A Tardy Wooing.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 283, 27 November 1905, Page 6

A Tardy Wooing.

By CHAS. W. HATHAWAY, L * ' - A Author of "Marjories Sweetheart, , ' "A Long Majiyrdom,""A Rash Vow," "Joseph Danfs Diplomacy, ,, etc.,,etc ": •

CHAPTER Vlll.—Continued, There was a low gate, half hidden in ivy, in a low wall that ran down one side of the hill. Thin gate was open, and the woman iv question standing at it, shading her eyes from the sun, and staring iutently at the figures beside the spring. At first Wynnie's heart stood still; but, finding that the woman contented herself with nodding and smiling, she plucked up courage to approach her. As ,she did so she caught sight, through the open gate, of an orchard, at the end of which there were farm buildings—and this discovery emboldened her still further. "Could We buy some bread and milk of you? I have money!" and she produced the sovereign Kennett had tossed to her. "We don't sell to Grangers a≤ a rule," was the dubious reply; "but I don't suppose my master will mind it for once. Lord! what a while you've bsen here! I came out two hours ago and looked at you, but you didn't see mc. Artists often comes to .draw our church, and the views from it, but your brother hasn't done much, has he? His hat was over his eyes and he was lying down when I looked afore, just as it is now." "He is ill," said \V W inie, briefly. "Then he ought not to be resting on the damp grass. I'll fetch the milk, and you make him drink it. and then hurry home 4" Perhaps the echo of their voices bad reached the ears of JJarold, for he was sitting up when Wynnie returnea to him. He drank thirstily from the can she held to his lips, but put aside the sweet farm bread as if he loathed .it. His eyes w-ere fixed on a spot in the valley about a mile from where he sat; and, pointing to it. he remarked that the line had been cleared, for the trains wenjj running again, s/id there was nothing now to prevent his going on to London. "it must have been a terrible collision," he added dreamily; "for no one seems to care to give mc the particulars. I don't think my own head is quite clear yet. As soon as I get to town, I'll go and see Collison. "He's the efeveresfc sxirgeoii I know, and he shall put mc to rights." Wynnie caught eagerly at the ideas his feebly murmured remarks conveyed. To London—yes, it was there he would be safest. It was madness to remain here, exposed to the risk of baing found by the dreadful man who was Mr Outram's enemy for some reason of which she was still ignorant. But was there-really a railroad station so near? She hastened hack to th-? gate with the milk can, and put the inquiry to the woman, who answered in the affirmative, and good-naturedly offered to let them avail themselves of a path across her master's fields to the station; and also warned her that if they lost the next train they could not proceed till the morrow. With her hand on Haxold Outram's arm, ostensibly for support, but really to give him the' guidance he needed, Wynnie started foV the railroad. She did her beet to appear cool and collected, but trembled inwardly, for she began to quail from the difficulties of the enterprise in which she was embarking. j Xever had a more inexperienced young creature been placed in a position so strange or so trying. N-ot only was she. who had been rarely allowed to have a will of her own, called upon to act for herself, but to take into consideration that the comfort, perhaps the fate, of another was depending upon her.

It was this thought that nerved her to proceed. Left to herself, she would have walked on aud on, careless whither, as long as she knew she was turning her face from Dover; and she would have trusted to chance for eventually findmg an asylum somewhere. She co*uld devise no settled plan of action. Since the Marbys had taken her into their house at the death of the kind old woman who dTew her from tbe sea, her life had known no change beyond that of the seasons, and the additional misery winter entailed upon the ill-fed, wretchedly clad girl. The little she had learned in her childhood lay dormant in her mind, and was of no use to her now. Though year after yjear she sold her flowers outside the harbour station, she was not allowed on the platform, and had n.-vt: travelled on either of the lines; yet here she was on the eve of departing for the metropolis, burdened with the charge of a person who could not advise her where to turn when she reached her destination. She was going to London to find !Mr Outranks friends; this was the thought she kept steadily before her: and, failing that, she must find her way to the house of a doctor whose "name was Colli son. It would not "be very difficult tt do this, she told herself, for everyonr she met would know where the doctoi lived, of course. Had she been less" ignorant of the world she might have been more troubled about herself. As it was, she thought only of the suffering Harold, on whose weakened powers the walk told greatly. Indeed, he was so exhausted when he reached the little country station ihat a compassionate porter came to her assistance, procured her tickets, and almost lifted her companion into a, thirdclass ear. In this— fortunateiy—-there was a vacant bench on which he could lie at full length, his heai pillowed on Wynnie's ulster. When the train got into motion Harpld Outram groaned and lost all consciousness of everything save the ham-mer-like beating in his temples; but Wynnie's spirits rose, for was not every turn of the wheels carrying them further from the Marbys and Christ Kennett? It would be night when they reached London, but what of that? There were girls as young as herself in the carriage; there were even a couple of children—little, pale-faced urchins—placed in the care of the guard by a ruddy country woman, who cried loudly as she bade them farewell. She had nursed them, she told everyone within hearing, ever since their mother died; and sow their father, who was in India, thought them oM enough to go to school, and they were being taken from her to a 'paratory school for young gentlemen.' Bless their uttie hearts! she was certain they wouldn't be as happy anywhere as they had been with her. They left her sobbing and wiping her ejwj and the forlorn sMUma. would

have wept,-too,: if Wynnie had not gathered them iirto her arms while they listened to the stories she told them, and she ceased, to conjecture whether London was ranch larger than Dover til it burst upon her and she was be- | wildered by its vastness. LTV??* 1, dht S° T its load at London Bridge, and now it was Wynnie who clung to the arm of the companion of her jtnirney and cast seared glances arour.cl hir. At first the officials were too busy to notice the helpless couple. Several of the carriages were crowded with excursionists from the south coast, noisy, if good-huiuoiired, artisans who had' been having a jollification, and now elbowed their 'swiy along the platform or msistea on standing just where they impeded-iTie progress of others. As these men gradually- dispersed parties of ladies in evening dress, bound for tSue theatre or tlie conceit, came flitting past the nook into which Wynnie and Mr Ourram had suffered themselves to be jostled. Tallest and sta'.iest in one of these groups there- went a beautiful woman, in whom ths? flower-girl fancied she re . cognised t.h«e lady she had seen on the pier, and whose gift lay in her bosom: ■ but if it were Cyrilla, she cast no I glance to the right or left, but walked . on, broodircr over the thought that tor- ■ niented her incessantly. Who the favoured rival for whom Harold Outram was neglecting her. Presently a terrified cry escaped • Wynnie's lips. Muttering "something as a gentbsman went hastily by. Harold took a f steps in pursuit of' him, but only to fall forward on the stones in spite of her efforts to prevent it. ■"'Drunks' said both the porters who came to Taise him. "Oh, 110! he is ill, very ill!" they were earnestly assured. "He has com" to London to put hiro-self under the care of Dr. Collinson. Oh! please, teil mc where to find him." "The- great Collison? That was thr gentleman that went by just this minute, tie's been at- a consultation in the country, and bis brougham's beec here in waiting this hour or more. Are < you sure , * he's the doctor you wantr" "Qaite Oh, call him, please! Tell him" it's Mr Outram that wants him—Mr Harold Outram. Maybe he'll know the name." Apparently it was a familiar one to the famous sxirgeon, for, spoken in his ear. as he was stepping into his carriage, it brought h.ni back directly to 'the bench on which sat Harold, snpj ported by one of the porters. I He was recognised; ajid when he had i revived sufficiently to answer a question or two he was led to the brougham and assisted into it—the porters beiaz munificently tipped for their trouble. With his finger on the wrist of the j partzient so oddly found, Dr. Collmscn drove a*way to his own house, and the porters went off to drink his health as a thorough gentleman. No one remembered Wynnie. That I the shabby girl who had knelt beside j Mr Outram, chafing .his hands, couid be in any way connected with him, did not enter the surgeon's head. A policeman bade her move on, aa4 she obeyed mechanically. The carriage containing her bridegroom disappeared, and she was left aJone in London. (To tie continued daily,)