A HAUNTED LIFE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVI, Issue 5651, 27 December 1879, Page 3

A HAUNTED LIFE.

BY BERTHA M. CHY. Author of '*A Mad Love," " a. Hitter Atonement," 4 ' Thrown on the World," &u» CHAPTER XVI. TUB DOCTOR'S PROMISE. A SOFT, warm day, full uf sweet odours, full of sunlight and son::, was this on which the young doctor, witu death in his with despair in his face, wvnt out to say good-by to his love, ft was morning still; the sun of noon might slime over the land, but it was not as yet noon ; something of the sweet, soft of tue dew still I in the air. He walked with the quick, decided step a brave man tikes when he in goiDg to the scaffold or the block. The more quickly he moves the sooner it is over. No scaffold, no block could be more bitter to him than this one on which he was to lay his heart, not his head. On through the clover-fields, where ha trod down the wild flowers ; through the woods, where he had met her • through the green, sweet laues, uutil Alton Priors came in sight, and then his heart beat high. This was his scaffold, where his oiartyrdora was to take place, where he was to say good by to his love. AU trembling and fear had left him now, all hesitation aud doubt; he was like a man who had to pass through fir.?, aud cerves himself to meet his fate. Through the beautiful undulating park, where the deer browsed under the trees, and the long rush-grass waved in the wind ; through the gardens and grouuds j through the entrance hall to the inurniug-room, ! where lie was told Lady Vera was writing letters ; but the room was empty, the long French windows were open, and among the roses lie saw the gleam of a white dross. He went to her at once ; some people might have hesitated, thinking a moment's loss a moment's gaiu. *>ot so Dudley Ryder ; he had a few desperate words to say, and the soouer they were taid the better. Who stops to play with the lion that is to slay or the lire that is to burn them ? He would have faced fire or iron more gallantly than the fair face of this beautiful woman. He would go straight to her 'before his courage fell, and say good-by. He went out through the Freuch window into the rose garden. She was kneeling over the white buds that grew on a fair tree. He saw the graceful figure with its charming lines, the lovely taee with its pride aud purity ; he would go to her, aud holding out his hand, say : "Lady Vera, I have come to say 'goodby

I If she asked liiui why, he must tell her that h-j loved her with a love tbat waß all madness, so he must be gone. But when he drew nearer, and she, raising her sweet eyes, saw that it was he, ana those same eyes shone out on him sweetest welcome, his courage failed, his heart almost stood stdl. He lorgot everything except that here was the loveliest and beat beloved, and that she, proud and eool to all the world beside, was more than gracious to him. tihe ome forward to meet him, dropping the H\veet roses from her hands which she had stretched out to him. There could bo no mistake about the welcome in her face, iu her shining eyes, in her gentle words. "Doctor Uyder," she said, " 1 did not expect you quite so early—l am glad to see you. Come and look at my roses." He followed her obediently enough, as ho would have gone to the scaffold or the block had she bidden him. Then he remembered why he was here, and stopped abruptly. '• Lady Vera," he said, " X must not stay. I have come just to wish you good-by." She looked at him, a suddeu pallor coming into her radiant face.

"Gooi-by! what does i} mean—where are you go.ng ?"she asked, quickly.

And theu the two stood looking at each other. The sun shone on them ; the rich, sweet odour of the roses seemed to infold tlicm ; the wind whispered, aud the birds sang.

" L do not understand," she cried again, in a low, sweet voice. " are you going, Doctor Kydcr ?" For, proud and cold as she was, at the thought of his going, all the fragrance left the tlowers, and the light died out from the skies; a sudden, terrible chill came over her, a-i though the bright day had changed into cold, dark night.

" £ cannot tell you where I am going," he replied ;"I do not even know—i care less. The only thing I kuow is, that go I muat." " And why ?" she asked.

" Jb\)r Heaven's sake, do not ask me 1" he cried, with suddeu passion; "do not ask me—you torture me !"

"I cannot understand," she said, pite ously. " Why must you go ?"

"Because I am mail—because I have lost my senses iu the sweetest, wildcat dream that ever cursed a man with its shadow."

" I do not think you are a rnadmau," she said, gently.

"Because you are so good; you will not judge nio harshly. I have borne all that I can bear—l must go." "Tell me why," said the sweet voice ; and standing there amid the fallen roses, with the light on her face, fairer never seen on sea or laud, she was the lovlieat picture on which a man's eye had ever dwelt. Her white dress caught the golden glints of the suu ; her face had on it the fairest flush of the roso. "Tell me why, Doctor Kyder. We have been friends ; surely you will trust me

"I wonder if I could. If I were to tell you why I go, you would despise me, you would laugh at me. Let me go, while I have the loyalty of my manhood unstained."

" You frighten me when you speak so seriously," sue replied. "Let me be your friend now as I have been always. You have some trouble, I am sure ; tell uie what that trouble is."

He trembled under the influence of those sweat and kindly words as the leaves tremble under the kisses of the wind. Looking in the pure, proud face, he felt that ho could never tell her; he must go out into utter darkueas aud cokl with his secret buried in his heart.

" You must have some plans," Bhe continned. " You have made for yourself a practice at King's Barford ; you are on the road to success; you cannot go away without having some faint idea, at least, of where you intend to go." "I have none," he answered, raising to hers a reckless, haggard face. "I am like the man who prayed aloud, 1 Lord, punish me as you will, but take from me this present paiu ; living, I cannot bear it.' "

"Then you liavo paia to bear? All! Doctor liyder, why be so prouil ; Are friend,-) ao plentiful that you can atford to throw away a true one ?" " Some friendships would bo sweet, subtle poison," he replied.

She said, eagerly : "No, mine would not be; I am your friend, I will always be your friend, if you will let mo."

Iter words pierced his heart with their awfictness, but be shook his head gravely. " Lady Vera," ho said, " there can be no friendship between us. You are an earl's daughter, I am a poor country doctor." Yet, oven as he uttered the words, ho looked at her with impassioned longing, hoping she would contradict them. She did so.

" If I will it," she half whispered, " what can it-matter then to anyone else ? Who can gainsay it if I will it ?"

" Neither mea nor angels ought to do so ; but I myself, I must gainsay it. Your friendship to me would be deadliest poison, just because it is so beautiful, so sweet, aiul dear."

" I cannot see why," she said, gently. " No one knows why under fairest colours and fragrance the most cruel poison sleeps. Lady Vera, now, while my strength, courage, and honour last, let me go ; let me touch your hand just once in farewell, and pass out of your presence as the lost angels passed out from a lost Heaven."

She held out hor hand ; he took it in liig own, but all farewell words died from his lips. The very touch of that wliita hand drovo him mad with unutterable longing and unutterable love. Ho looked into her face speechless with the passion in his eyes spoke for him. "You asked me to give you my hand," she said, with pride and tenderness that well

"I will promise whatever you will," he replied, hardly knowing what he said. "Promise me that you will give np at once and for always this scheme of going away, and that in Hme you will tell me what pain drove you to it."

He stood quite silent after she had spoken, still lookiog in the white face, still holding the white hand ; her words had made his whole soul tremble. They were cruel with the sweetest cruelty; to bid him stay was to bid him love her more madly thau ever. Vet—he who ioved her—how could he resist her ?

" You are silent," she said. " Men often make great mistakes iu life, and the .greatest would be for you to go away now. Promise me that you will stay."

With that beautiful face looking in his own he could no more have refused than he could have slain her.

" I promise," he replied. 44 If you asked me to go to dt-ath, I should go ; you a»k me to stay and suffer that which is worse. I stay." 44 Promise me, also, that you will tell me at 3ume future time, when I ask the question, why you wished to go." 44 1 promise," he replied, wondering why his heart ached with such excess of happiness, wondering where all the pride and strength of his resolution had gone. When she released her hand th-j earnest expression left her face. 44 You will never regret having trusted me," she sa»d, brightly. 44 Now, Doctor Ryder, throw all your cares aside, and speud one happy hour with rae among the ro^es." He did just as she had bidden him ; but once, when their hands met over a bouquet of cream-white roses, he looked up at her. "Do you mean to drive me mad with delight, L*dy Vera?' Her face flushed as she answered : "You must find out for yourself what I mean. Dr. Ryder; lie who runs may read." He took back with that day a sense of happiness vague and sweet, the memory of down-dropped eyes that could not meet his own, the fragrance of white roses that lingered round his hands, aud the passionate love that was never to leave bis heart agsiin. lie took them all back with him, and forgot the whole tragedy of his inteuded farewell. CHAPTER XVII. "a prisonkr at last V*

There was nothing for it now but to swim with the stream—ic was useless to think of going away ; when once she had seemed not to like it, all further idea of it became distasteful to him. He never dared to ask himself why she had not been pleased over it; he was so itnplicitv, so completely, so blindly her slave, that he was quite content to do her will without kuowing why.

tie made no more resistance against his fate, but loved her with all his heart in his own fashion. He acceptel the earl's invitations, he threw himself in her way, he availed himself of every opportunity for seeing her; he let himself swim with the tide, quits regardless of where it would lead him ; while she was all that was most gracious, most kind to him. They were speakiug one day of the lives of kings and queens, their loves and marriages. It was Lady Vera who said :

" 1 have always felt sorry for queens ; they

must make marriages, almost without love, for reasons of state, for the welfare of the couutry, for the well-beiug of their subjects." 41 Sometimes," he said, gravely; "but I hope in some cases, as in that of our most gracious queen, they marry for love. I like the pretty story of how our queen made her love for her cousin known." Lady Vera looked at him with interest.

"I am not quite sure that I remember how it was. Tell rae, Doctor Uyder." She liked the sound of the word love from his lips ; it had a musical charm that delighted her. "Tell me," she repeated; "I should like to know how a great and noble queen makes known her love." "It ia the simple&t and sweetest story in the whole annaU of history," he said. " Our queen loved the honest, handsome, gallant young kinsman, so I have heard, aud he loved her. He did not dare to raise his eyes to the fair young queen of a mighty realm, but he loved her all the same. You understand ?"

"Yes," she said, gently, " I understand." " Perhapi some idea of this occurred to the mind of our queen. The story runs thus : * That one day, after he had biea praisiug to his heart's concent the land belonging to her, she timidly offered him a bouquet of lljwers, that she had either worn in lie«* dress or carried iu her hands, and that he took it ; he cut a strip of his coat away and placed the bouquet there, aud trom that moment both understood their betrothal.' It seemed tj me a pretty legend." There was an expression of deep thought on her beautiful face. "It was sweet aud womanly," she cried ; " only a noble woman could have done it. It was better, a thousand times, than letting her own heart break." " And his," added Doctor Uyder. "I have often thought," continued Lady Vera, " that the ways of the world are hard upon women. They may never give the least sign of preference ; however deeply they lovethty may never show it. It is hardly fair," Doctor Ryder smiled. "All that is true," he replied ; "but if a woman likes a man she has a thousand sweet and coy fashions of making him know it." He wondered why the white fingers tore so cruelly ani ruthlessly the crimson leaves of the roses she had been caressing. He could

see the quick throbbing of her breast under

the white lace which covered it. He could see the impatient tapping of the pretty little foot on the flour. "I think," said Lady JTyltem Beaufort, " there are no people so stupid as those who refuse to understand."

He smiled again. There was something so charming in her pretty impatieuce, and yet lie did not know of what she was impatient.

" You make me feel guilty," he said, " in

some vague fashion, yet I cannot tell why. I am quite sure I understand every word and every way of yours, Lady Vera."

"Are you? Then X am easily understood," she said, with a little laugh, that had a vague riug of pain iu it.

He was perplexed. What did she mean, this brilliant young beauty, who had taken liis whole heart from him unawares ? Why was she half shy, half angry, wholly sweet

with him ? That she liked "him, and was yet half impatient that he had not discovered the secret of her liking, never occurred to

him. He knew enough of his own mad love ; he had not yet discovered hers.

That evening, as he left, she took from the bodice of her dress a little bouquet of white roubuds and myrtle. Even a child knows that the sweet gretn myrtle means love. She placed it in his hands, and he saw her face covered with a burning blush ; still her meaning did not occur to him, although he himself had told her the story of the queen's bouquet. She was so far above him, it never occurred to hioi—so simply of heart, so earnest iu his worship, that slio could stoop to him. Ho kissed the flowers she gave him, he bowed over the white hand, but he never thought what it meant. Lady Vera looked at him iu wonder —he must know what she meant.

" Why cau he not try to imagine that I am the queen and he the young German prince slie said to herself. "He must understand."

But he loft her that evening more gravely than even, with trouble and perplexity in his heart; he dared not believe the evidence of

hia own senses ; if he did so, he should believe that she cared for him, and it wasnot possible. This brilliant young beauty, for whom peers and princes bad sighed, how could she stoop to him ? He went home bewildered.

The day following was one of those rare days that seein like glimpses of he.»veu sent on earth, so fair, so fragrant, and beautiful, tie had to go to a little village called Ancaster, a mile or two beyond Kind's Barford. There stood the picturesque and graceful ruin of an old priory, and there, in tho old garden with its brokt-n sun-dial and

wilderness of old-fashioned llowers, sat Lady Vera. She was sketching tbe ruined arch of a graud old window that was covered with green ivy and trailing scarlet creepers. Sho looked up with a bright smile as he passed the gates". Ho made one spring, cleared the low wall at one bound, and by her side. " Where are you going;" sho asked, and ho told her to see a sick child at the other end of Ancaster. "Go," she said, " and if you like to return I will talk to you then." He went. That sick child must have thought doctors the most amiable of men, Dudley Hyder wan so kind. He took the little one in his arms, talked to her, asked her a hundred ((U. stions. How did she know that his heart was warm with the love of a beautiful creature who was to him a goddess among women ? How was he to explain that? Then, when lie had prescribed medicine for the little one,

he went back to the mine. He did not know what he was going to say, or how he should Bay it.

A great sense of happiness had fallen over him, a great, sudden sense of light, warmth, and peace. He found her ju*t where he had left her, with the pencil in her hand, but there was not another line drawn. She had bent her fair face over the long rush grass, and had given herself np to a dream. Ah, such a day ! when did such another dawn ?—when did the sun shine again as it shone then, or the wild roses bloom as they bloomed that day ? .Never again. There is one day of heaven on earth for most of us— theirs came then. A blue sky above, that looked far away ; the green ripple of foliage all round ; the grey walls, with their rich cover of ivy and scarlet creepers ; the long, sweet, rush grass ; the festoons of wild roses that climbed up the tall trees. |

Such a day I it held happiness enough to have spread over a year of common life. It seemed to him, as he sat down by her side, that the blue sky and thegreea earth infolded them, aud shut them away from the whole world besides.

" 1 hive seen the child, and have come bac-v to talk to you. Lady Vera," he said. She laid hfr pencil down in the longgrass, ana looked up at him.

" If you will really talk," she said to him. " I shall make 110 attempt at work, '1 his is a favourite spot of mine ; I have alwiys wanted to sketch this archway ; it is quite a beautiful picture iu itself."

He looked at it, and was struck by its beauty, by the genius displayed. The sweet, soft whisper of the summer wind stole round them ; the song of the birds, who had built warm nests in the turret tjivers, was music that seemed to draw their hearts toother. Gradually the sketch fell, with the pencils, ia the long rush grass, and he took the sweet, white hand in hia own. She did not withdraw it; it seemed to rest in his, aud he began to wonder.

vVas lie on earth or was he in heaven? Was it a reality or a dream ? Was he in the trance of some sweet fancy, or wa3 it all a sober truth ? He was seated on the long, sweet yiass, her beautiful face close to his, her hand in his, her eyes tauiiag sweet l>>oks and sw«et messages into bis, her lips smiling on him. "If it be madness," he said to himself, " let me nerer be sane ; if it be sleep, ht me never awake, let me die before the reality

Bat there was neither sleep nor death in the lovely face drooping from his. There was silence between them for some moments a*jtl that silence was more eloquent than any words could have been. It brought them nearer and nearer, until the white hand was imprisoned in his. 1 lien, for the first time, he began to realize the fact that she thought far ie»s of the diilereucc between them than he did, tuat she cared for him, that she liked him.

$he, so proud and cold that lovera shrank from her preeeuce with loving words frozen on their lips, Sho sat there with him, her hand clasped iu his, her beautiful face drooping from the luvc-light in his ; her c>es avoiding his, yet seekiug them with a wondrous light. And sho was an earl's daughter, ho a country doctor, without monev or fame.

" There can never come such another day is this," he said, with a great tearless sigh, ' never ayain !"

44 Why not ?" asked Lady Vera. " History never repeats itself. Ido not believe that the world can ever again be quite so lovely as it is to-day. And even if it be, I may not be here, and you will not," 14 People can make their own happy days," she said gently.

And then, deriving all courage from her face and her manner, he drew the other sweet hand in his. 44 \ou have made me a prisoner at last," she said, smiling with quivering lips and luminous 03 r cs. (< Would to Heaven I could keep you prisoner for ever more," he said. And he saw that the words did not anger her. [To be c->iH'ipic«l.l