OLIVE BRANCH AND MISTLETOE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 57, 8 March 1900, Page 6

OLIVE BRANCH AND MISTLETOE.

By FLORENCE MARRYAT. Author of "Love's Conflict," etc

(Concluded.)

"But, ray darling, are you sure?"' asked Mrs' Herbert. "It would be so terrible to be disappointed a second time." "I am quite sure," replied Aileen, "and in case my father should destroy the record of my birth I tore it out and have brought it with me." "My dearest girl," said Eobin with renewed caresses, "I knew you would come back to us. You could not live •without me, Aily, any more than I could live without you." "Bobin, don't take advantage of Aily's pleasure at seeing us again. Aily, my dear, you mustn't decide on this in a hurry. Think of all that it .will entil on you. You will lose a fine 'home and every sort of luxury, besides the chance of inheriting your father's- money. You will be nothing better than a farmer's wife all your life. Are you sure, my dear, that you Will not regret this at soms future itime and wish that you had stayed •with Mr Moore and married into a ■better position than my son will ever be able to give you?" _ "Isn't mother a mercenary 0.,1 a thing?" demanded Aileen, roguishly", of her lover, who was sitting by devouring her with his eyes. "Fancy her proposing that I should sell you, Robin, who have loved, me ever since we were little children together, for .so many df esses' and so^^ch'; 'pocket money. But I know better. Nothing my father could give me could buy all the love that has been lavished on me in 'this dear home ever since I can remember and I don't mean to try if it would. I intend to stay here and help mother with the dairy and milk the cows if necessary, and mend Eobin's clothes for the rest of my life. That is," she continued, with a shy look at her lover, "if Eobin will have me." .. "Will I have you? Oh, my love, ll you only knew what your coming back is to me—life and happiness and everything." T , , ■* "Well, dear people, I'm hungry, H you are not," exclaimed Aileen, as she approached the tea table, "so pray o-ive me something to eat in the dear old place which I have, been crying for ior the last month." "You have not yet told us how you cob away Aily," said Mrs Herbert. •'Does Mr Moore know that yon are gone?" "By this time, perhaps, but you may ■be sure I did not ask his leave to come. As soon as I found I had the right ol choice I walked out of the house and went straight to the railway station. But I left a note to tell him I had discovered my age and that I was my own mistress and going back to Dewlap Farm to fulfil my engagement with Eobin. I dare say he'll come after me to-morrow morning, but that will make no difference to me. Here I remain. And now, Eobin, let us decorate the farm as we never did before. We will turn it into a bower this Christmas in honour of my return." And for the remainder of the evening the two young people were busily employed 'hanging the walls and pictures with wreath of red and green, and Mrs Herbert remarked,afterwards that there were an unusually small number of white berries on the mistletoe boughs that Gideon had brought i to." ....... . I

But just as she had called them to supper, and they were declaring that they should have finished their Christmas decorations in ten minutes more, there was a thundering, knock at the front door, and Mr Moore walked into the room.

"What is all this folly about?" he demanded wrathfully. ' Aileen did not look afraid, but she slipped her little hand into that of her lover, whilst Robin threw his arm around her and glowered at the intruder, a,s if he defied him or all the world to take his darling from him again. "It is not folly, father!" replied the girl; "I thought my note would have explained that to you.' "You are under my control, and I order you to return home with me," continued Mr Moore, "you will not be of age for another two years. Whoever told you so has deceived you." "I have the certificate of my birth here," said his daughter, touching her

pocket, "and I came of age on my last birthday. ' If anyone lias deceived me, father, it is you, but 1 allow you may have forgotten the date!" "Whether you are twenty-one or not little signifies," continued Mr Moore; "the question is, are you going- to give up all the advantages I can offer you to become a farmer's wife? What can these people give you in exchange for the wealth you would inherit from me. if you were dutiful and obedient? "Love!" answered Aily, steadfastly,' as she clasped Robin's hand still closer, "Love, such as you have never given me, father! How did you show your care for my mother and myself? You deserted us—left her to die of starvation, and me to go upon the parish! Had it not been for my dear second mother here, I should have been cast upon the world before this to earn my own living —as it is she lias nurtured me as her own child, and all my duty and gratitude I osve to her!" "1 offered to pay Mrs Terbert for her trouble," muttered Mr-Moore.

"Pay her!" echoed his daughter withering-ly, "when all the money in the world could not repay her for the love and care she bestowed upon a poor deserted orphan. Keep your money for yourself, father, and do not again insult us by the mention of it. It will never bring you the happiness that Dewlap Farm has brought me." "And this is your 1.. .1 answer?" said the old man angrily. "Think twice before you decide, Aileen. If I leave this place without you to-night. my doors will be for ever shut against you, and you will derive no benefit from my will." "If you are resolved to quarrel with me because 1 cannot part with my dearest friends, father," replied-Aily softly, "I shall be sorry, but remember that if ever you should need my affection or my services, 1 shall be ready to give you both. Won't you I kiss'me, or shake hands with me before you go?" "No! 1 wish never to see you or speak to you again," said Mr Moore loudly, as he rose and walked out ot the house again. 4s he disappeared Aileen turned net head and shed a few tears on her lovers shoulder. "It is hard to part with one s father like that," she whispered, "but it would have been far harder, Robin, to have parted with you." Trey were discussing with Mrs Herbert what Lad passed, when Gideon, the farm hand, ran into the room with a face of terror. "O missus!" he ejaculated, there s a o-entleman walked into the quarry, and I believe ,c's killed himself." "Good Heavens! it >-.ust be Mr Moore," exclaimed Mrs Herbert. "Robin! go to his assistance at once : and I'll get a lantern." # "Is this a judgment on me? said Aily, with a white face of fear. "No no, darling, it is- merely an accident. But see that a bed is got ready, for him in ease of need If he is hurt we must send for Dr. Gloston! When young Herbert reached he mmrrv, which was a considerable depth; he found Mr Moore lying insensible at the bottom, and with he aid of Gideon carried him back to the farm house, a.nd laid him in the bed vv-hich the women had Prepared lor reception. The he mounted h.s cob rode off to fetch the doctor, who looked rather grave-pronouncing the nitirVsto be a slight concussion of the braiS^knd'lSaving directions for the mtiSt's. treatment, promised to look Ei aSm the first thing in the morn-

m "And to-morrow will be Christmas Eve," said Aily regretfully. "How unfortunate! This accident will spoil our Christmas." ~ "You mustn't say that, darling, whispered Mrs Herbert, "nothing can spoil Christmas for those who love each other, and since it has happened, it must be for the best." "Ah! that is mother's favourite sayinff," laughed Eobin, who was sitting by Ally's side and determined to share their night vigil with them. The sick man did not recover consciousness during the night, biit towards morning, he became feverish and commenced to moan, and when Doctor Glaston visited him again, he was in great pain but sensible. "What has happened to me? he enquired, "how did I come here and what day is it?" "It is the twenty-fourth ot December,'-' replied the doctor, "and you are at Dewlap Farm and under the care of the best woman God ever made! You could not be in better hands than those of Mrs Herbert!" "But why—why have I stayed here? asked Mr Moore querulously. "I hear you had an accident on leaving last iiight, and stumbled into a gravel pit, or something of the sort! But there are no bones broken. You fell on your head, and have had a touch of fever. You will be all right in a day or two!" "Ah! yes! yes!" murmured the invalid "but where's the use? Aileen won't live with me! She turns her back on me—my daughter—whom I meant to make so rich!"

The doctor thought he was rambling' and left him in Mrs Herbert's care with strict injunctions not to worry him with conversation, but let Nature and quiet do their healing1 work. Bobin'had to go about his farm though it was; Christmas Eve, but Aileen took her place with Mrs Herbert .by her father's bedside, only stealing out now and then, when she heard her lover's footstep, to assure him that it had not been a dream but she had returned in real earnest, to brighten his future life. In the afternoon, the mother and daughter (as they truly felt themselves to be) took their work and sat together in the sick man's room. Mr Moore was lying- quite. silent, apparently taking no notice of anything that went on around him, his eyes closed and his bruised head enveloped in bandages, but Aileen would not venture within his range of sight, lest she should revive his anger against her. She had been working silently for some time, when she gave vent to a deep sigh. "Why do you sigh, darling?" enquired Mrs Herbert. "0! Mother, I was thinking how happy we could all be if rather would only see matters with my eyes! How could he expect me to give up my betrothed husband for a few shillings and pence? And he with so much money, too, that he could make me an heiress to-morrow, as he has often told me, if he chose! "Well, dearest, he will need all his money to comfort him, poor man, but if he only knew you as we do, he would feel your affection was worth a thousand times more. You could have loved him, couldn't .you, my Aily?" "0! Mother, I do love him—l only wonder that he can't see that had I listened to his advice and proved so

ungrateful to you and Robin, i shouldn't be worthy of his love or esteem."

"He is disappointed to find that you care more ijr us than for himself," remarked Mrs Herbert, "but it is only natural. A.id you could have cared for us all together." "Of course, 1 could love my father as dearly as any daughter if he would let me. 1 want to love him, poor father, who has no one but me, but 1 cannot give up my Robin. I should despise myself if 1 could!" "Don't cry, Aily! Mr Moore will learn your true worth in time and respect you all the more for doing what you consider your duty." "1. cannot help it," sobbed Aileen, "I want my father—not his horrid money, "but himself — to nurse him when he is sick and comfort him when he is sorry—but if he won't let me, I can't help it!"

"Hush, hush, dear. You may wake him, and he must have all the sleep he can get! How sorry lam that this accident happened on our farm. Mr Moore will bear us v greater grudge than ever now 1 suppose."

"Did the doctor say how soon he would get well, mother?"

"lie said he thought he might be able to sit up to-morrow, but I dare not propose, it, being Christmas day. it might worry him to iind he was spending his Christmas amongst us, and we must: do nothing to vex him now, poor man." "Certainly not," said Aileen, "and we couldn't have spent a merry Christmas anyway, thinking poor father was alone in Manchester."

Mr Moore lay and listened to it all. He pictured what his Christinas would have been, spent in murky Manchester, without his daughter— what it might be, if he could only smother his pride and give his consent to her marriage with the man. of her choice. After all what had he. Henry Moore, been that he .should hold his head so high—a. shop boy who rose to be a clerk, embezzled

hi.s master's money—ran away to America with it—made a lucky speculation and returned home a rich man, to find that his only child had been provided for and cherished by strangers during his absence. And he had repaid them with indifference and scorn, and tried to force his girl to give them up. And what had. he gained >in return? He had lost Aileen and gained—a lonely life. He had been wrong—he had been a fool—he had cut his own throat and left himself lonely and childless iii his old age, and all for the sake of

money which had become worthless to him. And they had requited his insults —these good Samaritans—by giving him shelter in his extremity, and nursing him with Christian-like kindness and attention. What servant in his fine new establishment would have watched beside him all the night, and fed and tended him, as his daughter and her adopted mother had done? He had been harsh and hasty-—he saw it now, and he must try and make amends for it. In the afternoon as Aileen was stitching away in his room, he called her to his side.

"My dear," he said gently, "I know you have been watching over me and I thank you for your attention." "0, father! do you know me?" she cried joyfully.

"Yes, Aileen, and what is more to the purpose, I know myself. I have been harsh with you—l acknowledge it—and I wish to make amends. I shall settle sufficient money on you to keep you in comfort for the rest of your days and I give you my permission to act as you think fit, with regard to Eobert Herbert." "But I don't want the 'money," said Aileen with open eyes, " and I refuse to take it. Eobin can work for' me, and we prefer to be independent. Keep your money, Father, for yourself—your consent to my marriage is a thousand times more valuable to me."

"Would you have been unhappy without it then? Don't you want to leave your old father, Aily?" "How can you ask me such a question?" replied the girl, "I —who have known no .father for so many years? Of course it would have grieved me deeply, and if Vvou will only give me your blessing, Father, and come and see us now and then, you will make me happier than words can tell." "Call your future husband," said the sick man, "and I will join your hands with my own." The girl flew to call Eobin and they returned together to the old man's side.

"I have learned a lesson since I lay here to-day," he said, "a.nd that is that wealth is nothing without love, and that, having love, we have all things. Eobert Herbert, since my daughter loves you better than all my money, take her as a gift from me, and give her love without stint to her life's end."

"So help me God!" replied the young man solemnly. "And if I can sit up by to-morrow," continued the sick man, "let me spend Christmas Day. with you. I shall like to sit quietly by and witness your happiness and remember that the first blessing promised is ours, "Peace on earth and good will towards men." (The End.)