INTO THE WILDERNESS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8674, 14 July 1906, Page 2

INTO THE WILDERNESS.

(By DOROTHY BAIRD.) Author of ." The Majd of the Mill/ etc,, etc. Agatha Brown paced up and down her little drawing-room with quick, excited steps. She could not eit ©till, for j thoughts, memories, hopes pressed too , quickly upon her agitated brain to al» | low of rest. Outside the windows all was grey— grey bills faintly outlined | against a sombre sky; trees, meadows, red-roofed cottages in the valley below, all shaded to different tones of grey by the steady, soaking November drizzle. But inside all was different. "A rosepink room, cosily curtained and carpeted, a brightly burning fire, a profusion of flowering plants, a bowl of late roses, all formed a combination well calculated to shut put the remembrance of November and its greyness. And in Agatha's heart there was nothing but sunshine. Some joys can turn even November into May, and Agatha's joy was of that nature. The ten years that had just elapsed had been grey and sorrowful, but now the clouds were clearing away, and sunshine was com" ing to her once more. Ifr was more than ten years ago thnT Will Mori vale had come into her >i*». Sjhe was young then, and infinitely happy. - Brought up by an aunt who idolised her, and who was rich enough to give her everything she desired, she had hardly realised the pathos of her orphaned position. Hers was a happy nature, quiok to appreciate every joy, whether of circumstance or mere environment, and when she grew old | enough to go out into the world and experience for the first time the gaieties which fall to the lot of a young woman of fashion, she enjoyed them : just ac fully as Bbc had enjoyed the \ beauties of her country home and its soberer "amusements. She was not exactly beautiful, but she combined high intelligence with sweet country freshness, and she was pretty enough to attract plenty of attention. She* had many lovere, but she cared for none until Will appeared upon the scene. She loved him almost from the first, and it was well known that one meeting suffioed to make him fall helplesslyin love with her. But then Will Merivale was a susceptible youth. His father, besides belonging to an old county family, had been something in the city, and he had been that ''something" to such good purpose that he left Will a considerable income as well as large estates and a good old name. Will had no inclination to go on amassing wealth as his father had done; there was no need for him to work, and his was not a ! nature which seeks employment for employment's sake. He inherited the rollicking, wine-bibbing tendencies of his ancestry rather than the careful, cal» , culating disposition of his father, He I had nothing to do, therefore, but to enjoy himself and to spend money, and he did both very thoroughly. He en- J joyed himself chiefly by falling in and j out of love, and bis money went mostly ! on the turf, at the gaming table, and in expensive gifts to the lady who might be occupying has affections for jfche time being. Agatha knew nothing of this at first. She was simply attracted by Will's personality, and for a time she thought him perfect. He was certainly prepossessing in appearance, a fine figure of a man, six-feeJt-one in bis socks and proportioned to match, with a freshcoloured face, fair hair, frank blue eyes, and a stern mouth that yet could smile very sweetly. There was nothing about him to indicate his weaknesses to either the casual or favourably prejudiced observer. Probably "with a different upbringing he would have been a different man, but he had been spoiled, and self-control, together with the higher amis of life, had never been taught him. Hb mother had been a weak and silly woman, and his father always too deeply engrossed in city affairs to concern himself in the upbringing of his son. Agatha had often wondered whether, from the calm place of waiting beyond the grave, the two could see the harm their carelessness had wrought. Surely, could they do 6o the spectacle would be purgatorial enough to cleanse any soul. They had been engaged some months before Agatha found out how money and idlen-eas were ruining him, body and soul. A few chance remarks accidentally overheard in a ballroom opened her eyes, and her own perceptions, sharpened by love, did the rest. As soon as ehe fully realised the situation she set herself to work out his salvation. She <ii^. not preach at him, or make her hand the price of his reformation. Such mnnnruvres would have been worse than useless, and Aprafcha was sensible enough to realise^ it. She merely held her tongue and waited until the way to save him should be shown her, praying that she might have strength -to oarrv it through whatever the cost to herself. It cost her more than she anticipated — cost her the very lisht and joy of h«r life, the dearest desire of her t heart. It was a chance remark of his own that showed her what to <k>. They wetro jokme together as lovers will, and Aarattia. lau^htirgrly asked what he- would do if sha jilted him. "DoP" replied Will. "I shouTd go away — as far arc-ay as I could from you and everything «4se. T$ 'is the proper thing to co and shoot Big game when one is jilted, you know. But there, what foolu?hhess we are talking 1 Yon will never jilt me, you are too faithful by nature and too conventional by, upbringing." Bui he was wrong in his conviction, for within «iic weefcs of the conversation she had jilted him — heartlessly, the world said ; certainly «h« did it decidedly and to all appearances unreasonably. Her reasons, however, were logioal enough, although hidden d^et) in her heart. She saw that Will's only chance of escape lay in breaking away from civilisation and its temptations. Face to face with Nature, fi.shting against hardship and danger, she believed that the true Will^ the brave, fit-roTifer man. wvh^cl as^prt hirnise'f. She also believed that his love for her was the ruling; passion of his life, and shethought that if «h« could anger an<3 grieve birn enough the trouble of losing her would drive him out into th& trildernees. From the time of th-e Baptist tho wilderness has be-era a place for fighting tewmtatio-n and for finding strenath and regeneration, and she prayed that there Will might also come to himself. It was very difficult to drive him away. She was obliged to play the part of a heartless crxiuette, a rol« which suited her ill. The old method of sending a man to 'do deeds of prowess ix> win his lady love would simply have e©nt Will to th& jrentJeman who lies in wait for Iwt souls; -he had to be saved in spite of himself. " I don't know why I won't marry you," she remarked flippantly, when he called to plead bis cause and to ask for -explanations. "Perhaps I*nj tired of you, You're rather uninteresting, you know. I never heard that you did anything exciting in your life. It's so monotonous to live with anyon© who hasn't been up in a balloon, or down a mine, or looped the loop, or something. Everyone remarks what a stupid existence you are leading and I have begun to realise that tb»y. are

right. I wonder you 4o»'t notice it yourself." " I see," lie returned with a sneer. « You want to marry a o*lebrity-*or a title,* I'm eorry that I can't oblige you," "So am I," replied Agfttfo«, still speaking bravely, though every ward seemed like a dagger piercing her heart. *'For you" are <xjnveniently rich, and very nice-looking. It is roally a pity that you are so "conventional. jf He was eilent. An evil thought had come into hw mind, and was fast taking root there. She wanted to marry a celebrity j well, ne would make himself one, and then when she was ready to take him back to her favour, he would jilt her as openly and shamelessly as Bhe had jilted him. It would do her good. Besides it would be rather pleasant to get right away from everybody for the present. He did not relish, facing the gossip which would be raised in all corners of the county by the breaking off of the match j he preferred to face eotae^binjr mcqv& exciting and less irritating' to his pride. And if Agatha wanted "to marry someone els©, he would be out of the way, He loved her too well to stand by and see her flirt with another man, or to bear the cotmments which would be rife in his club, and other places where he sought amusement. A spasm of pain crossed his face at the mere thought, and Agatha clasped Ber hands tightly to keep back her womanly pity and love. It is horrible to see a loved one suffer and to be obliged to add to the pain instead of giving comfort. " Here is your ring," ehe eaid timidly. "It is reaj£ly of no use bringing it back. I do not intend to wear ;t again." Ho seized it roughly and flung it down on the floor. " You are very kind," .he eaid, " But I shall have no u^° for i* i n the place to which I am going." For a moment they stood facing one another, with the little hoop of diamonds flashing and glowing on the floor between" them. If Agatiha had allowed herself to think, she' must have given way, therefore she laughed mockingly. ♦'The orthodox big game; I suppose," ebe said. "Exactly," he returned. "Diamond rings would be a trifle out of place on the Rockies. You had better leave it for the housemaid. 1 ' And with a harsh laugh he turned on his heel and went out, slamming the door behind him- - Agatha did not leave the ring for the housemaid. Instead, she picked it up and locked it away in her jeweloase. Sometimes she would take it put and look at it, and slip it on her finger wondering if ever she would wear rfc again. But it wa« such a forlorn hope that she always dismissed it as quickly as she could. It would be harder to part with th* hope if ene allowed it to take root and grow. Her path in life wa<s not very smooth after that. Her aunt was naturally angry at her behaviour about Will, but she hoped that the girl would make a marriage brilliant enough to condone her fault inth© eyes of society. Whan Agatha refused ell offers, ehe grew exasDerated, and finally willed the bulk of tier fortune to charities, leaving . her niece comparatively poor. Thi» exhibitio.a or spite ■ moved Agatha but little. She took a email house in the country, and lived quietly. The years that followed were very grey, for she revolted from the narrowness, the petty-mindedness of village life. She was accustomed to c much broader horizon and wider interests, and the monobony nearly drove her silly. Her only ooinfort lay in the news of Will that reached her from time to time. He had not gone after big' game. Inatead he had joined an expedition which was being fitted out for the North Pole or thereabouts. Everything went as Agatha had hoped. The rigorous life brought out all the sterner and more manly qualities which be possessed. He was not clever, but he was strong and persevering, and he slowly climbed to fame. Now, at the end of ten years, he was home again, distinguished for having been further north than any other man, Moreover, for his bravery and for the importance of the discoveries he had made, he was to receive knighthood at the bands of his King. It was a splendid record, but it was not only that whiohv filled Agatha's heart with suoh ecstasy, It*>;ae the knowledge that he was coming back to her. Two days ««o she had received a note from him, a formal little note, saying that be had only just suooeeded in tracing her, and that he hoped that eh© would allow him to call on her for the sake of the friendship that had once existed between them. She had answered with an equally formal little note, politely intimating that eh© would be pleased to see him. and naming some convenient trains. But ehe had read between the lines of his letter, as a woman will, and therefore she was pacing up and down her room in eager expectancy. She had taken the ring from its hiding-place, and it now lay on its velvet oogo on the table. Perhaps she might need it again that very day— who knows? The minutes of waiting e&emed to drag very slowly. Once the door bell pealed noisily through the quiet house, setting her heart beating violently. But it was only, the postman with the afternoon letters. She took them from the salver and broke the seals'* listlessly — they would help to pass the time, et any rate. There was one from an old schoolfellow, now /a happy wife and mother, and one of tho leadens of Lon-don society. It was a long letter,* bright and chatty, but Agatha Jieeded it very little, it was so feng since she had moved in the circles that her friend described, and she had lost nearly all 'interest in them. But just at the last was a .sentence that riveted her attention- ; " I saw our old friend Will Merivale the other day. I suppose I mnst call him Sir William now. He has improved vastly, and looks a man in every 'sense of the word. It is to be hoped, ho«wer, that he will soon go back to the North Pole, for I bear that old companions and old temptations are clutching at him. It would be a pity if, he wont back to what he was." A pity I More than pity — ft woman's life and happiness thrown away in vain. Agatha clasped h«r hands tightly. It must be prevented at any cost — even at the cost of a renewal of j the old suffering, the continuance of j her hopeleasaess and loneliness. She took up the little box containing the i ring, and pressed the spring. The glowing diamonds might have a use yet, if only, to drive the donor out into the wilds once more, instead of lying on her finger to bind th& two together, She rose with a little 6igh, and looked out of tho window. Everything was changed by that one sentence. November was inside her heart as well as outside tho house. The grey years were back again, and stretched out before her in a dreary vista ; her little patch of sunlight had been wofully small. , i •, * ' And so, when the longed-for visitor was announced she met him without enthusiasm and when siv© spoke her voice was cold. And yet her heart leapt at the sight of him. It was the old Will she had loved, only better, braver) more manly. His eyes had the keen gaze of one who has looked mortal danger in the face, his lips were firmer set, though they could amile as sweetly as in the old happy days. For a time she thought her friends must be wrong, for ©he could see no signs of a return to his old habits, but when the lamp was lighted, and she saw him more clearly, the haggard look

about the eyes was plainly viable, «nd her manner became even moro frigid* He pould not help noticing it, but he said nothing till the tea was cleared away, then he bent forward and look-» ed into her eyes. " Why did you send for me Agatha," he said. "If you felt I should be an unwelcome guest you might easily have told me to stay, away." A sharp pang shot through Agatha's heart at the quiet, manly tones, but the. bright lamplight shone mercilessly on the marks of recent dissipation on his face, and eh.c was mistress of her•ftU. . " I sent for you because I hare something of yours which I wish to return," she answered flippantly, and she held out the little velvet case. It was plain to see that he wa* hurt and wounded. He took it §Uently # and pressed the spring, then he laid it on the table' between them. "Before I take that ring back I have a question to &6k you, and before I ask you the question I must toll you a story. It is a long story, and 1 I must ask your patience with me." His tone made flippancy almost impossible, and yet she strove for it. " Dp the story and the question form a necessary preface to the return of the ring?" she asked. " For lam perfectly that you thill take it.'* ■'I am equally detertnined that you shall hear what I have to say," he x re~ turned, quietly, and Agatba was silent. He was making matters doubly bard for h?r, and the, searching glance of his ey«s disconcerted her. She waa afraid he would see through the mask she had' assumed, and understand her fully — at last. ■ "When I went away," h« began, still speaking in, grave, quiet^ tones, " I went with the full detertnination of playing you a mean trick. I fully be» lieved that you bad made up your mind to marry a oelebrity, and I meant to make myself famous, win your love, and then fling it back at you as you had flung mine at me. The idea was base hi the extreme, but it was in accordance w'tfh what I was then, and. anyway it sent me away. * * You know briefly what has happened to me sjince then. I daresay you have read a.bxrot my exploits, and especially about ray last expedition, in the papers. But of what has happen©d to me in myself you can know nothing, I want to .tell you about that." She had covered her ey«s with, her hand. She could not keep up the cold expression she had forced nereelf to assume while his earnest gaze was fixed upon her, and the glare of the laimp immediately above her afforded en excuse for the action. He took her silence for an ftffimetive and presently he continued. "I am not a clever chap," he eaidt ." I daresay that I shall tell you clumsily enough, but for old sakee' cake I tHink you will try to understand, I was too angry when I left you, and too angry for a long time afterwards fco wonder why you had' co suddenly sent me away, or what had caused you to want a celebrity, you, who had al•ways been above a mean-minded love of notoriety, always contented and happy. But when a man gets right away into the wilderness, when, with. a handful of bis fellowmen, he faces almost primeval solitude, things look somehow very* different. They did to me. I cannot tell you how often in those long, long Arctic nights, in the silence ok tlw hut, when aU the men were asleep, in the midst of wanderings and dangers innumerable, your image rose before me, and thinking of your sweet, pure face, I asked myself why you had acted a» yon did. Perhaps another fellow would have prueosed the reason' sooner, but I am dull a-nd clow, and, It took me a long time to arrive at any possible solution. It wae only when the life took a grip of me, when I felt all the man in me rise up to action, when I saw dearly what I had been and what I was intended, to be. that I wondered—wondered if you had been flippant on. purpose — if you had acted against your nature in order to ©end me out of temptation, to rouse me to something better than I had ever been or direamed of being before." The tears were trickling between her interlocked fingers, end she made a little movement as if clxe would have spoken. " Don't pnswer me yet," he eaid. "Wait till you hear the rest of what I have to say. The thought, the hope, fchat you loved me still, that you sent me away for my own good and hid your trouble helped me. All the unworthy resolutions which had goaded me to the North fell from me, and I worked on solely in order that I might grow stronger and better still before I sought you again. Fer I intended to seek you and to ask yon to tell me from your heart yoar reason for breaking your engagement to me. I oould n*v«r have lived through all the dangers and hardships had it not been for that. As it was I heeded them as little as Jacob heeded the years of service which he spent for Rachel. . " I came back three months ago, meaning to go to you at once. But you seemed to have dropped completely out of the old cirole^ and I had no little difficulty in tracing you. And then, when I was back in the old haunts, and old companions surrounded me, the of ray youth returned. Perhaps it was because I had grown so sure of myself. and therefore was Jess on my guard, bat they seemed ten times stronger than they had been years ago. Agatha, lam slipping back into old ways. Nothing can 1 save me except another pilgrimage. I had meant to ask you tb wear that ring again for my cake, but now I know that can never be. I am doomed to be an outcast wandering always in the solitary places of the earth. The North is calling me, as it always calls a man who knows it and has learned its grandeur, its pitileaaucxss, its solemnity. There is much work to do out there; I can do it, and I must. But before I go, I want ithe troth about ten years ago — the truth, Agatha, from your very Taeart. I can ask for no more, but I think I have a right to that.' 1 It was very still in the room when ha had finished, only the quiet ticking of the clock, the flickering of the fire, the dull patter of the rain outside broke across the eilence. For Agatha did not speak. Slowly, very slowly, she took her hands from her face, and lifted her eyes to. his, and as she> saw him — the same Will she had loved ep passionately, only strengthened, purified, fighting with himself—^ehe allowed her whole soul to shine through them. For a moment they gazed in silence while all the mists of tho past years oloared away, then looking down again, shf pushed the little velvet case towards him, and held out her left hand. " I otmld go with you — sometimes," she whispered, catching her voice a little/ for the vision that was before her mind had called up sobs, but not of sorrow^ " And when I couldn't, I would wait very patiently, and I would always understand." Agatha lives in a little town almost ia tae laud of the Midnight Sun. Sometimes she goes with herj husband for long delightful hunting expeditions in the wilder regions of Europe, but often she is alone for many months. But she Ls not impatient or unhappy, for she knows that all is for the best, and lore can bridge the widest spaces. And ehe does not grudge the pain of the past, or the ton years sfie spent so sorrowfully, for Will's name will go down to posterity w one of the heroes of his country, and that is worth it «U.