LOVE FOR AN HOUR IS LOVE FOR EVER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIII, Issue 102, 30 April 1892, Page 6

LOVE FOR AN HOUR IS LOVE FOR EVER.

BT AMELIA E. BARE, jjhbhor cf 'Friend Olivia,' ' B?r;ds o ; Tasiasr,'' The HcMohoid of MeNeil,'etc.

CHAPTER XIII. :\TARTJU LEIGH ATTAINS UNTO I'EACE. .Vr-yingto Onrl herself alive, Lord over u&ture, JjO'.d o£ tho risibja esrtc, Lord of tiio aonsos live.—Ten>*vso.v. "Wi hurry to the river v.-c must cross, An f l swiftor downv/artl every t'ootste , ,) wcniis; Happy, who r«.:-.oh il ere tlioy count the 0£ ball L'neir [acuities, and half their In ends. A life fillocl vrith duty may be a very rioblo Ufa, bufc the hcarc craves some tender resting-places built by lorn, and wanting fchoin, duly is very like a day without sunchine, or an orchard without dv<rrmr bird:-;. It was those little restincj-pkees built by lovo and eympafchy that made life endurable to Franceses during tho following weeks. Her hopeful conversations with Clara—tho toaro aho could ?hod it: i^^ - coiiipauy—f,':ic lot tors pent iicro and tliora for information—tho things supplied iopics of converaation that touched Lancelot, and made tangible sonrce-3 of comfort, and compassionate interchange of feeling, and thus enabled the unhappy girl to boar the lonfr recurrinf; daya Uiab brougUt hor yefc no tk!ir- -; of her lover. Thoy were rob day?, howover, devoid of interest in other directions. Clara wa3 movinE them in many lespects to wise and kindly ends : for, from her iirst coming to Atherton, shs had boon fjrisved by tho desolation of tho village and tho stagnation of interests which oujrhfc io hare been working steadily for she <?ood of all. The squire luid the blame on tho war, and felt himself easy in thus shifting the responsibility. Ifc WE3 nob pleasant, therefore, to have Clara continually introducing an unpleasant gubiect. 'That mil! on<(hb :o be opened, Rashsho vu:d again ono day as they rodo fehrouffb tho village together. '' Look at, those cottages standing empty. , ' I do lock at theiu very oiien,' answered the squire;, with some temper. '1 spent ■■» gr->at deal of money r.aildinj; those cottspae-, and wuilo the :a.!l was running fcho rent.-; wera worth gatlii-ring. Now they are to ruin, cr they ars ehsltoring nomo miscrablo iamily '.vhov.o hca<] has gone to Oldham or Clithoroe—or even to America, In search of work, I look ab them very o f iicn, Clara.' ' Open the mill, Rashloigh. , ' I tell you it i* nob mine, Ciara. lb belongs to thnt young man whom Francesca 13 killing horsolf about. , 'Yon oufjhb not to speak of Miss Atbert' |ri as killing herself • though I .suppose we ail do kill ourselves, in aoiiia waj or other, eating, drinking, loving, frotiifig, working, even hunting. Squire Foxly chose hunting. But lam talking about the iule mill and the empty cobt3ges. i sihouid rent fcha mill, if I wore you : and set every loom t:) work. Ido r.ofc like to see Atherton village so mournful and poverty-stricken.' •Ifc is poverty-afciicken ; there are so ■many people hore who have no business hero. : ' Then Qnd buair;o33 for them. Open tho nr:il. : 'Clara, if I did not; lovo you so much I should bo angry ab this monotonous cry of your.". C.'vi you nob understand that I should feel ie a great degradation to become a cotton spinner, a mere trader ':' '1 caniioS understand ifc at all. Why should it bo more degrading to spin cotton to clothe people than to a~ow wheat to foe.i them? Tho oc_•"nations seem to mo equally honoarabio. A" for trading, ifc is tae mos'u finoient, honourable an;i uutoi- ,- prising of occupations.' 'Tho agricultural anil past- :ai Jifostanda higher, Clara.' ' Then Ifc ought net to etand higher. And you havo too much senso' to think it does. , 5 Ib 3 antiquity—' 'Antiquity is worn out. Besides, if antiquity in worth anything, trading has plenty of- it. Those agricultural patriarchs, counting their sheep and oxen and squabWing about water holes in the desert, are common place enough pub against tho grent merchant companion from Midan travelling down into Egypt with canisls and swordsmen and all kinds of wealth. Itashleigh, 1 have beard with considerable weariness your monotonous cry abou'o doing yc".ir duty by tho land. Well, fir, you are neglecting your duty shamefully: yor ought to double bho value of every foob of land in Atherton village.' * There are certain prejudices, Giara—' 'I am euro you bavo strength of characber enough to lollov/ your convictions and your interests, and Jet- " certain prejuOdcvi ■' go to uho Umbo appointed for such uaeies? lumber. I should rent tho mill, if I were you ; then you can ronb your ecapfcy cotfcagoa ami make every one happy .-.iiid Squiro Atherton rich, Mr liorefall has fcegun to spin cotton.' ' > do not endorse Ur Horsfall'fi opinions.' 'Sj'uro Drcyfcon ia vapouring about " lauded <reti6lemen " and coming to you to borr;! , ./ money. Ido not suppose you endorse Squiro Dray ton'a opinions. You see, you oouid reni; tin mill from Mr Leigh's iawjor, and when Mr Leigh returns, he will dcubtlosa relievn j*ou in a very profitable v.r.v of your responsibility. I havo <j,uch r, fino idea of tho plan, that if you decline it, I think 1 shall speculate myself. "Clara, Mot fa Atherton, Cotton Spinner," would not be a bad name For a firm. I havo n lot ci money as good aa idle.'

Squire Athertoa looked at. his wife wich some anxiety. ¥,q could not tell whether she v/r.n in earnest o: , nob. Clara made the impossible thing happen so often. Her face w,i3 speculative and thoughtful; she was smiling, and yet sho appeared fco be mentally adding up a sura. He thought it be.- 1 , m turn the into an unmistakable ;:iul preposterous joke, and she cniy smiled a little "more, and said, with a Eod of her head : ' Yon will pop. . And no mnn'i heart i 3 proof againsfc fcho continual drop, dron cf an idea. "Tho id?a either u-inr, fcho her.;: , .-, or hammers it. hard as iron. Squiro Atherton's heart' could nol be hard to bis wife's reasoning, and she tCiUffht him such clevor ways of answering a"d combating prejudices that ho soon fait a kind of pleasure in provoking an antagonist to conflict. Ho was sure of victory, for ho never doubted his own arguments, and he never auspaefced his oppononfe bad any argument; worth considering. Clara taught him tho word ' obsolete,' and ho blandly dcHneJ nil old castOKns and preju- j dices by that) word. Who led him to have a upo-jif.l contempt for that condition sbo called ' behind fcho times ;' and so glorified the r.rcscnt era, with all its progressive thought and movements, that Squire Atherton, in adopting thotn, conceived a huc;e respect for himself as being a man greatly in advance of bis neighbours. ' ' ' Such changed v<cro oob, of course, made at once, and yeb thoy were quicsly made • for the mind, when put into favourable conditions for growth, progresses wibh that marvellous celerity which distinguishes all mental movements. It takes years for the boy to become a man, but a f ew houre ia ofton sufficient to make a man turn out of doors h.a present mind, and welcome ono entirely diUcreut. v U, wiWB ZSS*^.

ceptibly into a higher and wider stratum of thought. j lor opinions, repelled at first, still struck (ire against hia feelings an d intellect, and day by day ho became possessed and enthused by them. To make money, to make himself the bread-gj ver to thousands, to become a living fountain of wealth, to double the value of Athorton land—these ideas grew into stringent motives foraction, and he was led into a mental condition he would once have repudiated with scorn as one false alilie to his principles and his order.

It must bo admitted that the equira was also influenced by Dick Aldereon, for Dick and Loida made frequent visits to Atherton ; and Dick's descriptions of tho j\lexican grandees, who drew their immense revenues from mining, greatly impressed his imagination. If Mexican nobles were minors, why could not English squnes be manufacturers ? Indeed, it ofton seemed fco Clara that Dick had a sscrofc longing for the life ho had abandoned. .She noticed (■•hat every timo lie carao to Atherton ho dwelt with more loving enthusiasm on tho adventurous existence which ho had let! for ton year?. She noticed that he had not ro-opened the bank, though ho had been requested by a unanimous call of tho people in the vijinity of Tipham Market to do so. And Clara, putting these and other things together, argued that Dick did not find riding about tho fields and going to tho hunt a sufficient exchange for the excitement, the danger and the rich results of his Western experience. It is true he had Loida and ho had his mo til cr, and he had one, nay, two, really charming homes. What more could he want . ' The trivial round, tho csnimon task, May furnish all we ought lo usk, Room to deny ourselves;' bud Dick could nor, attain to this condition. And ('liira sympathised with him. Loida's sweet reposo, her gentle content with life and Dick, her failure to sco Dick's restlessne: , :', irritated her. She felt herself compelled to try nnd rouse in the placid lady a thought that this sameness, though a sameness of lovo and happiness, might become a litr,io fatiguing to restless spirits. One of these discussions brought out) a fact which made her think well o!: Dick's forethought, and also showed her a way full of possibilities as far as Francesca was concerned.

Thoy were all sitting together one ovening in the fall of the year. Jt wot chilly and rainy, and there was a little lire in the grate. The squiro was smoking, Francosca reading, Loidft sowing, Dick looking into the tire—or tho far West —Clara doing nothing with hor hands, for her rest'oss mind gave hor sntlioicnfc employment. The langnid melancholy of autumn was distinctly present, for unless it be in characters of vivid vitality, it is truo chat—

' Tin* swifr. beat of tho brain Falters, because it is in vain in autumn, aa the fall of the loaf;'

and the chief joy seotns to bo quiot and to muse secrotlv over our own dreams.

' I supposo this is what is called a peaceful, simple, sweet, idyllic life, , said Clara. I think "peace" and "simplicity" idols quite as iittlo entitled to worship as graven images) are. What can people do in such lives but fold any solitary talent they havo in a napkin and bury it in a Bold ?'

' Rut than, Clara, dear,' said Loida, in her sweet, low voice, 'wo are out of danger and out of temptation, and tho very air is full of peace and rest, and our hearts are full of lovo, and what moro can wo desire in this unhappy world but peace and rust ?'

As she spoke s!.o lookod at Dick, who did not lift his eyes or endorse heretatornent bj' even tho faintest of smiles, whila Clara's looks contradicted the assertions even as they woro mado. And na soon us Loida ceased speaking, shosaid : ' " Peace !" " Safety I" " Out of temptation !" 1 do not think much of such words. They are mere words—the Dogberry and Verges of morality.' And then, with a charming mockery, she quoted : ' " You aro to bid any man stand in tlio princo's name. But how if ho will not stand in the prince's name? Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave." I'eaco and rest, indeed ! Yon may bid peaco or rest, or oven love, stand in any name you like ; but if they do not stand ? And if all you can do i? to call tho watch togethor, and try and thank God, and talk about knave?, what then ?' ' Did you say " love," Clara, dear?' 'Yes, Loida, dear, 1 said "10ve. ,, I think peaco and rest are .«u(locating atmospheres for iove. That is the reason I have laboured like a galley-slavo to sot Rashleigh to work in a mill. 1 am in hopee tho mill will stir the stagnant air, and eive iove come chance to live and grow. Any plant but a weed dies in perpetual sunHiiino.' Dick looked at her with a bright, thoughtful face. ' Have you heard of Nirvana ?' he said. ' And whab do you think of such a state, Clara ?' ' I think Nirvana might be tho heaven of & Platonic oyster, or a jelly-fish in tropical seas. 1 could never dream of Nirvana.' ' But, Clara, the jelly-fish has already explained that it is destitute of a eenBorium, , ' And that is where it is, Dick. We have sensoria, and sensoria, make Nirvana impossible ; though, indeed, I have been at some placas here that were even worse. Shall I ever forget Mrs Syke3 and her evening party '!' ' I waa not there,' said Loida. ' Unfortunately, Francesca and I were there, It is easily described. We s at about the room, quiet as a funeral, in tho midst of many candles. I waa hysterical with the silonce. I had to go to tho piano and sin;,', or I should have shrieked. 1 am anticipating the opening of tho mill. What a pleasure to hear tho rush of steam, tho rattla of machinery, and tho " hum-m-m " of wheels.' ' Clara, doar, 1 have heard tho noise of the mill. I thought it dreadful. If cotton could only bo spun without noise.' ' I do not suppose it would then be spun at all. Fancy a silent factory!' cried Clara. ' How oppressive it would bo ! No one could do monotonous vpork without noise; it would be unendurable; it would drive the worker crazy.' Dick sprang to his feet. ' By Saint George, you are right, Clara !' he cried. ' I havo seen such noiseless mines in Mexico—penal servitude. Dear me ! I waa thinking of Mexico, feeling glad that 1 still had a hold on the country. After all, there was a great charm in going to work every morning with the hopo of a " find " that might be a fortune. You sow a Held, and know almost to a shilling how much its harvest will be worth. You go to your mine, hoping everything, for everything is poseible ; and in mining you set your hopes to tho possible, not to the probable.' ' You still have a hold on the country?' asked Clara. * Whab do you moan ?' ' 1 did not sell my right in the San Rayas mine. I could not sell advantageously at tho time, and now I am glad of it, for my last letters from Mexico say that there has been a new labour opened up, tfaao is, a new vain of silver. I may havo to return and look after my intorests in it.' Loida dropped her work and seemed unable to speak. Dick took her hand and answered her terrified inquiry with an assuring smile. ' I shall take you with me, Loida—if I have to go. . Then Clara perceived a singular advantage, and she glanced intelligently at Francesca as she answered for Loida, tho quiet English lady being nonplussed by the very suggestion of her going to Moxico : • Loida, how charming ! How delightful! How perfectly delightful! Loida,

how I envy you ! To go to Mexico ! To breathe its exquisite air ! To see such a picturesque life ! I would give a great deal to be you. Roßhleighj I am sorry now I persuaded you to begin spinning. We might have gono to Mexico with Dick and Loida. What a trip it would have been ! And then wo could have come back by way of New York.' The squire could hardly have looked at his wife with more amazement if she ban suggested a summer trip to Jupiter, with a roturn call ab the moon. And he answered with an almost comical decision : ' I shall never go to any part of America in this lite, Clara.' Clara shook her head with the air of ono who pities and console. 1 !. 'Never mind, Raehleigh,' she cried. ' This life is only a chapter in an otornal book of life. The scene of the next chapter may, perhaps, bo laid in America. I think we have good reason to hope so. An American wife in this life is a kind of I O U to an Englishman, that his next experience may be in America. Regard me, then, Rashloigh, as "a prooiiser of good things to coinc."' She was I'.apuy, sho v.is hopeful, sho saw a door opening for Francesca, though JTrance.?cn did not yefc see ifc for herself. And as Clara was, not ready to draw any attention to it, sho talked in a fashion which no way represented her real thought?, but which always gave the squiro and Loida and Francesca plonfcy of occupation to apprehend. (To lio Continued.)