you on before you have seen as much as you wish, but you get a peep into a boudoir, and note the open windows, which leads you to the conclusion the fair ' inhabitress ' is passionately fond of fresh air. You have only one second in which to remark some exquisite water-colour paint ings, wonderful curios, ' made in Germany,' vases of rarest china loaded with fragrant blooms, books, photographs, sketching materials, etc., etc., etc., before the door is gently closed in your face, and the servant civilly but quickly leads you on to the drawing room, where you find your hostess all smiles and amiabiUty — " " Nonsense, Rosie, you're joking ! " " Not I. You feel at home at once, and while your hostess is engaged pouring out tea, you take a com plete inventory of the room, which you are sure will interest your readers.