The master criminal

by G. Sidney Paternoster

No, that did not do justice to Meriel Challys, and yet it might, perchance, describe her in some moods, he thought; and though there was nothing mystic in her mood when Guy had been introduced, yet the swift impression was mayhap nearer the truth than the later one.

Mrs. Marven greeted him warmly. They chatted a little while, then, as Guy turned to the girl, she became a silent observer. The family likeness which her husband had observed in Guy was equally apparent to herself, but she had not given words to the vague thoughts which had risen up in her mind when she had first seen him at Lady Greyston's dance. Such thoughts were best crushed down at once—they only invited disillusionment. Not for worlds would she have suggested to her husband that the young man had awakened in her the crushed down maternal instinct. The mere hint would have made him uneasy. She even dreaded lest he should have recognised for himself certain physical resemblances which certainly existed between her husband and Guy. She had no idea that he had recognised them, and was as loth as her husband himself to give words to her imaginings, for precisely the same reasons which imposed silence upon him. Each in point of fact had felt the promptings of the parental instinct, and each in tenderness for the partner of his and of her sorrows and joys forebore to awaken by a word the memory of the great sorrow which had early cast its cloud over their married life.

Lynton Hora had always been hopelessly wrong when he had imagined that but for the rivalry of Marven he would have won the affection of Beatrice Challys. So far as he was concerned she had always been heart-whole. But from the day she had met Dick Marven there had only been one mate for her in the whole wide world. The affection had been mutually bestowed. Marven lived for his wife, even as she lived for him. In each of their thoughts the one object for consideration was their alter ego. Marven would have sacrificed anything to save his wife a momentary pang, physical or mental. She would have inflicted any torture upon herself that he might be spared even momentary uneasiness. But this kindly consideration for each other's feelings did not always prove unexceptionable in practice. Impalpable, diaphanous, there was a barrier of reserve ever between them from the day their first born and only child had been mysteriously spirited away. In so far Hora's scheme for revenge had been successful in action. It had shadowed the lives of both the parties upon whom his blow had fallen, and, though in tender consideration for each other, his action had brought them closer together, yet it had also operated in placing between them the barrier of a subject they dared not discuss.

The maternal instinct, deprived of its natural outlet, of necessity had found another vent. Robbed of her son, Mrs. Marven had taken to her heart a brother's child, who had been orphaned early in life. The girl had repaid the devotion lavished upon her, and, if Mrs. Marven could never quite banish the regret for her lost son, she would always have heartily admitted that Meriel Challys had brought sunshine again into her life. Meriel was all that a daughter could be, and a very tender sympathy existed between her and her aunt.

Naturally the latter could not have failed to observe the admiration which Guy Hora exhibited toward Meriel. It was patent in his every glance, and he made no effort to conceal it. He approached Meriel with the proud assurance of the man who feels that he has the right to lay the tribute of his admiration at the feet of the woman whom he admires, and is not ashamed of letting the whole world perceive upon whom his choice had fallen.

Mrs. Marven liked the attitude, which was so different to that of many of the admirers whom Meriel had already, in the course of her first season, gathered in her train. It awakened memories, too, of the days when Richard Marven had wooed her. His face had worn the same unconscious air of adoration. Almost Mrs. Marven's heart stood still, as she watched Guy's face as he stood leaning forward looking into Meriel's eyes, answering her smiles with his own; the likeness was so vivid to the memory she bore in her heart. She would have liked to step forward and claim him. Her heart cried out "My son, my son," but the words died on her lips. She crushed them back, though the effort left her lips pale.

Meriel, looking towards her, noticed the pallor and with a hasty, "You are ill, Auntie," was at her side.

"I find the theatre a little close," murmured Mrs. Marven. "If we might have the door of the box open a little." She refused all suggestions that they should leave the opera house, and, before the attempts to persuade her were completed, the curtain was rung up, the lights were lowered, and the opera proceeded.

Guy remained in the box. Mrs. Marven sat back in the shadow studying his face intently. When the second act ended, she had regained full control of her emotions, and could make light of the supposed indisposition with which she had apparently been attacked. She pressed Guy to remain in the box for the remainder of the evening, and he was nothing loth to accept the invitation.

There, then, he remained, unconscious that he was the centre of interest to the two elder members of the party, unstirred by any instinctive emotion towards them, and with every thought, every faculty, strained to make the most of the flying minutes which gave him Meriel's company. He was unable to solace himself with the assurance that she responded to the emotions which were aroused in himself by her presence. She was purely natural, no spice of affectation spoiled her glance or her smile. Indeed, at times she seemed to be unconscious even of his existence, enthralled in the melody of the music, responsive only to the rhythm of the throbbing strings. Guy could hardly understand her rapture. Romeo et Juliette, even with world-famed artists to sing the title rôles, had already ceased to awaken him to passionate wonder. The naïveté of the girl's enjoyment surprised him, and he wished that she might for once have forgotten the music for him.