SELF-RENUNCIATION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2026, 22 December 1892, Page 19

SELF-RENUNCIATION.

Specially Written for the Witness Christmas

and placed in a luxurious home in Eaton Square. The Davenant's home Was in India. Mr Davenant held a high position In the Madras Presidency ; but owing to the ill-health of Mrs Davenant her husband had a year's furlough granted him. Having no ofeildren of their own they determined on adopting one. The chosen one selected out of a dozen " woe-be-gones " was myself. So great was the change from the primitive life of the Foundling Hospital tbat I was puzzled as' to my identity. An ayah to obey my slightest wish ; dainty little dresses of every hue and texture. 'Twas a miracle that the sudden turn of fortune's •wheel didn't rain me. A counteracting influence was at work in the deep devotion of my new mother. The fondeßt parent could not have idolised her offspring more than I was idolised. Through the vista of years I can see her classic form bending over my little cot. I can still hear the melodious voice whisper, " Good-night, my darling. God bless my little Lina." My little heart at that time seemed bursting with love and gratitude. Love had come so unexpectedly to me you Bee. The years "leave" expired, and we sailed for the Indies. How I was petted and caressed the next four years in the land of " tiffin " and " monsoon." and then a change came o'er the scene. My dear mother was taken dangerously ill. I was sent away for a time, and on my return I greeted a new-comer in the shape of a baby girl. 11 God has sent you a little Pister to love and cherish, darling. You will be kind to her, Lina— kind to little Olive 1 " Possibly she detected an expression cf jealousy in my face, for she asked the question in a distressed manner. "Is it pur very own baby?" I queried peeping curiously at the stranger. Seeing my mother nod in the affirmative I added impressively : " Then I'll love her all my life and give her all my dolls and toys, because she is your very own baby, and I love you mother, darling, better than anything in the world." Time, the relentlesp, sped on for another four years, and I was thirteen. A large garden party was being given, and the baby nnd myself were allowed on the festive scene. I was' rather flushed with the excitement of wrestling with the ayah in the matter of a large locket that I had brought away from the " Foundling " in days gone by It bore the inscription: "Sarah Thornton, From Henry." -It wei the oDly

Number of 1892.

By LUCILLA.

WAS a foundling, and spent the 1 first four years of my life in London at that noble institution '' in Guildford Btreet for bereft , and deserted ohildren. Of those I four years I have no recollection. The first thing my memory dimly recalls is being taken away from my early associations

clue to my identity. But Mrs Davenant had named me Lina, the name of her favourite sister.

The ayah had called the locket " a fright," and had declared that it spoilt the appearance of my toilette. I insisted on wearing it; whereupon she told me I Bhonld " repent it."

On what trifles do our life histories hinge I The garden waß a brilliant scene. With some trepidation I led baoy Olive quickly to the spot where our mother sat conversing earnestly with a bronzed man of about 50 Bummers. He paused ai we stepped up. "So this is your eldeßt daughter ? " he said pleasantly. " Yes, these are Lina, the thoughtful, and our young romp, Olive." Mr Hazledean, the gentleman addressed, seemed unable to reply. . He eyed both me and the despised locket very attentively. " Lina is my adopted daughter only, but as dear to me as my very own," my mother added, flashing a little. " Surely— surely," he began (knitting hli brow), and pausing in perplexity. " I found my priceless treasure in London," continued my mother softly. " Allow me to inspect your locket, Miss Lina," Mr Hazledean said in a Btifled voice. Turning to my mother, with a pained, Bad face, be said :

"It is as I thought ; I have a few questions to ask."

He regarded me wistfully meanwhile. Taking the hint, Mrs Davenant bade me take little Olive to play with her cousinß some little distance away. I was old enough to scent a mystery of some kind, and remained during the whole afternoon wrapped In reflection. My baby sister only recalled me to myself by sundry little slaps and pinches. That night I was told that Mr Hazledean was my uncle and that consequently he had a kind of claim on me, and wanted me to live with him.

I remember I clung frantically to my mother's neck, and begged her never to part me from Olive. I did " repent " wearing the locket, as my ayah had laughingly foretold. Truth is often spoken in jeßt. Well, the long and the short of it was that my wish was obeyed, and my newly-found uncle returned to his New Zealand sheep ran without a wayward niece.

Another quartet of years glided on, and I had reached tbe " sweet seventeen " age. I was very fair, with a profosion of golden hair, and had admirers in plenty. Olive, now eight, was olive by complexion as wall as by name. She was a somewhat ungainly child, the plainness of whose face was only redeemed by her exceedingly beautiful eyes. I've never seen such orbs, before or since.

It was only a letter that disturbed tbe even tenor of my way this time — " only a letter" ; but only a letter has overturned a dynasty before to-day. I remember it was the night of one of our military balls. The air was redolent of magnolia, and I never smell it now but the scene of long ago uprises. Dunedin, New Zealand, October 2, 1864. My Dear Niece, — Doubtless you will be surprised to hear from me ; perhaps you may even have forgotten the existence of an uncle whose acquaintance was aB briefly ended as commenced.

I have met with a severe accident, which will cripple me for life. Life for the best of us is uncertain, but doubly bo for me jußt now, and I yearn to behold once more the image of one to whom I gave the love of my life. I was engaged to your mother for two happy years. She transferred her affections to my brother within a week of what was to have been our marriage. Terse words; but what they have conveyed to me I will not attempt to describe. It's solitary for a poor cripple to be attended by hirelings. Will you pay our lovely new country a visit, and thus cheer the heart of your desolate uncle.

And so it was arranged tbat I should pay a visit to New Zealand. I left India in the gay season, not without some regret for the bails and socials that I should lose. A qualm of conscience followed the regret when I remembered the cad condition of my poor uncle. When it came to r parting with Olive, I gave way entirely, sobbing on my little sister's neck in a manner suggestive of a final adieu.

Travelling in those days was not the easy luxurious thing it is in these advanced times ; nftvertheless, my voyage was so oxtremely pleasant and novel to me, that I was quite sorry when the shores of New Zealand first met by gaze. A fair man, about eight or ten years my senior, met me on the wharf, bearing a note from my uncle introducing him as his solicitor and friend.

How shall I describe Jack Arkell ? Well, debonnaire is the best description I can give, prr cHiming him at once frank, cheery, witty, and sympathetic. He was very musical, too. Possibly his musical tones had something to do with it, but certain it is that before I reached Dunedin I was in love with my uncle's solicitor and friend. It was truly a case of " love at first sight."

My Dunedin visit lengthened into months, and from months to a year. I should surely have had a heart of stone had I left my poor uncle. Mine was the task of amanuensis, reader, with the addition of all the lighter duties of a nurse. Jack Arkell never failed In his adherence to tbe invalid. Very few evenings passed that bis cheory presence was not felt in Acacia Lodge. I used to ponder often on the gay doings of India, and though I loriged with unutterable loriging to have my darling sister Olive near me, I had no regrets for the brilliant exteriors of my past life. They all faded into insignificance beside the all-absorbing delight I felt in Jack's society. He was one of those men with whom etiquette was impossible. To all his friends he was simply " Jack."

One year merged into two. and I had by that time come to look on Danedin as my settled home. The two years had become sever. I was 25. It seemed an understood thing that Jack liked me, yet he had never breathed a word of love. I had refused two good offers of mairiage owing to my secret attachment for Jack.

Oae evening in warm November my uncle felt unusually prostrate, and called me to his side.

" Lina, child, I shan't be here much longer, and I would like to speak of your future. I believe Jack loves you (how could he help it, dearie ?), but he's one of the honourable, oldfashioned sotf, who don't propose to girls

till they have a suitable home Co offer them. Well, bis star is in the ascendant now, he tells me, and, moreover, I've made him my heir, so there's nothing to hinder your marriage." My cheeks were dyed. " Nothing except the will of the two principals," I suggested mischievously. " Poor Lina I The will of both is plain to read. Jack told me the other night the man who married you would be blest. Now, I am quite sure the feeling is reciprocated. An old man on a bed of sickness has keener perceptions than a man in health. Don'c blush, dear. I'm sure you'll be happy with him."

Happy f I was in the seventh heaven. I suppose other girls love as devotedly as I do, but I think such devotion is rare. The roses were unusually fragrant, and all life seemed coutens de rote that night. Poor uncle was very ill for a week or two after this, and Jack visited us as frequently as ever; and one evening— it seems like yesterday — he came up to me, saying in a quiet, rather matter-of-fact voice, "I've a^ question to ask you, Lina, and I am wondering what your answer will be. Promise me ltßhallbe'Yes.'"

Just at the moment old Hannah came in. How is it a proposal is so often stopped on the threshold! Hannah discreetly withdrew, and then the old, old question was repeated, and I had promised to take Jack Arkell for better, for worse.

" I thought, dear Lina, I'd better put my fate to the test before the arrival of the visitor to-morrow, as your time will be take n up for the next few weeks. Who is the girl that's coming 1 " " Her name is Janet Gordon. She is the daughter of an old friend of uncle'fl, it seems, and she's coming by her own invitation partly to see me, of whom she has heard a great deal. To tell you the truth, I'd rather be excused the compliment. I'm sure beforehand I shan't like her. The only two people I ever longed to see are Mrs Davenant and dear little Olive."

" Well, don't aßk me to escort the Janet Gordon about. I think 111 steer dear of you all for the next fortnight or bo." " If you do I shall downright dislike her," I replied. The following day Miss Gordon arrived— a tall, stately brunette of apparently 17 or 18 summers, with eyes— well, the eyes of Olive —such glorious melting brown eyes. Notwithstanding my determination not to like her, I took to Miss Gordon immensely. Added to great beauty of person, she was so winning and vivacious that it was impossible to feel coldly towards her. At breakfast on the third day of her stay Bhe led the conversation to India, asking me whether I was acquainted with this person and that, known to herself. " Youknew the Davenants then 1 Rather supercilious, are they not 1 " My cheeks flamed. "Pray don't allude thus to my early friends," I retorted. Instead of looking abashed, Miss Gordon seemed to enjoy my vexation. " Well, didn't you think that young Olive an objectibnable child ? " "Objectionable? Certainly not. There are times when I seem to pine for my adopted sister's sweet caresses." Tears filled Miss Gordon's beautiful «yes. Impulsively she rose, and flinging her arms round my neck she said : " Don't you recognise in me the objectionable Olive 1 We planned this little surprise, mamma and I, and your uncle is in tha secret too. You couldn't come over to Bee us, so mamma, who took it into her head that I should benefit by a sea voyage, proposed my coming to New Zealand labelled • Miss Gordon, with care.' " Astonishment too deep for words was mine. So this lovely girl was my ungainly little Bister ripened into beauteous young womanhood 1 How long we sat over breakfast I am ashamed to Bay. Jack had been out of town for a few days. I longed to introduce him to Olive. What would he think of my young sister ? He came and received her warmly, as the sister of his betrothed ought to be received. After that he came aa frequently as of yore, and seemed to take a quiet pleasure in lazily watching us both. " Isn't Olive lovely ? " I whispered to him one day as she was seated at the piano at the far end of the room. "Yes, * lovely' is the word for her. It comprehends beauty both of person and soul." " Have you finished reading the new play to uncle 1 " I asked. But my question was unheeded. He was gazing intently at Olive, and when I repeated the query he sighed and replied in the affirmative. " Now I know you are working too hard amongst those dusty old law papers. I'll get uncle to interfere," I said. He left Bhortly after this, and we didn't see him for some days, much to our astonishment. Christmas Eve came round. Uncle was napping in the gloaming. Jack, Olive, and I sat in the old bow window within scent of the roses. We had been talking with all the earnestness and enthusiasm that evening always inspires. I left them a few minutes to go and f peak to my uncle. I was not long away, and as I reached the library door, which stood ajar, Jack's voice fell sweet and low on my ear. It was my name that arreßted my attention. Ab, daughter of Eve that I was to stop and listen 1 " Do you think Lina cares very much for me, Miss Davenant ? " " Ob, don't call me Miss Davenant now. Why. you are almost my brother already." "Well then, Olive, do you believe your sister really loves me 1 " " I am sure she does."

He paused. Then he went on : " Little Olive, darling, I wish you'd never come here. God knows lam striving to do right, but it is you I love. lYe loved Lina as a sister for years, but I never knew what true love was till you came. Tell me— tell me what— tell me quick which is best?— to marry Lina under such circumstances or to confess all. I seem powerless to think. Help me, darling, for pity's sake." I have wondered often bow a condemned criminal feels when he receives hiß sentence. I know the feeling now— knew it at that moment, and shall know it evermore. I often wonder how I bad the strength to act as I did, j knew my 'aoe was ghastly, bat

no matter. It was too dark for them to see. I was under the influence of a spell.

" I hav6 unavoidably heard all," I said in an nnnaturally calm voice. " I am glad to know the truth in time, Jack. It will save a£ter-year3 of misery." Glad ? What a mockery it seemed 1 They were both too stunned to reply, so I continued mechanically :

"We can still be friends; and Olive, darling, perhaps soon you will "find it in your heart to be to him what I — what I mould have been." I -felt a storm of sobs rising within me. " Uncle calls me," I gasped, and ran away into my tiny bedroom.

The moonbeams shone so quietly in — strange contrast to my troubled heart.

Well, In two years Olive and he were quietly married in India. I had carried out the spirit of my childhood's days, and given away all that was most dear to little Olive. Oan you wonder at the pain I feel when Christmas Eves come round ? My poor old uncle altered his will entirely in my favour by Jack's express desire ; but he still lives on, and is quite unaware of the little tragedy that took place in the library years ago. I try by my tender caro to atone to him in some measure for the fickleness of my mother, and he blesses me so tenderly every night of his life. The Dunedin girls envy my long purse and call me lucky. They little ken of the Christmas Eve 13 years ago, when I crushed my poor heart, and voluntarily yielded up the one love of my life to Olive.