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A JUDGE OF APPEARANCES.

[Ajll Rights Reserved.]

By Mabel Quiller-Couch, Author of ‘The Recovery of June Vercoc,’ etc. “ Mother, it cannot be necessary!” “I am afraid it is, dear, or I should never have made such a suggestion.” “But, surely, if we aro very economical, wo have enough to live on.” “We should have to be more than economical ; we should have barely enough for the common necessities of life, while as for clothes—can you imagine yourself having to manage with one two-guinea frock in two years?” But boarders! Oh, mother, I cannot endure the thought. Think of horrid old ladies, and numberless foreigners wiping their fingers on the tablecloth, and grumbling and complaining, and running over Use house as though it were their own. I could not endure it.” But, darling, we have to endure somcI n trig. Wo cannot live on seventy-five pounds a year. You say you cannot teach, and you would die if you had to go as a typist, or a secretary, or a companion; and the only plan I can think of is this of taking boarders.” *' Tl ° l ' ‘loggers’ at once,”flashed out bteOa. “They would treat you as a lodjnng-house keeper, and mo as vour help ! Think of it!—you, a, barouci’a daughter, and papa—oh, what would our relations say!” “My dear, they have not taken interest enough to say anything so far—except vour Aunt Theophila—and I really cannot see that we arc under any obligation, to live on broad and water in genteel idleness for the sake of their feelings. Stella, dear, do listen to reason. I want you to have as nappy a time as possible, and I cannot doom you to a life of grinding poverty on a pittance that is barely enough for one ” ‘Mother,” said Stella, looking up suddenly, after a long spell of silent though tfulness, “ could you live on it alone? Mother (impatiently) "could you?” a w CS ’ dear, I daresay, but ” “Then I have thought of a plan. I will go down to Wendra to Aunt Theophila. 1 am sure she will be glad to have a companion. Her eager eyes, fixed on her mother s face, noted a curious change of expression on it, and she paused a litthwondering what it meant. Was she smiling, was there a shade of amusement in her eyes, or was she upset at the thought of parting? But when .Mrs Myers spoke, she seemed to be neither weeping nor laughing. 1 °

I f°,,; vo ! l fhink, dear, you would really tlm fire aSkC< ’ :tS she stooped to poke T ,- 1 'm” sl ’.9 u M- I always did think I would like the life of an old-world, country gentlewoman, and 1 Rcl that Aunt theophila and I would get on very well together I expect she knows everyone in the county, too, so that it would'not be dull, and, at any rate, it will be a new experience.

l,pr V^m t w lt f CUl ' iOU '\- Xpr< ' Ksi,,n fitted over '"roYL , S L 'd“'‘' sl '”» | ae«iv, niw S ,J ri le ° l>llilcl Ayers’s answer to 'er rutcos offer was not exactly cordial, hut StelK / 10 °® er > though conditionally. Sella mmht como for a throe months’ V ij S! ° lkod ’ but she, Miss Myers L '°T l<k>l ' U ' at the - V wero either ot them bound m any wav, if either m them found the arrangement irksome, btella was a little hurt that her maginii’' eiat U n 1° K r i la | d DOt 1)00,1 moro approthought that • Her aunt had said that she ryml-l not », herself t„ tho ™ J -Si, IT 'W- ; lri ™ i>»tr r»^iN!nssP«t journeyed down, and the prospect of t ■> fCoUn S of i>> ter wi e SlI ! tor, and Stella realised she had reached i, >,■ ourneys end. Springing to her ‘w t G - let dowm the window and looked out. To her sinpnso and distippointmont no mnrt cqiujpogo stood in the roadway, no man m livery graced the platform. Q n all the length and breadth of it she saw but two persons besides tho porter and the stationmaster ; one was a woman with a mark'd basket on her arm. the other a counlriliedlooking young man. ‘‘Aunt might have sent in time,” she exclaimed vexedly. “Imagine mv bavin- to wait about tins place until someone comefor me. It is too bad. quits- rude ■ " . “ cr compartment came to a standstill just opposite the woman with the basket ' Perhaps, after all, this may bo one of the maids, she thought. "At anv rate. I will £usk her.

Are you from Mis« Myem? ” she asked Tim woman stared at iter, puzzled ’bawl ’ she said, at last, "I be gointo Andover. a

" Oh, I beg your pardon." The .stationmaster passed at that moment —the countrified young man drew tdowlv neairor. btella noted the fact, and was annoyed at having an audience, to witness her mortification.

“ Station nuts ter,” she said, in a. voice .lowered to escape the ears of the “audience, ‘ has no one come from Miss .Myers’s foi me. I expected to be met.” I ■ ' y®*- here's Mr Gudfrcv hinuelf, and theres the cart.” He jerked his thumb towards a sturdv-lookum market cart drawn up outside. Stella looked with ms mist from the cart to “Mr Godfrey ” and found the countrified-looking voiin ■' man with a hat in his hand ;md a, smile in hts oyes, a smile that scarcely wavered beneath the scorn and vexation 'in hers. “You have come for the luggage?” 'she asked, haughtily. “ Yes, and for you, if vou will allow me.

Again Stella felt aimoved. He had not addressed her as “Miss'" onoe. She resented his remark, too, even while she wondered at his mode of expressing himself “Oh. certainly/’ she said, coldly “I thought, though, my aunt would have rein some more—more comfortable conveyance ” Ho looked slightly puzzled, “ VVe mh-ht have got a cab from Andover, certainly ” he remarked, thoughtfully, “ hut I am afraid wo did not think. I will try to make vou comfortable, though. I’ve brought a pile of rugs and cushions.” 1

‘‘Thank you,” said Stella,, coldlv. Kindly see that my luggage is taken out ot tho tram.

Tho young man departed at once returning presently laden with her smaik«r possessions.

“ I think you had better put on your cloak before we start,” he said; “it'will be cold on the moor. Woa, marc ! ” to the horse. “Your boxes s-hall come on. 1 can’t take them Ml in this, but- they’ll bo up before you’ll be wanting them.” Stella colored with annoyance. "1 hope they will,” elie said, croady. “ 1 can't change for dinner till they do.” “Dinner’s at two o’clock. You'll have everything before to-morrow, for certain.” The easy familiarity of his tone and words added tenfold to her annoyance, bat he wrapped her up and tucked liar in with such care and skill, her heart was obliged to melt a little. At the same time, though, when lie mounted to her side and took up the reins, she did her host to intimate by her manger that she had no intention of conversing.

"Diivc quickly, please,” file said, curtly. “I wish to get them as soon as possible.” “ Miss Myers won’t be- in till four,” lie said, genially; “ she works up till the bust hour of daylight.” “ VVorks! ” echoed Stella, drawn into speaking in spite of herself. “ Needlework, 1 suppose? ”

The young man laughed. “I only onoo saw Miss Myers with a. needle ui her hand,” ho said, ‘‘and then she sewed up a tear in my coat with pink cotton, and Mary had to pick it out again. Since then. I believe Miss Myers’s needle has Ikx,u lost.”

Stella sat stricken dumb. The idea of her rant mending the coat of her man,, or her hind, or whatever he was, filled her with disgust and amazement too deep for words. The paivse was at length broken by the young man. “ I ought to have introduced myself.” Then, as Stella gave him no encouragement, “I am Godfrey Cooper—possibly,” with a

sudden access of modesty—“ your aunt has mentioned me?’’

“ Oh, no." said Stella, in a tone which hiouglit a flush to her companion's cheeks, tie- recovered himself, though with a laugh, and St-'dla felt that he had scored, and she had been distinctly rude. She tried to think of something to say to cover the situation, bub failed, until fiiie became suddenly aware that she had all the rugs, an i her companion none, not even the corner of one. and the air blew with a sharp “tang” ae they mounted higher and higher. ''01)." she exclaimed, dragging at one of them, "you have no mg; lake this, do." "Jt doesn't matter in the least, thank you." said Mr Godfrey complacently, but he accepted a- part of it. "You'll be glad to get home. 1 hope Mary will have good tires ; Miss Thco is sure to forget them." Stella Vs ideas of her aunt, as the dainty, old world chatelaine, were receiving severe shocks. She had been picturing her so full of pieparat ions fur her guests, seeing to ilie guest chamber, and ins dainty appointments. ordering tires and a dozen'other token* of wlcomtg ami she was sure to iorget everything. "Mary seems to attend to everything,” sh■ said scornfully. ''Within doois. yes. I am cure I don't Imow wind we should do without Mary. Halt In r lime Mis.. Then forgets all about the meals, and we tshoukl got none."

"Do- -do you have your meals with my aunt';" siv began in a voice half Shanghai with astonishment. “With your aui.t' Gli. yes, 1 have that privilege,”, he answered, kicking slightly surprised. " hook, that's, fine, isn't it?"

They were at the top of the hill now. On cither side the moor stretched away, black and mysterious, in the hist dying day. On one side of the road a .shallow pool gleamed like a gem dropped amidei the dead heather and short rank grass, velleding from its surface tile la.-t gleams of a glorious afterglow. and even ai> btella. looked, the ruddy light faded, leaving the world cold and grey. Before them, through the dimness, the road -otmd white and ghostly. Darkness fell fast. btella gazed in .silent fascination, until, as tiny turned a curve in the road, she was e.uddenly shot iorward. and almost out of her seal.

"nii!” she screamed, “oh—hi" and clung terrified to her companion's arm.

They had turned the brow of a hill, steeper than any Stella had ever dreamed of, and in the darkness it seemed to her they were falling headlong down a precipice.

"That's right, hold as tight as you litre,” said Mr Cooper encouragingly. "I ought to have warned you. It is a stiff bit, but it’s shoit, and then wo shall be home.”

In >pite of her alarm Stella unclasped her hands, though at the moment she felt it meant instant destruction. “ If you had only told mo.” she said crossly, “ I would have got out and walked.” Mr Cooper did not answer, all his attention was concentrated on guiding the stops of the horse, and a few moments later they turned in at an open gateway, under what seemed to be an arch, hut it was too dark to see. and drew up before a large house. Lights shone through the open door,' within which could he seen a roomy ball, bare and ugly. Stella looked in expectantly, wondering that no one came forward to greet her, and in the absence of any other welcome her feelings towards IMr Cooiier grew distinctly more appreciative. “(..'nine in. do.’’ said that young man wannly. “ Miss Thco will be hero in a moment, for certain. I expect s-hc is still pottering about amongst her turkeys. Ah, here you are. madame.” At that moment Stella, looking towards the open door, received one of the greatest shocks of her life. Instead of a dignified old lady, clad in silk and old lace, with gentle manners and a high-hred voice, she saw a short, squat figure in a shabby serge skirt and old coat, thick, clumsy boots, a thing on her head that could only by courtesy be called a hat, and beneath this battered straw a broad, comical face, and short-cropped hair. “ So you've come,” remarked Miss Myers, and kissed her niece in the embarrassed manner of one not used to displays of affection. “ Well, I am very glad to see you, and I hope you’ll be able to make yourself happy here. I’m afraid you’ll have to amuse yourself, we are such busy folk. Godfrey,” turning to the young man, “I’m afraid we shall lose those turkeys.” ‘‘Are you? I’ll %> and see them at once. Do give Miss Myers some tea soon. 1 am sure she is starving and frozen. Don’t wait for me.” Stella stared, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again with a firm resolve in her heart. If this was the way her aunt was treated by her servants it was time someone came to look after her, she decided. And the thought of the changes she would work helped to drive, away some of her depression. Some time, however, elapsed before Stella could even attempt to put her benevolent intentions into practice. She rarely saw Miss Myers, and when she did they were never alone. And . when at lust the opportunity came her’efforts were not encouraged. “ Auntie,” she began, “ Auntie, now that you have me for company, don’t vou think Cooper might have his meals—elsewhere ?” For a moment Miss fevers only stared, speechless; then : “ Mr Cooper, please, Stella,” she said in a tone of reproof. Stella colored angrily. “ Really, Aunt Theo, I—l, you don’t expect me to call the gardener Mr Jenkins, do your “You can say ‘ sir,’ if you prefer it, to Godfrey, or ‘Mr Cooper.’ hut I cannot

endure these modem familiar manners. In my young days only working-men’s wives addressed their husbands by their surnames, without any prefix.” It was Stella’s turn to be struck dumb now. To be accused of desiring vulgar familiarity when her only aim was to keep a man in his right place: was bitter indeed. “ But, Aunt Theo, you would not call youi 1 hindf or—or steward ” (( “Hind! hind!” screamed Miss Theo. Stella, what are you saying ? Don’t you know that Godfrey is my pupil, and as such'you must treat him, please, with at any rate civility. I have noticed that you become more and more ungracious to him, and I cannot have it.”

In her inmost heart Stella knew this, too, for with each day that passed she had grown more conscious that her liking for the man increased, and the knowledge of that fact had driven her to an attitude towards him which was really but a cloak to hide her real feelings. “I had better go home,” she said to herself, wildly. “ Nothing is as I thought it would be. With Aunt Theo a common dairy-keeper, . and tradesman, J shall never have any friends or position here, an d—and it is too dreadful that I should have no one to associate with but—but him.”

What a mistake it had all been. What a series of shocks and disappointments, from the moment when, in place of a liveried servant and a comfortable brougham, she had found Godfrey Cooper and a market-cart: and instead of a gracious old-world lady, she had found an up-to-date, unromantic business woman. And, greatest shock of all, when on coming down that first morning she had strolled out into the garden to breathe the fresh country air, the first thing her eye had on "as a painted board announcing ’ e BK s > anf l cream, fresh daily.” While, further on, on the very arch under which she had driven the night before, was painted in huge letters, ‘‘Myers, i oultry and Dairy-keeper.” It had been an overwhelming blow. Her head had reeled, and her heart beaten to suffocation, as with crimsoning cheeks she read. She understood then that strange look on her mother’s face, and her anger rose against her mother even, for having so befooled her.

she had said she must leave at once, that moment even; but the remembrance nf that look stayed her. She would remain, for a time at least, no matter what she endured. .

She remembered all this now' as she stroJed away oul of the house ajid grounds, where those hated signs fretted and mortified her still, through the vil-]ago,-and on to the moor which she loved. On and on, too absorbed to-day to notice anything, but not too absorbed to hear a quick footstep coming along behind her She knew whose it was without looking up when the steps paused beside her; but t hough s he had scarcely responded to his greeting, his silence attracted her. She looked at him once, then a second time quickly, then quite gently spoke. What is the matter? You are worried about something.” u,ced at her > surprised at her tone, veiy, he said; *‘my father has sent for me/’ “Not a case of illness, I hope?” “ Xo; only a ne’er-do-well brother of mine has turned up at home, and mv father, who is not strong, wants my help.” You don t want to go?” She did wish her voice would not catch in that ridiculous manner. “ Want to go!”—a world of expression in his voice. " Stella, it is leaving you that makes it so hard. Don’t you understand ?’’ She colored hotly, then grew quite white. “ I—l don’t wish to,” she stammered ; “ it is—iin|vossiblc.” “I beg your pardon, but why won’t you listen to me? Why is it impossible?” "I should think" (haughtily) "you need not ask. Put I do iisk. Is it that vou do not care ?” “Oh, there are many reasons, obstacles —we are so far removed—in every way.” "Are we? Do you mean socially," religiously, or—or how?’’ Stella tried, but could not express herself as she wished. f’ur one thing, ’ she broke out sharplv, I could never—care—;is you mean.” arid turned away and left him.' “And that is not tome, not true,” she moaned, as she made her way over the heather, for in that moment she realised that she did care, and could never, never cease to. “ 1 imist so home, auntie,” she said later that same day. "Why?” the directness of the question was embarrassing. “Oh. I ” • " y°’l, havent ''—sharply—“ been behaving badly to Godfrey, have you. child?” “He asked me to marry him. and I refused him. of course,” she answered, almost sullenly. “Wait a moment," said Miss Theo, peremptorily. "Why ‘of course’?” " V ou wouldn't have me marry a—a farm hand—a farmer and gardener, would vou Aunt Theo?” ‘ ’ “I would have you many Sir James Cooper s son—if you are worthv of him which I doubt,” retorted Miss Myers. Stella gazed at her aunt in blank bewilderment; then suddenly she seemed to shrink mid droop. Her fare grew as white as ashes. " He—he is a gentleman?'’ \ou must have been verv dense not to see it. He is one of the best specimens I have ever seen, or you .are over likely to. But if you don’t love him you were quite right to refuse him.” ' 1 “But—oh, but, Aunt Theo.” she wailed, her voice breaking into a bitter, hitter cry, “ I do, I do 1 It was only ” , ls f I'heo rose and went round to Stella's side. “ You have been a vain little idiot.” sh© said, but not unkindly, laving her hand on the girl’s shoulder, 'with' the first touch of sentiment she had ever shown her. “ TOilust go home—to-day,” said Stella, dully. “I can’t see him again. I have bungled everything. I will go home. Perhaps, if I work ” Miss Myers nodded understandingly. “ There is nothing like it,” she said. She herself drove Stella to the station, and as .they rolled along the white road over the moor the pain at the girl’s heart was almost unendurable, with the memories that came back to her. ■Jr -X* * “Please, miss, there’s a gentleman wants to see missus, and she’s out; but I said 1 thought you would see him.” Stella sighed. She loathed this interviewing of strangers about rooms and board, etc., etc,, but she would not shirk it. “ Very well,” she said, wearily, and went

down! the stairs quickly, that she might not have time to think. In the drawing room, in the uncertain light of the fire, a man was standing with his back to the door. He did not turn when Stella entered. “Good evening,’’ she began, nervously, to attract his attention. “I am sorry my mother ” Godfrey Cooper spun round on his heel. “I—l was afraid to turn until I beard your voice,” be said. At sight of him Stella grew as white as the handkerchief- •in -her hand. This was irony of fate, indeed, to send this, of all men, to be their hoarder! “ You have come about—you want—” she gasped, tremulously, taking the hand he offered. “ I want yon,’’ he said deliberately. “ I have come, dear, for you, and nothing else. > Well?” But she stood silent, trembling, confused. “Oh, you don’t know ” “Yes, I do. Miss Theo told me. only yesterday, or I should have been here before.” “ Bnt yon can’t forgive ” “ Dearest, you leave all that to me ” “But I insulted you so— —” N “There is one way only in which yon can wipe out the insult: come and be a farmer's wife. Will you, Stella?” “ Oh, how good you are,” sobbed poor Stella, weakly, and all Godfrey could think of to do was to wipe her eyes in his own handkerchief, as though she were a child. “I believe you are afraid to face that hill again,” he said, laughing happily. “Do you remember?” And Stella by her blushes showed that she did.

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19080505.2.88

Bibliographic details

Evening Star, Issue 12943, 5 May 1908, Page 8

Word Count
3,651

A JUDGE OF APPEARANCES. Evening Star, Issue 12943, 5 May 1908, Page 8

A JUDGE OF APPEARANCES. Evening Star, Issue 12943, 5 May 1908, Page 8