MAIDA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 11953, 30 April 1902, Page 3

MAIDA.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, - tnthor of "With All Her Heart," "At Love's Cost," "Love, the Tyrant," "The Shadow '. of Her Life," " A Heritage of Hate." etc., etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXXIX. Sorrow seldom kills a strong man. Before very long Heroncourt was about again, and, though he was still weak he insisted upon taking his share in the heavy work which hfcd been caused by the partial destruction of the house and the defection of so many hands ; but though he recovered his strength slowly there was something that he had not recoveredthe great hope of his life, the joy and pleasure in life itself.

He went about his work mechanically ; his face, still thin and haggard, wore an absentminded, preoccupied expression. He ate little, and only slept when he was physically exhausted.

He had intended announcing his engagement to Dartford; but on the day lie had asked Lucy to be his wife she had implored him not to do so, and when he had asked her to give him a reason she could only repeat her request. Heroncourt had been top weak to argue, and she had her \;ay. She, too. had recovered, but she was still pale, and there was a look in her eyes, a wistful expression, which was scarcely that of happiness. As she still seemed weak Dartford had given her leave to go away for a change to a neighbouring station— neighbouring is not the wrong word when such distances are considered—and somewhat to his surprise, for he guessed that there was some understanding between her and Heroncourt, and had more than a strong suspicion that she was in love with him— she accepted the offer of a change with eagerness. Heroncourt was so busy that he did not see very much of her during the day ; and in the evening, when they might have been together for a short time, she kept away from him, pleading, when he gently remonstrated with her and accused her of doing so, that there was so much work that she had no time, and similar excuses. Heroncourt's manner towards her was full of tho gentlest chivalry ; he treated her with a respect and reverence which he would have accorded a lady of his own rank; he would not allow her* to wait upon him—be sure Baxter aided him in this —and the evening before her departure he got her to himself for a few minutes and again asked her to let him announce their engagement. It was late in the afternoon and they were walking side by side through a small wood which had been planted by a former owner of the station, and Heroncourt took her hand —it was very thin and almost white now— as he spoke to her. "We can't go on like this, Lucy," he said ; " it isn't fair to you, or to me, for that matt You must let. me tell Dartford and the rest. Why should you not? They ought to know, everybody ought to know. Come, if you refuse" I shall think you are sorry for having accepted me." Her hand quivered in his and she cast a glance at him, an eloquent glance, which he, gazing straight before him, did not see. " Why should we not be married at once?" he went on. "We could go to Melbourne, or perhaps we could find a clergyman nearer"

She drew her hand from his and passed it across her eyes and trembled. "No, no; not yet!" she said, half-fear-fully. "It is too scon ;I— do not want to be married vet." " But why not?" he urged. " Are you not sure of yourself, my child?" The "my child" was significant enough even to her. He had not called her his dearest, his love. "Perhaps 1 am not," she said. "Oh, I can't tell, I don't know. _ Don't ask me, don't press me. My mind is all in a whirl ; I can scarcely realise that you —you want me to be your wife. You will give me time to try and feel that it is real?"

Her eyes were full of tears and she spoke so pleadingly that Heroncourt could do no other than yield. He took her hand and put it to his lips with a kiss that was full of the gentleness of protection ; but there was no passion in it. and the girl, unsophisticated as she was, knew that there was none.

" Don't cry, Lucy," he said. "It shall be as you wish.' I only seek your happiness. Of 'course, I want to marry you at once— why should I not, seeing that we are engaged? But I won't worry you. It isn't fair. You are alone, or almost alone, m this wild place, and it is right that I should study your wishes. But when you come back—''

"Yes," she said, catching at the suggestion with a feverish eagerness, but. with a sigh. "When I come back you shall tell them all ; we will be—be married then, if you still wish it." "If I still wish it!" he said. " But so be it. You must come back with the roses bloming in voiir cheek again, Lucy. Come back the merry, light-hearted girl you were -before this terrible" business. I don't know why you are so nervous, so fearful ; are you afraid that I shall not make you happy? I shall try all I know, Lucy." " Ah, yes ; I know!" she said in a low voice. "I am not afraid of that. But—but I—shall I be able to make you happy, Mr. Tudor?" "There is no fear of that," said Heroncourt ; and he spoke in all honesty. " Any man would be happy with the love of such a sweet, brwave, good girl as you, Lucy. But you mustn't call me Mr. Tudor. I tun Owen to you. I don't like to hear you address me so formally." '■'.'.' Her lips mutely formed the Christian name." " I will try," she said. "It is strange, so hard to believe—" " Yes, you must try," he said. Then, thinking it best, he began to speak of the affairs of the station, and she recovered her self-possession. Heroncourt took out bis pipe, and they walked along, and his proximity to her brought her a quiet happiness that yet was not wholly happiness ; for every now and then, as she glanced at him and saw the change which had come into his face since the night he had returned from Milda Wolda, her heart ached, and sh* had difficulty in checking a sigh. They walked on throng i the wood, Heroncourt talking and she listening, end, as they emerged, Heroucourt saw a horseman riding towards them. "Now, who can that be?" he said, with some surprise. "We don't expect anyone. He is a stranger, by his appearance and the way he rides. It's "a young man," be added, a minute or two afterwards. "I'll go," said Lucy, .with her new-born timidity. But Heronconrt laid his baud i upon her arm and stayed, her. i "No, no! Why should you?" he said. j "Why should you'be ashamed of being seen | with me?"

She remained and stood beside him, biting her lip nervously ; but, as the horseman rode up, she drew back and slipped into the wood, but was still near enough to hear the newcomer utter an exclamation of amazement. " Heroncourt !" he cried. Heroncourt stared at the young fellow reining up his horse none too skilfully ; then he, too, uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Ricky!" he cried, and strode up to the young man. Ricky slid off his horse, but stood gaping at Heroncourt, and at last took his outstretched hand mechanically. "I can't believe my eyes. Lord Heroncourt," he said. "It can't really be you !" " Lord Heroucourt!" Lucy waited for no more, but, with throbbing heart and a thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions pressing upon her, raft away through the wood. " Yes, it is 1, right enough, Ricky," said Heroncourt, wringing Ricky's hand, and smiling as he had not smiled since the night at Milda Wolda. " But it is I who can scarcely believe my eyes. How is it you are here? How did you come?" Ricky wiped his brow, for he was hot with his ride and the excitement of the meeting. ' ,

" Oh, I—l came over," he said, blushing as deeply as his tan would permit. "No room for an energetic young man in England. I wanted to see Australia. Besides —isn't there a place called Milda Wolda near here?" he added shyly.

Heroncourt, of course, understood. The flush died from his face. The sight of Ricky had brought back with cruel vividness old times t.nd past happiness. Ricky had come after Carrie, might find her and win her ; but Maida was lost to Heroncourt for ever.

• "Yes," he said. "I know why you have come. 'But tell memore, tell me all about yourself?" •; , . ' r, "Oh, there isn't much to tell," said Ricky. "I -got tired;of office work, and old • Spinner has '■ got more a bounder than ever; and he and I had a tiff. But I should have come out if he hadn't. I couldn't stick there any longer. But you are scarcely looking well, Heroncourt," he broke off; "you. are looking thinner and — out of sorts generally." Heroncourt jerked his head in a casual way. • " Oh, I'm all right," be said. " I've had a touch of.feveV. What other news is there? I'll tell you mine presently.-" How are all - our old friends in England, the Glassburys? We exiles always expect to hear home news first."

In truth, he shrank from speaking of Maida and Carrie. He had been trying to forget Maida; but now all the bitterness of despair was sweeping over him again. "Oh, they're all right," said Ricky. " Lord Glassbury has got the Foreign Office. Lady Glassbury asked me to dinner just before I came away. We talked of you and Maida nearly' all the time. Of course- she doesn't know where you are; nobody knows. I say, how amazed she'd be if she knew that* you were here near Carrie —l mean, Maida! You've seen her, of course."

"I'll tell you-all : about them presently," said Heroncourt, wearily, and checking a sigh. " No, I've not seen them. lam here, helping to run this station. We are going to it now; it is not far. Get on your horse again ; I'll walk beside you." "Just hold him a minute, will you?" said Ricky; "he's a fidgety beast, and has nearly been the death of me but I'm learning to ride; a fellow's got to ride out here, ha.sn.'fc he?" he added, with a touch of pride which at another time would have amused Heroncourt. " And have you been here all the time?"

" Yes," said Heroncourt. ' " I'm afraid you'll think badly of me, Ricky, for making a bolt of it; but it was the only way. You, who know the whole business, know that. You won't see us at our best," he went on, hospitably. " We've had some trouble with the hands here, and they managed to burn us out ; but you are more than welcome."

They went through the wood, Ricky giving the London news and Heroncourt listening, but rather listlessly. He had quite forgotten Lucy; significant fact! They reached the house. Heroncourt sent Ricky's horse round to the stable and took him into the living-room to find, with a start, Lucy there and laying the cloth. Heroncourt's impulse was to say, " This young lady is my future wife, Ricky." But Lucy's large eyes looked at him appealingly, as if reminding him of his promise, and he was forced to check the impulse. He was so absorbed in welcoming Kicky and making him comfortable, that he did not. notice the curious expression on Lucy's face. It was like that of one who has been startled Insome sudden information. Baxter came in a moment or two afterwards, and naturally started at sight of Ricky. "Hallo. Baxter!" cried Ricky. "Why, this is as great a surprise as seeing Lord" Heroncourt laid his hand on Ricky's arm and stopped him. "Hold on," he said., "I forgot to. tell you that I bear a different name. here. I am not Heroncourt but Owen Tudor ; you'll understand why." Ricky nodded; he was getting used to surprises. Baxter brought the dinner in and waited assiduously on Ricky, who he was evidently glad to see; and Ricky told him some of the English news. Lucy did not appear again. When the meal was cleared away Ricky, getting out his pipe, said: * ,

"•How far is it to Milda Wolda? I want to go on there at once; and I want to know what. I am to do, say, about you when I see them."

"You won't see them at Milda Wolda, Ricky," said Heroncourt. " You must brace yourself for disappointment. They have left Milda Wolda, they have gone to Melbourne.''

Ricky's face fell, and he let the match die out'without lighting his pipe.

"To Melbourne!" he echoed, with the keenest disappointment." "How long ago? When I heard from Carrie last she said nothing about leaving." Heroncourt was silent for a moment. He ooiild not bring himself to speak of Maida's marriage; he- knew that he should betray himself, felt that in this new flood of emotion set rib wing by the sight of Ricky he should break down.

"They left suddenly." he said, at last. " They have gone to Melbourne; you ' can follow -them there; it is not.a long journey." He thought bitterly how willing be would lie to traverse the earth if Maida were waiting for him at the other end. "You can start to-morrow ; I'll fit you up, help you all I can." " I —l think I will." said poor Ricky. It was a hard game of hide-and-seek for him ; to have come all that way to find that Carrie had, so to speak, crossed him in his journey. "Yes, I think I will. I—oh, I must see her."

Heroncourt nodded. No, there was no need for him to speak of the marriage; they would tell him when they Haw him. Dartford came in and gave Ricky a welcome. ,

" I heard that a friend of yours had turned up, Tudor," he said. " Jolly glad to see any friend of yours. Hope you will make yourself comfortable, Mr. Clark ; wish you had found us as snug as we were a little while ago; but we'll do the best we can for you, show you the country, and so ou." "Thank you very much," said Ricky, faltering, " but I must start for Melbourne tomorrow."

" Oh, I'm sorry," said Dartford. Then he turned to .Heroncourt quickly. "By the way, that reminds me. I've got tidings of that quaint old fellow, David Jones. A man rode in this afternoon, a man I'd engaged at Melbourne; he saw David Jones there— fancy, Melbourne. They knew each other and -David Jones sent you a message by him. He was to give you his duty and to say that those two young ladies—the Misses Carringtou, you know—have sailed for England, and that David Jones is going too. He's gone by this time, of course; the man arid he was just starting. I'll go and look him up and send him in to you." Ricky stared at Heroncourt who sat with bowed head and knitted brow."

"To England!" gasped Ricky. "And to think that I have come out here. Oh, it's too bad!"

Heroncourt raised his head; he looked very pale and haggard. "'You must go after them, Ricky," he said. . ,

"But—" began Ricky, with a confused air; he was half bewildered by this series of surprises. "You must go after them," said Heroncourt, again. "They may need you. You can start to-morrow as you proposed. If you want money—" "I've enough for that." said Ricky, a little more cheerfully. Then suddenly he said: " Why shouldn't, you come too?"

The colour rose to Heroucourt's face, then, died away again. Why should he go to torture himself with the sight of the woman he bad lost? Besides, there was Lucy. "It is impossible." he said. " J cannot go. Don't ask me." He held up his hand almost sternly, for Ricky had opened his lips to eagerly argue the question ; but Heroncourt began to give directions for the journey. They sat and talked for some time, then Ricky went out to fetch some English newspapers which he had brought in his saddlebag. He was coming from the stable when the pretty pale-faced girl he had seen laying the cloth came towards him. She wore a hat and jacket and held a small bundle iu her hand, as if she were starting on a journey, and Ricky, raising his hat, was passing her when she* stretched out her hand, as if to stay him, and uiid: "May Imay I speak to you, sir?" Ricky stopped and raised his hat again in well-bred 'English fashion. " Certainly," he said. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Her hand went to her bosom as if to still the. throbbing of her heart and she stood still for a moment, silently lighting her emotion ; then she said:

" Yes, sir, there is. I want to ask you a few questions; 1 want you, I beg of you, to answer them. I can't tell you why 1 ask them; but it's not from curiosity— no, no! It's because so much depends upon my doing the right thing ; it's for his sake that I want to know—"

"His?" said Ricky, puzzled. i: "Yes; Mr. Timor's, ' she went on,- in a, low voice, and more calmly. " When you rode up just now you called him ' Lord Heroncourt;' is that his right name, is he a lord, a gentleman? You need not hesitate, sir, the secret is safe with me; I shall never tell anyone. I've reasons, good reasons, for

asking; believe roe, I'm speaking the troth when! say that I am only thinking of Iris happiness arid of what "good for him." Kicky looked anxiously at the beautiful, care-worn face, the innocent, truthful eyes which met his steadily; and, so looking at her, decided to answer her. " Yes," he said fi" my friend is Lord Heroncourt; he is the Karl of Heroncourt, a great English nobleman.' She bowed her head for a. moment and murmured, more to herself than to him: "I might have known; ah, yes, I might have known!" '• Thank yon, sir. Will you tell me why he left England; was it because cf gome troubleit mostly is when a great gentleman leaves the Old Country and comes out to this wild place. But was it because—because of a love trouble? You needn't hesitate, sir. lam asking for his sake." . "Well, yes, it was," said Ricky, reluctantly. "He was going to be married to a young lady, one of the most beautiful, most lovable women God over made. I know her—and her sister. Then there was some trouble, and they parted.'' Lucy's head was bowed lower; then she raised it and looked at him with a dumb agony in her eyes, her face white as death ; but yet glowing with a woman's courage, a woman's sacrifice of self. " Was her name—Maida?" she asked. ' _ The name was scarcely breathed, as if it cost her an agony to pronounce it. " That was her name," said Ricky, gravely. " But I'm sorry that you have asked me. that I have told you ail this. I really ought not to have done so, —" " You have done no harm, sir," she said, almost inaudibly. " You may have done great good. lam leaving this place I shall not ever see Mr. Tudor again. I meant to say good-bye, but I cannot—l mean, there is not time. Will you give him this, sir? Not now, not directly you go in, but in ah hour's time? I can trust you, sir?" ' ' She held out an envelope, and Ricky -saw that her hand was shaking. He took the letter and raised his hat.

' "I will," he said. "1 am afraid you are in trouble—can I help you —can 1 do anything?" She seenied scarcely to hear him. Heroncourt was passing at a little distance, ami her eyes, her whole being, seemed to turn towards him as if slip, were under a spell. As his footsteps died away she recovered, and her eyes slowly came back to Ricky's face.

" Help me?" she echoed, so helplessly, so despairfully, that it made Ricky's heart ache. "ISo one can help me but God. You will give him the letter, sir? Thank you, thank you." As she. spoke a man came up. '"Are you ready, Miss Lucy?" he said. " I was told you weren't going to start for a couple of hours or I'd have, been ready sooner. Women are kittle tattle surely ; they never know their own minds two minutes together. How long will yon be now, the horses and cart is waiting?'' Lucy's lips formed, "good-bye;" she turned to look at the house, ' looked in the direction whence Heroncourt had gone, then, with -head, followed the man.

Ricky, with some misgivings over his breach of confidence, went into the house; but Heroncourt was not there, and did not come in for some time; 'and when he did come in,looked worn and haggard and tired. " Here are the papers," said Ricky. '• You'll like to L:!Ve news of old England; but, oh, Herojicourt, how 1. wish you were going over with me!" Heroncourt shook his head. Outside he had been pacing up and clown for the last hour wrestling with the temptation to follow Maida, if only to see her for the last time, But if there were no other obstacles in the way, there was Lucy the girl to/whom he had pledged his troth; and though it was done in a moment of great mental stress and strain, when his mind had scarcely recovered its equilibrium, he was pledged to her and he must keep hit; plighted troth. Yes, he lielonged to Lucy, to the girl who had saved his life, who, he knew, loved him. . , "■

" It's impossible," he said. " Say no more about it. I want to give you a message for Lady Glassbury. Tell her that I have settled* here; that I an quite happy, that I shall never return to England." "And when I see Maida?" .said Ricky, in a low voice!

"Tell hernothing," replied Heroncourt, sternly. " I've no message for her. You'd better get bed now, Ricky; you'll have to get up early to-morrow." Kicky rose; then 'he remembered the letter; he had almost forgotten it, he was so engrossed in Maida, and Carrie.

" Oil, this letter he said ; " it. was given to me by that pretty girl who was laying the doth—"

Heroncourt took the letter, tore open the envelope listlessly and read the simple, pathetic words Lucy had written with a rusty pen and faded ink; but they were written with her heart's blood : *

"I am going away,. I shall never see you any more. It was all a mistake, your asking me to marry you and my saying 'Yes.' I know that I am not St to do so. But that's not the reason. I said 'Yes' because you were ill and I was flurried, but now I know that I was wrong. I shouldn't be happy as your wife. I don't love you in that way. I hope you will be happy, and that you will go to England and be happy. I shall always think of you and your goodness to me. Don't send after me, because I've quite made up my mind; I'm quite sure 1 couldn't be your wife, not loving you enough. Lucy."

Heroncourt sank into a chair and sat with bowed head, the letter crushed in his hand. He did not love the girl, but yet— The lr>art of man is full of inconsistencies. Though her desertion of him broke the chain that bound him to her and released him from his promise he felt as if crushed down by a. new sense of desolation. Ricky regarded bim anxiously. " What's the matter. Heroncourt?" he asked. "Is it bad news? She seemed awfully cut up when she gave it me; she asked ine about you— "■ Heroncourt rose. "She has not -gone," he said almost to himself. " I will find her."

" She went an hour ago," said Ricky. " Heroncourt, J don't know what it all means, of course; but I can see that you are unhappy— things have gone wrong with you here. You ought not to bury yourself —you. the Earl of Heroncourt. Oncei more, front you conte back with me?"

Heroncourt gripped the table and stood erect, his teeth set and his face working. "Yes," he said hoarsely. * "I've been lighting against it, but all in vain; and this"—lie held out his hand with Lucy's letter crushed in if—"this decides me,. I will go with you." Hartford entered at the moment, and Heroncourt. swung round upon bim. " Hartford, I must go to England, You'll think me mad. I can't help it. I must. go. I shall be of no use if I remain here. I'll come back—but I must go." Hartford went to him and laid a baud on his shoulder.

"That's all right, old man," he said. "I can see there's something been worrying you lately, but I've held my tongue; don't like to interfere in another man's business, von know. But of course you shall go; 'go with iyour friend, Mr. Clark, here. Steady, old man,' steady!" > Heroneourt had sank into the chair arid his head had fallen forward on his* arms, outstretched. on the table. " Come on, I'll help you to pack !"■ (To be continued on Saturday next.)