A SHORT STORY.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLVI, Issue 120, 18 May 1912, Page 3

A SHORT STORY.

IKE WEODINQ EVE.

(By; A.' Bower Poynter.)' j It was 'the bride of the coming I morrow who walked alone amid tha summer flowers. Her trunks for use I upon, the sea voyage stood strapped I arid labelled in the hall, her simple I wedding dress, placed with tender 1 care by loving hands, lay waiting ! upon the great white bed in the ' empty guest-chamber. Mother nut] tasters were still busy with, the. last preparations. In his study her father was talking in low tones to the man who was so soon to kneel beside her. and .utter his row to love and cherish her till death should pjurt them; hc.o.v faithfully it would be kept, through good or ill, her heswt already told her. She would rejoin them all presently: ' for this brief hour she must wander alone, bidding farewell to her d'uini) friends, to the garden that sh© hid' tended, to the spots that she loved. In spite of heir light tread upon the green lawn the old dim-eyed collio heard her approach, and rose from his corner beside th.e t stone sun-din 1 to greet her. His head lay against her knee as iie gazed upwards, and his tail wagged to and fro in i«sponso to her soft caresses. "Ah, Bob, old boy," she said, "come then, we will walk together " Tears, sudden-springing, fell upon his old grey head, for well she knew that never again would they walk the- old way side by side. Scent of jasmine, climbing .'ugh about the dieep bay windows of the drawing-room, followed her upon tie breath of night,' naidi she turned back to _ look at, its. slumbering starry whiteness. She was going to a- ?and where the hot, languid air would he heavy with its perfume, andi she wondered if she would know it again as the little flower oi home. In a ~r>ttr lined basket, under the seat o^ tie summei -house, dwelt th© old tsJiby c.it with her kittens, and she turned in there. Old Tubitha stretched »ird pnned, her gioen eye^ shining uith puide, and hi-v mistress stioking "su'h tiny body in turn, leit joy behind h< -. P^fit the oval plot of mignonette, .-1 d the long flower beds, with their *Va grant-borders of ciove pinks, she went, under the archway of loses, throujUi the small wooden gf.te to Ji*" giavclled yard beyond. Across* rs width coy.shed and stable laced vin-e another, orderly «rjcl cfe'-n, but with r. gra\e ."ir ot age, whilo ot its 4vv end, amid' a bed of fallen, sweetsmelling leaves, beneath, the long row of gum trees, stood hulf a. dozen dogkennels, the owners of five, some within, some without, lying contented after si- happy day''of toil. All, ho:vever, roi&o alert, at the sight of on© so lovedi, their delight testified unto l>y short barks .and) many beatings of the tail. The working collies, whose glossy coats still seemed to hold magic scont;" of the sheep-dotted! tussock hiljs^ to the field 'spaniel find stni'l Sj6tter, Avho had ben 'out all the afternoon with the guns, from one to smother she went and fondled1 each by turn. How soft theia1 heads were —•' how true their mute speaking eye>! Her words, wotg vei*y tender, for her heart was crying:—

"Btest/r dumb frends, do you understajid?—or will you wonder, to-mor-row, and dVeiuni sad dream's1?"

When she turned away old 800 pressed' closer, and passed his "'ownempty, kennel with drooping head. !fe knew not .why, but an instinctive sadness waa drumming within hi& feeble breast.

Through the long, white stock-yard gate they entered the paddock, liaw-thom-edged and: fed by a lilting stresiin, where the horsesvran. Then1 steady cropping of the ■gra.ss....made music in the air, and the white-roS^d' woman, with light, lingering tread, crossed to each one with caresses, and words of,good) cheer. Ai? the farther end she found her own slender-limbci mare, tried and loved companion of many a dr.y-long pleasure. Oh, tha rush of the wind and the rhythm of tho muffled hoof-.be&its, on the thick grass.' of the river-flats! The wi!J flights down the long, white roads with her sixers.-arid merry friends when a gay pionio moved them all io mirth ! The solitary climbs up tfie tussock ridges of ■ the hills which muirked' the station -boundary, 'that she might fill her soul with the wondrous beauty of plain and watoc and sky. Those .'days were gone t-'-r ever—henceforth lier lot would !;e cast, as a soldier's wife, upon the burning plr-.ins of India, and those. snow-capped mountains that belong to another world. Her father 1 ad promised her. a well-tended pension for her pet, V.nd hi& word was never broken; yet would there not be many days when the soft cyos' andl satiny ears would look and listen in vain ful" the mistress who never.'came P There was pain in the sobbing of her thro.it as _ she clas-ptel her arms round t,he bright bay neck, and pressed her lip? to the glossy*, coat. "Good-bye/ good-bye!" she whispered', and the mare whinnied softly and had light lips of velvet upon tho strands of her hair.

As, she walked .'icrcss the paddocks the white clover-heads and little moths of night danced together in a veil of mist; their simple beauty -Aid sweetneos came back to her in nftar days, but art that moment she behei'.l only her mother, as she had last -seen her, with hands busy in the alreidv tidied lavender-scented linen press, while tears fell di'op by drop upon the big motherly bosom. Oh, the couragn of love was needed ! But that lo^? had taken her, body and soul, tn-.i their© was no returning. Down across the stepping-stones of the brown, bush-fed creek, greeufringed with mint and watercress, klio turned to the grassy spaces beneath the trees, whore a lony band! of flowering thyme, (a garden-plot planted by childhood's hands within the bush), held hum of ;i, myriad bees by -lav and dewy scent by night. She sboppcul and fathered a fragrant ..bunch,-, avt-'i placed' it in her wliitc dress—lit tip flower of memory to*«ome again *in dreams.

Beyond, in bronze, trampled rushes, where the grass grew long' and rank, lay the milking cows. Here, also, were friends, and each in turn w; s spoken, to ■ and stroked with tender hands. With gentle, eyes they watchod her when she departed, and blew her bovin© kisses on clovered brenth.

Olb Bob pressed nearer and laid ir.s head) once more against her knee, as she turned upon the last rise :ir-i looked' back over the sleeping lan-1 From a. hidden cottage below, where a shepherd's' crippled son r seated upon the doorstep, made music with musician's fingers .to the spirits of night, rose the strains_ oi' v, violin. Exquisitely sweet. with a tendpr cadence that held the heart ascended, the notes of "Pierne's Serenade.." ( The woman wept r.s she listened • — suddenly, unrcistraineclly, a new note

i had crept in, v, lingering sadness, <.-f>-,v i and: for all timo crying- farewell. She knelt on the grass beside o\l Tk)b t'.nd; took him in her arms before she rose. He oivine-i the words :-th«. she v/6uld have uttered, .and comforted her in dumb, dog fashion,'with . his tongue.

Down the bricked path of the troeladen orchard came tlie lover.of <ier hoitrt to meet her, and^the light bh.ii was of is y-wa.'kcniiig Pawned agiiin in hoi- grsive eyes s.a sh© marked liis up • proach. With quickened steps' at Tl7rsight of her p;i,le f:ic« ho came, -mci took Jier in his ;wms, A sudden fo.ir a y/orld' of tender passion, was in his voice. "Honor—you have geen crying!— ; tell me, dear—it is not that you i"c- i gi-et!" i "Never," sho an-swored. "Never ■ th&t to-morrow will see me become: your wife. My tea.rs 1 could not stay, * for I am leaving much th:it I lov":. ■ Bee*vnso you ure more to me'than ail else, PJiilip, my heurt would break j.i ] the morning did not di.wn." ; Her eyes wore smiling, though tlu» ; teur^ \vei-e on her 1.-ishes, as ahe drcv j hii^ fitoe do r»vn to Ler&.