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JOCK O HAZELDEAN.

[COMPLETE STORY.]

t. LECHMERE JIBERSOB, Anther of “An Esculapius of the North, * “Through Stormy Seas,” “ A Rank Outsider,” &o. OOFYuieas.

THEN your refusal is final/’ said Sir James Houlker, drawing himself up to his full height, and looking down wonderinglyr'halfangrily, at the girl who dared to say him “No.” The words were calm enough, but there was an angry glimmer in his eyes that showed Sir James ■ . felt his position keenly. To have been refused was bad enough, but to have been refused in favour of the parish doctor’s young assistant, a lad without a penny, was ten times worse. Certainly Harold Thorton was young and clever, but not even the strongest of Sir James’s f>olitical opponents dared to hint that he acked brains, and as for youth, well fiftyfive is not so very old; however, the fact remains that Ethel Harding thought him old, and as for his brains, Ethel never gave them a thought—although she did irreverently call him an “ old donkey ” to Harold Thorton that evening. “The old donkey actually wished me to marry him. I felt inclined to say I thought he should ask Aunt Kate.” Now Aunt Kate was Ethel’s father’s oldest sister; and it was certain Ethel did not get her good looks from the paternal side. “Had he actually the impertinence?” said Harold, flushing hotly. “You must have given him some encouragement.” “ I am sure I never did, but I am afraid papa must. I feel positive he wishes me to be Lady Houlker. Ugh! What a name!” and Ethel pouted prettily. “I’ll speak to Mr. Harding to-night. I will tell him I love you. Oh lif I were only rich, or had a practice of my own. You will wait for me, Ethel?” And Ethel evidently whispered that she would, for Harold kissed her once, or twice, and called her darling. “ Well, Thorton, what is it?” asked Mr. Harding, coldly. “ What can Ido for you, Dr. Thorton?” he repeated, as Harold remained silent, endeavouring to find words. At last he stammered and then said: “ It has been very warm to-day.” “ The weather is usually warm in August, but I suppose } r ou have something more important to say than that. But I think I can guess. Will I help you?” Mr. Harding added, tauntingly. “ No, Mr. Harding,” said Harold, stung at the manner Mr. Harding treated him. “ I have come to say I love your daughter—have loved her ever since I knew her ; and I wish to ask your consent to our being engaged. Ethel loves me, and said that I could tell you so.” “ And how do you propose to keep her ? Does Mr. Fowler allow you such an income that you can keep a wife in the same style as Ethel has been accustomed to? Or have you any prospects?” “ In the meantime I have nothing but my profession to rely on,” said Harold, flushing, “ but I feel I know my work, and that I will succeed; with Ethel to work for I know I should.” “ When you do will be time enough to speak of marriage, but I am afraid before that time comes your heart will have changed P “ Oh, Mr. Harding, never l” “Or Ethel’s,” continued Mr. Harding, not heeding his interruption; “ these boy-and-girl attachments never come to anything. And you will agree with me that after this all intercourse between you and my daughter must cease. Of course when you attain the success you anticipate, should Ethel be still unmarried then I have no objections to your repeating your request; but I may tell you Ethel is engaged—or will be soon, to Sir James Houlker.” “ Ethel refused him this afternoon!” “So Sir James said,” said Mr. Harding, drily; “ and also told him her heart was set on you Sir James was inclined to consider the matter at an end; but I told him ho must not let a silly girl’s refusal stand in the way. I must confess I had to press this point upon him, for he was quixotic enough to say he must find you a post somewhere, if Ethel’s heart was set on marrying you. Now, Dr. Thorton, our interview is at an end. I’ll come with you to the door.”

“ No, I think it will be better not. Come this way, Dr. Thorton,” and Mr. Harding opened the door to lead the way towards the hall. “ Ethel, you here!” ho exclaimed, as he found his daughter standing at the door. “ Yes, papa, and I heard everything you said to Harold. Harold, don’t bo afraid; I will wait for you. I’ll always love you, and no one else, and they will never make me marry old Sir James ” “ Ethel! Go to your room 1” “ And I will meet you every day.” “You will go to your Aunt Kate’s tomorrow if you say another word. Come this ■way, Dr. Thorton ; follow me.” ‘‘Good night, Ethel,” said Harold. “I am satisfied now I have your promise.” “ Dr. Thorton, if you are a gentleman you will come.” “ Good-night, Harold, good-night, Harold, dear,” called Ethel after him, and then she went to her room, and sobbed as if her heart would break. n. “ Sir James Houlker will be pleased to see Dr. Thorton this afternoon,” read Dr. Thorton three mornings afterwards. “ I wonder what he wants,” thought Harold. “ Surely he would not dare to speak to me of Ethel, or”—and the blood coursed to his cheeks—“ can he really mean to find a post for me? It would be good of him.” “ Dr. Thorton, there is an appointment as medical officer vacant at Indici in West Africa. The salary is £ISOO a year. Having influence with the Colonial Secretary, I could obtain it for you. If you would like the post I will mention your name; I am writing this afternoon,” said Sir James, when Harold called. “I’d like it of all things,” said Harold gratefully. ‘ Then I think you may consider yourseJ appointed, and prepare to start; they wane a man at once. By the day after to-morrow you will have the formal letter of appointment.” And as Harold left the castle in the seventh heaven of delight Sir James muttered to himself, “If the climate does not kill him in a twelvemonth ho must be made of iron. Confound the fellow, he does look horribly healthy! How many doctors did Symond say they’d had? Eight in ten years? He will certainly get the post,” and Harold did. “I must see Ethel before I go,” said Harold, as he called on Mr. Harding, who received him graciously. He had heard from Sir James of the appointment. “So you are leaving us, Dr. Thorton?” ho said. “ Yes, Mr. Harding, and I have called to see Ethel before I leave, with your permission. If you do not give it me, why then— I will find a way of seeing her.” “ You need not threaten, Doctor. I have no objection to you seeing her; now you ; have a post the position is different.”

j “Then you consent to our engagement?* [ pxclaimcd Harold, radiantly. “ Oh, Mr. , Harding, how happy you have made ” ! “ I did not quite say that. The climate of the place you are going to is not suitable for ladies ; when you come back it will be time enough to speak of that. I suppose you do not mean to stay for very long.” “ No, Sir James says he will find a better place for me. Is it not generous of him?” “ Very,” said Mr. Harding, drily. “And I can see Ethel and write to her?” “ Well, I suppose you may write, but not oftener than once a month. I don’t want her to think she is engaged. I wish you to consider yourselves absolutely free; believe me, I mean it for your good. And now, Dr. Thorton, you will find Ethel in the drawingroom. You know the way.” “PvuM.” exclaimed Ethel, as he entered the however did you manage to get in? P'\pa said I would never or speak to you again—that you were leaving us.” “Your father has been kinder to me than to you,” said Harold, kissing her, “ for he consented to let me sc-, you willingly, and he days that I may write to you.” “Then you are really leaving, Harold? What shall I do?”

“Wait for me, darling. lam going to make a home for you. Sir James has got me an appointment, and hopes to get a better one in a year or two.” “ Sir James has got a post for you! Oh Harold, what can it mean? He was here yesterday, and he and papa had a long talk together. I heard papa say, ‘Perhaps he won’t come back. ” “ It could not have been me they spoke of. Sir James has been most kind.” “Harold, I cannot understand it. I am positive it was you they meant. You will not go.” “ I must, dear; I mean to work for you. If I can’t nave you, what matters it what becomes of me: You will write to me, Ethel, and always lovo me?” “Love you, Harold? Always 1 I will do nothing but count the hours to mail days and weary for your letters, and nothing shall ever come between us, not even death itself. I swear it, Harold.” “ Now, Ethel, darling, I must say goodbye; I leave this evening. I will write from the first port we call at.” “ You must take something as a keepsake. Here is my mother’s ring. bring or send me that I’ll come to you.” “Thank you, sweetheart. I will treasure it above all else.” “ There is papa coming,” said Ethel, as stepo were heard coming along the lobby. “ Good-bye, Harold. Good-bye.” 111. “ You say Ethel has at last stopped writing, Harding,” said Sir James Houlker, two years afterwards. “ Yes, she has not written for four mails. I am sure she thinks he has forgotten her. I wonder why he stopped writing. Do you know if he has been ill?” “ Yes, he has had malarial fever; but he is convalescent now, I expect he will be invalided home; the more especially as he has made his name out there. His investigations on some disease or other have evidently impressed the Government, and now I see Colville of is dead, and they are sure to offer him his place; but he is too weak to move at present, so we still have time.” “H’m! What did Ethel say this afternoon?”

“ Always the same; that she has no love to give, and that her heart is dead. But I will win her yet, I swear I will; nothing shall come between me and my wish.” It looked as if the Fates were on Sir James’s side, for in the next week’s issue of the local paper there appeared the following paragraph:—“We hear that Dr. Thorton, formerly assistant to Dr. Fowler, has been extremely successful in the measures he instituted to stamp out Beriberi, which has been so prevalent for many years at Indici. Dr. Thorton married a few months ago.” Yes, Sir James, I will marry you,” said Ethel, wearily, when Sir James again urged her to marry him. “ I knov? the goodness of your heart, and like you; but I do not love you as a girl should love her future husband,” and he noticed that she shuddered as sho spoke. “ Love, my dear, I trust, may come some day, but meantime I will be satisfied with your liking. You may be sure that I will do my best to mako you happy, for I love you, Ethel, with all my heart and soul.” And before she had time to withdraw her face Sir James kissed her passionately. Next moment sho had left the room to find her way to her bed-room. “ Oh, Harold I Harold, my darling! I lovo you, love but you,” sho murmured, piteously, and taking a photograph from a drawer she pressed it to her lips. “Good-bye,” she whispered, and stooping down she placed it on the fire. As she watched tho llames shoot up her hand went to her heart, and with a cry of agony she reeled and fell fainting on the floor. “At last, Harding!” said Sir James, as he entered Mr. Harding’s study, and his face was radiant.

“You do not mean that Ethel has coni sen ted?”

“ Yes, with tho proviso that she cannot love me. We must hurry on the marriage; Thornton will bo homo within the month. If you can manage to havo the marriage through by then I’ll add another thousand to the cheque I promised you.” Mr. Harding’s eyes glistened. He was a poor man, or rather he had impoverished himself by betting, gambling, speculating and this was the secret why he favoured Sir James’s suit.

“I’ll do my best, Sir James,” ho said. “ Ethel,” he said to his daughter that evening, “you havo made mo very happy. Sir is the ono man I’d like to give my daughter to. He wishes the marriage to be coco.*-

“ Arrange L: rny way you like, only it must bo a quiet wedding; I could not bear any fuss,” said Ethel, miserably. “And you have forgotten Thorton?” asked Mr. Harding, injudiciously. “ Dr. Thorton is dead—so far as I am concerned,” replied Ethel with an effort, but her lips grew white, and the painful gasps with which she spoke the words showed that he lived and reigned within her heart. IV. ) J » R “I would never have knofrn you,” exclaimed Mrs. Sutor, the buxom landlady of the George Hotel, Inveresk, to the occupant of No. 17, who, having dined, had asked the waiter to tell Mrs. Sutor a gentleman wished to see her. “Wants to borrow money or cash a bogus cheque,” she thought, as she went upstairs ; “ but, thank you, no. I’ve met that sort of gentleman before.” “You want to see me, sir?” she said, as she went into the room. “ Yes, Mrs. Sutor. I want to hear the news of Inveresk.” b “The news of Inveresk, sir! What is it you want to hear? But don't I know your face?” “ You ought to; you and I were always friends.” “It isn’t Dr. Thorton?” said Mrs. Sutor, taking a long look into the dark handsome features of the tall* wiry man who stood facing her. “ Don’t pretend you don’t know me, Mrs. Sutor,” and Harold held out his hand. “ Eh, but I am glad to see you, sir, but I would never have known you. You have grown so dark. You’ll havo come for the marriagp.” But as she spoke she evidently remembered something, for her cheeks crimsoned furiously.

“Marriage! Whose marriage?” “ Don’t you know, laddie? I always hoped you and Miss Ethel would mako a match of it. I’m sure you were more suited for her than Sir James Houlker. But what’s the matter, Dr. Thorton? You’re not ili?” Mrs. Sutor exclaimed anxiously.

is Harold sank into an armchair, looking' ghastly. “ I’m all right now,” said Harold, pulH ing himself together with an effort. “ I had! ft beastly illness out in Africa, and it baa left me rather weak. Is Ethel going to 1 marry Sir James? Does she love him?” “ She is to marry him to-morrow ; bub about loving him, that’s another story.! But you are married, Dr. Thorton?” “Married? No! What made you think) so ?” “It was in the paper.” “In the paper ! What do you mean ?” \ “Just what I say. But I think I cam show it you; we keep them filed.” “In the paper that I was married !’” thought Harold. “What can it mean? Who could have published such a lie? There must be something in this 1 don’t; Well, have you found *\ Mrs. he said, < the landlady returned. Yes, here it is, sir,” and Harold’s eye followed Mrs. Sutor’s finger as she pointed to a paragraph. “ I believe there has been some Ailment,” said Harold, “and that this has been done intentionally. I love Miss Harding, and for that reason I came to-day to Inveresk, to see her—to find out what T had done to make her cease writing to me. Will you help me?” “ Help you. Dr. Thorton? How? I’ll easily see Miss Ethel; 1 used to be her nurse.” “ I wish you to take her this ring, and a note from me.” “ I’ll do anything to rave her from thi* match. I’m sure she hates Sir .lames,” aui Mis. Sutor, with ready sympathy. “ I will write now,” and, sitting dow%' Harold wrote: “ Dear Ethel, —I send you back yuiir When you gave it me you said— \ will matt write the words, but if you remember I will be at the road behind the ga.-d— 1 gate at eleven o’clock with a carriage. TW train for London leaves at 11.20. Will come? Mrs. Sutor will tell you anyt*w*g you wish to know.—Yours, Harold.” J “ Oh, Mrs. Sutor, what does this exclaimed Ethel, half an hour later. “ asks me to run away with him; and W sends me back my ring. I said I would to him wherever I was, but I did not mean if he was married.” “ You do not mean you believe he fig married? It was a lie. But there is someone coming, Miss Ethel. What shall 1 say to him?” “ Say! Say ! Oh, what can I say? The marriage is to-morrow ; I hate and fear it.” “ Quick, Miss Ethel, your father’s at tho door.” “Say I’ll come.” “Oh, you are engaged, Ethel?” said Mr.* Harding, looking in. “ When you are finished, will you come to me?” “ Yes, papa,” said Ethel, and for the finrffl time for three weeks she answered happily, a’ “Oh, Mrs. Sutor, how will I get mr boxes?” | “ Never mind them, dear, ITI send the; ’bus, and say they are to be taken to thel station. You’ll find them there. I will be there—by accident—to see you off.” “ Couldn’t you come to London and s eel me married—by accident?” said Ethel,' smiling. “ I don’t know but I mightn’t.” And evi"' dently Mrs. Sutor meant her words, tor when she returned to the hotel she said to Harold, “You’d better telegraph for a 'special license, sir, and I am coming with you to-morrow, to stay with Miss Harding till she is Mrs. Thorton.” “ You are a good soul,” said Harold, kiss'ing her.

r: v. L ’ “ Ethel,” said Mr. Harding, next morning, “I am going to the Parsonage. 1 will be at the church door to receive you, bat I must go first, for I have to see the vicar.” j “ Very well, papa, I will say good-bye to you as Ethel Ilarding,” said Ethel, smiling, though her eyes were damp with tears. “Good-bye, papa.” “ Good-bye, my dear, I am sure you will be a happy wife.” “ I am sure I will, papa.” “ Good-bye, Ethel; see you are in time.” “Eleven o’clock exactly, isn’t it?” “ No, half-past. Whatever are you thinking of? I see you have not yet begun to get ready. Hurry away, my dear,” and Mr. Harding went downstairs, and drove off to the village. Although it still wanted three-quarters to the hour fixed for the ceremony, there were a good many onlookers about, for however quiet Ethel wished the marriage to be, Kir James was too prominent a man for the affair to bo a humdrum one. The local j Volunteer Band had turned out in full force, , and as it stood in the village square played various popular melodies and kept the everj increasing crowd in good humour. Sharp to time, a carriage with a pair of ! spanking grays drove up with a dash to the ■ church door, and Sir James and his best man, Lord Symond, got out. Lord Symond 1 was a Scotch Peer, and he could not help | smiling as the band crashed out t! last notes of a familiar tune, “Auld Robin Gray,”, as Sir James entered the church i “ Your music wants attending to, Houlvker,” he whispered, as they walked up the I aisle. j “Eh? What did you say?” asked Sir ■ James, nervously. “My coat's all right.” i “Yes, but the air isn’t,” and Sir James , took up his position before the altar, won- • dering uncomfortably if he had dirarrauged j his somewhat scanty locks. “This is a deuced bore,” muttered Lord ] Symond, as he secretly glanced at his watch j and noticed that it was after time. '* T | hope tho filly will not keep us waiting at : the post much longer.” J Ten minutes afterwards it became apparent that something was wrong. The new*, reached the outsiders first; the hold; . “ boots” whispered that he had seen Min! Harding go by the 11.20 mail, and a gentle j man with her. | “He gave me a sovereign,” the told a chum of his, “to get the band t«j play ‘Jock o’ Hazeldean’ when the eburdbi comes out.” “What a lark! And are the band to 1 play it?” 1“ The leader said he’d do his best for half-a-dollar—but here’s a carriage coming.” “You must have been wrong, Jack,” raid 1 the boots’ friend as a carriage drove up Air. Harding, standing at the steps ready to assist his daughter, almost fainted when he saw it was empty. “ Where is Miss Harding, John V* he asked tho coachman. I “ I don’t know, sir. if she is not here. i Steady, lass,” John added to the off wheeler, as Mr. Harding tore round to the vestry, j Then the chinch officer whispered to the I curate, the curate to the vicar. I “ You might come this way, Sir James,” said the vicar; and the party went towards . the vestry. ' “ The filly’s bolted !” muttered Lord Symond. “ I’ll bit a pony, she’s run off the | course,” and looking back he saw the guesla ! leaving the church to join the croud of onI lookers. j Five minutes later Sir James’s carnage i drew up before the door, and while th# I c#owd tittered the band played—- “ She’s owre the border and awa', Wi’ Jock o’ 11 azeMeau.” j As the little man who opera tod on t&|» : big drum played pom, pom, pom—the no tog | are not in the music, bat it serv«. ! to anj phasize the concluding tines—Sir June* gol ! into the carriage with a enrse.

“Well, Mrs. Sutor,” said Dr. “you’ll give my wife's sympaiLy to Hjy James, and tell him, from me, tb# next urnr< he wants ” * “ A wife, he had better ask Aunt Ktdsw.*- “ Ethel, be quiet. The next tnn* wants to kill a man to a?nd hhn to a Luttfl ula.L'6 than Aiivw. **

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NORAG19110513.2.41

Bibliographic details

Northland Age, Volume VII, Issue 37, 13 May 1911, Page 7

Word Count
3,781

JOCK O HAZELDEAN. Northland Age, Volume VII, Issue 37, 13 May 1911, Page 7

JOCK O HAZELDEAN. Northland Age, Volume VII, Issue 37, 13 May 1911, Page 7

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