Novel

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 372, 25 June 1903, Page 2

Novel

<-■ - - •. ; '•> *?;-: > =' CHAPTER IX.-THE HOUSEHOLD' - AT THE FIRS. Effie never quite knew, how she managed - her journey home that day* She had to ehaaga. oiKe or twice, and she had been too little.: accustomed to travelling alone or in Expand to be sore of lie right way of manning (or herself. But she made no mistaken sat couM - not be rectified, . which was areinarkahlethingconsidering that her wholonbul was absorbed in the discovery that she had made. Hedworth —John Sigerson the traveller P It was abeurd—it was' impossible; and yet it was true. She felt now that she had recognised him from the first moment of their meeting on the boat; and it was certainly true that she had at once been struck by his likeness to Hedworth. But what did it all mean ? And should she say anything to Gilbert or not ? She determined to wait until she had seen her cousin, and be gu>ded by circumstances. She did not reach Fsieham until ten o'clock at night, and was pleased to find that Gilbert had come to meet ner, and had brought a carriage for herself and the luggage. She had not seen him for soife years, and was at once struck by the look of age and of melancholy which eat upon hia face. His spare figure seemed bowed, his dark hair was certainly streaked with grey. ‘ And yet/ said Effie to herself, ‘he cannot be more than three-and- - thirty, while Hedworth is two years older, :’ But he looks as :if he were | while Hedworth—oh, cculd it be Hedworth? after all F —is as young and active and? buoyant as ever he was. There is certainly no look of—of—the criminal about him, the ne’er-do-weel; while poor Cousin? Gilbert looks as if all the sins of the? world rested upon bis shoulders.’ While she reflected in this way she answered Gilbert's questions—how she made the croesing, whether she was a good sailor, whether she was sorry to leave her boVoL ‘ t>ut it is nice to think of having an English home/ she ventured to say, when she had expressed her regret at leaving Madame Perron. * I hope you will continue to think so/ remaiked Gilbert drily. *1 have not asked yon to ccme in order to pass your time in festivities, you know, my->-my dear. There is a great deal to be done in a bouse like mine. 1 think-I may as well tell yon at once that my expenses are great and my business does not pay so well as it us«.d to do. I have been obliged to reduce my establishment considerably, and should give up my carriage if it were sot for my wife’s health—she cannot walk more a few yards at a ttme/ 4 I am very sorry/ said Effie. I 'will do alll canto help.’ * Thank yon, my dear/ He bad twice called her ‘ my dear,’ as if be were a century older than herself, and yet she did not feel as if he had any affeetkn for her.* There was a coldness in hie voice. She broke the silence by telling him of the loss of her keys, and of the kindness ef Lord Sandemann and his friend, Mr Slgerscn. She mattered the last name rather uncertainly, but it seemed to produce no particular impn ssion upon Gilbert * higoreon ? Or yon mean the distinguished traveller F ‘Ter, I heaid some ladies say so.’ * You are honoured, my dear. Sigerson is quite the biggest lion of the season. He has penetrated further into Central Asia than any other Englishman, and has dine one or two remarkable things in Africa. I believe we shall have the pl asute of seeing him before long. Ha is goiig to give a le j> ure at Strode.’ Euphrasia’s Rare gave a sadden leap, * Strode is only five miles away. Shall you go to hear him f 4 1 think so, and, if p: ssiblc, I should like yea to go too, as you have already encountered the celebrity/ said Gilbert. They had reached the house by this time, and no futtfaer conversation followed. Effie found supper ready for her, but saw no members of the family. Doris was aleep at this hour, and all the seven children were, of course, in bed. Seven children the eldest only nine years old! . Euphrasia awoke to a full realisation of the fact when ihe found her bedroom invaded next morning at an early hour by at least five out of the seven. Fortunately she was a lover of children, and liked to be pulled about, to . have her hair curled by Conny, and ber feet sst upon by Jimmy and Jacky, while Txix burrowed under the blankets to ■ make a house,’ and Milly sat demurely on the counterpane. Long before eiglt o’clock she had made friends with the fivt, and visited the last two babies in the Ruitery, after which she descended to the dining-icom with several infants clinging to hi r, much to Gilbert’s surprise, for he bad imagined that she would have a difficulty in overcoming their shyness.

- *• [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL AEBANGEMENT.] THE Conscience of Gilbert Pollard

I By Adeline Saegeant.

- COPYBIQHT. •v •- *

Bat Euphrasia laughingly- assured him that they were not at all shy. He seemed older and more changed, than ever when she saw him by the toll light of day. There v ere more threads of grey in his hair, more lines about his eyes and month than she had. seen at night; and there was a hopeless look in his eyes, a listlessness in his movements, that gave her some concern, ‘ Surely a man who is well - and happy cannot look like this 1* she said to herself. Then she found that he was irritable as well as listless; he spoke sharply to Jaoky about hia manners, and rebuked Milly so ■severely for a (so-called) impertinence that she cried and was removed from the table in disgrace, Effie thought of her own childhood under Mrs Pollard’s rule, end wondered whether Gilbert was bringing up his boys and girls on her principles. The doubt made her. look so serious that Gilbert noticed her face, and detained her when the children had gone, to offer a sort of apology. ‘ You must not think I am always cross with them, Effie; it is only because they have got so out of hand that they worry me. I have a bad headache this morning. Go up and see Doris, will you P* . And Effie -went with a strange sense of discomfort in ner heart. She had pictured to herself a bright, happy home, a father and mother who loved each other, a family of sweet, healthy, wholesome ' chudren-who filled the air with laughter, asd guve their parents ail the trust and confidence that .loving children: know how givo'.so pOTfecfl.y---wii.waß her ; picture justffied by facts f . She cbdld not ray yes or no j -but it seemed to her., that some* thing strangely wrong. . ■ Dona; was- almost more changed than ; Gilbert,--- She was white and worn—that was to be expected—but also she was dispirited and hysterical. The least anxiety or vexation—even a simple question sometimes—brought tears; ■ and all her pretty optimism and innocent confidence in her influence over Gilbert had disappeared. Euphrasia sat and looked at her in dismay. * Nothing has gone right since my last bad illness/' said Mrs Gilbert Pollard, mournfully, - My nice nurse took another situation, and we have had inferior women ahent the house ever since. Gilbert says he can’t affoid to have a* governess and a good nurse too. Such nonsense! But he was always a little mean, just as his mother was. Hed worth was a generous ■' one, whatever people may choose to say.’ ‘Have you beard at all from Hadwofthp’ Euphrasia asked, framing her questions with difficulty. 4 Oh, no, my dear child. Naturally, he would not write—a man doesn’t write when he has appropriated fnnds that belonged to his brother, does he ?—You know the story, don’t yon? It is half over the country. I supposed he bin name,’ . ” ‘ I dare say,’ replied Effie, thinking of John Sigerson. Why did he call himself Sigerson ? Why, surely it was his mother’s name. She recalled it by a sudden flash of memory that toon her by surprise, * What are yon thinking of P’ said.- . Doris, suddenly. * You have grown very pretty, Effie, are you aware of that? Much too pretty to be a nursery governess, But what can we do F The children are going to rack and ruin, and I am too feeble to control them. They will be perfect ravages before long: and one of them—Jacky—has red hai r , just like Hedwortb, and I believe he will grow up as reckless and wild as Hed worth himself. Gilbert is always harder on Jacky than on any of the others.’ ‘I think Jacky is a dear boy,’ said Euphrasia, ‘I have made friends with him already. We shall all get on capitally, Doris dear. I shall institute a schoolroom, with your leave; and I shall expect to be obeyed. Do you think X can make them do what I want ?’ * Older people would be more easy to influence. I fancy/ said Doris, with an admiring smile. It was very pleasant to her to have a young, bright girl like Effie in the bouse. Her own sisters had either married or had drifted out of the neighborhood, and were no companions to her. Gilbert was often away from home, and so busy and abstracted that he did not know whether she were well or ill; and the children were not old enough to be of . any comfort to her, except Milly, she said. Yes, Milly was a little mother to the babies, and the sweetest-tempered darling in the world. But as soon as the others were out of the nursery they began to be tiresome and naughty, and she did not know how to manage them at all. These were the sorrows she poured into Effie’a attentive ear, and before long the deeper griefs of her heart were opened too. ‘Ob, Effi°, don’t get married/ she cried, ‘or if you do be sure that your husband trusts you heart and soul! Now,

there b Gilbert. I used to think he, was madly in love with me, but I assure 'you I can't persuade him to do a thin? ft at. I wish unless it suite hua to do it, He does not lo re me as he used to do.* i ■. '■ * I don't think that can be true, Doris.' 'He was disappointed in rae, Effie. Tie thought me a great deal better than I was. And—l don't know how it was—but I think I was disappointed too. I thought him such a good man ' ' Doris, you must set say these things!' 'Oh. you are mistaking me. I don't mean that he is not good in the ordinary ligious man than he is, and I nun to help me; and we don't help eacn other, Effie, not one little bit!' ? It was difficult for Effie to know what to Bay. She was glad to escape into the garden with .the children,- and pl&y with them among the roses and under the apple trees. But she soon began-to form an opinion for herself about the household. She did not think that Gilbert had ceased to lcve his wife, but she saw very clearly that he was troubled and anxicu=i that, in fact, he had—in the old phrutie—•something on his miad.' g> And she wondered, rather inconsequenily. whether' the news that Hedworth was -im Esgland and'coming soon to Strode ; would be a pleasure to him or a grief. It was a week after Euphrasia's arrival; when she heard of Hedworth again A boy came running up from the Bed House, where the Legges were a s ;airi installed as caretakers, with a note tor Miss MoriaoH. Sbe read, in her loom as she dressed for dinner. The boy bad not waited for a reply. - :■•-■ 'Effie, you dearest of dear cou-inp, how was I to know you again ? have stolen away from Strode, where lam supposed to bd dicing: to-night with the big-wigs, because I wanted to soe yon. tell Gilbert or any one that I am he;re Hannah Legge is my htstets and in her glory, for I have brought her the skin of cf a tiger which I shot myself, and she thinks herself a made woman. Era % my little friend, if I may still call you so, will you come down to the Bed House after dinner to-night ? I must see yen for I want you to help me in setting at' injustice.' The letter was signed sirupl) with initials,' H. P.' Erne's face flamed as she read. How dare he write to her lire that, when he must know that she was aware of the crjma that had driven him from his own home ten years ago ! ' Does he think that I d) not care? Why does he not come here to this house if he i% prepared to defend himself, instead of masquerading under a false name, and hiding himself with Hannah Irgge? I will take no notice of his letter. I will not go down to the Bed House at all.' But she dressed herself very carefully in spite of this resolution • and after dinner—well, the moonlight was lovely, and the children were all in bed, and Gilbert was smoking a solitary cigar. There could be no harm, surely, in her going down to the Bed House for a minute or two and telling Hedworth how badly she thought of him. She determined that ste would cava no scruples about hurting his feelings. Sie would tell him plainly that he had done wrong. Strong in this panoply of virtue, Effie threw a lace shawl over her head and glided across the lawn to the laurel thicket which marked the entrance to the Bed House; and here ehe was caught and held in a pair of strong arms which could belong to nobody but her ebusrn Hedworth. It was only for a moment, and then: he let her go and apologised for his behaviour. ' You looked so like the Effie I used to know,' he said,' that I forgot that she had vanished, and a grand grown-up young lady taken h«-r piece' The jesting tone annoyed Effie, although she thought that he looked magnificent, and dared not look at him lest he should read the involuntary admiration of her eyes. 'I am not Effie now, I am Euphrasia/ ehe said. ' I suppose that means that I must not call you Effie. .-' . . Is is to be 'Miss Morison'?' '. » i •■■■■■•%. 'OS, Hedworth 1 No:!': ,o?.I am glad to hear my name from your lips. -I began to were going to treat me* like a stranger. :-'. Do you know -that you have riot giyen me your hand yetP Audit was.you whorectgnised me after all these years.' A curious embarrassment seemed to have taken possession of Euphrasia. Where we,re t the words in which she had intended to rebuke him ? They had died away upon her lips. St e could not accuse this man—who was her cusiri Hedworth after all—of theft. Hedworth observed her seriously for a minute or two. Evidently he did riot as yet understand the position. Sle looked very pretty with ,the gleam of moonlight on her fair face; but the face itself, was cold. He bit his lips befoie he spoke again. 'Will you come into the Bed House ? he said. 'Some one may overheat us, and I have one'iortwo things to.tell yen which had tetter be said in private, Euphrasia.' >VI will come insida,' said the girl, in a choked voice. She began to understand her own feelings. She knew that it was terrible to her to hear Hedworth speak in his eld familiar jesting voice when he must have such a burden ef wrong-doing on nis mind. Sha could converse; with him more easily if he would take a giaver line. .; He ushered her into the din ng-room of the Bed House with all the gravity in the world; Sae half thought that a mocking question- lay bt hind the gravity, but sle could' not be sure. Mib L?gge and her husband seemed to be well out of the way. There was no sign of them. The old room With its shabby curtains and frayed carpet was lighted only by one candle', but the moonlight poured in ' : _ floods through tho windows and showed the faces of tie coußißS to each other as plainly as if they had met at noonday. ' So, EffrV, I have come back said Hedworth quietly. Sie was seated in an arm-chair by the window. Ha leaned against the window frame and locked at her. r Don't you want to know why I did not cone back before ?' (To be continued) ' > !