THE OASIS OE LOVE.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXIV, Issue 13878, 12 October 1905, Page 2

THE OASIS OE LOVE.

(By H. PARK BOWDEN.) Author of “ A Pearl of the Pacific/' “ Old Snap-Shot,” “ A Double Game,” “ A Friendly Fraud,” etc. “ Ah, I thought it was you, Miss ELsmero. I was coming to see Buckland. He is at home, I suppose?” The speaker was a stout, elderly man, whose clean-shaven and florid round face was eloquent of good humour and good living. The lady addressed was quite young, barely twenty; but her beauty was of the rich, dark type that matures early, so that she appeared less a girl than a woman. “ Yes, he would insist on my leaving earlier; he said everyone ought to be out and abroad such a delicious evening. But for all that, he would not hear of my taking him for a stroll first. I am glad you are going there, for he is very depressed.” Her voice, with its delicate inflection; was as full of charm as her mobile face. “ I must try to enliven him with a bit of club chatter!” he said, with cheery confidence, as lie lifted his hat and passed on. “I never pitied him for his loss of sight so much as I do now,” he thought a minute later, as he paused and looked back at her figure, one of noble development and imperial carriage. Bestirring himself, he set to mounting the rugged bridle-path that led up under dark masses of Indian oak and deodar cedar to a wide grassy plateau where stood one of the prettiest bungalows in Simla. Under the verandah a man was slowly pacing to and fro. His clothes hung loosely about his gaunt figure, which was bowed at the shoulders, but not with the weight of years, for they could not have numbered two score. His face, pale and wasted, wore a look that showed the natural energy of the man was now a suppressed and consuming fire. “How do, Buckland? I’m going to give you a drubbing!” said his visitor, rather out of breath with his recent climb.

“All right; drub away!” replied Allan Buckland, a smile transfiguring the face he turned towards his friend, a retired merchant of Calcutta, who, since he was a widely-travelled man of quick observation and retentive memory, was a capital companion. “What do you mean by staying cooped up hero when you might be walking the breezy uplands?” he .demanded. “I met Miss Elsmere just now, and she said she could not persuade you to come out. The idea, of it, a lovely evening and a lovely girl, and both ignored!” And slipping his arm within Buckland’s, he gave him a friendly shake. At the mention of the girl a dark flush passed over the blind man’s face, and he set his jaws like one mastering a pain. “Just so, a harmony of loveliness I was loath to jar upon,” he answered quietly. “ Pshaw! The most perfect harmony in Nature is man and woman. Must be, since they were made for each other. ‘lt is not good for man to be alone’—that’s why I pestered you to get an amanuensis of the gentle sox!”

“ I wish to heaven you never had'!” exclaimed the younger man, with such passionate force that Edmund Lawson felt more concern than chagrin. “Why, what’s wrong, man? I thought you found my idea work out capitally!” “So it does in one way, but instead of being content with her in that capacity, I have beeii enough to crave for the impossible.” “Why impossible? Why shouldn’t you take a wife to yourself?” asked Lawson, easily guessing the purport of the other’s outburst. “She is just the woman to delight in being a helpmate, indeed; and unless I am much mistaken, she is already' more than a little attached to you.” “ Heaven forbid !” ejaculated Buckland, with startling vehemence. “My good follow, why so tragic?” , “ Because I have a wife already!” Lawson emitted a long, low whistle. “ That puts a different face on matters, certainly.” • “ Yes, you see before you a weak fool, who hasn’t had the moral pluck to take the step he should have. For days I have felt that she is all in all to me, but I never dreamt that I could be anything to her. Surely you are mistaken?” “Possibly. Yes, very likely rue wish was father to the thought, for I ‘must 1 admit I had more than a literary partner in my mind when I brought you together. I was all in the dark, you see.” t “ Yes, I wish I had told you, but it happened long before I knew you—four years ago, when I was looking after the laying of a line in a miserable Rajput State. There were 'hot more than half-a-dozen white men within a radius of fifty miles, the rest were all coolies, camel-breeders and native riffraff. One of the half-dozen was the Deputy-Commissioner, George Ellis, and the friendship we formed l was as a rock of refuge. But we’ll sit down, and you had better light a weed, it’s rather a long story.” As soon as they were seated ho continued -

“ On my going to Ellis one evening he told me that his daughter had left her school in Delhi, and was going to join him. She would travel with her ayah, under the care of an English missionary, who, with his wife, was crossing the desert by caravan to the mission station at Ajimeer. Poor Ellis, when she arrived ho was delirious with fever, and for two days he didn’t know that she was at his bedside._ He had spoken of her to me as his ‘ little Faith,’ so I was surprised to see a tall, superbly-built girl, with great dark eyes—the eyes of one more given to thought than to speech; indeed, I seldom heard her speak. “ On the third day I found him conscious, fiat sinking fast, and the dread in his eyes held me dumb. But the dread was not for himself, his first words told me that - “ ‘ Buckland, what have I brought her to? I thought she was a child, and you see—she is a maid any man might covet, and in a few days she will he alone and unprotected in this Godforsaken land!’ “ I knew at onoe what lay behind that cry—knew that it Was in my power to lift the load from his heart. So I told him that if we could gain her consent I would gladly make her my wife. He wrung my hand, and said she would never set herself against his dying wish; he did not doubt that I should soon win her affections. I knew that he had once taken holy orders, so I was not taken aback when he expressed a desire to make us man and wife without delay. “I declared my readiness, but when I uttered my misgivings as to her own inclination, he shook his head with a confident smile and asked me to send her to him. I did so. After a while I was summoned to the bedside; Faith was standing there, her hand in her father’s, her face white and set. When her eyes met mine, gravely and coldly, I knew that she had consented to ease his last minutes but at the cost of her own feelings. Then he placed her hand in mine, and I felt a tremor run through it that made me think of a

bird fluttering in the snaro. So I asked her straight, and perhaps a trifle brusquely, was she willing to become my wife? She flushed deeply and looked at her father. His hollow eyes met hers with burning anxiety. ‘Do this, and I die in. peace!’ he cried. She turned to mo and X could just catch her simple ‘ I am.’ “ ‘ It is well. Honour and happiness shall "fee yours, my children!’ declared poor Ellis, looking like an inspired Erophet. Then, rallying his vital forces, e spoke the words that made us one. And no vows made before an altar were more sincere than those I made at that death-bed. After that he sank rapidly, passing away at dawn the next day. Then the poor girl I oould hardly realise was my wife abandoned herself to grief. I strove to comfort her, but she begged me to leave her alone with her sorrow.

“My poor old friend was buried at sunset, and I read the service over him as best my feelings would allow, for every sob that broke from her shook my heart. When all was over she laid on the' grave a cross she had iroven of twigs and leaves, for flowers there were none. As she rose from her knees, stumbling and blinded with her tears, I made to put my arm around her, but her ayah forestalling mo, clasped her mistress to her withered old breast, and’ half led, half carried her to the bungalow. I never saw her again, for during the hours of darkness, while I abstained from intruding on her grief, she and the old women secretly departed, leaving me a few lines thanking me for all I. had done on her * a ij l,S and saying that she could never endure a union where pity took the place of love. So henceforth our paths must lie apart. You know those lines about being wroth with one you love, and the madness it works in the brain. I can vouch for their truth. But after all I liad only myself to blame. If I hadn t been fool enough to conceal the passion I thought might distress her, sho would have known there was no lack of love on my side. As it was, she must have felt more like a bondswoman than a bride.

We had only the "marks of the camels to guide us, and these were soon obliterated by an accursed sandstorm. To make matters still worse, my camel, a vicious beast, suddenly dropped on his knees, pitching mo forward. My head struck a sharp edge of rook, and I knew no more. When my senses returned to me I found myself lying, limp as a rag, in my own tent, and I learnt from Umsa, my man, that I had lain there four days; an awful waste of precious time. And all I oould do in my helpless state was to despatch natives in all directions' One 1 sent to Ajimeer; for I thought that she might have set out for that place, with the intention of joining the missionary and his wife.

“ After a weary lapse of days, man after man 'returned, only to report failure; my wife and her woman had disappeared as completely as though the sands bad swallowed them. “ The desert life became more intolerable than ever after that. I had thought that the lean years were over, that all the fulness of life and love were to be mine, and instead—Allah, I wonder the stark, staring loneliness of it didn’t drive, me mad! But even wheil my work in those parts was done and I was free to go, the possiblity of her return chained me to the place. Then the demon of blindness began to threaten Aio, but I still held on. But hope failed with my eight, and at last I Went off to Delhi, to consult an oculist. It was too late, he could doi nothing for me, and I became a thing to be commiserated—a blind, helpless log.” His voice died into silence, and hie chin sunk on his breast. As ho looked bn the worn, dejected face, Lawson pulled savagely at his beard. “ I might have known a plaguey woman was at the bottom of all your trouble! You’ve sacrificed your sight, and all that it means, to her, and now you’re going to sacrifice a woman that’s really worth the name. It’s precious hard lines on you, old fellow!” And, leaning forward, he laid hie hand on the other’s shoulder. Buckland shook hie head wearily. “I wouldn’t mind if the hardness of it fell oh me only, but if she does care —and since you said that, it has been bearing in on me that she does. At any rate, her every word and action have evinced that ‘ courtesy of the heart ’ that Goethe calls akin to love. And now 1 must appear an ungrateful brute, and part with her without a word of explanation.” He pressed his hand to Ins head, and Lawson oould see that both were trembling; the tempest within him Was literally shaking the poor fellow. “If he does this thing, it will kill him,” he thought; watching him ;from under knotted brows. After a minute’s silent reflection, his troubled gaze brightened. “ I say, Buckland, if I were you, I should tell her all—and in a way that couldn’t offend her!” “How?” ), “ She writes your letters. Dictate one to an imaginary friend, telling liim—in reality herself—just what you have told me. To give colour to it, you might ask him to have fresh inquiries made with regard to your wife, as it is of vital consequence to you to know whether she is alive or dead. Sho, Mias Elsmere, would know then exactly how you are situated, and oould follow her own inclination as to continuing or ending her vocation hero.” A look of supreme relief passed over the face turned towards him. “ Yes, I will do that—to-morrow! Thank you, Lawson. Anything is better than the blankness of parting without an explanation.” And, feeling tor his friend’s hand, he pressed it tightly; while Lawson figuratively patted himself on the back. He had seen enough of Mies Elsmere to know that she was a woman of deep passions. And if, as he felt sure, she loved the helpless man, she would never desert him; sho would consider him before-herself even to the extent of risking all, and taking the place of one who might, or might not, be dead. “Yets, I believe I’ve put a stop to that parting business. By Jove, his last state would have been worse than his first!” he thought, his mind reverting to the time, two years before, when ho had first met Allan Buckland. It was in Delhi; where the afflicted man was fretting his life away in a couple of ill-ventilated rooms over a cafe in the Chandee Chouk. Knowing that the poor fellow wouldn’t be the same after a few months of bracing air, Lawson, who was just about to spend the hot months on the hills, here_ in Simla, prevailed on him to join him. True to his expectations', the glorioua air, cool from the snowy regions, and

balmy with the odour of the pine forc&ts, put new Ilf© into the jaded man. And instead of returning to the stifling city ho bought a btmgalow, and here, attended by his trusty Umsa,he took a more wholesome view of life. _ It was, at least, free from pecuniary anxieties; for several years before, he had inherited a fortune, which, though small, was more than sufficient for his simple wants. His conversations with Lawson had disclosed to the latter how varied were his experiences, and how able .his descriptive powers. So he had suggested to Buckland the advisability of his engaging an amanuensis, and perpetuating hie memories. After a few scruples he had advertised for such. Two' ladies quickly responded; but the harsh tones of one, and the creaking shoes of the other, had almost made him forswear the idea. Then cam© Miss ELsmere, with a voice “ like a hand laid softly on the soul,” and he laad blessed Lawson for his happy thought I

The morning breeze, criep and spicy, fanned Buckland’e selling forehead, as he sat in his favourite chair under the verandah. He had passed a sleepless night ; his mind bound and almost broken, on the wheel of thought—the forecast of the letter he was to dictate. And now he was waiting, listening for the footsteps of the woAian whose presence was to him as water to 3 parched land. Would the day ever come when he would listen for that step, only to writhe under a silence that was as a blindness of the soul. He tried to shake the fear from him, and for reason’s sake, compelled himself to take note of trivial outward ; ngs. Perceiving the scent of the lemon-grass, ho set to picturing vast hillslopcs covered with the long grass, bending to the breeze; its constant motion appearing as a creeping, silvery mist. But all the time that he was trying to fix his thoughts on the rustle and scent of herbage, his senses wore keenly on the alert for the rustle and scent of sweet femininity! His imagination , had invested her with, a beauty fair and bright, befitting her pure, ardent spirit. The delicate insight it had revealed now made him acutely uneasy. What if she should divine that the letter was an artifice to warn yet spare her feelings? He flushed hotly, and starting to his feet made an incautious movement, tnat brought him in contact with the table at which she was accustomed to sit r and write down his “ Indian Sketches.” His hand touched the blotting-pad, and for a minute he lot it linger there—where hers had so often rested. Then, extending his “ feelers,” as he grimly termed them, he laid hold of her chair, more sacred to him than any episcopal throne! The sound of a light footstep behind him mad© him release his grasp and turn round. “ Oh—you are ill, Mr Buokland!” she exclaimed, her ©yes filling with alarm at the sight of his haggard face. He muttered something about a bad night—a letter on his mind. “Then it will be bettor on paper than there,” she said, shaking hands with him, and noticing with renewed concern how feverish was his touch. Throwing her hat on a bench, she took her seat at the table,l and, having dated a' sheet of notepaper, she waited for him to begin. After, a minute’s pause h© did so; but in a hurried and nervous manner, quit© unlike his usual collected quietness, ,

“ Dear Norris, —A blind man is generally a beggar, and I am going to sustain the reputation of the fraternity by begging a favour of you. But before 1 can explain its nature 1 must trouble you with, a chapter out of my life. It dates back four years, the time when I was laying a line in that wretched Rajput State.” He could not eee the startled look she raised to his face, nor the agitation that marked her own when he went on to speak of the comradeship that had existed between George Ellis and himself: and of the fatal illness that had struck down the former, making the meeting with his daughter such a sorrowful ordeal. Then came the dying request, and bright spots of colour began to break up her deadly pallor. Raising her hand to her throat sho loosened the collar. A more hasty marriage was never performed, but I swore to myself that she should never repent it if honest love held any power. My old friend was laid to rest at sunset. That same night she betrayed the, confidence of the dead and the living, and secretly departed with her woman. Perhaps the jealous old hag managed to poison her mind, or perhaps no outside influence was needed to make her hate me.” “ No, no, not that!” she cried, dropping the pen and clasping her hands. “You spoke P—l beg your pardon,” he said, turning towards- her, for he had been sitting with averted face. “A little slower, please; you were dictating so fast,” she substituted, with a catch in her voice. “ Ah, yes, excuse me. I should have more consideration,” he said, and he

would indeed have felt the necessity for such could he have seen her face; the face of on© under the knife, ©very nerve and fibre quivering, writhing, agonised. Taking up her pen she awaited the next sentence.

“ I had scarcely begun my search wuen & sand storm swept over the country,- and when I thought of her exposed to its blinding fury I feared she was lost to me for ever. Those shifting sand-hills have been the destruction of many a man and beast. In the midst of it my camel played me a vicious trick, plumped down on his knees, and I was pitched forward. My head struck an outcrop of rook, and but for Umsa, my man, my bones would have bleached in the desert, and better that, perhaps, than aching with useless desires. Work is the salt of life, as* love is its sweetness. I had rejoiced in the one, and had thought to rejoice in the other. But both were struck from me.” As the bitter words broke from him, her bosom heaved convulsively, and her ©yes filled with tears—tears that blistered like scalding drops. After a pause he went on: “ My senses returned after four days, and then I had inquiries made for her in every .direction; but they all ended in the one blank fact—she was gone. All my past hopes were as a mirage. I was alone with the mockery of the Past, and the torments of the Present. Not the least of them was the fear of blindness, for since the injury to my head my sight had been playing me false. Reason urged me to seek an oculist in the nearest city, but there was a chance of my wife returning, and on that chance I remained. When at length I consulted the oculist, his verdict was as a sentence of death—with a reprieve of six months. He was right; at the end of that time the curtain fell, and life was practically over for me.” He had hot noticed that the sound of her pen had ceased; but now sob upon sob from the woman at his side made him start to his feet, his features working, his hands- outstretched. “Don’t—it hurts,” he said, touching her bowed head. At the touch she sprang up, and, throwing her arms round his neck, pressed her quivering face to his breast.

He strained her to him, while a floodtide of joy uplifted his heart. Care for him? This was love supreme, deep calling unto deep. But only for on© minute did he abandon himself to that wild, eddying torrent. Drawing his breath sharply he loosened his arms. But hers still clung to him. “Don’t,” he repeated in a hoarse! whisper, 1 ' I am only a man—and ‘you the one woman in the world for me!” Then she lifted her head-—but only to kiss him full on the lips. “Tell me,” she said, impetuously, “Did— • do you hate her, the wretched girl who brought this awful blindness on you?” “I think of her as of one who is. dead,” he answered, in a lowered voice. “No, not dead, but living, loving and craving your love, your forgiveness I Allan—husband, say it is mine I” “ You —Faith, my wife?” He staggered, and put his hand to his forehead. . _ - “Yes, I am that miserable girl. I left you fearing I should be a drag and a burden on you. You were cold and distant, I was little more than a child. How could I understand? A fond word, a caress, would have prevented all.” Her arms had dropped from his neck, and she stood a pace from him, watching his face with the ©yes of one making a last desperate stake. As she looked, the bewildered expression passed from it like a cloud, and'the light of a great hope rested there. In spirit he saw the fairest oasis rising in the desert of his blindness. “ Did you love me when you came to me, or was it pity only that brought . you?” he asked, under his breath. “Allan, I have loved you since the moment when wo clasped hands by my father’s bedside. But I thought you were making me your wife only out of pity, and that turned my love into one great smart. It never left me till the day when I read your advertisement, and then—oh, my husband, those were bitter tears that washed away my selfish grievance. But I was spared the anguish of knowing your blindneso was all through me—had I known that, my courage would have failed me, for I hoped to creep into your heart befor® I told you ” “And I have been trying to harden it against you—ho stifle its cry; for my darling, it has been crying out for you day and night I But now ” Stepping forward be caught her to his breast, and their lips met with one . impulse. ■