BETWEEN THE LIGHTS.

Auckland Star, Volume XVIII, Issue 126, 30 May 1887, Page 6

BETWEEN THE LIGHTS.

BY M£S NEWMAN,

Author of

"With Costs," "The. Last of the Haddons," " Too Late," &c.

That it will be differently characterised by different people is, I suppose, natural, and to bo expected Some may regard it as pure invention some as a dream, or temporary aberra tion of the mind ; whilst others, less

assured us to their knowledge of the possible, may term it a mystery. 1 am content to call it an experience. Owing to the death of both my parents, I was, during my minority, Under the care oi guardians, and I am \>ovmd to say they discharged their duties faithfully. If there was any mistake made, it was in allowing me to follow too much the bent- o{ my inclinations, which were' to isolate myself, from companionship and indulgo in the study of merely speculative subjects. It "was not necessary for me to entor any profession, and I had none of the ambition or energy which sometimes impels young men with large means to seek opportunities for making a mark in.the world. When I quitted the University it was to take possession of a fine hereditary estate and large income, and to become, as my guardians termed it, my own master. How much I was really my own master remains to be proved. My tastes were very different from those of my country neighbours. Neither politics nor country pursuits interested me, and although not unfriendly with any, I was net considered sociable by people of my own standing in the neighbourhood. But for one circumstance, which occurred when I was five-and-twenty, I should 'probably have become a mere idea amongst books; for although they were my most congenial companions, my studies tended to no practical end. '■ I thought at the time that it was by chance I matfe;the acquaintance of the ..beautiful Elinor Rushworth. Her mother, who was the ' widow of an Indian judge, became the tenant of the jointure house, situated on the confines of the park, which I let, by my lawyer's advice, to keep it habitable. I know now that he was Mrs Rushworth's brother, and that her taking the house was part of a carefully arranged scheme between them. Her' explanation that her small means necessitated economy, and that her taste was for a retired life, seemed to me natural enough at the time. It seemed natural, too, that we should occasionally meet; that her daughter, who was a fair artist, should desire, to ■ sketch the beautiful views from the park, and that little civilities should be exchanged between us. 1 suppose it was equally natural and to be expected that a man who had led a somewhat isolated ■ and _ dreamy life, with an intense appreciation-of beauty, should'fall in love with a lovely girl, in '. whose society he constantly found himself. ■'•.., ' r . :-.: -

There seemed to be no obstacle in the way. After a little modest hesirtation, Elinor Rush worth confessed that she returned my love, and consented to become my wife., There is no necessity to dwell upon my happiness. Sufficient to say I lived iv a ; fool's paradise until the day before that appointed for .my wedding, when, . without a,note" of warning, the nev/s was brought,me,that Elinor had that morning married, her cousin, Capt. 1 Westleigh. It was said they had loved ' each other for years,, and that the mother was quite aware of'it, while using every 'means in her power to induce her daughter to marry the richer man. What it.was that, at the last moment,.turned the scale in my rival's favour Ido not know. I only know that Captain Westleigh'took his bride with my kisses fresh upon her lips. She went, to,lndia -with heiv husband. . Mrs Rushworth left the house and, I believe, the neighbourhood. I was struck down physically and mentally.. Friends were ready enough to gather round me, but mine was not a nature to be consoled'by such'sympathy as they .had ,to offer,. Healthier''minds might have a quicker power' of recovery, but I had corneof a morbid race, in whom wounds were slow to: heal, and I preferred going^ through the process out of range ol curious eyes. '■ ■ ■■

: I dismissed all but two servants, an T old man and his -wife who.had, spent their lives in the family, ;and entirely Withdrew' from association with the outer -world;'-1 shutting i myself- tip, . as I believed/ for'the rest of my days in one wing'of"the. gloomy old V.house, where rumour-said many a strange scene had "been: enacted by; my ancestors—a- stately 'old building,' standing in a large, parky.fand .buried among trees oh all sides but one,, which faced a steep declivity, with an outlook upon an apparently boundless. expause> of sea.■'-■■-,■ -' ■■'-'■'■ ;"'<""; ; " ■•'- ''''"'. i,.:' ■ ■ : No. visitor was permitted to 'pass, the

lodge gates—hot even a tradesman penetrated farther, and everything about the place was neglected, the woods becoming almost impassable from the tangled undergrowth, and the weeds reigning tyrannically over the once well-kept grounds about the house. I had no communication with anyone save my lawyer, and my correspondence with him wfcsstnctlv confined to the necessary business details connected with a large and rapidly increasing funded property. My exercise I took chiefly at night, sometimes roaming about the park; sometimes when the waves were ashins the rocks in the darkness, walking on the beach; and at others, when it, was calm and still, rowing about the little cove in the moonlight, but rarely emerging thence to the larger bay beyond In the stormy weather vessels frequently anchored in this bay, on the right extremity of which lay the little town of Fulton. My days were spent in the gloomy old library, overlooking a rocky chasm, tho steep-rugged sides of which were clothed with the wild dank vegetation which luxuriates* in such place*. It will not be difficult to divine what kind of study I indulged in. At war with the workl,l at first cK'ose my companions from among the cynics and sceptics, scoffing with them now at its reeds. But in my cuse this was no stationary state, merely a phase of thought to bo passed through on the way to other eiporioncos; and in process of time I turned from the negative to tho suggestive philosophers. Naturally, as I have said, of a speculative turn of mind, I found more congenial employment for my powers (among the mystics, and at \emgth into a hatf-dteav-tty, ivaU-sipeculative state, in which the world about me seemed to become shadowy and indistinct, and tho worW ot thought move real. I was bogimnng to feel as though I possessed two indindwblities, so essentially different as to constitute separate lives. The change going on in my mind probably brought about a corresponding chango in my manner and appearanco. I noticed that the faithful old couple who shared my solitude bogan to watch me more anxiously than ever. They were, I think, as much puzzled as troubled—at a loss, perhaps, to understand whether tho change bodod good or evil. I did not know myself, although I was becoming halfconscious that I was preparing, or being prepared for some mental crisis. Of one thing I am convinced : it was not by chance I went down to the little cove that sultry evoningin August.

An unusual restlessness, which I could not account for, caused moto go out somewhat earlier than I was in the habit of doing, and I had so sooner emerged fronTthe house than I felt as though two opposing influences were at work within .mo—-one prompting me to bury myself in the woods, and the other Strijpng to impel me down towards the JH5a. My int.6r.est was aroused, and, to keep my will in abeyance, and leave the opposing forces, whatever they might be, to settle the point, I stood still, and concentrated my thoughts upon the book I had in my hand, follovring the thread of tho argument, until I was oblivious of all besides. I presently found myself walking down towards the sea. The night was still; there was scarcely a ripple upon the sea, gliding stealthdy in and out the little cove, as if upon some errand of mystery, and tho shadows from the rocks wore beginning to stretch themselves lazily across the bay. In the sheltered little cove, where, whether at high or low tide, it was always safe to land, lay my boat, swaying to and fro upon tho gently ioovicg water. A peaceful night; all nature seemed lulled to repose; and my mind was in accord with the surroundings—more at rest than it had been for many a long day. Mechanically stopping into the boat, I set it free with a few strokes of tho oars, then steering towards the oontre of the bay, drifted out vrith the tide, which I knew was nearly on the turn. Now in the "soft mysterious shadow, now in tho " pathway of quivering light," I drifted slowly away from the shore, too much absorbed in dreamy reflection to take any note of time or distance.

I do not know how long I had been out; but it could not have been very very long, for the tide was still at the" ebb, when I suddenly became aware that I was in the shadow of some object stationed seawards. Looking hastily round, I beheld a largo vessel of some thousand or so tons burden lying at anchor not far from me. The Mercury painted in largo letters at her bow. 1 seemed to have drifted towards it naturally enough, and for a few moments regarded it with no greater curiosity than any one might be expected to feel at the sight of a largo, strange vessel lying at anchor, lazily speculating whether it was outward or homeward bound, to what port it traded, and so forth. But my attention became presently more concentrated, my interest deepened, and the idea grew, upon me —fostered, perhaps, by the mysterious stillness that pervaded it—that there1 was something strange and unusual about the ship. Overshadowed by the great hulk, looming dark against the moonlight, I seemed to be drawn into its sphere of mystery. I was presently seized with an irresistible desire to go on board, and determined to make the attempt.

■ ; How I contrived it unassisted I do not know, and probably never shall, for there are gaps in my memory of that | night's experience which may never be filledup ; but Ifound myself ascending the: ship's side by the rope ladder, left there, I suppose, by some of the crew gone on shore. The mere ascent was easily compassed; but I had no sooner gained the deck than another'difficulty presented itself* It

suddenly occurred to ire that my presence' there might require some apology, and that my having been suddenly seized with a desire to go on board might not appear a sufficient ono. Looking about me, I saw a man, whom I supposed to, be one of the mates, loaning over the side as though he had been watching my movements; and I made a step towards him. 'If you will kindly direct me to the captain I will explain to him that ' He yavrned ; his eyes still turned towards the shore. Was he deaf ?• I spoke again, and this time in a louder key. 'Where do you hail from.?' He slightly changed his position, and yawned again. At this moment a gentleman, apparently one of the passengers, approached close to where I was standing, and addressed the man to whom I had just spoken. 1 Will it be necessary to remain long here, do you think, Mr Lane f ' No, sir, I fancy not; but this dead, calm may mean something, and we shall be safe here when the wind springs up presently, come from which quarter it may,' promptly replied the man, turning, as lie spoke, towards the other, and thereby lacing, without taking the slightest notice of me. ' Will you allow me ' ' Ali. well. 1 do not object to being safe,' said the first speaker, coolly cuting short my Sentence. After-'a few moments' silence, during wbich* I was unable to speak, he added—' That. fellow in the boat seetcs to have a. good notion of what is enjoyable on a night like this—lying there half asleep, i-ocking to and fro in the moonlight.'

' Yea j I've been watching him. Calculated the tjdfi, I take it) and knows he's only got to Ho there a little longer to be drifted buck to shore again, without using an oar,1 My cyos followed the direction _of theirs, .and a curious uncanny sensation crept over mo. The boat and the figure lying in it seemed the exact counterparts of my own. But I presently shook off the unpleasant fancy tolling myself that my senses had played mo tricks upon the deck of tho ship, and if I did not make some excuse for being there my dismissal .might be more summary than pleasant. A* those two men seemed inclined to ignore mo, I would look out for some one moro civil. I had taken but a stop or two in the opposite direction, when I saw two gentlemen walking towards mo. One, whom I took to be tho captain of the ship, was listening with a pleasant half smile to the other, arguing very emphatically, and with a great deal of gesticulation. ' From that point of view I am bound to subscribe, of course; but it's going away from tho question.' ' Only tacking, my dear sir, only tacking to got aside wind.' . I stepped towards them and addressod the last speaker. ' You are Captain, I think. If you will kindly spare "me a few minutes, I-—" •Ha! ha ! not bad. You are rather inclinod to avail yourself of a side wind, I think.'

Laughing and talking they passed mo by, as entirely unheeded as though I had been part of tho deck I stood upon. What did it moan 1 Although about eight o'clock, it was not dark; indeed, the full harvest moon shed a radiant light upon everything on board. f stood lost in astonishment, and for the moment incapable of uttering another word, then walked slowly forward again, without noticing the direction I took. I reached the saloon, in which woro several ladies and children, and stood for a moment or two at the open doorway, gazing at the scene so attractive to my unaccustomed eyes. Some were at work, some reading or playing with tho children, and one young girl was softly trying over a song at the piano, whilst another lay apparently half-asloep upon one of the conches. Something in the pose of the reclining figure drew my attention and I gazed moro intently. Suddenly the truth burst upon me.

Elinor 1 The woman who had spoiled my life, and looking more lovely than ever, as she reclined with one white arm, from which the loose sleeve had fallen back, curved carelessly about the head, the other drooping idly by her side. I stood, as though rooted to the spot, gazing at her in dumb misery, taking in all the details of face and form, even to the shapely little foot, from which the slipper had fallen. Had I beon led there to be mocked by the sight of what I had'lost ? With a cry of anguish I turned and fled. I knew not whither my feet were carrying mo, but I suppose I was instinctively seeking my beloved solitude, for I recollect turning from two ■or three cabins whence issued the sound of voices to entev ono which was unoccupied.

But when, after taking a few steps into the cabin, I turned to greet it again, I found myself irresistibly compelled to remain, something stronger than my own will seeming to chain me to the spot. I began to' think that I had been guided to the place, and that everything which occurred was leading me step by step to some crisis in my life. What ? I- gazed moodily around, What was there in this place that could possibly affect me 1 Everything seemed, indeed, commonplace enough. A small cabin, of the kind usually allotted to first-class passengers, bestrewn with a man's clothes and brushes and toilet etceteras. Waiting fpr what was next to happen, I half consciously noted the evidences of the habits of the occupant of the cabin in the untidiness of the arrangements and the well-worn Terence lying face downwards in the berth, with a pipe beside it, thrown there probably when its owner was aroused from his afternoon's lounge by the news that the vessel was running into the bay. Thcn'e would be something more than a side wind if it came to the captain's knowledge that smoking went on here, I thought, turning away. What was it that caused me to paus©, turn back, and fix my eyea upon the spot? In

vain did I try to avert them—they returned to it again and again. IsgW sently found my gaze concentrated on the pipe, which, in some mysterious way, was especially attracting fry at" tention. I drew hearer; speculating as to the cause of the effect produced upon me. What could there be in this pipe to affect me in such a way and at such a moment ? I stooped to examine it more closely, still wth an undercurrent of surprise at my suddenly acquired interest in such an object. In shape it resembled one of the small Gorman pipes, but the carving on the bowl seemed, I thought, more like Indian work in its delicate tracery. 'There certainly must be something uncommon in the pipe— something which—' My thought was suddenly snapped in two as though by an electric shock, and I stood for a moment panic stricken. The pipe had been thrown down alight. Already there was a brown ring of smouldering timber around it, and in a few minutes—it might only be seconds—the clothes upon which it lay would be in flames. Fire! I rushed to the water jug. This, then, was what I had been led there to do. Thank God, I was there in time. The ship would be ssived— and—the woman who had wronged me.

My hands dropped to my side, and I stood staring blankly at the smouldering linen. The woman who had wronged me. 1 made a wild effort to stifle conscience. It was not my doing. I had no hand in it. The blame would rest with the man who had thrown his pipe there. I strove to turn away my eyes. 'Might! not'at least remain passive 1 Why was this woman's life put into my hands V I wYUUy asked, knowing the while that she was at that moment made to represent all humanity to me, and knowing why.

] dragged myself towards the door,' striving to close my heart against the , pleading voice ; then with a ciy for help against rnysjlf fell upon my knees. Help came ! 1 sprang to my feet, and darted once more towards the water jug. Why could I not grasp it? I had it between my hands, and yet had not the power to lift it. Had the mental struggle I had passed through paralysed my physical powers? In vain I strived. 1 raised my hands again and again, but the ewer remained where it was. I ran towards the smouldering clothes, and made a frantic attempt to crush out the danger by pressing them together. Again in vain ! My hands made not the slightest impression. I stood for a moment bewildered, whilst a faint odour of burning linen was beginning to be perceptible. Then I darted from the cabin to seek assistance, running first towards the forecastle, where I recollected having seen a group of men playing at cards. 'One of you come with me at once.' ' Two for his nob,' called out the man I addressed, putting down a trump card with a flourish. ■ 'Follow mo. The ship is in danger, and there is not a moment to lose/1 cried to another. 'Ha! ha! Just like Bill to keep his trump to the last. I hurriedly kid my hand upon the shoulder of a third. 'No time for fools' play. Come with me. 1 tell you it is a question of life and death. Fire !' Ho looked round at the others in a half-dazed way, ruffling up his hair with his disengaged hand. 'Now then, Jack. Bring out your ace, man. What are you thinking on f ' Lord, I dun'no ; about—about— smoke, or something' he murmured. 1 Fire !' I eagerly repeated, shaking him by the arm as I spoke, in the hope that I had at last almost succeeded in making myself understood. He ap--I'O.rod to be feeling about in his fos^gy mind in search of an idea. 'Fire!' I once more repeated. His face bright-, encd. ° 'And where there's smoke there must be fire, mustn't there V A roar of laughter from the others. ' Eight you are, Jack ; only this isn't the time for smoke nor for fire; so play up.'

(To be Concluded To-morrow.)