A TARDY WOOING.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LI, Issue 9068, 14 April 1906, Page 2

A TARDY WOOING.

By CHARLKS W. HATHAWAY,

CHAPTER VIII.

A SUDDEN SEPARATION.

Finding his vehement denials were heard v with incredulity, the accused retaliated .with a blow, and a struggle ensued which no one witnessed but the driver of the jcarriage, for it frightened Wynnie into flight.

At first she began to run down the hill toward the village, but recollecting that she might be seen and' pursued long be- 1 fore she could .cross the intervening meadows, she doubled, and, under cover of a hedge, returned to where a wide, dry ditch, encircled tha wall of the churchyard. «i 'In that the grass and bracken, grew so tall and thick that 6he had no difficulty 5n concealing herself, creeping completely ' under one of the tangles of brambles that from above grew «* thickly as to be almost impervious.

There was good Teason now for her Jread "of being found, for the lost diamond ring (was tightly clasped within her left hand. ■It had been all too large for the finger •on which, Harold wore it, and had therefore been held in its place by the gold band transferred to his bride's. Unseen by anyone but her, it gradually slipped off as they knelt together, and she had secured it, intending to return both rings to him as soon as she could do so untob- - served.

But when, she 6aw the fury with" which Kennett attacked . the fancied thief, she trembled for herself too much to avow that the ring was in her possession. He would call her a thief, too; he would refuse to listen to her explanations, and perhaps rid himself of all further trouble by giving her to the police as soon as they reached the town.

Though ashamed of foe* cowardice, she continued to crouch in her hiding place, even, when she heard her raoir shouted repeatedly. Footsteps came close to where &Ue lay, scarcely daring to breathe lest she should be pounced upon, and once 6he distinguished the voice of the driver.

"I tell you she could not have gone in any direction but along the high road without my 6eeing her. She's halfway back to Dover by this time. If you'd have been advised by me, we should have overtaken her long ago."

Presently she heard the wheels rattle down the road, and ventured to peep forth. The witness, his hands In his pockets, was plodding toward the village, sore with the drubbing he had received, while Chris Kennett, seated on the box of the carriage, went away in another direction-. He had ceased to search for the missing .Wynnie.

For a while she was freej she was her own. mistress; and so delightful was the thought that she crept out of her hiding place and danced on the greensward in •her glee.

But Mr Outram — had they really left him behind?

VeTy cautiously 6he made her way to the porch, and found ihim still seated there. Heaven be pitiful } how ill he looked.

She iremembered to have heard the bubbling of water while 6he searched under the bushes, and searched till she found in the hillside a spring that Tippled into a rocky basin. To this spot she induced Harold to accompany her, and let Tier try the old remedy of bathing his head — kneeling beside him, intent on her ministrations till they were crowned 1 with success, and he lay on the grass sleeping the most placid slumbers he had yet enjoy?d.

And now, though pale and haggard, his pulse was so even, his hands so cool, that there were hopes that he would not awaken as excited and wandering as on former occasions; yet Wynnie felt very anxious about him as she saw the sun get nearer and nearer to the horizon, and knew that it would not be prudent to let him be tnere after the dews began to fall.

To her a nigh* passed in the open air would have been no hardship ; she could even think of it as a positive pleasure. To be here among the green fields, listening to the birds — out of Teach of Mis Marby's scolding, and the sights and odors of the alley— what could be more delightful?- - But then Kennett might return, and how escape him a second time! Moreover, she could not hope that no one would approach the isolated church. As evening came on, laborera quitting their work might come that way, and be curious to know why she was there. If they questioned her, how was she to reply? Nor was this all; she had not tasted food since the previous day, and was becoming faint from inanition,- Her helpless companion, too, must be fed when he awoke, or how would he have strength to quit tiie spot?

Then Wynnde cogitated long and profoundly. In spite of her inexperience, die thought she conld be brave enough to take care of Mr Outram, and guide him to his friends if s!ho cc-uld but learn where to find them.

Or, failing that, would it not be possible to put him under the care of a doctor? There were hospitals in Dover, but thither she dare nob return ; she would have to find some good and clever practitioner elsewhere, who would consent to dire him, and to whom, as a pledge that he would be paid for his trouble, she could give the diamond ring, which, for^ present security, she had placed in the pocket of Harold's v«st, and fastened there with a pin.

To ease her Selling limbs she stood up and looked about, her, and suddenly became award fchafc she ■was an object of interest to a comely elderly woman.

There was a low gate, half bidden in Ivy, in a low wall that «an down one side of the Mil. ' This gate was open, and the woman in question standing at it, shading

her eyes from the sun. and staving intently 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 appi-^ach her. As she did 50 she cauglit sight, through the open gate, or 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 off you? I have money!" and she produced the sovereign. Kennett had tossed to her.

"We don't sell to strangers as a rule," was the dubious reply; "but I don't suppose my master will mind it for once. Lord ! what a while you've been here ! I came out two hours ago and looked at you, but you didn't see me. 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 Wynnie, briefly.

"Then fie ought not *o be resting on the damp grass. I'll fetch the milk, and you make him drink it, and then hurry home!"

Periiaps the echo of their voices had •reached the ears of Harold, for he was sitting up when Wynnie returned 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 were fixed on a 6pot in the

valley* about a mile from where he sat ; and, pointing to it, he remarked that the line had been cleared, for fhe trains were running again, and there was nothing now

to pnevent hi 6 going to London.

"It must have been a. terrible collision," he added, dreamily ; "for no one seems to care to give me the particulars. I don't think my own head is quit© clear yet. As soon as I get to town, I'll go and see Collison. He's the cleverest surgeon I know, and he shall put me to rights."

Wyaniie caught feebly at the ideas his

feebly munmwed remarks conveyed. To London — yes, it was there he would be safest. It was madness to remain here, exposed to the risk of being 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 nearj She hastened back to the gate with tfe milk can, and put the- enquiry to the woman, who answered in the affirmative, and good-naturedly offe-red. 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 to-morrow.

Wit*i her hand on Harold Outram's arm, ostensibly for support., but really to give him the guidance he needed, Wynnie started for the railroad.

She did her best to appear cool and collected, but trembled inwardly, for she began to quail from the difficulties of the enterprise in whidhislie was embarking.

Never had a more inexperienced young creature been, placed in a- position so strange or so trying. Not only was she,

who had barely been •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 and on, careless whiiher, as long as she knew she was turning her face from Dover; and she would have trusted to chance for eventually finding an asylum somewhere.

She could devise no settled plan of action*. Since the Marbys had taken he* into their house, at the death, of the kind, old woman who drew her from the sea, her life had known no change beyond fhat of the seasons, and the additional misery winter entailed upon the ill-fed, wretchedly clad girl. The litifcle.she had learned in her childhood lay dormant in her mind, and was of no use to her now. Though year after year she had sold her flowers outside the harbor station, *she was not allowed on the platform, and had never travelled on either of the lines; yetb here she was on the eve of departing for the great metropolis, burdened with the charge of a person who could not advise hei* where to turn when she. reached her destination.

She was going to London to find Mr Outxam's. 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 Collison. It could not he very difficult to do this, she told herself, for everyone she met would" know where the doctor 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 only of tihe sufferings of Harold, on whose weakened powers the walk told greatly.

Indeed, he was so exhausted when he reached the little country station, that a compassionate porter came to heT assistance, procured her tickets, and almost lifted her companion into a third-class car. In this — fortunately — there was a vacant bench on which he could lie at full length, his head pillowed on Wyainie's ulster.

When the train got into motion Harold Outram groasned and lost all consciousness of everything save the hammer-like beating in his temples; but Wynnie's spirits rosej for was not every turn of tfte wheels carrying them further from the Marbys and Chris Kenmett?

It would be night when they (reached London, but what of that? There were I 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 now their lather, who was in India, thought them old enough to go to school, and they were being taken from, her to a 'paratory school for young gentler men. Bless their little hearts! she was certain tfiey wouldn't be as happy anywhere as they had been with her.

They left her sobbing and wiping her eyes ; and the forlorn cnildirea would have

wept, too, if Wynnie had not gathered them into her arms and consoled them.

They forgot their nurse while they listened to the stories she told them, and she ceased to conjecture whether London, wa© much larger than Dover till it burst upon her and she was bewildered by its vastness.

The train disgorged its load at London Bridge, and now it was Wynnie who clung to the arm of the companion of her journey and cast scared glances around her.

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-humor-ed, artisans who had been having a jollification, and now elbowed their way along the platform, or insisted on standing just Avhere they impeded the progress of others.

Ac these men gradually dispersed paTties of ladies in evening dress, bound for the .theatre or the' concert, came flitting past the nook into which Wynnie and Mr Outram had suffered themselves to be jostled.

Tallest and stateliest in one of these groups there went a beautiful woman in whom the flower-girl fancied she recognised the lady she had seen on the pier, and whose gift lay in her bosom; but if it were Cyrilla she cast no glance to the right or left, but walked on, brooding over the thought that tormemted her incessantly. Who was the favored rival for whom Harold Outram was neglecting* her?

Presently a terrified cry escaped Wynnie's lips. Muttering something as a gentleman went hastily by, Harold took a few steps in pursuit of him, but only to fall forward on the stones in spite of- her efforts to prevent it.

"Drunk," said both the porters who came to raise him.

"Oh, no! he is ill, veTy ill!" they were earnestly assured. "He has come to London to put himself under the care of Dr Gollison. Oh! please tell me where to find him."

"The. great Collieon? That was the gentleman tEat went by just this minute. He's been at a consultation in the country, and his brougham's been here in waiting this hour or more. ATe you sure he's the doctor you want?"

"Quite sure. Oh! call him, please! Tell him it's Mr Oatram that wants him — Mr Harold Outram. Maybe he'll know the name."

Apparently it was a familiar one to the famous surgeon/, for, spoken in his ear as he was stepping into his carriage, it brought him back directly to the bench on which sat Harold, supported by one of the porters.

He was recognised; and when he had revived: sufficiently to answer a question or two he was led to the brougham and assisted into it — the porters being munificently tipped for their .trouble.

Witn his finger on the wrist of the patient so oddly found, Dr Collison drove away to. hie own house, and the porters went off to drink hie health as a thorough gentlemani

No one remembered Wynnie. That the shabby girl who had knelt beside Mr Outram, "chafing' this hands, could' be in any way connected with him, did not enter the surgeon's head.

A policeman bade her move on, and she obeyed mechanically. The carriage containing her bridegroom disappeared, and she was left alone in London.

(To be Continued.)