THE WORLD BETWEEN THEM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XX, Issue 6829, 6 October 1883, Page 3

THE WORLD BETWEEN THEM.

by bertha m. clay. ~Z„ the World," "A Bitter Author of d pardon," " Set Atonemen^^^,.^.,^. CHAPIHR V. m „" ED LIKE a DEATH-KN-KLL. worm that son. paase d Bince Nigel THREE weeks and by thia time Fielden came q{ the greatest friendtbey were on nQ other thoughts. She ship. Lyiett m ight ait with him M. d , saw for herself how ■while he wor , . h£r BoCiety . rt: days Passed, her love for him hi was 80 true, so nob'.e; he taught £ reW «n much; she saw what a beautilul, h6r rpnthl noil he had; some men voucl reyerentuu hg he nuyer did . BOme would hav e flatter nge to her) he never did. have the daughter of a queen, he lf 8 J 1 ® ?iL ve treated her with greater respect. could not ha\ d i£ sbe might spen( j her She n° long-* _;t becamo a ma tter of course time with 2, ' in „ s j,e should take her books that every mormngw Th talked S ? d books, o£ ait, of poetry, v /pl found that sbe had fresh, bright ideas th'ft she had great intelligence, and had evidently thought much of what she had 3 She herself rarely, if ever, thought of the parting ; she was young, and the young do not mefs'ure time ; a month seemed mexhaustible to her, she ha! grown G°a c customed to the dear light of his presence Whpn the not look beyond the present day. When the sun began to shine and the b.rds began to sing, when lily and rose began to send swee messages to her, her happiness began. bhe should find hira sketching in * h f ™V l3; e generally told her in the evening where he fhould be working the next day. So the bright Jane days passed without * the sky. Thus the great eharmofl.fewmc to the young girl, who was so utterly fnen less and , ay , "what it must be like to live m the heart of ahome, to have a father, to have friends

I hooe," he said, longing yet not daring to add "how ardently he longed to make that home for her. , ,i T •' I see little project of it, she said. i remember how my mother cared I went out in the damp or cold she was anxious ; if my head ached she must fand remedies. Now, if I tried to cross the brook and fell in, no one would care, no one would anxious. Even Mr,. Wytchley wou d think more of the damage being done to my dress than to myself." „ ~ "I know one who would care, he said, Gently, " and care very much. She look up at him with brightened eyes. •' You mean yourself," she said. Should you really be anxious and care much if anything happened to me ?" He longed to tell her that the very light of his life would go out, but he refrained. "You forget," he said, " that you aro my especial care, that I promised to befriend and h0 " P No." she replied, " I never forget that; it is on those words I rest my heart and soul. • It was with much difficulty that be refrained from telling her how dearly he loved her—how his life was wrapped up in hers— how he longed to woo her and win her for his wife. But she was too young, so unsophisticated, so like a child—yet with all a woman's beauty-so pnre and simple, tbat he hesitated* He said to himself that he must do violence to his own feelings—that he would say nothing to her of his love, but that he would write to Lord Estmere and tell him what had happened. Be did not think that they would hesitate for one moment—the desire of the family was evidently to be rid of her. If they refused, he would take her without their consent; if they were willing, so much the better. He had arrived at; that decision; he could not bear to think of the girl left in that isolation and solitude. There came a beautiful day, the last but one of his stay, and he was busily engaged in packing up his sketches. Ly nette sat near him, she had neifcber books nor work, but ■was watching him intently. Suddenly she looked with those lovely eyes in his face. "Why aro you tying those papers together ?" she asked. __ "For safety," he replied. You see the sketches are all numbered, and these are notes and memoranda descriptive of each " But why are you packing them to-day ?" she repeated. " Because lam going to-morrow, he replied. The words fell on the clear, sweet summer air like a death-knell. Before he uttered them Lynette had been standing against the ruins of an old doorway, now nothing but crumbling stones and green ivy, the sun shining full upon her, and the birds singing gaily. "lam going away to-morrow," he said, and suddenly the light went out of the sun, the glory faded from the blue sky, the music died from the birds' song; the words fell like the

smiting of a sharp sword on her heart. She turned away. She went into the ruined cloisters, where the ivy-clad walls hid her from him. It mattered little now that they shut out the sunshine, for the bitterness of death itself was in her heart. " Going away I" . She said the words over and over again, but she could not realize them. It was all over, this pleasant, loving friendship, these happy hours, these snnny days that she had thought would have no ending—all over, and finished and done. A great wave of sorrow and desolation swept over her. How should she bear this "life in which he had no part ? How should she live without the comfort of his presence. "Oh, beautiful sun!" she cried, in her desolation, "you need shine no more for me ; the whole world will bo dark to me so long as I live. I shall be alone. Going to-morrow !" And after to-morrow the sun, the moon, and the stars would shine on ; the birdß ■would sing, the flowers bloom: the world would go on just the same, while her heart •would be broken. She had not thought of the parting through all these sun-lit hours. The words had smitten her as a sudden and heavy storm of hail breaks down the fragrant flowers. I She sat down on one of the little grassy moundß, and it seemed to her that the very bitterness of death came over her; the eight ■ left her eyes, her face grew white and cold, a shudder, as of terrible cold, seized her. The summer wind, that stirred the tendrils of green ivy, repeated the words, "goiDg tomorrow." It is only those who have suffered desolation that can ever understand what she suf- i

fered. Then the unnatural strain gave way, the unnatural calm was broken, and Lynette shed such paßßionate tears as are shed only once in a lifetime-tears ehe could not control or stop. Suddenly a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a voice, deep with emotion, said : . "Why are you so grieved, Lynette? What has distressed you 1" She raised her lovely face, all wet with tears, to his. " You are going to-morrow, she sobbed. "What can there be but distress for me?" He looked at the quivering lips, at the rainintr tears, at the beautiful, half-drowned eyes, and he never knew how he resisted the impulse to take her in his arms and kiss those tears away; but he did resist it. He took her hands in his. "My dearest Lynette,' he said, gently,

«< my—my darling, you mußt not grieve in this fashion—you must not, indeed. I cannot bear it." "How can I help it?" she said, passionately. " You told me that Heaven had sent you, and now you are going away. I have had no one but you since my mother died, and you are leaving me. What shall I do," she cried, "when you are gone? I would rather, if I could, die to day !" It was one thing to make prudent resolves ; it was another to 6tand face to face with this terrible passionate grief. "Lynette," he said, gently, " did you cry like this when your mother died " Yes," she answered ; " but I shall never cry like ihis again. My heart is breaking. I did not know, I never thought, but I felt sure you would never go away—l did not think of it, and now—l cannot bear it!" He held her hand closely clasped in his. Never did man nse greater restraint than Nigel Eielden; but he had laid down for himself the rule he thought right, and he determined to adhere to it._ . _ . "Lynette," he said, his face pale with emotion, "will you listen to me? I must go, but I shall com 9 back." " You will come back she repeated, and her face cleared as the mist clears before the' sun. " Yes," he replied, "I shall come back— lor you. I can say no more to you now. You understand—l shall come back for you. I am the friend whom Heaven has sent to

deliver you from this solitude and desolation , I shall come back." , There were no more tears. A great lignt shone on her face ; her eyes were raised to his, and there was something of wonder in them. 4 * You will come back for me. sne said. " You are quite sure? Do not say that to comfort me, and then forget." "I have many fault*," aaidhigelFielden; " but I do not remember ever to have spoken falsely in my life. 1 shall come back for you, took his hand and covered it with passionate kißses. „ " 1 believe it," shesaid. " But what shall you do with me ? • Where shall you take His face flushed hotly. He longed to take her in his arms and tell her what lie intended ; but he would not—he would tako no advantage of her youth and simplicity. "I will tell you all thia when I return, my darling," he said ; "not now." As she .stood there with tears still upon her face, yet with the light of love in her beautiful eyes, she reminded him of a tall, sweet lilEy on which the sun shone after rain. , „ "I am almost afraid to speak, she said. "My heart beats and my hand trembles, i could not' tell what 1 was to do when you said you should go. Do you know, she added, "the light went out of the sun ; there was nothing but darkness; it was worse than death. I hastened hce—here where so many dead men sleep, and I wondered if any one of them had ever suffered a pain like mine. Now there is no more pain ; I the light again. You will come back to me? He held her hands more tightly. "Yea," he said; " thit is quite certain. She came nearer to him. I "I have been something in your life ! lately," she said. "We have been so much ; together that you would not be happy if you left me here alone ?" ".No; never again, Lynette, he said; " never happy without you." She had no doubt; of him. She felt safe and secure as a child whose mother promises to nurse it to sleep. From that moment her life and her fortune were his. "Do you remewbov," he said, "those beautiful lines which tell us feeds

the sparrows and clothes the lilies ? He knows all that will happen, and I believe | that He sent me to you. I was busy with my work that morning, and I never thought of seeing you. I did not know there was a Lynette Estmere in the world; then, locking up, I saw your beautitul face, framed by the thick clusters of green ivy, and that face has lain in my heart ever since." "Happy face," said the girl, with a vivid blnsh. "I remember that morning," she said, " and the curious ieeling that came over me—a sensation tbat you were an old friend returned from somewhere, and_ tbat I had j known you all my life. Curious, was it no 1 ; ?" " I hardly think so ?"'he answered. She clasped her hands around his arm, and looked with earnest, wistful eyes into his " How long shall you be away V she asked. "I do not know. You may be quite sure of one thing—that I will come back as soon as I can." " Will it be days, weeks, or months!" she asked. He was silent for some few minutes, then he answered "dayß," and she was content. He bade her good-night, but he did not kiss the beautiful face that he hoped to see shining by his side for evermore. He kissed her hands and bade her adieu ,* that was at seven o'clock, and the sun was still shining brightly. "Shall you smoke your cigar to-night down by the great window ?" she asked ; and he answered " Yes." CHAPTER VI. "I DISOWN HIM, AS HE DAS ALWAYS DISOWNED ME !" Nigel Fielden, who had learned to love those grand old ruins of Ulsdale, had contracted a fashion of smoking bis cigar by moonlight among them. He lovtd to wander among them —to think of all the gorgeous pageants of the past—to dream of all the tragedies that had happened in those ancient walls; he enjoyed the walk to Black Tor after it, and he had often spoken to Lynette of these pleasant, dreamy evenings. On this night—he never forgot the date, the 29th of June —he could not smoke; he wanted to think, and he wandered to the broken arch of the wondrous window, through which he had first seen her beautiful face. How little he had thought when Lord Estmere first gave him this commission that he should meet here the love of his life.

" I here have I been," he said to himself, " working hard in London, while this beautiful, innocent girl has been waiting for me here, and I never knew it —never dreamed of it." The way 3of Providence are wonderful, for until the day of his death JNigel Fielden believed it was Providence who had directed his footsteps toward the ruined window. How happy he would make her! How He would atone to her for the desolation and bitter unhappiness of her childhood. He would work hard for her —surround her with indulgence and love. He would blot from her mind that cruel past, in which no kindness had been shown t > her.

So he sat dreaming while the white moonlight lay around him, throwing I the graceful shadow of the ruined arch on the grass. The beautiful, innocent child ! He thought over hiii interview with Lord Estmere—what should he say—how his proposal would be received ? And while he was thinking, he heard a soft rustle over the grass. The next moment two tender arms were laid round his neck, and a golden head nestled oc his breast. "Ob, Nigel! Nigel? Do forgive me?" said a sweet; trembling voice. " Forgive me ? I could not help coming to you. Say you are not angry ?" "Is one angry with an angel's visit?" he said gently. Why should Ibe angry with you ?" "My heart brought me here," she said. "I tried to say to myself that I must not come, but my heart is stronger that I. Oh, Nigel! take me awey with you to morrow. 1 cannot stay here." "Take you away, my darling !" he cried in astonishment, I cannot. Wait patiently. I shall soon be back. But the tender arms tightened their hold, the beautiful face was raised so pleadingly to his, the lovely wistful eyes sought his. "Do take me, Nigel," she repeated. "L am frightened at being left; so many things may happen, and it may be that you cannnt return. Oh, take me with you then I shall be safe." '

He was too much bewildered at first for any sensible argument. "I will give you no trouble," she said, " and I will help you all I can, I would bo jast the same as yonr sisters to you." "Bnt my dear," he said, caressing the golden head. "I do not want you for my sister, 1 want yon for my wife." " Your wife!" she said slowly, and the expression of her face changed into one of unutterable sweetness. "Your wife! I had not thought of that." " But I had, my darling; I have thought of it ever since I saw yon. If you will be my wife, I will make you the happiest woman in the whole world. But I did not intend to ask you nntil I had seen Lord Estmere." With a suddenness that startled him she sprang from his arms, flinging them aside j with a gesture of supreme pride.

" Lord Eatmere !" she cried ; you would ask him if you may marry me ! A thousand times no ; I have nothing to do with Lord Estmere. I—l would rather, much as I love you, never see you again than marry you by Lord Estmere's permission." " But Lynette," he interrupted, "he is the head of your family—your guardlian." " He has been no guardian to me," she replied, with flashing eyes; "I disown him, as he has always disowned me. Oh, Nigel 1 do not be so cruel; I thought you loved me ao dearly." " so I do Lynette ; I conld not love you better if I tried. I love you with all my bear—do you bear, do you hear darling ?— with all my heart 1" "Then why do you torment me, torture roe, by mentioning that horrible word ? Oh, Nigel, be kind to me !" She went back to him, and laid her arms round his neck.

"Bo kind to me," she said pleading, "take me away from here—away from all these Estmeres, whom I detest ; let me be with you always, that I may never see them or hear of them again." He was terribly porplexed. My dear Lynette." he Baid gently. "I love yoo.butl am an honourable man. Icannot steal you from home. I must ask those to whom yon belong if I may take you—l must indeed." " I belong to no one." she cried. " I have no home; I am not like other girls. Oh, Nigel! be kind to me, and help me,"

" What do you wish me to do, Lynette?" he asked, quietly. "Will you do it?" she replied, with a catesiii that was infinitely charming to him. She took his face into her haudß, and looked plsadingly into his eyes. "Your eyes are all kiindness,. Nigel," she said, "do not let your lips belie them. I will tell you what my heart wishes you to do. Take me away with you to-morrow. If you kuew how frightened I am at being left alone again you would not refuse Listen to me, dear," she quickly added, finding that he was about to speak, "listen. I want to out myself off from the Estmeres. I want to show' them that I can return neglect and indifference for that which I nave received. 1 want to return scorn for scorn. I want them to see that ii,B they have left me out of their lives, I will leave them out of mine."

"But, Lynette, my darling," he interrupted, " this is all revenge, not love. You are not marryiDg me to avenge yourself on them, but because you love me." "Yea, I love you," she replied, in a voice of unutterable tenderness. "In all this great world of men and women we two stand alone,, and because I am so wholly yours, you must do what I ask. Take me quite away from them, where I shall never hear of or see them again. You must not ask Lord Eatmere if you may marry me; it is sufficient if I say 'yes.' Take me from the Estmeres; they shall never know whom I marry or where I go. I will write to Lord Estmere myself to tell him that I have taken my life into my own hands." "Bat, Lynette," he remonstrated, "it seema unfair, unmanly to come here to fulfill a business engagement, and then to run away with you. It does not seem honourable." She gave him the most bewitching smile any inau could receive, ''You do not look at it in the Tight light," she said. " You must think of yourself- as my champion and deliverer ; that will cause you to Bee things as I do. Free me from my old, hateful life, take me into a higher aud better one, but do not let the Estmeres know what has become of me." She raised her face to his, and she looked so beautiful, so imploring, that he bent his head and kissed her, and after that kiss she was able to do with him just what she would. She persuaded him—it was against his better judgment—but she persuaded him to do what she wished, to take her away on the morrow, and not to tell any one where she

was. • " You have made me so happy," she said, "my real life will begin to-morrow. I shall never feel lonely or desolate again." "I shall take yon straight to London," he said. " I hare an old aunt living in Kegunt'a Park, I will take you to her and ask her for shelter for you until we can be married. It will l ie three wesks before we can be married, and then we will choose our future." "Ton will never give me up to the Bstmere:i 5" she said. "Never, Lynette. I will give you to no one. I will keep you for myself." "Nigel," she said, "I have no worldly goods. All that I have I can easily take with me. Tell me where to go and how to manage." " Meet me at Black Tor Station to-morrow at nc on, "he said; and then they bade each other good-night. " I am glad that I have found the courage to return to you," she said. He took her in his arms then and kissed her f a,ce over and over again. She was his own now ; she had given herself to him of her own free will, and she wanted no one else —nothing else on earth. Henceforth she was his, to treasure and to guard. True, he did not like, and never would like, the manner of marrying her, but he could not go against her wishes in this respect. She wanted him to carry her off { from this hated life, to set her free, and make her happy. It was the appeal of a child, made with all the force and energy, all the passion and will of a woman. Of course, he

must yield; he must study her before all i and everything. As she had said herself, she was not like other girls, she was so lonely, so friendless, and he would be kind to her. Let Heaven judge him as he treated her. The morning following, the old housekeeper, still confined to her room with her injured foot, was considerably astonished by a visit from Miss Estmere, who told her she was leaving Ulsdale, for she was tired of it. In vain she remonstrated, her words were all in vain. "Yon neednot fear," said the young lady, with a flush on her face, "that you will be I blam ed for what lam doing. I have written to Lord Estmere." "If I could rise," said Mrs. Wytchley, "I would lock the door, and prevent you from going." "In that case," said Miss Estmrre, "I should go just the same, only by the window. I am tired of this place, tired of this life, tiret! of everything. See!" she continued, passionately, "I came here fourteen years ago, a lonely, desolate child, with a still mora lonely and desolate mother; in all that time, fourteen long, dreary years, I have not one kind word or one kind action to thank you for. Judge whether lam not content to go." ■> "Where are you going?" asked the old woman, sternly. "No one will ever know," she replied,

"I go where no Eatmere will ever find me. Good-by." la vain the housekeeper cried and pro tested ; she met with no sympathy from the littlle maid. '"You might have been kinder to her," wasi the little maid's answer to ever reproach the old woman made. Neither the little maid, Mrs. Wytchley, or any one else ever connected the two events. Thu architect finished his plans, took away his sketches; the girl, wearied with th« isolation of her life, with its solitude and uttcir want of interest, went away ; but no one ever surmised that one event was the caa3e of the other. There was no flaw in the arrangements ; everything succeeded. Mrs. Grant, the old aunt, was surprised, but quite willing to receive the beautiful friendless girl who belonged to the Estmeres. Lynette remained with her three weeks, in order that all the legul formalitiea might be carried out, and then they were carried out. The hardest task of Nigel Pielden's life wan when he had to meet Lord Estmere, who, when he saw him, was quite unconscious that his poor relation had left her home. He was delighted with Nigel's work, admired the beautiful sketches, paid liberally for them, and then offered him a liberal engagement. He could not understand why this young man was so cool and indifferent— why he declined what would have been a most profitable employment for him ? It was strange; but then, as he knew from experience, the world was full of strange people, and many of them were quite blind to their own interests; but Lord Estmere was still more astonished when some threo weeka afterward, he received the following letter:—

"To Lord Estmere.—Your lordship vrill, no doubt, hare some dif'lc.ulty in remembering the obscure individual who addresses yon. Id saying that lam Lynotto Estmere, permit me to add th 't 1 dislike the name so heartily X have changed it for another. In thanking you for the dreary shelter accorded me at Ulsdale, 1 may add that the life was so hateful to mo I would rather have died than continuod it. By my ovm act and most willing deed I cnt myself o'f from th j family who have treated me with contempt and scum." "A nice kind of letter," said Lord Estmere, as he passed it to his wife. "The way of the world," said my lady ; " if we had denied them shelter, they would have been far more grateful." A few inquiries were made, the housekeeper was severely reprimanded, then the whole matter was forgotten, " She will come back when Bhe wants food or money," said my lady. But Lynette never came back, and no one foresaw hee future. They were married, and no happier marriage was ever made; they were poor, but such poverty waa a pleasure. Mrs. Grant insisted that they should remain with her until their future arrangements were made. She gave them any quantity of good advice, and envied their happiness. A sudden and quite unexpected turn of good luck came to them. A distant relative, one whom Nigel I'ieldeu had never seen or heard of, died and left him a littlo fortune of two thousand pounds. He had been puzzled before, and a little embarrassed, not seeing his way clear; but now that this money was in his hands, now that he could do, in some measure, what ha Hiked, he longed to carry out an idea that Iliad haunted him, mo<-e or less, all his life. To leave the worn-out old hemisphere and meek the naw one; to make a name and fortune for himself. Lynette vas delighted with the idea. No land could be far enough away from the Estmeres, no country remote enough from them. So in the month of August they set sail for Australia, little dreaming of the strange turn of fortune that would meet them there. END OF PART FIHST. [To be continued.]