LOVE AND MONEY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXI, Issue 7002, 26 April 1884, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOVE AND MONEY.

. BY CHARLES BEADE,. Author of "It's Never Too lata to Mend," "Griffith Gaunt," "Hard Cash," &c

CHAPTER VIII. THE COURSE OS TBUE LOVE. W.AXTER wrote back directly that he would bring it himself/and tell her what was going on at Clifford Hall. So he rode over and told her of 0 ulia Clifford's arrival, and how his father had deputed him to attend on her, and she took up all his time. It was beginning to be a bore. "On the oontrary," said Mary, "I dare Bay she is very handsome." " That she is," said Walter. " Please describe her." "A very tall, dark girl, with wonderful eyebrows, and she has broken in Black Bess, that some of us men could not ride in comfort." Mary changed colour. She murmured, " No wonder the Hall is more attractive than the farm," and the tears shone in her eyes. " Oh, Mary," said Walter, reproachfully, "how can you say that? What is Julia Clifford to me ?" "I can't tell," said Mary, drily. "I never saw you together through my glasses, you know." Walter laughed at this inuendo. " You shall see us together to-morrow, if you will bless one of us with your company." "I might be in the way ?" "That is very likely. Will you ride to Hammond Church to-morrow about ten, and finish your sketch of the tower! 1 will bring Mis 3 Clifford there and introduce you to each other." This was settled, and Mary was apparently quite intent on her sketch when Walter and Julia rode up, and Walter said: " This is my cousin, Mary Bartley. May I introduce her to you ?" "Of course. What a sweet face 1" So the ladies were introduced, and Julia praised Mary sketch, and Mary asked leave to add her to it, hanging, with pensive figure, over a tombstone. Julia took an admirable pose, and Mary, with hor quick and facile fingera, had her on the paper in no time.Walter asked her in a whisper what she thought of her model. _ " 1 like her," said Mary. " She is rather " Kather pretty ! Why, she is an acknowledged beauty.'" "A beauty? The ideal Long, black thing." Then they rode all together to the farm. There Mary was all innocent hospitality, and the obnoxious Julia kissed her at parting, and begged her to come and see her at the hall. Mary did call, and found her with a young gentleman of short stature, who was devouring her with his eyes ; but did not overflow in discourse, having a slight impediment m his speech. This was Mr. Percy Fitzroy. Julia introduced him; " And where are you staying, Peroy ? enquired she. "At the D—d—dun Cow."

" What is that ?" Walter explained that it was a small hostelry; but one that was occasionally honoured bydißtinguished visitors. Miss Bartley stayed there three days. "I h—hope to st—ay more than that, said little Percy, with an amorous glance at Julia. Miss Clifford took Mary to her room and soon asked her what she thought of him; then anticipating criticism, she said there was not ranch of him, but he was such a duck. "He dresses beautifully," was Mary's guarded remark. . However, when Walter rode home with her, being now relieved of his attendance on Julia, she was more communicative. Said s he t ««I never knew before that a man could look like fresh cambric. Dear me, his head and his face and his little whiskers, his white scarf, his white waistcoat, and all his clothes, ind himself, seem jast waahed and ironed and itarched. I looked round for the bandbox." "Never mind," said Walter, "he is a great addition. My duties devolve on him. And I shall be free to— How her eyes shone and her voice mellowed when she spoke to him! Confess now, love is a beautiful thing." .. "I cannot say. Not experienced in beautiful things." And Mary looked mighty demure. . . • "Of course not. What am 1 thinking 01 ? You are only a child." " A little more than that, please." " At ali events love beautified her." " I saw no difference. She was always a lovely girl." . "Why you said she was 'a long black

thing.'" "Oh that was before—she looked engaged, " feSAfter this y Fitzroy was generally Miss Clifford's companion in her many walks, and Walter Clifford had a delightful time with Mary Bartley. JftHer nurse discovered how matters were going. Bat she said nothing. From something Bartley let fall years ago she divined that Bartley was robbing Walter Clifford by substituting Hope's child for his own, and she thought the mischief could be "repaired ahd the sin atoned for if he and Mary became tnan and wife. So she held her tongue and watched. ' The servants at the hall watched the whole game, and saw how the young people were pairing, and talked them over very freely. The only person in the dark was Colonel Clifford. He was nearly always confined to his room. However, one day he came down and found Julia and Percy together. She introduced Percy to him. The Colonel was curt but grumpy, and Percy soon beat a retreat. The Colonel sent for Walter to his room. He did not come for some time, because he was wooing Mary Bartley. Clifford's first word was, "Who was that little stuttering dandy I caught spoorjing yonr Julia ?'' " Only Percy Fitzroy." «' Only Percy Fitzroy. Never despise your rivals, Bir. Always remember that young women are full of vanity, and expect to be courted all day long. I will thank you not to leave the field open a single, day till you have secured the prize."

"What prize, sir ?" "What prize, you ninny? Why, the beautiful girl that can buy back Oddington and Drayton, peaches and fruit and all. •-•'They are both to be sold at this moment. What prize ? Why, the wife I have secured for you if you don't go and play the fool and neglect her." Walter Clifford looked aghast. " Julia Clifford !" said he. " Pray don't ask me to marry her." "Not-ask you—but I do ask you; and what is more, I command you. Would yon revolt again against your father who has forgiven you, and break my heart now I am enfeebled by disease ? Julia Clifford is your wife, or you are my son no more." The next time Walter Clifford met Mary Bartley" he was gloomy at intervals. The observant girl saw he had something on his mind. She taxed him with it, and asked him tenderly what it 'was. . " Oh, nothing," said he. "Don't tell me," said she. "Mind, nothing escapes my eye. Come, tell me, or we are not friends." "Oh come, Mary. That is hard." " Not in the least. I take an interest in you." "Bless you for saying so. " And so, if you keep your troubles from me, we are not friends nor cousins." "Mary 1" "Nor anything else." " Well, dear- Mary, sooner than not be anything else to you I will tell you, and yet I don't like. Well, then if 1 must, it is that dear, old, wrong-headed father of mins. He wants me to marry Julia Clifford. Mary turned pale directly. '' I guessed as much," said she. " Well, she is young and beautiful, and rich, and it is your duty to ,bey your father." !i ßut, I can't." . " Oh yea', you can, if you try." ." But I can't try." "Why not?" "Can't you guess?" "No." •..-.... " Well, then, I love another girl, as opposite to her as light is to darkneSE." Mary blushed and looked down. "Complimentary to Julia," she said. " I pity her opposite, for Julia is a fine high-minded girl," " Ah, Mary, you are too clever for me ; of course, I mean the opposite in appearance." " As ugly as she is pretty ?" " No; but she is a dark girl, and I don't like.dark girls; it was a dark girl that deceived me so heartlessly years ago," "Ah!" ■■ <:.:.,.; ; " And made me hate the whole sex." "Or only the brunettes." . '.'The whole lot." ■ -

" Cousin Walter, I thank you in the name 1 of that small company." . : . "Until I saw.yon, and you converted me in. one day." . ; ~. . "Only to the blondes." " Only to one of them. My sweet Mary, the situation, is serious. You, whcse eye nothing escapes, you must have seen long ago how I love you." . ~ ..••.. . "Never mind what I have seen, Walter," said Mary, whose bosom was beginning to heave. . "Very.well," said Walter, "then I will tell you as if you didn't know it. • I admired you at first sight; every time I was with you I admired you, and loved you more and more. It is my heaven to see you'and to hear you speak. Whether you are grave or gay, saucy or tender, it is all one charm, one witchcraft. I want you for my wife, and my child, and my friend; Mary, my love, my darling, how could I marry any woman but you, and you, could you marry any man but me, to break the heart that beats only for you ?" This and the voice of lovanow ardent, now broken with emotion, was more than sweet, saucy Mary could trifle with; her head drooped slowly upon bis shoulder, and her arm went round his neck, and the tremor of her yielding frame, and the tears of 'tenderness that flowed slowly from her fair eyes, told Walter Clifford without a word that she was won. He had the sense not to ask her for words. What words could be so eloquent as this ? He just held her to his manly bosom, and trembled with love and joy and triumph. She knew, too, that she had replied, and treated her own attitude like a sentence in rather a droll way." " But for all that," said she, " I don't mean to be a wicked girl if I can help. This is an age of wicked young ladies. I soon found that out iu the newspapers ; that and science are the two features. And I have made a solemn vow not to be one of them (Qaery, a science or a naughty girl), making mischief between father and son." "No more yon shall, dear," said Walter. " Leave it to ms. We must be patient, and all will come right." "Oh, I'll be true to you, dear, if that is all," said Mary. " And if you would not mind just temporising a little for my sake, who love you ?" " Temporize !" said Mary, eagerly. " With all my heart. I'll temporize till we are all dead and buried." "Oh, that will be too long for'me," said Walter. " Oh, never do things by halves," said the ready girl. If his tongue had been as prompt as hers, he might have said that "temporising" was doing things by halves; but he let her have the last word. And perhaps he lost nothing, for she would have had that' whether or no. So this day was another era in their love. Girls after a time are not content to see they are beloved, they must hear it too ; and now Walter had spoken out like a man, and Mary had replied like a woman. They were happy and walked hand in hand purring to one another, instead of sparring any more.

On his return home Walter found Julia marching swiftly and haughtily up and down upon the terrace of Clifford Hall, and he could not help admiring the haughty magnificence of her walk. The reason soon appeared. She was in a passioD. She was always tall, but now she seemed lofty, and to combine the supple panther with the erect peacock in her ireful march. Such a fine woman as Julia really awes a man with her carriage at such a time. The poor soul thinks .he sees before him the indignation of the just, when very likely it is only what in a man would be called petulance. "Anything the matter, Miss Clifford!" said he, obsequiously. "No, sir" (very stiffly). "Can 1 be of any service ?" "No, you cannot." And then, swifter than any weathercock ever-turned—"You are a good creature ; why should I be rude to you ? I ought to be ashamed of myself. It is that little wretch." " Not our friend Fitzroy 2" "Why, what other little wretch is there about? We are all Grenadiers and Maypoles in this house, except him. Well, let him go. I dare say somebody else—hum — and Uncle Clifford has told me more than once I ought to look higher. I couldn't well look lower—than five feet nothing. Ha! ha ! ha ! I told him so." " That was cruel." " Don't scold me. I won't be lectured by any of you. Of oourae it was, dear. Poor little Percy. Oh! oh! oh!" And after all this thunder, there was a little rain, by a law that governs atmosphere and,woman impartially. Seeing her softened, and having his own, reasons for wishing to keep "Fitzroy to his duty, Walter begged leave to mediate, if possible, and asked if she would do him the honour to confide the grievance to him. "Of course, I'will," said Julia. "He is angry with Colonel Clifford for not wishing him to stay here, and he is angry with me for not making Uncle Clifford invite him. As if I could; I should be ashamed to propose such a thing. The truth is, he is a luxurious little fellow, and my society out of doors does not compensate him for the cookery at the Dun Cow. There—let him go." " But I want him to stay." •' Then that is very kind of you." "Isn't it?" said Walter slyly. "And I must make him stay somehow. Now, tell me ; ian't he a little jealous ?" " A little jealous ! Why he is eaten up with it; he is pitrie de jalousie." " Then," said Walter, timidly, and hesitating at every word, "you can't be angry if I work on him a little. Would there be any great harm, if I were to say-that nobody can see you without admiring you ; that I have always respected his rights, but that if he abandons them —" Julia caught it in a moment. She blushed and laughed heartily. " Oh, you good sly thing," said she ; "and it i 3 the truth, for I am as proud as he is vain, and if he does leave me I will turn round that moment and make you in love with me." Walter looked queer; this was a turn he had not counted on.

"Do you think I couldn't, sir 2" she said, sharply. "Itis not for me to limit the power of beauty," said Walter, meekly. " Say the power of flattery. I could cajole any man in the world—-if I chose." " Then you are a dangerous creature ; and I will make Fitzroy my shield. I'm off to the Dun Cow." "You are a duck," said the impetuous beauty. " So there—" , She took him round the neck with both hands and gave him a most delicious kiss. " Why, he must be mad," replied the recipient, bluntly. She laughed at that, and he went straight to the Dun Cow. He found young Fitzroy sitting rather disconsolate, and opened his errand at once by asking him if it was true that they were to lose him. Percy replied stiffly that it was true; " What a pity," said Walter. " I d —don't think I shall be m—much m—missed," said Percy, rather sullenly. " I know two people who will miss you." "Id—don't know one." "Two, I assure you. Miss Clifford and myself. Come, Mr. Fitzroy, I will not beat about the bush. I am afraid you are mortified, and I must say justly mortified, at the coolness my father has shown to yon. But I assure you that it is not from any disrespect to you personally." "Oh, indeed," said Percy, ironically ._ .; . "No, quite the reverse, he is afraid of you." " That is a g—g —good joke." " No, let me explain. Fathers are curious people. If they are ever so disinterested in their general conduct they are sure to be a little mercenary for thei children. Now, you know Miss Clifford ie a beauty who would adorn Clifford Hall, and an heiress whose money would purchase, certain properties that join ours. You understand ?" " Yes," said the little man, starting up in great wrath, "I understand, and it's a— bom—inable. I th—thought you were my friend, and a m—man of h—honour," " So I am, and that is why I warn you in timo. If you quarrel with Miss Clifford and leave this place in a pet, just see what risks we both run, you and I. . My father will be always at me and I shall not be able to insist on' your prior claim ; he will say you have abandoned it. Julia will take the huff, and you know beautiful women will do strange • things, mad things, when once pique enters their hearts. She might turn round and marry me." "Ycu forget, sir, you are a man of honour." ■•■■ " But not a man of stone. Now, my dear Fitzroy, be reasonable. Suppose that peer'less creature went in for female revenge, why : the first thing she. would do wonld be to make ,me love her, whether I chose, or no. She wouldn't give me a voice in the matter. 1 She would flatter me ; she would, cajole me. She would transfix my too susceptible heart

with glances of fire and bewitching langour from those glorious eyes." ; . "D—D—! Ahem!" cried Percy, turning green. Walter had no meroy. "I heard her say once she could make any man love her if Bhe chose." , . "So she could," said Percy, ruefully. " She made me. I had an awful p—p—prejudice against her, but there was no resisting." ." Then don't subject me to such a trial. Stick to'her like a man." "So I will; b—but it is a m—m—mortifying position. I'm a man of family. We came iu with the C—Conquest, and are respected in our o—county; and here I have to meet her on the sly, and live at the D—Dan Cow." ." Where the cuisine is wretched." ." A—b—b—bominable !" Having thus impregnated his mind with that soothing sentiment—jealousy, Walter told him he had a honse to let on the estate, quite a gentleman's house, only a little dilapidated, with a fine lawn and garden, only neglected into a wilderness. " But all the.better for you," said he. "You have plenty of money and no occupation. Perhaps that is what leads to these little quarrels. It will amuse yon to repair the crib and restore the lawn. Why there is a brook runs through it; it isn't every lawn has that, and there used to be water lilies floating and peonies nodding down at them from the bank—a Paradise She adores flowers, you know. Why not rent that house from me. You will have constant occupation and amusement. You will become a rival potentate to my governor. Yon will take the shine out of him directly ; you have only to give a ball, and then all the girls will worship you, Julia Clifford especially, for she could dance the devil to a standstill!" Percy's eyes flashed. " When can I have the place ?" said he, eagerly. "In half-an-hour. I'll draw you a three months' agreement. Got any paper? Of course not. Julia is so near. What are ' those ? Playing cards. What do you play ? ' Patience' all by yourself. No wonder you are quarrelsome. Nothing else to bestow your energy on." Percy denied this imputation. The cards wero for private practice, fie shot daily at the pips in the yard. "It is the fiend ennui that loads your pistols and your temper too. Didn't I tell you so ?" Walter then demanded the ace of diamonds, ' and on its face let him the house and premises on a repairing lease for three years ; rent, £5 a year; which was a good bargain for both parties, since Percy was sure to lay out a thousand pounds or two on the property, and to bind Julia more closely to him, 1 who was worth her weight in gold ten times ' over. Waltsr had brought the keys with him, so he drove Percy over at onoe and gave him possession, and to do the little fellow justice the moisture of gratitude stood in his eyes when they parted. Walter told Julia all about it that same night, and her eyes were eloquent too. The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it. She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and they parted happy lovers. Mr. Bartley met her at the gate. "Mary," ssid he, gravely, "who was that I saw you with just now ?" " Cousin Walter." "I feared so. You are too mach with him."

Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing. Bartley went on, "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They say it is all over the village. Of oourae. a father is the last to hear these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this ?" " Oh, yes, papa; and approves it." "Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself." "Oh, papa," said Mary, in deep distress, 'why what objection can there be to Cousin Walter ?" "None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy. Does he court you ?" "I don't know, papa. I suppose he does." " Does he seek your love ?" " He does not say so, exactly." "Come, Mary, you have never deceived me. Does he love you?" "I am afraid he does; and if you reject him he will be very unhappy. And so shall I."

"I am truly sorry to hear it, Mary, for there are reasons why I cannot consent to an engagement between him and you." " What reasons, papa ?" "It would not be proper to disclose my reasons ; but I hope, Mary, it will be enough to say that Colonel Clifford has I other views for his son, and I have other views for my daughter. Do you think a blessing will attend you or him if you defy both fathers ?" "No, no," said poor Mary. "We have been hasty and very foolish. Bat, oh, papa, have you not seen from the first ? Oh, why did you not warn me in time ? Then I could have obeyed you easily. Now it will cost me the happiness of my life. We are very unfortunate. Poor Walter! He left me so full of hope. What shall Ido ? What shall I do ?" It was Mary Bartley's first grief. She thought all chance of happiness was gone for ever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself.

Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains. He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble. • "Go to yonr room, my child," said he, " and try and com Dose yourself. lam not angry with you. I ought to have watched you. But you are so young, and I trusted to that woman." Mary retired sobbing, and he sent for Mrs, Easton. " Mrs. Easton," said he, " for the first time in all theße years I have a fault to find with you." " What is that, sir, if you please ? "Young Clifford has been courting that child, and you have encouraged it." "Nay, sir," said the woman, "I have not done that. She never spoke to me, nor I to her." " Well, then, you never interfered." " No, sir, no more than you did." "Because I never observed it till to-day." 1 ' Bow could I know that, sir ? Everybody else observed it. Mr. Hope would have been the first to see it, if he had been in your place." This sudden thrust made Bartley wince, and showed him he had a tougher customer to deal with than poor Mary." "Yon can't bear to be found fault with, Easton," said he, craftily, " and I don't wonder at it, after fourteen years' fidelity to me," "I take no credit for that," said the woman, doggedly. " I have been paid for it." "No doubt. But I don't always get the hing I pay for. Then let bygoneß be bygones ; but just assist me now to cure the girl of this folly." " Sir," said the woman, firmly, "it is not folly ;it is wisest and best for all; and I can't make up my mind to lift a finger against it," "Do you mean to defy me, then ?" " No, sir. I don't want to go against you, nor yet against my own conscience, what's left on't. I have seen a pretty while it must come to this, and I have written to my sister Sally. She keeps a small hotel at the lakes. She is ready to have me, nnd I'm not too old to be useful to her, I'm worth my board. I'll go there this very day if y»u please, I'm aB true to you as I can.be, ai. For I Bee by Miss Mary crying so you have spoken to her, and so now she is safe to come to me for comfort ; and if she does, I shall take her part, you may be sure; for I love her like my own child." Here the dogged voice began to tremble, but she recovered herself, and told him she would go at once to her sister Gilbert, that lived only ten miles off, and next day she would go to the little hotel at the lakes and leave him to part two true lovers if he could and break both their hearts; she should wash her hands of it.

Bartley asked a moment "to consider. - "Shall we be friends still if you leave mo like that ? Surely, after all these years, you will not tell your sister ? You will not betray me?" " Never, sir," said she. " What for ?. To bring those two together? Why, it would part them for ever. I -wonder at _ you, a gentleman, and in business all your life, yet you don't seem to see through the muddy water as I do that is only a plain woman." She then told him her clothes were nearly all packed, and she could start in an hour. " You shall have the break and the horses," said he, with great alacrity. Everything transpires quickly in a email house, and jußt as she had finished packing in came Mary in violent distress. "What, is it true ? Are you going to leave meno w my heart is broken? Obj Nuxae! Nurse l'»

This was too much even for stout-hearted Ivancy Easton. *' Oh, my child, my child !"-6he cried, and sat down on her box sobbing violently, .Mary enfolded in her arms,'and then they sat crying and rooking together. "Papa does not love me as I do him," sobbed Mary, turning bitter for.. the first time. "He breaks my heart and sends you away the same day, for fear you should comfort me." "No, my dear," said Mrs. Easton, "yon are wrong; he does not send me away, Igo by my own wish." "Oh, Nurse, you desert me; then you don't know what has happened." " Ob, yes I do. I know all about it; and I'm leaving" because I "can't do what he wishes. Yon see it is this way, Miss Mary— your father has been very good to me, and I am his debtor. I must not stay here and help you to thwart him,. that would be ungrateful; and yet I can't take his side against yon. Master has got reasons why yon should not marry Walter Clifford, and—" " He told me so himself," said Mary. "Ah, but he didn't tell you hia reasons." "No." "No more must I. Bat, Miss Mary, I'll tell you this. I know hia reasons well; his reasons why you should not j marry Walter Clifford are my reasons why you should marry no other man," " Oh, Nurse! Oh, you dear, good angel!" "So when friends differ like black and white, 'tis best to part. I'm going to my sister Gilbert this afternoon, and to-morrow to my sister Sally, at her hotel." "Oh, Nurse, must you? must you? I shall not have a friend to advise or console me till Mr. Hope comes back. Oh', I hope that won't be long, now." Mrs. Easton dropped her hands upon her knees, and looked at Mary Bartley. " What, Miss Mary, would you go to Mr. Hope in such a matter as this ? Surely you would not have the face?" "Not take my breaking heart to Mr. Hope," cried Mary, with a sudden flood of tears. " Yon might as well tell me not to lay my trouble before my God. Dear, dear Mr. Hope, who saved my life in those deep waters, and . jen cried over me, darling dear. I think more of that than of his courage. So you think lam blind ? He loves me better than my own father does; and it is not a young man's love, it is an angel's. Not cry to him 'when I am in the deep waters of affliction? I could not write of such a thingto him for blushing ; but the moment he returns I shall find some way to let him know how happy I have been, how broken-hearted I am, and that papa has reasons against him, and they are your reasons for him, and that you are both afraid to let me know these curious reasons; me, the poor girl whose heart is being made a football of in this house. Oh ! oh I oh !" "Don't cryi 'Miss Mary," said Nurse Easton, tenderly;-'-'and pray don't excite yourself so. -Why, I never saw you like this before," " Had I evo'r'the same reason ? You have only known the happy, thoughtless child. They have made a woman of me now, and my peace is gone. I must not defy my father, and I will not break poor Walter's heart, the truest heart that ever beat. Not [ tell dear Mr; Hope ? I'll tell him everything if I'm cut in pieces for it." And her beautiful eyes flashed lightning through her tears. "Hum!" said Mrs. Easton under her breath, and looking down at her own feet. " And pray what does ' hum' mean ?" asked Mary, fixing her eyes with prodigious keenness on the woman's face. " Well, I don't suppose ' hum' means anything, said Mrs. Easton, still looking down. "Doesn't it?" said Mary, "with such a face as that it moans a volume. And I'll make it iny business to read that volume," "Hum!" " And Mr. Hope shall help me." [To be continued.]