H The Coryston Family A NOVEL BY MRS. HUMPHRY WARD CHAPTER III ER ladyship says she would like to see you, miss, before you go." The speaker was Lady Coryston's maid. She stood just within the doorway of the room where Marcia was dressing for the opera, delivering her message mechanically, but really absorbed in the spectacle presented by the young girl before her. Sewell was an artist in her own sphere, and secretly envious of the greater range of combination which Marcia's youth and beauty made possible for the persons who dressed her, as compared with Lady Coryston. There are all kinds of subtle variants, no doubt, in "black," such as Lady Coryston habitually wore; and the costliness of them left nothing to be desired. But when she saw Marcia clothed in a new Worth or Paquin, Sewell was sorely tempted to desert her elderly mistress and go in search of a young one. "Come in, Sewell," cried Marcia. "What do you think of it?" The woman eagerly obeyed her. Marcia's little maid Bellows did the honors, and the two experts, in an ecstasy, chattered the language of their craft, while Marcia, amid her shimmering white and pink, submitted good-humoredly to being pulled about and twisted round, till, after endless final touches, she was at last pronounced the perfect thing. Then she ran across the passage to her mother's sitting-room. Lady Coryston had complained of illness during the day and had not been down-stairs. But Marcia's experience was that when her mother was ill she was not less, but more, active than usual, and that withdrawal to her sitting-room generally meant a concentration of energy. with correspondence. Within her reach was a deep cupboard in the wall containing estate and business letters, elaborately labeled and subdivided. A revolving bookcase near carried a number of books of reference, and at her elbow, with the paper-knife inside it, lay a copy of the Quarterly Review. The walls of the room were covered with books-a fine collection of county histories, a large number of historical memoirs and biographies. In a corner, specially lit, a large bust of the late Lord Coryston conveyed to a younger generation the troubled, interrogative look which in later life had been the normal look of the original. His portrait by Holl hung over the mantelpiece, flanked on either side by water color pictures of his sons and daughter in their childhood. There was only one comfortable chair in the room, and Lady Coryston never sat in it. She objected to flowers as being in the way; and there was not a sign anywhere of the photographs and small knickknacks which generally belitter a woman's sitting room. Altogether, an ugly room, but characteristic, businesslike, and not without a dignity of its own. "Mother!-why don't you rest a little?" cried Marcia, eying the blackrobed figure and the long, pale face, marked by very evident fatigue. "You've been writing letters or seeing people all day. How long did James stay?" "About an hour." Some time. There was a great deal to settle." "Did you "-the girl fidgeted-" did you tell him about Coryston?" Lady Coryston was sitting with a Certainly. He says there is only writing-board on her knee, and a reading- one house in the neighborhood he could lamp beside her lighting a table covered take-" He has taken it." Marcia opened her right hand, in which she crushed a telegram. "Bellows has just brought me this." Lady Coryston opened and read it. "Have taken Knatchett for three years. Tell mother." Lady Coryston's lips stiffened. "He has lost no time. He can vex and distress us, of course. We shall have to bear it." "Vex and distress us! he can!" cried Marcia. been talking to him?" I should think "I dare say," said Lady Coryston; adding with a slight sarcastic laugh, "James is a little too sure of being always in the right." From which Marcia guessed that James had not only been talking to Coryston, but also remonstrating with his mother, which no doubt accounted for Lady Coryston's worn-out looks. James had more effect upon her than most people; though never quite effect enough. Marcia stood with one foot on the fender, her gaze fixed on her mother in a frowning abstraction. And suddenly Lady Coryston, lifting her eyes, realized her daughter and the vision that she made. partly supplied by a pension from Lady Coryston. It was understood that when she was wanted to act duenna she came at a moment's notice. And she was very willing to come. She lived in an Earl's Court lodging, and these occasional expeditions with Marcia represented for her the gilt on her modest gingerbread. She was a small, refined woman, with a figure still slender, gray hair, and a quiet face. Her dresses were years old, but she had a wonderful knack of bringing them up to date, and she never did Marcia any discredit. She adored Marcia, and indeed all the family. Lady Coryston called her "Miss Wagstaffe "--but to the others. sons and daughters, she was only "Waggin." There were very few things about the Coryston family she did not know: but her discretion was absolute. As she saw Marcia running downstairs, her face lit up. "My dear, what a lovely gown!-and how sweet you look!" "Don't talk nonsense, Waggin!—and put on this rose I've brought for you!" Waggin submitted while Marcia adorn ed her and gave various pats and pull to her hair. "There!--you look ten years younger. said the girl, with her bright look, step "You look very well, Marcia. Have ping back. "But where is James?" I seen that dress before?" "No. I designed it last week. Ah!"the sound of a distant gong made itself heard-"there's the motor. Well, good night, mother. Take care of yourself, and do go to bed soon." Arthur may She stooped to kiss her mother. "Who's going with you?" "Waggin and James. come in. He thinks the House will be up early. And I asked Mr. Lester. But he can't come for the first part." Her mother held her sleeve, and looked up smiling-Lady Coryston's smiles were scarcely less formidable than her frowns. "You expect to see Edward Newbury?” "I dare say. They have their box as usual." "Well!-run off and enjoy yourself. Give my love to Miss Wagstaffe." "Waggin" was waiting in the hall for Marcia. She had been Miss Coryston's governess for five years, and was now in retirement on a small income, The butler stepped forward. "Mi James will meet you at the opera." "Oh, good!" murmured Marcia in he companion's ear. "Now we can croon." And croon they did through the long crowded way to Covent Garden. By th time the motor reached St. Martin's Lan Waggin was in possession of all the had happened. She had long expecte it, having shrewdly noted many sign of Lady Coryston's accumulating wrat But now that “Corry,” her dear "Corry with whom she had fought so many school-room fight in the days of his Et jackets, was really disinherited, her co cern was great. Tears stood in her kin eyes. "Poor Corry!" alternated in h mouth with “Your poor mother!" Si ner and judge appealed equally to h pity. Marcia meanwhile sat erect and fierce "What else could he expect? Fath did leave the estates to mother-just h cause Corry had taken up such viewsthat she might keep us straight." "But afterward! My dear, he is so young! And young men change." Lady Coryston's death was not, of course, to be mentioned except with this awe and vagueness-scarcely to be thought of. But hotter revolutionists than Corry have turned Tories by forty. Waggin harped on this theme. Marcia shook her head. "He won't change. Mother did not ask it. All she asked was-for her sake and father's that he should hold his tongue." A flush sprang to Waggin's faded cheek. “A man!-a grown man!" she said, wondering-" forbid him to speak out-speak freely?" Marcia looked anxiously at her companion. It was very seldom that Waggin betrayed so much heat. "I know," said the girl, gloomily. "Your money or your life for I suppose it sounds like that. Corry would say his convictions are his life. But why a man,' Waggin?" She straightened her pretty shoulders. "I don't be lieve you'd mind if it were a woman. You don't believe in a woman having convictions!" Waggin looked a little bewildered. "I'm old-fashioned, I suppose-but-" Marcia laughed triumphantly. "Why shouldn't Corry respect his mother's convictions? She wants to prove that women oughtn't to shrink from fighting for what they believe, even-" "Even with their sons?" said Waggin, tremulously. "Lady Coryston is so splendid-so splendid!" "Even with their sons!" cried Marcia, vehemently. "You take it for granted, Waggin, that they trample on their daughters!" Waggin protested, and slipped her thin hand into the girl's. The note of storm in Marcia's mood struck her sharply. She tried for a moment to change the subject. Who, she asked, was a tall, fair girl, whom she had seen with Mr. Arthur, a week ago" at the National Gallery? "I took my little niece-and suddenly I turned, and there at the end of the room were Mr. Arthur-and this lady. Such a remarkable-looking young woman!-not exactly handsome-but you couldn't possibly pass her over." VOL. CXXVII.-No. 757.-7 "Enid Glenwilliam!" exclaimed Marcia, with a startled voice. "But, of course, Waggin, they weren't alone?” "Oh no-probably not!- thoughthough I didn't see any one else. They seemed so full of talk-I didn't speak to Mr. Arthur. Who do you say she was?" repeated Waggin, innocently. Marcia turned upon her. "The daughter of the man mother hates most in the world! It's too bad of Arthur! It's abominable! It would kill mother if she knew! I've heard things said sometimes-but I never believed them for a moment. Oh, Waggin! you didn't see them alone?" The voice changed into what was almost a wail of indignation. "Of course, Enid Glenwilliam would never consider appearances for a moment. She does exactly what suits her. She never bothers about chaperons, unless she absolutely must. When she sees what she wants, she takes it. But Arthur!” Marcia leaned back in the car, and as in the crush of traffic they passed under a lamp Waggin saw a countenance of genuine distress. Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry to have worried you. How stupid of me to mention it. I'm sure there's nothing in it.” "I've half suspected it for the last month," said Marcia, with low- toned emphasis. "But I wouldn't believe it!— I shall tell Arthur what I think of him! Though, mind you, I admire Enid Glenwilliam myself enormously; but that's quite another thing. It's as though mother were never to have any pleasure in any of us! Nothing but worry and opposition!-behind her back, too." "My dear!-it was probably nothing! Girls do just as they like nowadays, and who notices!" said Waggin, disingenuously. "And as to pleasing your mother, I know somebody who has only to put out her hand-" "To please mother and somebody else?" said Marcia, turning toward her with perfect composure. "You're thinking of Edward Newbury?" "Who else should I be thinking of!— after all you told me last week?" "Oh, yes I like Edward Newbury" the tone betrayed a curious irritation -"and apparently he likes me. But if he tries to make me answer him too soon, |