Short Story.

Lake County Press, Issue 905, 5 April 1900, Page 7

Short Story.

By an Indian Riven: a Sequel.

T‘,Y MK’IIAKL KENYON. Two in'!>pii* were sitting on the veranda of :>n Indian bungalow ; a tall man of about 40. handsome and bromv'd. and a girl about fifteen years younger, fair and delicately pretty. From within c:i me I lie distant sound of a piano and violin, and without, at the bottom ol tie* compound, was the ceaseless stub and whisper of the river. " The air feels almost like England today." said the man. “AYhen 1 stun my eyes I can fancy myself at home.' •• ! >i> you lone so much tor England? said the girl. looking up with a smile. •• it's ail so new to me, and so full of interest, that 1 don't want to go buck at

Ah. Miss Craham, if yon had been an exile for ten years, as I have, you d know what the longing is.” "Ton years!” said the girl synipaUiefteally. " Yes, I shall waul to go back long before that..” " 1 was only borne for a month then.” went on the man as if Ik' found it hard to leave tin* subject. “Twenty years of my life I ha ve spent in strange countries and among strange peoples, and now I’m yn.iing old and England is calling, calling to me louder and louder as tin* days go by. I’ve learnt what it is to he homesiek, Miss draham.”

" Then why not go home,” said the girl gently. “ Surely ” “ Why not ?” The man laughed a little bitterly. “You see I am reaping tin* rewards of a misspent youth. 1 got into serapes when I was at homo—l wasn’t worse titan other people, but I was a bit more reckless. 1 belong to a

•espectablc tf mily, you see, and it's part of llie contract that I don’t go back unless—i—'”

“ Unless—what?” asked the girl softly. “ Unless 1 marry, and take my wife back with mo.”

“ So it’s either slavery or exile,” said the girl, laughing. “ Don’t laugh, Miss Graham,” said the man earnestly. “ The truth is, I have never seen a woman I wished to make my wife, until ” “ Alison,” said a voice at the window, “ will you have a scarf ? There is quite a breeze, and your dress is very thin.” The man muttered something under his breath as the girl rose and turned to take the scarf. She stood at the window a few minutes, and odd words and phrases of talk, punctuated with laughter. came brokenly to the man's ears. “ There goes my chance,” he said Under his breath. Tie got. up and leant over the railing looking out over the river. When the girl came back to her seat lie turned towards her.

“ Do you mind if I smoke. Miss Graham ?” he said. “ Oh. no, I like it.” she answered, smiling. She leant back in her chair gathering the scarf round her, and looked up at him, still smiling, while he lit his cigar. “ Jessie has been telling me a most absurd story that George lias just brought homo,” she said. " The Colonel’s wife has got a new mirsegirl from England, and she has been causing great interest and excitement among the men. To-day two of them, each eon sidering himself the favoured swain, fell to quarrelling about her, and at last there was a regular stand up tight. In the end, when some one in authority had interfered and separated the bruised and gory combatants, the girl an nonneed her preference for another man who had been a peaceable specif tor of the light. George says no one was more surprised than the man himself, ami there were at least six other men Who considered they had One can't help jaugiiing. though it isn't a thing to he amused about, really. I think limy ought to send the girl straight hack to Engla ml.”

* 'li. < *«> nio. Miss (Ir:1 1 1:i in. p<>rl 1:11«s she did nut mea ii In do ;iii.v harm.” ’’X’o,” s;tid (lie irir! bitterly " Tin* people who tlirt never iiMin to do harm. 1 1 iolieve. hut licit dotes not make it :inv less ITIK'I.”

W onld yoi> -would you bo vcry down on a man that liirted V" •

“ t>h. it’s not really worse in a man than in a woman. It's heartless, and moan, and contemptilde on either side." “I>nf, Miss Graha.m." remonstrated tin l man, " it doesn’t follow always that flirting merits all the hard names yon trice it. Sometimes. I fancy, it may he a very innocent form of amusement."

"Ail. yon dun’t understand -yon don’t know,” said the girl earnestly. "Von arc too simple and too honourable your seif to guess what it may mean when its ‘innocent amusement’ on one side atm' not on the other. 'That game is so seldom played fairly on both sides. Perhaps 1 should have thought like yon but for something that happened when I was very .young. I can never forget —I can never think lightly of (lifting again ”

Tier voice stopped with a little quick catch of the breath ; the man looked at _ot with a face full-of sympathy and in I crest. Presently she went on again • “ ru fell yon. if yon like, it doesn't matter now who knows. I had a friend —my dearest friend, though she w#s some, years older than I. She died six xe.its ago, and I was with her much of <-'io time that she was ill. Thev called It all sorts of things, and no one knew out I that site died ef a broken heart. * suppose if was one of those cases of msKH’ont aimisomont !

Her people used to go every nummor to a little watering-place, where they had a cottage and a boat. One year then- was a young man there, handsome. clever, and attractive, and with some kind of halo of romance and heroism about him that made him spot ialiv Interesting. Mabel liked him from the firsi, and when lie began to devote h:m?eU' to her. as ho did alim#t at once there grew np an understanding between them that, in Mabel's eves, was equivalent to an engagement. ' Yon sec my tnend was quite incapable of Mirtng. .'ind i( never occurred to lier that an honourable man could me,an anythin"' 1)111 ~I;t t. Of course, in her eyes, tin's man was the embodiment of' honour nml courage. and every other virtue. : “ Mabel had said nothing to her people. There was no formal engage ment yon know, no ring, and Mabel wac j n sl 'V n ml sensitive girl. She dreaded | tin' publicity and tiie fuss of congratn j tions. She was not afraid of opposition. | her lover was a good enough parti, and wlm u as glad (hat no one should know l>! •* hi lie while, (hie day she awoke | t () Ibe fact Hi,at slie ongSt peril;ips to speak. Her lover load persuaded her to j intTl him by the river after dusk, and i they were to go for a row. .Mabel had I rattier relnetantiy consented to this plan, for her people were rather straight laced, ami site did not think they would like it. In fact, after first intending to tell her mother, as a mauer of course, a.s the dav wore on she toiind il more and more dillieuit to speak ot it. Shy worried herself (juite ill, tor she did not want to break her promise, ami site could see no way of keeping it. As luok i

would have it her people were going in next door for a quiet rubber after dinner. Mabel looked so wretched that Iter mother suggested she should stay at home ami go early to bed, and she gladly accepted tlio ex.vse. “ As soon as they were cone she put on a light wrap and ha- >d to the trystiiig place, determining as she went liiat she would ask her lover to speak to her people next day. The path by the river was a private footway, used by the residents and visitors by courtesy of the itwiij". 'The meeting-place was an old boathouse, about a mile and alialf away. When Mabel reached it she was hot and exhausted, for she had hurried, partly because she was a bttie late and partly from nervousness. Ah ■ heard the sound of oars out in the stream, and paused a moment to listen, thinking it was her lover’s boat, but it was going towards the harbour, and tlrsound soon died away. Site sat down on a log and waited. Presently footsteps coming along the path made her jump up in a fright. A terror of discovery suddenly came over her. She crept round the boathouse."gently pushed the door open, and stepped ins ie>. si that she was quite hidden by the shadow. The footsteps slopped close by, and .Mabel was in fear that lie. hiding place would he discovered. Presently she heard more footsteps, and then voices ; a parly of three or four girls had come out for an evening walk They did not pass the boathouse, however. and after a little while they turned and retraced their steps. Mabel waited until their voices died away ’n the distance and then followed them stealthily. Stic was cold and dizzy, but she did not dare to hurry lest she should overtake them. S’he got home witl nit having been seen by any one. and went straight to bed.

“ In tlu' morning she was very id. low fever the doctor said, and it was some days before she was able to see any one. At last, when she was yet I in" bettor, she learnt the truth. Her lover had yone away-had left the country the \ (aw night that ho had asked her to meet hnr., no one knew how or why. ‘ Called away on business,’ his people gave out, and nobody else had any explanation to otter, lint Mabel knew, for iu the '.rly days of her convalescence, when she was allowed to sit in an armchair on the veranda, or to have her hathchair pulled up among the bracken and heather on the headland, first one, and then another, of her own personal girl friends came and sebbod out Just sue]] another story of heartbreak aivd deception- And not a word of explanation or repentance did lie send to any one of them. Mabel kept her own counsel, and no one suspected (hat her Illness was an\ I hiny hut physical. She never yot really well again : they took her abroad to the Riviera, and all sorts of places, tint she never seemed to yet any s-ti ongor. At last she hogged them to take her home, and let her die in,peace, and the doctors said they might as well hd her have her way. So they took her hack to the little house at Se-aheld ” Scalield !” The half burnt eiyar dropped from the man’s nerveless lingers ns the word broke from him involnnta r i I v .

“ v, ’ s - yen know Sea field ?’’ asked t lie girl in surprise.

"Ami your friend was it Mabel ( aliusac.-” His face had gone very pale under I he tan.

“ Mabel Calmsac. yes. Oh ! Captain Aldenliam. did yon know Mabel V” "1 met her —once.” I Tod Ahlenha.m spoke with a great effort. “Miss Crahani. did yon hear— the name-- of the man ?’’

" \o." said Ihe girl sadly. “ Malm] would not tell me that And I don’t even know whether his people were visirors or residents in tin’ place, f am sorry, been use ! have so wished I could meet the man and sec him get Ihc punishment In* deserves. Hnr, von sec. 1 might meet him without ever knowing." “Dor which he may thank heaven.’’ said Ahlcnham fervently. “Von knew Seatiehi. and yon know Mabel !“ said the yirl softly and wondefinyly “How strange it all seems! The place has often been in my mind since 1 came here The river sounds like this, and the gardens slope down to its hanks ju-l like the compound here.’’ “ Ves." said Ahlcnham in a low tom'. “It was of Sea Meld I was thinking when 1 said the place reminded me of home. I like b> shut my r\V(“s. sometimes, and fi -ryot the palms and the tree ferns, and fancy that the wind is stirring in tin' oaks and beeches of the old gardon " “ I don’t wonder yon long for home.” said the girl geitiiy. "Sea field is such a lovely spot ! It must have been hard to come away." “Yes," said Ahlcnham, rising suddenly, “ When n man gets to my age the perspective of things begins to alter. When I was a youngster I wanted to sec life. I wattled to get as much fnn out of the old show as possible, and I was glad of the chance of getting out of the humdrum routine of I’nglish life, and of getting in touch with a yonnget, freer, more spontaneous growth of eivi-

lis.itdon. I tried every thing. Miss Graham. I’ve herded cattle on the prairie. I’ve washed for gold in an African river. And (in,ally, fate landed me here, in the midst of an English society, more conventional, more did!. non> corrupt than any I could find at home, in order that I might learn, 1 suppose, the value of the English '.’fe I had forfeited. I have learnt it, and I long for nothing better now titan a cosy house in my native place, with a few acres to farm, "ml a boat on flic river. I want to know, by brothers’and sisters’ children, and. before it\s too late, I want to see my mother.” There was silence for a few moments ; the girl was deeply moved, but she could think of nothing that was not trite and commonplace to say. The endless sweet song of the river beneath them seemed to lie mocking at the human passion it had stirred. “ Miss Graham.” said Aldenham. speaking with sudden resolve. “ I’ve done many things in my life that you would not lik;—that I don’t like my self : loit 1 believe no man can feel him self worthy of the woman ho asks to be his wife. Perhaps—there may be some tilings you would put against that on the other side. I don’t want to plead that : if there’s any hope for me it won’t bo because I deserve it. but because ” “Oh. please, don’t say anything more —l'm s0 sorry, so very, very sorry.” The girl had risen, and was standing before him with a face of utter bewilderment and consternation. “Oh. Captain Aldenham. I never knew, I never guessed Oh, I hope you didn’t think —” Xu. I had no right to think- anything.” said the man gravely and sadly. “ Miss Graham, if I wait—is there no hope for me V” The gild shook her head. “It would be no use," she said. “Miss Gnaham—will you 1 me—la there some one else V" Alison lifted he • head, and steadied her voice by an effort. “Yes, Captain Aldenham," she said, “ there is—some one else." She held out her hand to him in farewell, and he took it a moment later between both bis own. “ Then, good-bye,” he said. “ Good-bye,” eaid Alison .gently ; then

she turned, and went swiftly tn the window.

Fred Aldenham stood a moment listening to the wasli of the river. Then ho drew a cigar from his case, and cut the end off slowly and deliberately. “ Poor Mabel,” he said as he lighten it. " after all. she has her rarenge.”-* From " Woman.”