Our Novelettes.

Mataura Ensign, Volume 15, Issue 1192, 10 June 1892, Page 3

Our Novelettes.

"DARLING!" She did not answer for a while. 'I don't know, Milly,' she said at la9t in a low tone. ' If you love him, dear, don't give him up. They have no right to ask such a sacrifice of you! ' 'Tlry have a right to ask anything. But Stephen nsks nothin?,* he leaves it to ma to help or not to help.' ' Ho implied that it w.ib your duty to give vp — even love.' ' He implied what wns trie ! ' ' It was ungenerous of him.' 'It wa* just, Miily.' 'My dear, I hate such justice.' 'Stephen is good, Milly. No one approciates his goodness because he is outwardly so cold and hard.' ' I like my goodness to havo a little more of tho milk of human kindness mixed with it. I think Stephen's coldness and hardness penetrate a little dcepor than tho surface, Darling. I should lifco your couain to fall in love. A strong emotion would surprise him ? ' •Oh, I don't wi9h him to fall in love!' cried Darling. 'Why not? It would.be the making of him!' 'You don'b think how he wonH suffer, Milly ! With go many people dependent upon him, ho could not form new ties. He would think it his duty So crush out love as he h-»s crushed out ambition. He seems har.l, Milly — and he is hard. But one has to romombor what his life has been ; all that ho has cared for he ban turned his back upon. H* h«s livod a life of self-repression, of absolute self-denial— — ' 'Ho is a s*int and mirlyr, Darling — I admit it.' The girl draw herself away from me with a little gosturo of impatience. 'Don't laugh at him!' she cried sharply. ' We neither of us understand him ! ' Chapter IV. 'Prurience! ' There was no answer. The April sunshine was streaming in through the dusty window, the fire was burning brightly in tho grate, and in tho oppressive atmosphere of aunt Lavinia's room Darling hud dropped asloep. ' Prudence ! ' The voico from t!io bed was sharper, more impatient than befova. I came forward hastily from the doorway. ' Hush ! ' I cried aoftly, in a tone of authority. 'She is tired out. — let her sleep.' Aunt Lavinia was nob an easy invalid to serve. She was ex-ictiru, blurp-tongned, querulous. She did not spare her nurses, and ahe mado their hard work a? bitter for them as she could. She lookoJ aside at me with a quick, keen, frowning glance. She was a woman of fifty, sharp-featured, thin-lipped ; her thin, pale face showed no marYs of kindliness, her palebluo eyes looked keenly about her for faults. 1 Mrs Lee,' I continued, standing beside her, anxious to be gentle, but still more anxious to be firm, ' we must be careful of Prudence. You must let me do whit I can for you, for she's not strong, and sho'n a lifct'o overdone' ' Pampered ! ' exclaimed aunt Lavinia, scornfully. • You forget that her work every night is fatiguing.' ' Play-acting is not work 1 ' 'We should think it very arduous work if we had to do do it,' I returned forbe-iringly. Aunt Lavinia sighed ; she was too evidently exercising pationea and forbearauye. 'I should like her to haro to work as Stephen works ! I shou'd like her to have my work to do, to mako and to mend for a family of growing childron ! Then she might talk of futiguo.' Darling moved, opened her eyes, looked round her for a moment in a tired, bewildered way, then ro?o with a little start. • I cannot think how I came to fall asleep ! ' she said in hasty apology. 'It is well to be a young lady of leisure ! ' observed aunt Lwinia. ' You can enjoj luxurious habits which your poor ciusina can't afford.' ' Would you like me to rpad to you aunt ? ' 'Yes. Stephen took tho Look into the sitting-room, you can go and find it.' Dtrling went obediently. ' Mrs Lee, Darling is looking very tired,' I interposed ; ' let me read to you.' ' Thank you, but she cannot possibly be too tired to read to me. It is good for her to exercise a little self-denial.' Prudence returned, book in hand. 'We were at the fifty-second page,' said her aunt. 'It is two o'clock — you can read until four ; by that time Stephen will have returned. Poor Stephen ! Holidays are not holidays to him : he cannot afford to spend his days dozing in ea*y chairs. Even now in his Easter vacation, he is toiling day and night at this book of his ; while you have been sleeping at the fire he haa been hard at work at the British Museum.' I left Darling bending over the book in her l«p, and went away reluctantly. Two hours later when T descended again to aunt Lavinia's room, Darling was reading still. But her voice was tired ; there was something of weariness in her attitude. Steohen was standing by the fire, his elbow on the mantelpiece, his head against his hand. He moved in his grave firm way and came towards her chair. 'Give me the book, Prudence,' he said quietly. ' I wish her to finish tho chapter, Stephen,' said the querulous voice from the bed. ( ' I will finish it, 1 he observed. ' 'No, no — you are tired. Prudence has been doing nothing all day.' ' I would rafcher finish it,' urged the girl, with a quiet upward glance at him.'] '

He stood beside her chair. His silent presence seemed to affect her with strange nervoumoßS ; her voioa was leas sweet, less perfectly modulated than usual; her oolour grew brighter and brighter as she went on leading. But read as badly as she could, Darling was bound to read olearly, intelligently, delightfully. She stopped at the end of the chapter and closed the book. She looked up at Stephen, laughing to hide hor unreasonable confusion •"praise vac,' she commanded. • Say I read well.' 1 Yes, you read well ; but in somewhat too theatrical a mannei.' ' Stephen, you never praise me ! ' she returned. She smiled again in a merry way, and, as he met her clour full glance, his own eyes smiled too— slightly, very slightly, but pleasantly. She rose, her face a little flmhed, and went away with the book into the sittingToom. I remained down-stairs some time longer. Ab T nscended to our own rooms two eager faces looked out from the kitchen. Just within the kitohen doorway stood Bee and Plorrie. Florrie put her fing-r on her lip to enjoin silence ; Bee beckoned in a mysterious wny. • What is it ? ' I nsked. 1 Hush ! ' thoy cried together ; and they drew me into the kitchen and closed the door. • He's proposing,' said 800, in a lowered, excited voice. ' George Drewry is in the sitling-room with Darling!' Florrie exclaimed. 'And Bee thought she heard ' ' I didn't ' think ' I heard— l did hear, interrupted Bee indig-antly. 'The door was njar, and I had just come in from a walk. Florrie had stopped a minute to buy new ribbon for our summer hats ; and I hid come in alone. I wus just going to hcinre into the Bitting-rooin when I heard George Drowry's voicp.' ' But you didn't hear any words,' objected Florrie. ' I hoard tones ! ' replied Beo grandly. cDo you think I don't know the tone in which a proposal is made? ' ' Have you bad so much experience, Bee ? ' I B'iid, laughing. Beo looked dignified. •Experience!' she cried. 'One haa an instinct about such things.' The girls sat on the kitchen table and listened eagerly for the first sound of steps upon the landing. ' Is she refusing or ascepting him, I w nder ? ' sighed Florrie. • Accepting him— or he would be gone by now,' replied Bee, with a decision born ot ' instinct.' 'Sho has been stiff wilh him lately,' demurred Florrio. C Bho has refused almost nil invitations of tho Drewrya, and ' ' Girls aro always like that,' declared Bee. 'That manna nothing. Hush ! ' ' Hush ! ' echoed Florrie. Th'-ro wai a movemotit in tho ndjoinin? room j a firm step crossed tho floor, passed nlon* tho landing, and wont down the stairs. The girls flew to the door and opened it. Darling, ns they appeared, was coming out of thesitting-romi. She was turning to go up-sUirs. The girls ran out and stopped her. They stood holding her hand*, and looking fixedly, inquiringly into her fnce. It was very pale, bub sho tried to meet the inquiring glances calmly, brightly, carelessly, aB though nothing in the world h<xd happened. ' Darling, you'vo refused him ! ' cried Bee. ' Oh, hush ! ' returned Darling hastily, in a low, warning; tone, looking anxiously in the direction in which her lover had disappeared. ' But, Darlin 5, why have you refused him ? ' BXol'iiraed Florrie in diamay. " How do you know he hns asked mo ? ' returned Doling airily, with a little smile moint to be misleading. ' I couldn't, holp it,' 800 apologised ; ' I cyme up the stairs — and I hoard him talking.' D'jrlin? mado no further effort to appear light-hearted tmd at oixbc. ' Girls,' she said gravely, looking at them wif.h n cloar, quiet, but entreating glanco, ' I can't talk to you nbout this ; don't, ask me any qufs'ions. I have refused him; I was obliged to refuio him ; don't talk about, it, any more.' She drow her hands from theirs and turned away. We watched her as she ran up the garret stairs— a slim, graceful figure, shabbily nttired. Then, with a heivy heart, I followed the girla into the sitting-room. ' So she didn't love him after all,' sighed Beo dnappointadly. I sat. thinking. Did she love him, or did she not ? I wi-ihod I could solve the question. An hour passed, but Darling did not reappear. Bee made tea. We waited, but Darling did not ome. ' I'll run up and c*ll her,' s^i 1 Bee, cheerily. But I intervened, and Darling was left in penco. B»e put the teapot on the hob to keep warm, and Florrie ran ont, and brought in some ham, and busied hersolf in making crisp tonsf, in cloaring away all traces of our meal, and in Inying in a sumptuous feast for ono. While these preparations were being mads, a steady step came up tho Btairs, and some one tapped at our sitting-room door. Wewero|all in the kitchens the sitting-' room was deserted. Beo and Florrie pausod in their occupations and looked questiongly at one anothor, thon at me. ' George Drewry come to propose to ono of us instead,' s»id Bee. 'Darling's couein,' suggested Florrie, with an odd little smile. I want to the door. Tho girls were laughing behiud me. Florrio's guess waa right. Stephen was standing on the landing ; he turned us I a Idressed him. ' Has Prudence gone yet ? ' ho aakiid. 'No; it w not time yet for her to go,' I replied. Florrie, port, pretny, entirely unabashed by the tall, sorima. young mm who never smiled at her, cime to the doorway and linked her hands around his arm. ' What an ignoramus you ar« Mr Lee ! Do you imagine that actresses are due at the theatre at six o'clock in the evening ? ' ' I know very li'tle about the theatre.' 'I wouldn't confess that if I were you,' said Bee insinuatingly, coming to my other side, and facinat him with merry eje*. ' Why no' ? ' he questioned, with faint amusement. ' Oh, I don't know. It sounds so priggish -so silly!' ' Do you want your cousin ? ' I interposed. ' My mothor wants to see Prudence before she goes, that's all,' ho replied. There w.v a luht step orerhead. We all looked towards the stair*. Down the dim staircase came Darling, her hand on tho rail. There waß something very weary in her step or attitude, or both. Even Stephen noticed it ; somehow, although he raid nothing, I was conscious that he noticed it. • Poor little Darling ! Tired ? ' cried Bee. ' No.' Darling's voice was very brisk and reassuring; she ran down the rest of the stairs, shaking her pretty hair into little loose waves and tendrils, as though tho sweet disorder would blind our eyes to her pale face. ' We have a lovoly tea for you ! ' exclaimed Florrie. Darling smiled, very brightly, but a little absently. Then she looked up with a questioning glance at Stephen. 'My mother wanta to see you,' he flaid. 'But thera is no hurry.' ' None at all ! ' declared Bee, emphatically, and drew Darling into the kitchen to the sumptuous fare awaiting her. To ray surprise, Stephen entered too. He seemed gravely doubtful as to whether he should stay or go ; Florrie settled the question for him. 1 You can take that chair,' she said with gracious patronage. 'It's rickety, but it's safe enough. Beach down another cup and suucsr from the dresser, Bee.' Bee obeyed. ' Milk and sugar, Mr Lee ? ' interrogated Florrie, with an air of .business. 1 ' Oh, no tea for me, thank you, Miss — Mis 3 ' Munro,' Bee put in. 'Do you mea 1 to say that you've been three days in the house and don't know our name yet ? '

'I had tea, thank you, some time sine*,' explained Stephen. 1 Stuck-up-ness ! ' observed Bee, with decision.' Stephen glancad nsi.le at her, with a wondering, amused expression. ' Stuck-up-ness ? ' he repeated. ' Oh, I don't supposo tho word is classical ! ' responded Bee, lo inking in an easy but ungraceful attitude against the dresser. 'It's intelligible— whic\ is better, Whan pjople won't stoop to lake tea in a kitchen, stuck-up-neßS is t^e only worJ for if.' ' Stephen lojked amuied a^ain, and accepted witu a half-smile tho cup that Florria pushed across the table to him. 'Darling, you're not oa'ing!' cried JBee accusingly. 'Indeed I am,' replied Dirling, with a truthful air, an 1 an uttjr disregard for truth. More than once I saw Stoohen glanoi observantly and gravely towards her. She played with tho (oast onhor plate, she talked to the girls in a gay and spirited tone that had a weary note in it ; she lnu^heJ, but her laughter had not Die light-hearted ring that it was wont to have. • We've boen buyins new ribbon for our summer hats,' observed Florrie. IWe oueht to trim our hat 9, Mo, before the daylight goes,' d^oided Bee. And the tw> girls disappeared together. Stephen's free grew a u (t : c g rayer w jj en they were gone. He leant bio elbow on the deal table and his forehead against. hiß folded hind, and sa* looking searchingly at bis : cousin for many moments. Her face flushed, as it often did beneath his glance ; she made an effort to conquer her embarrassment. She pushed back her hair with a restless, careless gesture ; then, in a would-be easy, darine tone, she broke the silence. • Stephen, what are you going to say to me thnt is disapproving?' aho askerl, with a quick glance and smile, but blushing as she asked her question. ' I don't understand.' 'If you want to scold mo, scold me quickly and let's have it over.' ' Do I want to scold you ? ' • You very often do. You have your scolding expression now.' He was silent for a moment. He looked away from her, musingly, gravely ; then he gl.nced again at, the delicate, sensitive, pretty face. ' You are tired,' he said quietly. Tbo tone was concerned but stern. His brows contracted in a little frown. 1 Why deny what ia so *e!f-evident a faot P ' ho returner!. 'I am not tired — not very.' 'V >v are pale. You have beon shedding tears. Why P ' Tho pretty facfl before him ciuld no loncer be accused of paleness, it was brightest crimson ; the frank, clear gray eye 9 locked down. ' Why have you beon crying, Prudence ? ' ' One cries eometimes for nothing — for foolishness. 1 You will not tell me, thun ? ' ' Why should I tell you?' She looked up at him with a little anger in her glance j then her eyes droppod ngain. Stephen remained thoughtful for a while. Then, once moro ho turned to his cousin. 1 Prurience-,' ho said quietly, ' you must not let my mother overwork you, overtax you. Invalids arc apt, perhaps, to be inconsiderate of their nurses.' 'There is no'bing the matter with me, Stephen,' she returned in a graver, gentler tone. ' You are less gay and merry than you used to be.' ' But you used to complain that I was gi Idy,' she 8-»id, smiling. ' Y-yos,' he admitted, smiling too, roluctantly. ' Giddiness is a fault, Stephen.' * I would rather aoe you giddy than weary,' he ret.urnod. ' That is kino" of you,' she rejoined. But immediately ws though he repented of his gontlenenß, ho spoilt, his liißb speech. His tone was hard and business-like, as ho rose. 1 It ia necessary that, you and T should be careful of our health,' he obsorvod. 'So much depends upon us.' A strange exp r ession flitted across Darling's face. It wa9 gone almost boforo I had caught it. She too ros> from tho table. ' Yes. Wo ought to bo oaroful,' she agreed simply, checking a sigh. ' But I ara vary strong.' ' I'm not quite sure of tint.' ' You may be,' she returned in the sime serious, quiet, bu»ino3-Hko tone. 'There is not tho least chmce of my bro»Hnuf down. There is no cause to fe.il cmcorned about mv. I am ready now to go to aunt Lavism.' She moved towards tho door, and he followed her from the room. Chapter V. The Easter holidays wera drawing to a close ; a few days moro nnd Stephen Leo would have retu^ne'l to Rockminster. Aunt Lavinia was bolter — well enough to be moved every day from her bedroo*n to the sitting-room adjoining. But Darling's duties did not lighten. Every day the tasks laid upon her Beomed to i?row more numerous, more burdensome. Every one was ready, nay eager, to lighten Darling's duties, but aunt Lavinia refused to allow others to do whit her neice oould do. It was a warm April morning, ani Aunt Lavinia, propped up against ou»hion3 in an easy-chair near tho fire, sat screening her face wifh a fan from th«. bright blaze. I aafc beaids her with my se *?ing. Half-a-dozen times within as many minutos she hal asked peevishly and pettishly when Prudence was coming. 'She has gone to rehjaMal,' I replied. 'They are rohe-irsing for the ne* comedioita.' ' It is time she was back.' * I hooe she has gone fora walk — the morning is so fine. 1 * She cannot ba spared to go for walks j she ought to know.' 'But sho an be spired. She has not been needed this morning ; Grace and I have been with you, and have b.en delighted to take her plice.' ' She is too glad to cast her duties upon other people ! Ah 1 here she is at las*. Where have you been, Pc ud-nce ? ' 'At rehearsal,' replied the gi-1, very gently. ' And since ? ' ' Nowhere. I ha»e come straight 1 home. Wo were late in ba^inniaa; this morning, and therefore a little late in finishing.' ' Of coursoyou are entirely oblivi >us of the fact that I have beea left for hours at the meroy of strangors.' ' Mrs Le»lie is not a stranger, nunt.' ' Mrs Leslie is very good. That is no reason why you should take advantage of hor gennroiifcy. But you consider yoursilf nnd your own pleasure ! The happiness of other people is conveniently ignored ! ' 1 Aunt Lavinia, lam sorry lam late. You must bolieve me when I say that I could not help it.' ' We know that you are glib in the art of «elf-excu*e, Prudence. Like your f\fcher! He ruined us, arid no doubt be was ' very sorry ' — indeed he ' could not help it.' The girl was standing upright, a Hi tie behind her aunt, her face very sad, hor hands tightly locked together. 'And my poor children have to suffer I' wailed aunt Lavinia bitterly. 'It is very hard — I know. Oh, you don't know how I think about it ! ' said Darling in low, tremulous tones. ' Thinking doe* not mend|'matters I ' 'What can I do? I would do aiy thing — anj thing that was in my power.' (To be continued). The young melodramatist, tilling the story of his new play to tho manager, said — " As the robbers crawl in at the window the clock strikes one." "Good," said the manager, " which one ? Do not wash combs unless absolutely necessary. Water will make the teeth split and the comb rough. Small bruahee, which are made for the purpose of cleaning combs, are easily obtained at little expense, and with one of these the comb may be thoroughly cleansed, wiping well and following with a soft cloth afterwards.