LOVE FOR AN HOUR IS LOVE FOR EVER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIII, Issue 101, 29 April 1892, Page 3

LOVE FOR AN HOUR IS LOVE FOR EVER.

BY AMELIA E. SAKS, Author of 'Friend Olivia,' l Beade o* Tasmer, , ' Tho Household of McNeil,'etc.

CHAPTER XII. (Continued),

Before the sabjeob could be further discussed, Squire Atherton entered. He was going to covert, and was dressed in a dash, Milfcon-Mowbray uniform of scarlet and green. It was the lirsfc bimo he had worn it since his marriage, and he came into the room with a little conscious satisfaction in his own appearance. Certainly he looked in it a very proper English squire, and Clara was enthusiastic in her approval. He blushed like a great, happy school-boy to her compliments, and asked both ladies to drive to cover and see the meet. ' We shall find a good dog-fox at Ashley pasture, and get away with him up wind. There will bo some crack riders present, Clara. Franeesca knows ; don't) you, little girl V 'Yes, indeed, , she answered, with a pretty flush coming into her cheeks. ' Who can ride like Squire Atherton ? Ciara, there is a bullfinch hedge of tiffcy years' growth on Ashley pasture. It is so high that no horse can clear it, but Squire Atherton charges it at full speed and gets to the other side, while the bushes clor-e alter him and his horse, a3 if a bird had hopped through them. If the fox gcos that way, would you not like to sco my lather go through ?' ' No,' answered Clara, with a comicr.l shake of her hand. 'I do not cavo about seeing your father go through a hedge. And my sympathies are with fcho fox. I think it is s>. pity to teach su. j fine hounds such bad ways.' ' Bless thee.Clara, it is as natural for dogs to hunt foxes as it is for men to hunt them, I don't know a much finer sight than a good pack all together, with heads up and tails down. My word ! You'd think then that my grafty and Gypsy and Gaylass and the rest ot "them were well worth the painting. Such scent and such gensa ! Fine pedigrees ! Every one of them knew by instinct that; a sheep was too eacred an animal for thorn even to look at; but I shall be late if 1 go on talking in this way. Will you go? lean send Cocker with the trap in ten minutes. .

' No, Raahleigh, wo will nob go this morning, I want to go to Idleholme tomorrow. We owe a visit there that can no longer bo delayed. Will you go with us ?' ' Yes. I ought to go. My friend, Thomas Idie, is always sjlad to see me. Yes, 1 will go, Clara. Did you say tomorrow ':' 4 To-morrow. Wβ shall atay all night, of course' 'Very well. To-morrow I am at your service. To-day—' ' You hunt a dog-fox. It seems to take quite a number of men and dogs to kill one dog-fox. 1 should like to see the fox better iban the men. Good-morning, Kaehleigh.' ' Did I not tell you, Francesca, that the squire would be sura to see his friend, Thomas Idle ?' 'I had a similar presentiment, Clara.' ' My dear, there is no need of ' presentiments" about a man's movements. If you know him over so little, you may reckon upon his "whys" and " wherefores" as certainly as a sum in simple addition. How far is Leigh Farm from Idlehome? ,

'Sixmileeor thereabouts. We pass it. The large gates are on the highway. , ' Then wo must go direct to ldleholme, stay there all night, and the following morning I will ask Mrs Idle to let a man drive you to Leigh. Your father and .Squiro'ldlo will doubtless bo in the stables or kennels ; that is their usual after-break-fast visit l . You can dismiss the ldleholme man at Leigh, and as we shall not leave until after noon lunch, you will have several hours with Lancelot's mother.'

' Then you will call for me as you return to Athorbon ?'

' Yes. Try and be at tha gate, so that your father may have no timo to grumble and forecast darkness and clanger and tribulations of all kinds.'

The plan was so simple it was scarcely possible for it to miscarry. The Atherton party arrived at Idiehohne the following niterneon, and met a hearty welcome. Almund was at home, and there wa3 a brilliant evening. For the new mistress of Atherton exerted herself to the utmost, and met in Altnund a spirit bright enough to stimulate her pleasantries and also to understand them. Yeb his attentions to Squire Atherton's wife did not interfere with the young man's devotion to Francesca ; and the two old men watched it with appreciative ulances ; they thought 110 one read but themselves.

80 every one was in a happy temper, even Francesca throw oil her depression, and played accompaniments to Clara's singing, and smiled sweetly to Almund'e confidences, for she was thinking; of the morning , , and that possibly in a few hours she would hear something of Lancelot.

It was fortunately a fine morning, though very co;d. There had been a little snow, bul" not sufficient to hinder rapid driving, and as coon as the two squires had trailed oil to the scabies, with their pipes between thoir lips and half-a-dozen hounds at their heels, Mrs Atherton said a few words to Mra Idle, and before Francesca waa quite ready a light gig was waiting for her.

' We shall call for you about two o'clock ; be waiting for us ;' and Clara draw the pretty, pale face down to her own, and with whispered good wishes, kissed the girl and sent her away. And as ALmund had gone into retirement, in order to smoke his drat ciuar in contemplative peace, no one but Clara saw Franccsca depart on her loving errand.

The horse was a fine roadster, and the msn a capital driver ; in a very short time die was at the large gates of Leigh Farm. They were rusty with disuse, and only moved with considerable eii'ort ; but when they had been opened sufficiently for her entrance, sho sent the servant back to Idleholme. His name was Jonathan Child, and he had the reputation of being a silent, seltish fellow ; but when Francesca gave him a crown, the touch of the silver went at once to his nervous centro, and awoke what good feeling ho possessed.

' lUiss,' he said, as ho gathered up his reins again—' .Miss— Be you going in there, miss ?' ' Yes.'

'Inco t' varry house, miss.' ' Yes.'

' Well, I wouldn't if I was you.'

Ke even turned his head to watch the slight figure walking quickly up the long, winding avenue. And Francesca folt the chill of the implied warning as she caught sight of the house. It was hardly possible to realise t.ho change that had taken place in half a year. Certainly there was some allowance to be made for the want of the summer's leaves and flowers, and sunshine, but even admitting this natural reason, there was that the season was not responsible for. The place looked deserted. The avenue was totally neglected. Long, dead grass clung round her ankles, and her foet sunk in the sodden masses of decaying leaves. There are moments when matter weighs upon us ; when it is as mysterious and unsympathetic as spirit. Tii6 hard earth, the dead leaves, the baro, dripping branches overhead. And why were they there at all 1

When ? How ? What for ? No matter. No understanding of anything. Tho that couios from Borrow endured without avail, invaded and, before sha reached tho djor, conquered her. The great white door! Hew blank and cold and unresponsive if. looked, lndoen, ehe had to give all attempts to enter by it up, and go around the buildin;; to tho smaller door i;i the other sido. \t> was easily moved by an ordinary latch ; and after knocking several times without answered, Franeeaca went in. Ail was silent as the pravei L : ho wenfa to th,o room with- which she was famiUia - . Martha Leigh waa there. There was a lictle lire in tho and she was bending over ib. Sho littcil her heaci as entered, aud looked at her with a quick inquiry; than, divining her ciLapnointuie;;!', let. her head fall down again. ' Mother, may i cbnio to you ?' 'Ay, ooine thy ways i». It is a cold day.' ■ Have you been ill?' 'Ay, I suuer :\ bit. llhcuraousm. If Death would bub come an i deliver me, I'd make him freely welcome. I weald that. 1 Then Fraucesca (old her what Sirs Ar-her-ton had done : but she listened without any enbhueiasm, and tho said, with an air of despair: 'If love can't bring him home; if such prayers and cries a* i send utter hi'.ji can't bring him home—willing or not willing— does ta really think a bit of money can uo it : ' Mrs Athertoo cays money can do everything.' _ « ' She is far wrong. It cau everything, but it is v. long way betwoun promising and heving—a varry way indeed. , iJrs Loigh kept her eyes upon tho lire. Francesca put iior little wet feet toward I its biazo. She wondered Siartha. div no notice how web they wore ; wondered that sho did not offer her any refreshi'ieni". For hospitality was second nature with Murr.hti Leigh. SiiQ must have got far oit' from hio in some way to forget its claims. After a few minute-, Franeosca asked If sho might a-o up to Lancelot's room. ' Does ta want to eec his picture i' 'Yes, mother.' 'Hero is tho key. Co thy ways, pour las?. But don't theo touch, the piano, i couldn't abide to hear it. I hovn'b ,',cb the mournful music thou made on it ouL of my ears yet. Don't theo touch a note.' 'I will not. I only wane to see Laneslot's face. , 'If ta loved him as I Icve him, then wouldn't need a bit o , painted canvas to see his face. Why-a ! I see tho lad go in and out ivery hour of the day. I sea hi ta all night long. Sleeping or waking, i tee him.'

She rose up, aa if to go with Francssca, but sat down again. She was suffering from rheumatism severely, and the house was cold and damp enough f:o indues the malady. So Franceses went alone. Bhe opened the wooden shutters o.f cue window, and knelt down before the pictured face. No painted saint had ever truer and purer worship. She kissed the smiling lips r;s the dead are kissed. She kissed the beaming eyes as if she was closing thorn for ever. She wept before her lover with thao passion of grief which ccmes from lonj*'suppression. No one there could see or hear her heart breaking. She could lament and wring her hands and cry out, as she longed to cry : ' Oh, Lancelot! Lancelot! How gladly would I have gone with you ! Oh, iay love ! My love ! My love !' No one interfered with her sorrowful visit. She wept her anguish in some measure away, and went downstairs calmed and comforted. Martha had spread a little table and made up tho fire. She pointed to the teapot and the loaf, and permitted her to wait upon herself.

' I sent away all the servants at the end of the year, , she said ; ' ay, a bit before it. A bad, wasteful, grumbliDS lot as iver was. I was glad to be rid of them.'

' Do you live here alone V ' I live here — but not alone. How many men and women hey lived here before me does ta think ? I hpv plenty of company. Wo are varry thick with one another —varry good friends. They know I have done right to Leigh. They aro satisfied. Stephen Leigh bos found out, and Lancelot Lei-rh will find out.. There is no need to hurry. The " time to como" is a long year—it is that. I hey eometbing toaskofthee.' ' I will do anything you ask mo, if it be possible.' • What for should thou ?

' You are Lancelot's mother. I lose

y°u.' 1 am a crabbed, queer, old woman ; now can ta love me . ' I love you. What is the use or asking " why " or " how ?" ' 'To be sure. Listen, then. I am going tho way of all tho Leighs, varry such. Don't theo say "do " or think I want comfort. Ido not. 1 want to die. _ I'll shako hands with Death,and welcome him. There is only one thing I want to live for. I want to licep possession till Lancelot comes home. If I die before lie comes, bhou must try and find him ; try and hear from hira ; thou must hear from Mm whether or not. Dost thou understand "I—whether or not.' ' I shall hear from hira. 1 feel certain oi it.' ' Ay, thou wilt hear—for ii there is no other way, I will come and tell- Hue. Mind that! As sure as I am a living spirit, i will como and tell bhoe where he is. For he must let the woild know he is alive.' ' What has the world to do with Lancelot's liie or death '!'

1 If Lancelot were dead, Sally V. cod, of | Wood Hall, eldest daughter oi my hua- ■ band's eldest sister, is the next heir. And what does ta think? Joshua Newby is court)ing her. Newby says he is bound to hey Leigh, either by wedding or deadiupr, if gold will not do it; and I hey told him, he niyer shall hey the right to enter Leigh. But I does ta see what tho scoundrel is niter ? His son will wed Sally Wood, and then he will buy the right from Sally, and co:no :n here, and spread himsen before the living and the dead, as Master of Leigh. I could not bide that, neither tor the love ot heaven, nor the fear of hell. I would come back and slay him, someway. I svould !_ I would! So thou must keep Lancelot i>i the land of the living. That h thy part. Thou understands ?' ' Yes, mother.' _ . i I 'If anyone says: "Lancelot is clew.,' threop thorn down as liars. Lc:;.'i> House i must'stand empty till a Leigh come-; to dwell in it. It niver hes gone in the female j Hue, and it niver shall' I The subject excited her very much, and | Prance3Ca tried to pass it over, and tull: of | Martha's own condition. ' You ought, for Lancelot's sake,' she j said, ' to live and to bake care oi your. elf. ; If Lancelot could see yon and his home now, j how distressed he would be.' j ' Thorpe says I hevn't long to live. If 1 wanted to live, I .shouldn't; die; bun i don'c want to live. I do a deal more for Leigh out of the body than in it.' ' Should you not have more warmth, I more comforts, a servant to wait upon j

you ?' 'Hive as I wanb to live. I hoy plenty of money. I need not grudge tnysen any comfort—and I don't. Out heat or c.ciJ, comfort or discomfort, when you are companying with death and racked with pain— what docs it aigniiy '! Nothing at all. , bhe was silent a little, and then 6he aeked, suddenly : ' Thou meane to marry Lancelot when ho comes back ?' ' Yes. I mean to marry no one el-o.' ' I will bo glfid to think of tiiee i-ere. 1 like fchee now, I v;iah 1 hed always liked thee ; things might hoy beo , .! 11 good bit different, Come here as oitoii as ta can, when ta is married to Lancelot. I shall know

i ■ it, !'>.;i sst-.ro, ;i".tl I will j v ivo the? a, blessing.' <j tjo thrv ta'kert until it was near two :■! o'e'ork. 'Tiur: , . LYa-ieo^cabadeher'Good-bye. , : Sho iliil iiju v/ii'h to uir.ko Clara's concilia* ■ l!jv: h:■:■.■!:. r ;!;..!: nccii bo, and ,- ; \e walked in 1 J the nvcnuo ir.it;! skj ln.-ard tlio Athorton ,■ c :-:■;•:■. :o In t i.onpca at the : ! saces <.'»l ami I'Lir; , , met; hci , ] : with that (.Miusivo:!(.;ss v-'i welcome which £n- >, dieatcd a pricr •..!:".■■• ■:".;.-. Tho L-nuiro waa 1 • undoubtedly anury '■■',:.. he ioiuod tlia car- : I ria:.c tc.icer'.y rcu;:d daughter, : i nnd i'ei; a ;.■'■.:.si'iii ;c;:s.' ci hciirr-tichu vhuu i! he flr.tv inr.v , \v:sn i , :.;! toiTcnm:! t-'u looked, • ■ li I x<.: !s;li a U\v i:20ii:o:Ho 10 coiupol ■ •:'■■.:: to i::!.-■ e-. ii: '.v.- in.juiry, but, tho [lii:i.!:;t<? t:c:io, ho !db its iuiiuoucoj and I w!:e:i .L'i\:ncL\-:c;i r.i';=;\Viji'jjci : "b'.to is dying, J y'.o'.io, without :i iVioiiil, and careless of ail ; •■■■,■ '■ l ' cf-infoi'L, , hu i'cLt worry. 'fcjiie Is a very proud, tenfii-ivo woman, , ! 113 i.'i'.iJ. v;-:;o was vcr , . , ruuo to mo oiicl , , 'b .s p:,o cH'.l not kr.ow. Iti w; , .; the day of : rh.c f-.Tiiora!. I thought tier sii^iitly— oS i her jui;:;:riOiii". 'God pity her!' An 1 even v,!;i!o tlio Lindly prayer wag ■ i uclc I'lii ;', Martba, haif-uncotsc-ciouslyi j iv:;:..■::;..; for iiersoli' the same );eviclo:i: " v-'k.; pity 1.10 ! J tuouufc lo co right J JGoflpity :i:aii'l Lev :1c:io sinfuily i ! I'or her i:L:;i : .;';!::oiu; bud bcoomo almoat unbear.iblo. 'Ji;c silence of her eon waa a j cruel fciTow, but if <l.c !;iw should octistruo. this ::;o::eo as v" .r!:, :.;: 1 suii'er tho next) j fioii , even a partial t;r liuiivcd i how conlfl s!ie bv:xv ih? Who did not like her I nicca L'ally ; shy hated youijsj New by. Kovijcuiiio.-i iiu Jolt tlia could live in per* I ;-of.:;<l ;i;;rny, cr;ly to livo and keep LeiLrh ! :'■•;:: c o;jti! iior son came liuc>o to chum is. j T;;on V. inibcrablo doubt, itivaded even (.hirf j Would Lr.nceloi; livo in it if ho I eanic hack 1 Poilu:;',.; no:;. Ktill, Ilia riyht I would koep others out. Aud sslio hail a i hope that [''rauccsca undcr.:tcod and would Ci'iPry ciii; i'.er cicsjrc?. • ;;:.". whafc miscrios pat in the lonely house with tho lonely vvoraaii. Sho fcutiht them with ."li he;.' power, but intolerable pains and intolerable dci-'pairH iilloJ her with lnoria! ru:d immert;:! su:ieriti;f. The house I pciT-iC-atcd with such iuilucuccs look on, as I a countenuiiecs v."ou!«i, an expression of I bciiitr hauiitcJ. An unhappy atmosphere was i\ liccted from it, and at its ono feoble li:;ht i". a;i upper room thrilled every heart that looked toward iho forlorn dwell* ;;:■•.;■ tvith pity und witlj terror. What) Mavth:i Lci'.*h v.".";? uoitis , v!;cro and what she vva:-: no one knew. ;jhe mado no complaiut, iwul asked for v,o human hslp. In moments of i;iU' ; -able anguish it \va3 Co.] &lie spoke to. io was to God only sho cried : '"Pity mo ! Pity mo ! llemember that I am bub daso !* f Tα be Conthnw.d.)