TRANSFORMED.

Golden Bay Argus, Volume 4, Issue 37, 8 February 1895, Page 3

TRANSFORMED.

JIY ELLA CHEEVER GOODWIN. PART I. • - Tae back parlor with ifca dark paper and.draperies was a dingy baokground for the handsome young couple who were in it—she with her head resting upon his shoulder, and he with his arm around her waist. 11 Are you sure you really love me. Celia?" bo was whispering. “ I want to hear you say it over and over again?" “ Oh, Dexter ! had it not been that I loved you so much that beside it everything was nothing, I should never have consented to these saoret visits when my uncle was absent But, though I could not do otherwise, and am so happy now I know how much you care for me, I cannot help feeling I have done wrong to deceive my unde, who is so kind and good." “ A oranky old baohelor who shuts you np in this great house alone, and refuses to allo w you any companion of your own age 1" exclaimed Dexter Hartwick, indignantly. “Why, helots more like a jealous lover than an unde 1 It is his fault, not yours, dear, that the rights of youth which he ignores, have proved too much for his old ideas.” “Do not blame him. He refuses me nothing except young society. It has only sinoe I came home from school that he has insisted on this. He says I shall thank him sometime for his wisdom, though I can’t understand it now.” “Thauk him, indeed, for trying to make an old woman of you at eighteen 1” said Dexter. “ I do not think that is his object," replied Celia, thoughtfully. “ Indeed, he seems so strange sometimes of late, that I do nptknow wh'at to make of him. But I owe him obedience, for ho has taken the plaoe of my dead father and mother ever since I can rememCelia raised her dark eyes pleadingly to the brown ones of her lover as Bhe spoke, as if to n?k his kindly regard for her uncle. Hs bent his handsome face to hers until their cheeks touched, and answered laughingly,— “ These stolen interviews have been so sweet that it will not be hard for me to excuse his peculiar fanoy, whioh has added to the romanoe of our acquaintance. But how fortunate it has been that, business has called him so much away ! And how beautifully you managed to fall into my arms that first day I". ... “ I have a mind to pull you hair—there is a curl conveniently near. As if I fell down the steps purposely ? You know I. did not, sir 1 Neither did l have the least idea you were near, until you were carrying me into the house in the most audacious manner I” “And called to see how you were tho following day, on the strength of being a next door neighbor, though a new one, and already desperately in love I” added Dexter, as happy as she in these little reminiscences. “ flow good old Margaret was to let me in 1 What a perfect angel in an Irish oap, she has been all through ! Sue dosen’D forget she was young onoe herself 1” “ And so let you in through the basement door sometimes 1" said Celia, laughing. Then blushing slightly, she went on: “I never told you that I had seen you before that eventful day, but I saw you going in and out of your house and had become quite interested in you. * When the house was vacant, you see, I used to wonder who would ocoupy it, and that is why I noticed you at first.” “ And I have never confessed how I used to watoh you sitting at your window, and longed to make your acquaintance. There was a pink dress in which you used to look bo lovely that I oouldn’t help wanting to kiss you. I think I will do it now, instead 1" There waß a silence—satisfactory in its way —and then Celia said seriously,— “Wc must tell uncle all now. lam unhappy in deceiving him. I feel sure that when he finds out how well wo lov£ each otheir, and that! can never be happy without you, he will give as his consent and forgiveness." “ But if ho does not ?” _ " Celia laid her hand in his as she .seponded very earnestly,— “If he does not, as I think, love me too well to cause me any unhappiness, if I am compelled to make a hard ohoioe, then love . will be stronger than my uncle’s olaim. Nothing shall separate us. I will never give you up.” Dexter drew her nearer tq him, with a feeling of seourity and thankfulness, and neither of them perceived that the portiere behind them was drawn baok, and a man stood transfixed beneath it. He was about forty-five years of age, with light reddish hair, light blue . eyes, and a mouth whioh betrayed with strong affections an unscrupulousness in the attainment of ends. His whole faoe now was distorted by an expression of amazement combined with jealous rage. Dexter was the first to notice him, and started away from Calia so suddenly that she looked around quiokly for the cause, and then grew pale. “ Unde 1” she stammered. “ I—when1 —when did you gethome ?” There was no response. The man she addreaed seemed to be struggling for self-con-trol, and would not trust himself to speak until he had obtained it. But after a moment or two of embarrassing silence, Dexter advance and said, in a very direct, manly way,— “ I know my presence here may seem to be very strange to you; but if you will allow me to explain, I hope I shall be able to obtain your forgiveness.” Mr. Addington replied with a look that startled and dismayed Dexter. It was less like that of au uncle to an unexpected suitor for the hand of his nkce than like a man to a rival. He made a fierce motion, then setmed to oheok himself, and dropping the curtains behind him dame forward into the room.

“ Well, sir t ” ha said shortly, in a constrained tone, “ explain 1” Dextar found it hard to go on in the face of this scant encouragement and the look bent upon him, but commenced bravely “I have first to ask your pardon for persuading Cs - your neice, to allow me to call upon h’er without your knowledge, sir. The only exouse I have is that when a man is in love he will do anything rather than lose an ouportunity to win the object of his affsotions. For my love itself, 1 offer no excuse, sinoe to love is not an offence, but the order of nature. Sou have only antioiapted a little an interview I should have soon sought. I am the Bon of John Ilartwick the banker, who lives next door, and now I ask your permission to make Celia my wife.” it undo, dour,* added Celia t herself, going up to him and timidly laying her hand on his arm, “let me tell you how sorry I have been and how much it has worried me to keep a secret from you. Bat 1 was so lonely —and you were away so much, and.you know I had no friends —and I first met Dexter— M,. Hartwiok—by accident; then we used to sne each other across the W3y aud in the back garden last summer; and after I knew him I never felt lonely any more. Dear uncle, if you ever knew wbat it was to love, you will forgive us, will you not ?” Mr Addington had started at her touoh, and now gazed at her with a strange expreaaion of sorrow and affection. ,i ][{ i e var knew what it was to lovo ! he reneated. between his teeth. Then he took her hand and held it firmly within his own thereon of John Hartwick ?” he Btonrly inquired. Dexter bowed in assent. ,« Djog your father know of this affair, or have vou deceived him, too ? How do you know be will consent to your marrying my niece, who is a penniless orphan, dependent on me?” . . , , «• My father will not oppose any wish of mine,” returned Dexter frankly- “ I am, beBide, pecuniarily independent of him, as I have a fortune inherited from an aunt.’ Mr Addington did not look pleased at this answer, but frowned, hesitated, then, as if he oamo to some determination, said,— «i mu st have a talk with Celia, before I can say anything further to you. Come in at this hour to-morrow, and she shall give you your final answer. Whatever she says then, I will abide by.” Dexter flashed hopefully, and considered it

prudent to say notning aoout Cchb having been given already. “You are kinder than I deserve, Mr. Addington," he said gratefully. I will hereafter endeavor to merit your approbation.” Cdia threw her arms about Mr. Addington s neck. V Do you really mean that you will do just as I wish you to, when we have talked it over?” she asked joyfully. . “Yea,” he replied firmly drawing her closer to him for a moment, then suddenly pushing her away, and with a singular expression adding to Dexter, “ Celia shall decide to-morrow." At this Dexter could only bow himself out, exchanging a glance of love and trust with Celia, as he went. All things considered the ordeal had been much easier than he had anticipated, and he whistled merrily as he went down the steps. ~ , , « jjg jg very fond of her—who could help being ”2 his thoughts ran. “ She will persuade him—she would persuade anyone. He probably knows her too well to expeot to make her ohange her mind. After what she told me to day, I need not worry as to wnat her decision will be to-morrow. But with what a peoular manner he spoke. I am afraid I shall have to try very hard in order to like my unole-in-law," Dexter’s dreams that night, both waking and Bleeping were rosy hued. They were of the time when Celia would be all his own. No more stolen interviews, no more slipping in by the grace of old Margaret, through _ the basemont: no more waiting for opportunities

when Mr. Addington was away. In truth, the concealment which had been neoessary, although it had added a romantic element to his courtship, had been somewhat irksome to his frank nature. But now that it was a'l over he enjoyed the fact of its having been, along with a relief in its being ended. Visions of white bridal robes flitted before him, and entrancing thoughts followed of the happiness awaiting them in the home they would sKare together, Celia had given herself to him with her kiss, and nothing could take her away. Punctual to the hour next day, Dexter rang the bell of the house which contained his fate. His heart beat high with hope, but something in old Margaret's manner as she opened the door, seemed like a dash of cold water on his buoyancy. He missed her usual hearty Irish greeting, and was oppressed with nameless forebodings,as she so silently ushered him into the room he had left yesterday, and gave him an inscrutable glance when she turned away. Mr. Addington was alone in the apartment and rose to greet him. His bearing was stiff and polite, but his first words renewed Dexter’s courage. “ 1 find on enquiry,” he said, “that so far as your personal character and prospeots are concerned, there is no reason why I should refuse to entertain your proposals as regards my niece—” Dexter interposed with expressions of eager gratitude, but Mr. Addington quickly stopped their utterance.

Wait, young man!" he said, while asaroastio smile played about his mouth, “ You are too impetuous, and take too muoh for granted. Yourconduot has been reprehensible as far as I am concerned, in your relations to my niece, and the concealment has been unfortunate for us all. Celia and I have talked the whole matter over, and you will learn the result of our conference from her own lips.” Dexter did not know what to think, but had little time for reflection, as in a moment Celia herself entered. Dexter mado an eager movement toward her, and then stood still with a ory of dismay. What had he dona to her 1 It was not the beautiful, rosy-cheeked girl whom he had left here yesterday that now stood before him, not venturing to look up, but a pale woman, with marks of suffering on her face, and dark lines about her eyes. Mr. Addington went directly to her side, plaoing his arm about her, and looking at her with tenderness and pity. Then he darted an angry glance at Dexter, as if he held him responsible for all her sufferings. But Dexter paid little attention to him. All his thoughts were concentrated upon her. “ Celia 1” he cried. “ For Heaven’s sake what is the matter ?”

She Bhivered at hia voice, and leaned up against Mr. Addington for support. Then with an effort whioh was apparent she drew herßelf up and said, mournfully, but firmly,— “ Everything has changed since yesterday, Dexter. I have come to tell you that what ■we hoped for can never be —that I can never become —your wife.” Her voice faltered only at the last two words. Every one of them was like a knife thrust in the heart of Dexter, and he stared at the pale faoe in stupefaction. “ Celia I what has happened ? What has he done to you ?" broke from his lips at last.

“Do not presume to accuse me of being unkind to her,” said Mr. Addington, irascibly. “It is you who have brought all this trouble upon her.” “ I ? I, who would willingly die to save her a pang? Celia, has he told you anything against me? Tell me, that I may prove its falsity 1” Mr. Addington checked himself in a reply, and let Celia answer.

“Unde has hinted nothing, said nothing to your prejudice,” she said, trembling, and still with downcast eyes. My reasons for the deoision I have made, have no connection with you. Forgive me tor making you ho unhappy. Had I obeyed uncle, it would have been better for us both, for I know now that it was to guard me from this sorrow that he insisted on my seclusion. I cannot explain any further, but what I have said is irrevocable.” “ Do you mean to break my heart and not tell me why 1 Surely, I have a right to some explanation. There can be no reason that my love oannot overcome.” “I cannot tell you—it would do no good if I should. If—if you love me, do not ask. Believe me, it is enevitable that we must part forever, and do not make it any harder for m6 She raised her eyes to his as she ooncluded for the first time sinoe her entranoe. They were full of unutterable love and hopeless renunciation. For a moment she bore the entreaty and anguish she met in his, then swayed and fell unconscious at Mr. Addington’s feet. He raised her, and with a fieroe gesture exclaimed, “Go? and never attempt to annoy her again. You have now heard her deoision. Sba oan never be yours.” A triumphant glitter was in his light blue eyes as he spoke the last sentence, and held the unconscious form of Celia close in his arms. Dexter gave a heart-broken look at the still pallid faoe of the girl he had thought his own, and rushed from the room without a word. All the brightness of the sunshine had vanished when he went out into it again, and it was a very different world to which he was going from the one that had existed when he entered the house. He was dizzy with misery and overwhelmed with the force of the appalling mystery which had seperated him from Celia. As he Btaggered down the steps, old Margaret came up from the basement. “Ah! worra ! worra 1” she exclaimed. Sure, an’ I knew it was throuble that was,, coming upon ye and the swate young mistress! 8 Didn’t I hear her crying her pritty eyes out all night long ?” Ducter leaned up against the railing. “ What has he done to make her give me up ?” he asked huskily. “ Yesterday she eaid nothing could separate us.” “ Sure its little I know, only he was talking to her in the evening, an’ its meself heard her say, as I was going by the door, quite by accident entirely, * I love him, uncle, and nothing can induce me to give him up.’ Then a little while after I heard a shriek that made all the blood curdle in me veins, sure, and and when she camo out she was pale as a Bnow-drift an’ loike one dead.” 11 My poor darling !*’ cried Daxter, half forgating for the moment his own anguish at this picture of hers. “ Is this all you know or guess, Margarett ?” . . B “ Dade an’ it is. An’ the master is that *v .in, n f her entirely, that it don’t seem as if

he could oome betwixt ner and me man oi her heart." “ I don’t understand it,’ said Dexter, sighing wearily. « Ah I an’ it’s meself forgot to say that he is to take her off to day, an’ I am to pack up the things, an’ the bouse is to be let.” “ Going away !" cried D xter, in whose heart a last, lingering hope died at the thought. 4t To day 5 ati’ I’m to be sent about me business entirely, because of being suspected of helprng you, sir.” “ You shall lose nothing. I will find you a good place,” said D<-xter, thrusting a pound note into her hand —not the first of his that had been placed there. Then, while she was courtseying her thanks, he asked hastily. “ Do you think you could manage to give her a note before she goes?" “ It’s trying hard I will be,” was her re-, plyDextor had already torn a leaf from bis note 1 book, and wa3 writing: *« Whatever thk "table mystery is which has oome between 0 t cannot separate out hearts, Your last look told me that your love . was still mine, as mine is yours, and will o forever. If ever the time comes when you : can revoke your decision, though it oe year- , hence, you will find me true. Yours always. Dexter ” Having given this to Margaret he oould d n no more but go forth into the dreariness awaiting him. As Margaret had asserted he would. M*\ Addington took Celia away late the same afternoon. Dexter eaught a glimpse of her as she was assisted into the carriage, and watched it until it had gone out of sight, every turn of the wheels seeming to strike upon his heart. Had Margaret been able tt deliver the letter ? Had Celia gone without a word ? Uuable to endure his emotions, hrushed over to the house which was like the tomb of all his happiness. ! He found Margaret had been faithful to her trust, and had a note for him in response to the one she delivered. Dexter tore it ope with breathless haste: — “ Do not indulge in any false hopes. Wshall never meet again. Try and not let this ruin your life, but be happy, if you can, with one more fortunate than Celia." This was all. He had to realise now that his bright dream was indeed over. The next month passed wearily. It was in vain that he tried to be courageous and bear his fate manfully. Possibly it might have : been less hard had he known what it was that had taken Celia from him; but the mystery which baffled him so completely was an additional weight to his sorrow, tie felt he could even have better borne her death.. Life lost a’l interest for him, and the lighthearted, happy young fellow became listless and sad. He would sit tor hours and gaze at the olosed house from whioh even old Margaiet bad gone; and when new tenants had oome and the blinds were ones more thrown openhefeltevsrylinkbetweenCeliaaudhimself ! was now broken. His parents grew more and j more alarmed at hia condition, and as th.e physician recommended change of scene, hiß father sent him to Adeliade on business j partly manufactured for the occasion. Dexter went readily enough—it mattered j little to him where he was—and wishing to, avoid the stir of an hotel, which did not accord with his present mood, he settled himself in a quiet boarding house. Yet, aUlioufgi., obliged to rotise himself into activity, ra r order to attend to the details of the business J which had brought him, his sense' of loss never left him. At the house where he boarded there were.i two or three bfright-eyed youDg girls who were disposed to be very friendly with him, but he hardly noticed them, and scarcely knew one from another. -*■ - The only person who attracted his particular attention was an elderly man with a deeply lined face and uneven gray hair, who appeared as solitary and sad as himself. Hs learned from the landlady that this was a Mr, Ellison an engraver who had a room in the roof, and was, as she scornfully asserted “ both poor and disagreeable." Notwith- j standing, Dexter found himßelf interested, in j the stranger, some Bympathetio sense causing him to feel that he, had passed through a deep sorrow, perhaps, similar to his own. This finally led him to make some advances toward an acquaintance, and although they were at first received ungraciously, after a time a degree of intimacy grew up between them. Dexter formed a habit of smoking his evening cigar in the comp my of Mr. Ellison rather than alone with his own melanoholy thoughts. His new friend was a man who had pondered muoh upon philosophic aubjeots, and was an entertaining companion when ho chose to be. When he smiled, which he ra ; .ly did, the mor-ose expression of hia face vanished as if by magic, and then Dexter would be struck vvith something vaguely familiar about him. Yet he was certain they had never met before. They were talking one day of the happiness oi home life as contrasted with any oth. .■ when Mr. Ellison, after a thoughtful pause, remarked abruptly : “ I had a home once myself, and, though I was a poor man, it was a happy onp. I had a dear wife and a lovely little girl. But the wretched fate which was ever mine followed me even there. My wife died and then—l lost my daughter, too. Time has chasened tho sorrow L felt at my wife’s death, as it must ail such pains, else life would be too hard for endurance; but from the loss of my child I have never recovered —for that was my own fault.” Dexter looked up at him scruitinizinglv His face had settled into the lines grief had marked there, and D.xter knew him too well to venture to ask any questions. Presently Mr. Ellison went on, musingly: — “ Yet it was her gain. I have alwe-ys been a poor man, and could never have given her the luxuries, I determined she should have. She waß saved from the fate of her mother, who wore herself out with hard work. But the sorrow of my loss is ever fresh.” Dexter thought his manner strange, but said nothing, and Mr. Ellison continued : “ When I am alone 1 often fall into a day dream, and imagine she is here with me. I have even gone so far Binco you came here,” looking up with hie rare smile, “ as to wonder if she might not have fallen in love with you, and if I should have been jealous.” “ You probably would,” said Dexter, bitterly, thinking to himself that if an uncle was, a father would certainly be. A cloud came over his faoe at the reoolleo tion this brought up, and he sighed. Mr Ellison bent a keen glance upon him, and said : “ My dear boy, I have seen from the first that you, too, have had some unhappy experience. Let me, if I oan without intruding on your oonfidenoe, express my regret that it should have come at your age to blight your youth, which should have been so bright." “ I have indeed had a terrible misfortune,” said Dexter, manfully. Then, after a moment hesitation, he confided to him the circum- , stances, fiading a relief, once having commenced, in speaking. Mr. Ellison listend attentively and sympathetically. “ A strange story,” he remarked, as Daxter concluded. “ Like you I am entirely at a loss to understand the nature ofl'the influence ; he evidently exerted over her. Is she timid and easily frightened?” * “ Quite the reverse,” returned Dexter, “ Nor oan I auspact that Mr.. AfldiP6|° n would try to— Good Heavens I what in tRe matter?" Mr. Ellison had started up, his eyes wild and staring, and seized Dexter’s arm in uncontrollable exoitement. “ What name was that ?” he cried “ Mr. Addington,” answered the astonished Dexter. “ Jerome Addington 2” “Yes.” ; “ And her name— is it Celia ? “ What! you know her then 2" exclaimed Dexter, jumping to his feet. “ Then it is Celia—Celia Addington !” Mr. Ellison made no other response than

this, but released his hold of D?xters eri and staggered to the window, which ho thr, open and let in a oold, trosty wav* , air. Daxter gazed at his back in helpless am w. ment, not knowing what to do. After =» fe moments Mr. Edison shut the window a turned around. His manner was calm, h his eyes glo wed with suppressed ieeling. “ Excuse me but I was overcome vvith so prise at finding that it was Jerome A liiu ton’s niece who was the heroine of yo story,” he said, “ I u ;ed to know him i years gone by.”

To be concluded in our next.