CHAPTER VII—Dreaming and Waking.

Press, Volume LI, Issue 8780, 28 April 1894, Page 2

CHAPTER Vll— Dreaming and Waking.

L r f.* at EHerslie took a new colour for Braiidoii Mountford afcer that day. It. had been pleasant, unconventional from the b"Ki.iuiucr. Hβ lilid felt the cordiality of Sir Joseph's welcome, the assurniica that hi* prepuce jrave pleasure to his host—but these- thimjst madotin every-duy lrippinos-s.and i hurts was nothing wonderful urrire.ain-iike in a well-fou.nii country buu«c, a tine salmon rirer, iihd a blunt, geueruus-teinpmv.rt oid man who had baRsiii his ascent to Fortune's Temple on the lowest the ladder.

Sibyl' B comtnpt had changed thp country honab'into an enchanted palace, the wiiulblown terrnc* and lawns and shrubberies overlooking the b!**ak North Sea into an eert.hly fler c6"niin« had chii'jiged life in' o a lovely dream. Ll«r lljjht figure inovinis to mid fr ion the roup;h. ban of the river turned that stream into a wa'er-Cixirse to au unexplored Elen. Wiieiv a. bottinj; expedition was pruposod one day he alinonc expected to tiiid lha'bo&b ririftinj; into the asure liprhr, uZ 'c.-*vernH as blue as Rstornu's Terrace, lie expected anything wonderful and abnormal rather (linn rhe rude, yr.ty hili3 and the barren moorland.

lathe begiiuiing he suriwnderpd himself bliiiilly to the euclianiineut of fciiis fiiir girl's society. Ho knew that hecuul-1 never think of himself, or. be thoatthc of by Sir Jo-eph, as a possible husband for tliii heireHsof iijiaos and millions.- Sir»lost»ph liad frankly staLed his ambitious hopasfor his fiftughfcer.

" She must marry a peer, my dear Mbuutford," he «aid. "I'wans her to go b&ck Jnfo the jzveafc world which her mother lefr, when she stooped, to marry ra«. I waut to se.e lier a bofore I nip. Siie.is pretty cnouah, and 'a.ho will be rich eunnph to be a D idlest—if (here were an eligible Duke. 1 won's nvn'i - }' her to a fortune-seeker or ». profiif;>te, Ptiounr.ford. I may -bs ai'nbicioui , , but I won't sacriSce my jiirl'a happiness, even to make ht*r a great lady."

AH • hi.-* hui bsen said more Hxnn ones before Sybijla'a return, and all this Mountfnrd h-id accepted as inevitable—v decree of dssciuy, ei:»ce Sir Joseph wus t!ie kind of man to c-irry out his own id«;cs to the letter, and it would be bard if amonj; the bachelor Peers of.Gteac Britain a worthy fi'i wel , . as a titled husband could not .ho found for Sibylla. Moutuford knew himself out of the running. '"Were I a Duke, and the inheritor of a coupie of shires, I should bs juat as ineligible as lam now," he thought. " Nothing would ever induce mc to ljL.uk my life wish another, and biighc the heart lhat loved mc." ■••" ' • • ''- '■'■ ' -

Having thus made no his mind about himself—having set himself resolutely on I the aide of the celibates —Krandnu Mount- | ford made the mistake which men Hie apt to make in such circumstances. He was tod secure of * himself. lie thought; he might reckon in advance of Iα? Greybeard, TiuiP, and think of himself an a iuiddleagced unimpressionable 'misogynist, wliils' he was still in the very morning of life, much fcesher in heart and brain thau Mie majority of young men, since ha h.id never bluu'ed his feelings in the mill-round if youthful,dissipations—ha.i nor. wanted the first fervent, love of boyhood upon tbe Tot ties-a rid Loitias of the or the tavern bar —had not been spciied or lUe .vacuity and p;ixrot : j»p.?ecli of'tffe marli*h young lady, 'who id by-way of hejnj; spnrli«c;or f,mt.. -.; To IJrßinJoii ; irountfor<J an "English girl in at her youth and ihei-fresh-ness of her beauty was almost a new creation. Had Venus Anadvomcne met him in some cavern of thai bleak shore, in the mystic twilight ofsunmi , , she could not h,iv« seemed more enchanting than Sibylla in the grace, and purity of her unspoiled girlhood. He gave hinnejf up unresistingly to the charm of her 'presence, accepted her friendly advances, telling her. lijjh'ly that she was to think cf him an a newly discovered poor relation, something .of th<» nature of-avsvtci^:, " You well call mc unelp, Miss da y when he was assisting Sibyl and Marie not to catch salmon. '■?.' ~- ...j.. ■ T TheyJanft'takea a good in the art of throwing v fly*,i*sjjs Jiad aoc yes the disuuetion ot'abiie.'siU»

: **Oh, I'cptiidu'r possibly do that,'*- Ssibvl answered, decisively, "you aast if. too jounsr for an uncle. I'll call you cousin, if you like, though perhaps; «s.ven that would sound foolish. B>ic .ws..are a kind of cou-ins, aren'c we?" ' ■" ' "Ye», we are cousins—in. the third decree." ■' ': -

" I'm clad of that. " I like to know that lam related to you. - Father likes you so much, quite as well as if you were his nephew. Please call rrie Sibyl in future. Miss Hieginaon is dreadfully formal, and it is such au iifily name." It w*s ayteetl that they were to call each other Brandon aad SlbjfJ. "*. •* W«r we actually cousins, ,, 'Sibyl explained, the flrnt time she uttered the •visitor* Cnristiaa name in her father*)} hearintr, "so it would ha absurd to fa" mUteriug and missing each other."

? 'Xbo speech was 30 frankly spoken that ■ Sir Joseph took no nirnn nt »he idea. He, ■ too, had accepted Brandon Monntford as v poor lvhiriou, a pleasant aud harmless bachelor c:iuKiit. Hi> had met dozens 01 such your.fi men in «ociey, as harmless, ami ufr.ou us necessary, by reason of theil* bt»lptulm*s* in «H -the—minor- details of domss.ic life, as tuo nfu-n-quoted o >t. Ho hud no idea thalxueh nn «xisienee could Tiio lima came, ti;o soon for Brandon's ponce, after ten or twelve days of unalloyed lilbe, when the young man knew and felt his own peril. Hβ knew that he loved Sibyl with the love thai- moans the lmppi' ness or inlsuiy of n lifetime—or, at least, of all lift, : * beit and brightest years. lin-rd may be healing tor aucli .'1 wound * 7 but 1C is a cure so gradual and so tauiy that the convalescent hardly knows* whether the pa.-sing years have conquered his passion or worn out lili heart. Ho knew that lie loved her—know that M.H ileliyht in her society was something stronirer and deepor ihnim inan'a pleasure in the compuny of « Juvely and fascinating i K»rl—know th-it, t!<e hliVht.e*fc louch of her hand thiilkd him, tisat the sound of her Tuice, lienra ea*u>liy from the garden while ho \v,is writing a Irtier by 'ho open window of his own room, would set hi-* heart beating ami make him wiite non--1 senve. They had been rarely alone togother; ■ they had only talked to each other in tliu j liirb'ea:. strains upon tha cn.sual «übj : -ci.s. Marie was always wiih them, witlKiog by sea or moor, Kunming on the tiTrace, lingering over lha friendly tea table, vixitiiix the stables, driving, ruling, Alftrio wan as const -at it and a.i inovi table ji9 I Sibyl , .-* simdmv. JBratnion iniulit havo } tiio'i-i'iit (liaMi.is perpetual companionship ]on Miss Arnold's part, was in obedience to j orders from Sir Jus>pli; but Sir Joseph's I whole way of life was too open and uu-aophi-ticiited to allow of such au idea. No, Sir Joseph trusted hU guest, and if was for hi* suest to prove worthy of the confidence thai; had been so freely given to him. lir.-uidoM knew (bat he bad been and trusted on the strength of his race, wavi-mited honourable, as it were, becrtu«e of the good blood that (lowed in ' his vti;:s, the genilummi's unsullied lineage, out of which conid come no evil. Not for all that ihi-s earth ctn givo of happiness >vou'||*l he have proved hiniHelf unworthy of the good man's confidence. Tli>nkin;<; over that " sliadowing" of Sibyl by Marie Arnold, ho accounted for It to Ms own satisfaction as a of the elder girl's jealous attachment to her adopted sister. It must, be jealousy, and only jealousy, which made Marie dog their foooitep9, and intrude iur own personality upon every utinversalion, every small *cheme of amusement. There were times when lie could see that even Sibyl was somewhat; annoyed by the eldtir girl's obtrusirfiness. They could talk of no subject in which Marie would not take her part,, someihues talking shecr'nonaeuse, in her eagerness to usurp the conversation, and ovuruh.idowing Sibyl by h;r feverish loquacity. Whatever the feeling was which iniinencyd this sirongaud passionate nature, it waa a feeling that totally changed the giri'i ma luer —and the change, in Brandon's opinion, was a change greatly for the vvdrae. He could but compare the Marie Aruokl r>f the present —v.hement, excitable, dictatorial even—with the IVfarie Arnold of thusi; quiet days before Sibyl's rt'turn. Then th« dependant had been all ge.ntlenfes, modest, retiring, given to thougliif'U si'.enca rather than over :nuch sueech. Now -ho was loquacious, irritable, capricious, changing witJiout appurnnc reason fror.i exaggerated gaiety to sullen gloom — resenting unintended . blights, ex'«cb"msr, penish. To Brandon the change became hourly niorf mysterious, nurt more, worrying, i "You know Mi i <3 Arnold better than I do," ho said to Urquhurt one evening in th» billiard-rooiti, '*'and perhaps you can tell mc if she is often as disagreeable as she was bo-day during oar river excursion?" "In my sight Marie Arnold can never be disagreeable. She is juat the loveliest woman I kiiow , , and the moat fascinating." " I did not knov7 you were so ardent an admirer. She is handsome, unquestionabiy—in a cerb'iin style—and I can understand yon .Admiring her. Buc I think your v»*lll H'irriit -that *hft lias changiid tor the worse, since Miss iligginsou'B wturij." - m ■• 4, PbssiUly. I daresay she feels"her false position j* lictlo more keenly »yhen Sibyl is at borne." " You are pleased t-> talk of a false position—but; really Idnu'fceetj where tlie falsehood cotnea; in. Sir .ToseuU treats her with an wavering kindness." .•'Sir Joseph treats his collie dog with unwavering kindness ; but do you suppose ■such - a girl as Marie—conscious of the a woman can pb«se3.s—dogs :10c feel the difference botween the acknowledged and tha unacknowledged ia ngbfcer —the heire , s«» and the dependant. , 14 1 don't think Alia* Arnold—or any Wend of Miss Arnold**—'-has tlte right to jump ah concln-iious upon such a subject is that," returned Brandoiij with grave ii«plc.-isurv. He liked, and even respected, Sir Joseph f]h<iiiusoi), and ou that account alotife Was ncliijcd to resent the insinuation thac this •irl, xvhoVe preseheo was an ostensible iict: in the family citele, could be tlie olT•pring of some lovr intrigue. Much more lid he dislike the idea that. Sibyl'M com)'inion and friend should be a baseborn lister, the inherirnr of a mother's shkme. "Perhaps, n* Sir Joseph is a Very good 'ellow and a rnlllionnire, ,tho wlsfnt courae 'or all of iia is to imagine his character and i'ltecedeuta staittles^'- , Urquhart retorted, Ttilh an openHueer. " paVt lam n'eiined'tb think'him huinau,"and that his ifftfciiou for Marie Arnold has its root in hi un'forgotten love of his youth. I don't )elie\te in abstractbenevolence—or adopted lieecs." " Suddenly, swiftly it was borne in upon Brandon Mountford that-.this Paradise tlong whose sunlit paths he had been yaniieriiiK, in a dream of ujiquutUionng bli.s!»-rivas a Paradise frorii which he mist flee ; and thar, once having left that 3:i«n, bhosn good angels Manly Pride and Jon -<«ir, 'Standing with flaming swords on lther side of thn gate, would forbid thfl kov*ibility of return. He had .bsen trusted n that household—he had been warned by inplioation against f>ny attempt to win iibyl H'.Kginson'e heart; and now lie itratvk appalled, bawilderrd, yetoveiyoyed, t tiie thowaht thnb the trusting girli h lesirt. was almost' won. Yes, ulbei'. they were so rarely toaethet .nd alone, even for a few minutes ho hud een tfte sigas and the tokens of a gr aw ing II teres t in him and hi* life* Hβ had seen he fair yoang face steeped in tho«e sudden 1 1 verwhelmins? blushes which tell of grow- I ng love. He had seen Sibyl start at hie j ootstep—beam with sudden gladness at is approach. He had seen her Intense i> here Kb in -.tho.se stories of his travels vhlch he tolfl casual y at firHt, and with c ►iflii.lent. apprtth°nsion of becoming a bore, >uc vThich.both S:byl and Marie had urged lim to enlargtr usVon, andL to retell not ! nee but several tlines—stories of (ions— fcoriPß of savage foee —stories of fever— tories of trickarer* and card-'harpera at •ort Natal—stories of butf&loee lost or cad—of extinguished camp flree—there r*e no detail of hit adventaroas wander- i n£a in which those two listeners were ot interested^ VI feel like a modern Othello with a pair t Dc-deinonas," he said lightly, ofte ! iteruoon as he was sculling lazily with he current, while Sibyl and Mtrie sat in be stern of the skiff, Sibyl holrJinjpthe udderllae«, and then he quoted., almost utomatlcally— ■ " She lovefl mo for the'a»n?ere I had pass'd; And I laved her, that ehas didpitw them." "Oh. Sibyl," he'cried, as the nose of lie boat swung sudrTeiilv round, " what a irk I Iα that your idea «f steering?" "I—l—beg. yo«r pardon, Brandon. I ■ifught thac barge was comiug towards s.'

x hat " was buying the furthermost shore, about a quarter of a mile away. Brandon glanced at Msirie, and was surprised at tlie angry light in the large dark e*ee ; sdrp'rUed at the aearchi<ißgnzi» which the elder girl fixed upon SibjrJ , * droopiiig eyelids and bluahiag cheeks.