NANCE OF THE KINGS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 141, 13 June 1908, Page 7

NANCE OF THE KINGS.

By W. C. Morrow.

Author of "The Hen's Duckling, etc. 1 CE—she would areept no other name, although christened % Gladys—was at last compelled to realise that something more

than maidenly perturbation over the approach to a crisis in her life must account for her almost riotous state. It had been observed by Katy, the cook, who adored her for her large and splendid beauty, and who aiways declared that she might have come straight down from the Irish kings.

"Mc angel!" Katy cried, as Nance tore into the kitchen and demanded lomething more to do—something hard! She had already driven the maids from the upper floor, and had given it such a cleaning as thr&jv the • pets into a panic and sent her mother and sister below. "Ah, ye glorious girrl!" raved Katy. "It's th' ixcitement over makin' plans fer yer weddin', it is, to be sure. Lord, but Mr. Haviland'll git a prize! Much he deserves ye wid his foine, soft •ways an 1 his golf an' his tinnis! It shud be some giant that's afther marryin' ye —a man that wud step out into the middle of the worrld an' do rale things. I -wiish sieh a man cud see ye now, wid yer beautiful hair tessled so pretty, yer cheeks loike the roses of Kildare, an' yer eyes shinin' loike the sunrise on the Irish Say!"

"None of that!" exclaimed Nance, flinging herself on Katy like a ravening bear. "You're a foolish old dear. Tell mc something to do—something big — something to do with my hands!"

Standing away and recovering her breath, Katy responded: '*"is, since the moind of ye is gone. What do ye say to paintin' the house?"

"Too easy!" declared Nance. "Give mc something hard!" She was vibrant ■with eagerness.

'•'Thin, since the ould gardener's gone an' the new one hasn't come yit,. spade the flower-beds, bless ye!"

To Katy's dismayed astonishment, Nance accepted the playful suggestion. Soon the earth was flying, and destruction walked among the tender plants, for only trees and shrubs interested Nance now. In spite of Eer effort to keep from thinking, to avoid self-analy-sis, the fine face of Howard Havfland Bwam between hers and the mellow ground. Instead of the pride that she tried to feel in his gentle elegance and silken finish, there was irritation. The unconquerable and tantalizing remoteness at which she felt him forever standing made her restless and resentful.

Was some instinct making this fierce fight within her? Why not a calm, reverent look upon the future as his wife? His coming that day would be to make definite arrangements for the wedding; and here she was, entirely beside herself, incapable of cogent thinking, fighting a pain that had no rtvson for existence, and trying to strangle a rebellion that threatened every prospect.

After a •while her furious energy became submerged in her mental turmoil. ■She flung away the spade as a useless experiment and returned to the house. There she met her sister Ethel—a year older than herself—a small, dainty girl who perfectly represented the old and aristocratic family from which they had descended. It occurred to Ntince to see decadence in her sisteT's physical inadequacy —the failing of a line that had kept its "blood too pure.

Ethel habitually wore a bored, -weary air. To a less degree therr parents had the same look. Being an insatiable seeker of knowledge, Nance knew something about heredity and reversions, and wondered with a sense of guilt, as if she were to blame, why the ancestral vigour of the Tisdales should have abruptly reappeared in her, perhaps at the cost of this gentle, puny sister and many others In the line of descent.

Her tender affections for Ethel led her to take the girl in her arms. Ethel yielded mincingly. Her delicate ear, pressed to Nance's breast, heard the tumult within, and she gently drew back to ask: "What's the matter?" Nance observed her in a new and startling light. Why had not Howard found 'his mate in Ethel? It had been a deep Vope with Nance that her own marriage Mfch Howard would tame the savage wii.hin her, hold her to her class, and make her contented with the life to which she had been born; but now it came upon her, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, that her robust nature, volcanic, boiling with energy, inclined to rashness, and eager for the most abounding fulness of life, could not be smoothed to the planed and polished evenness of his standards. If he married Ethel, no readjustment would be required; their life together would be moonlight on stiU water.

Katy's picture of the man fitted to marry Nance sprang painfully into the confusion, and no effort of loyalty could make Howard 100k — She closed that door.

"What is the matter, Nance?" repeated Ethel as her sister glowed down at her with eyes so gentle, sad, and mysterious. "Nothing, dear," abeentfy answered Nance. "You've been overdoing," chided Ethel in her thin, velvety voice, which was quite different from the frank resonance of Nance's. "You were digging in the garden like a man. P'm afraid it made mother unhappy."

iNance smiled. She had hurt her pother in similar -ways many a time, and herself more, by distressing her mother; but she had never found it possible to refrain entirely from vigorous outlets for her strength and snirits

"I couldn't nelp it," she said, taking Bthel's arm and turning down the wide corridor toward the music-room. "Ethel, youTl be glad when I'm married and gone. Tho house will be peaceful then." She Tras regarding her sister with quizzical gravity. "Nance!" came the protest, pitched in the guarded tone peculiar to Ethel and their mother.

When they entered the music-room, Nance became a cyclone again. She caught Ethel in her arms with so much violence that the small, upturned face showed a mild alarm. Nance gave a ringing langh, released her, swung down the room like a young lioness, and dashed into a spirited air at the piano. Then her competent hands groped through modulations to tender lyrics and drifttvi into minors.

Eihel stood by, as if expected to wait. Such had been tho habit of all the bouso whenever Nance chose to command. At last the player looked up with a smile.

"Bid yon catch the meaning of that rambling music, dear?" she asked. It ■was her way to treat KthcJ as a if.-tlc sister. Kuhel pnlitnly smiled .is sb» shook her betid; and. with a soft laugh, Ks.nco left tha bislr-iTcani. "^ i: .T iold i-» ruei Ifc. - * I ia4

lost my mind," she cheerfully remarked. The faint cloud that passed over Ethel's face was familiar. Nance's democratic ways, and particularly her freedom with Katy, had brought many a pang to the fine-grained members of the family. Nance's curse wa3 her sense of isolation. From her childhood she had felt herself an alien in her own family, and her loneliness had driven her to Katy's generous shelter. Ethel had never complained of that; she had held aloof from it with a cold unseeing that was more galling. Mrs. Tisdale ha dspoken a cautious warning at times, but Nance's resenting outbursts had stilled the gentle tongue. Her father's bearing had hurt the most—a quick look of surprised pain and a hasty changing of the subject, as if hoping for the best and keeping the skeleton as closely closeted as possible; but in spite of it he had a frank pride in. Nance's beauty, brilliancy, and dash.

"Ethel," she said, standing at the window, her arm round her sister, and confusion halting her speech, "I—l wish Howard had fallen in love with you instead of mc!"

Ethel looked up in surprise, and Nance saw a sudden flush fade to pallor.

"Nance!" she said resentfully; but her secret had escaped.

"You are better suited to each other," Nance went on without a sign that she had seen. "I'm afraid I can't make him happy."

A dream slowly lighted in Etliel's eyes, but she knew control.

"Why not?" she returned. "You are beautiful, kind, unselfish—"

"Don't, dear," begged Nance. Then she threw down all • barriers, and the longing of a lonely life quavered in her voice. "It is simply a question of mutual fitness. A man may ba blinded by the surface of a woman. The greater responsibility is on the woman; she must be cool, she must know. When I look for. ward into the years, I'm afraid, Ethel— I'm afraid!" The strong arm tightened about the slim waist. "Don't you think it would be better for mc to go away?"

With a child's incredulity, Ethel was gazing up into the suffering face, but her dream-light burned.

"I don't think you realise what you are saying," she answered calmly, as Nance observed the betraying flutter in her throat.

The younger sister caught Ethel up, kissed her vehemently, and said, with reckless disregard: "Come, it's time for the awful family council with Howard. Has he arrived ?"

"That must have been his ring I heard just now," abstractedly answered Ethel, her startled gaze on her sister. H.

The family council, at which the details of the wedding were to be arranged, had little assistance from Nance, who knew that Ethel was observing her under cover of a pretended absorption in the plans. Underneath Nance's impatience with the pettiness of it all, and the look that she gave Mr. Haviland as he laboured over the invitation-list with the constructiveness of a Wellington planning a Waterloo, was a force groping for a kindly opportunity. She paced the floor, her habitual enthusiasm negligent, her scorn rising against conventions that held a tighter grip than the essentials of life. Her discovery concerning Ethel had plunged her into labyrinths

She went to a -window, and while looking abroad at the free world outside, she observed a tall old man hobbling with a cane along the walk that led back to the kitchen. Katy's generosity had given her an excellent reputation among tramps; but there was no vagabondage in this man's appearance. He carried a proud lift of the head, and there was aggressiveness in the shoulders straining against their acquired imperfection. His clothes betokened decent poverty, not thriftlessness. That he was unable to compete with younger, sounder men for a livelihood was Nance's first thought.

Moved by this new interest, she quietly left the room, confident that the immersion of the others in the wedding details would cover her absence.

'"'But I'm no begagr," the man was saying with patient dignity.

He had uncovered his white head, evidently through politeness, and not in the assumed humility- of the tramp—a difference which Katy had overlooked. She was staring at the gaunt figure holding the screen-door open. Standing in the gloom of the butler's pantry, Nance saw that long suffering had sunk his eyes, had cut deeper lines than the years, and had written the story of a strong man who had been overcome, but not conquered.

"Who said ye was a beggar?" blustered Katy to hide her mistake. "Can't ye see that I mint to be kind by offerin' ye a bit to ate? An' see thim flies pilin' in! Come inskie an' shut the dure."

A twinkle lit the sombre eyes of the man. ''There be a sign o' Cork in the tartness of ye,' , he said, entering and slowly letting himself down into a chair that Katy placed. "I'm fro' Belfast w#y."

"Little need to tell mc that!" snapped Katy. "An' now, what about this servant girrl ye do be lookin' fer? What's her name?" and she' turned busily to the kneading of her dough, giving the man her back.

"By all rights, Nancy—if they give her the wan they was axed to," he answered.

Katy went rigid, and the deep eyes behind her sharpened. Nance recalled the time when, in her fourteenth year, Katy had used to her almost those identical words —"By aft roights yer name shud be Nancy." Gladys—as she was then —seized upon it in delight, and shortened it to Nance.

For breathless seconds Katy stood inflexVUe, her hands idle in the forgotten dough, her gaze fixed straight through the window before her.

"A servant girl—by all Nancy," she faintly, slowly echoed. Then, gathering herself, she turned menacingy upon him. "Ye're at the wrong house," she snapped. "There was niwer sich a girrl here!"

The man's steady gaze forced her eyes. "Ye ought to know, Katy Mahoney," he quietly said. "Ye've worked in this house for Mr. Tisdale ivver since he was married."

Katy stared, and then paled as she sharply studied the man. "I tell ye," she desperately cried, "there ain't no sich "

"Did she die?" demanded the man, leaning forward, his eyes aflame, his nostrils trembling. "For the love of God, tell mc, woman!"

His tragic pathos broke her. In a passion she burst out: "Who be ye, to come here makin' this fool's talk? Lookin' fer trooble, be ye? The gintleman of this house will be clappin , the crooked bones of ye in jail before- "

"Bah:" said the man, with a gesture of impatience. -'Don't be a fool. A tivin' inou says to mc: 'Find Kancy. Sho's mc daughter. If she's alive an' well, hold ?ar tongue an' lave her be; but-—'"

Nance, very pale, but her head high «.nd her look firm, stepped into the room. Eaty turned a frightened, helpUα Wife cattK tar. •Aβ Uxe old sum,

staring up at Nance as she gazed down at him, dragged to his feet and in silence straightened himself before her, hungrily studying her. There was a slow wonder in his eyes, the rising of a great light.

Nance gave him no time. "Come with mc," she said, and gently took his arm.

His hat in one hand and his cane in the other, he obediently hobbled beside her. She led him to the council, and stood upright as they faced the astonished group.

"Mr. and Mrs, Tisdale, Miss Tisdale," and Mr. Haviland," she quietly said, "let mc present my father."

She had not considered the effect. Only her imperious demand for truth had guided her.

No self-restraint planted by long inheritance could mask the shock. Mr. Tisdale, who was standing, drew taut, stood a moment like stone as he realised his supreme impotence in the crisis, and sank into the nearest chair. He looked alternately at Nance, calm and patient, and at the towering man beside her, who manifested in the poise of his head, notwithstanding his tremendous surprise at her announcement, a spirit that knew no fear. Mrs. Tisdale, after a frightened catch of the breath and a glance at her husband, bowed her head under the blow. Ethel showed only bewilderment; clearly she* had never been a party to the secret shared by her parents and Katy. Mr. Haviland started up with a sickly smile, as though partly pleased and yet wholly Ehocked at this new prank by unaccountable Nance; but he went grave before her steady look, and paled as he made a swift comparison of her glowing face with that of the impossible stranger.

Most dramatic of all was the effect on the old man himself. Though not comprehending the reach of Nance's proclamation, but aware that her words had overwhelmed the group, he shrank before unknown dangers which the very air he was breathing informed him were assailing her.

"I hope," he said, •with a dignified bow, "that yell all forgive mc daughter for introjucin' mc. It's in the blood of her to be proud of her own. I'm sure she's been an honest girl, an' not one to be ashamed of. Is it not so, sir?" he concluded, singling out Mr. Tisdale a trifle anxiously.

A profound sorrow sat in that gentleman's face, but the look which he gave the broken visitant was that of a man to man. He tried to answer, but failed; and the old man, missing the true significance of it, let his face cloud. He turned to Mrs. Tisdale, his voice wavering with a stronger appeal, his proud colour receding.

"Is it not so, ladyV he asked.

It was as hard for her as for her husband. The end of a long deception, heedlessly begun, in the abundance of a young mother's love for all that needed a mother's care, had come at last. Tho back-rushing years held none but tender memories; this child had lain on her breast as her very own, and through her love had thrived and blossomed into dazzling womanhood. in her uplifted glance to the man there was a humble surrender to his right, and in her long look at Nance were crowded a lifetime of devotion, grief over such an outcome, and a mother's yearning hope for the future. And she did not fail to glance at Mr. Haviland. What she saw there held her silent. in. Meanwhile the old man's moments were crowding with pain. Mrs. Tisdale observed him.

"It is so," she answered. "Nance has been good and kind." It was as if slie talked in sleep.

The man turned triumphantly to Nance, and found her smiling, although she had just seen Mr. Haviland rest h'w hand on her sister's chair with an air of offering sympathy; and she was not blind to the repressed, dreamy elation that lent a colour of vivid life to Ethcl'3 expression.

"They have overlooked all my faults, father, and shown mc nothing but kindness," said Nance.

"I knew they would!" he exclaimed. "Whin yer poor mother died, I thought of Mr. Tisdale an , his sweet young wife. They had a baby of their owu. 1 knew they'd be kind. So I took mc little flower-bua to his door-step, after pinnin' on a slip of paper, sayin': 'Call her Nancy, for her mother.' You done it, sir," he said to Mr. Tisdale, his voice trembling. Mr. Tisdale's glance fell to the floor, and the stranger went on:

"The years an' strength left mc can't begin to repay ye for all the kindness to mc daughter, but mc prayer 3 will be with ye as long as I am spared. It wasn't mc intention to abandon her for good. I jist wanted her cared for durin , infancy by kind people. I wint to the mines in Africa to make a fortune for her. All was goin' well till the blast come and crippled mc an' destroyed mc mimory. Whin I left the poorhouse, right-minded, at last, I was an old, old mon, an' broken as ye see. I wint to work and saved. It took a long time; but here I am. So" —his voice falling to a cadence as he gazed longingly into Nance's bright face—"tney have done what I hoped—brought ye up a good, hard-workin , servant-girl."

"They never made a servant of mc," she said, with a happy smile.

once. His lips trembled, his eyes roved. Then, led by a blind impulse to pour out something of that which filled him to suffocation, he went up to Mr. Tisdale.

"Would ye mm* lettin' mc shake yer han , , sir?" he chokingly asked.

Mr. Tisdale rose and took the warm grasp, and" the white head bowed in reverenco.

He turned and hobbled over to Mrs. Tisdale. She, too. rose and gave him a brave smile with her clasp.

A courtier's bow went to Ethel and Mr. Haviland, and he faced his daughter. "I'll go now and lave ye with these good frinds," he said, with difficulty. "Good-bye, daughter;" and he looked at her with a deep affection as he held out his hand, his eyes filling.

She smilingly shook her head and put her hands behind her. "Oh, no!" she cheerfully said. "I'm "

It was more than he could grasp at

She abruptly stopped, and looked round upon the others. Only once course was left to her commanding sense of right. The disclosure of her parentage had destroyed all artificial foundations; yet, in planting anguish, it had left love. In Mr. Tisdale's face alone did she find any foreseeing of her momentous de-' cision. Her own father, ignorant of the deception that had made her a child of the family, was unaware of the inconceivable mischief that he had wrought. Nance could consider nothing but her duty, and the sorrow it would bring to those who had been kind. Her unfitness for the life into which she had been projected in infancy was explained; but that life had b, rou ght 'ts habits and intimacies, its deep-rooted attachments, its boundless gratitude for the love and kindness that had flowed out of it to her.

She did not falter, and she knew that jMr. Tisdale would understand.

"I think you all will see," she firmly said, her eyes shining in her pallor, "that only one thing is possible now, and that you won't think mo ungrateful. You see that he needs mc." To check the failure slipping into her voice, she cheerfully said to her father, "I am going with you."

He started. His Dps opened dumbly.

"My place is with you," she added, "and I want to go." "(Standing off and opening out her arms to divert the violent protest forming within him, she enclaimed: "See how strong I am! And I know how to work."

Though not realising all the harm that he had done, he strangled with a sob and looked about for a way to flee; but Nance, linking her arm in his, steadied him and said:

"I would have gone with you at any time in all these years if you had come."

Her cheerful confidence helped his great joy to sustain him.' Nance seized that moment and went to Mr. Tisdale. He took her in his arms, bowed his'head on hers, kissed her, and without a word released her. Mrs. Tisdale broke down when Nance clasped .her, and she clung to the girl; but Nance gently seated her and turned to Ethel, finding her very white and hardly breathing. That parting was over with a whirlwind embrace from Nance. Then she turned to Mr. Haviland, and with a frank smile extended her hand.

"Good-by," she said. He tcok her hand, flushing deeply. "I —you surely—"

He failed. It was her look that had checked him, but she saw the terrible dread with which Ethel was watching him. J

There was no weakness, but only a bright smile thrown back, as she took her father's arm, led him to the door, passed out with him, and closed it behind them.