ROSALIND OF THE BUSH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XL, Issue 12280, 26 May 1903, Page 3

ROSALIND OF THE BUSH.

BY KATHARINE WYNNE, of " The Sadness of Love," " A ' ' l °?t°ro»? Man's Love." " Silken Bonds," fctr etc., tic, etc.

CHAPTER XV.— (Continued.) ' ;,& glad to Lear it," he ! ■«<■>. go od-hu-I lit "Yes, that is the way of the I "J; the young take the place of the old, ! '. 2 are not missed." I ' "That is not true, grandpapa, ezciaim- , Gladys, reprovingly, slipping her hand '\ ■ ttionately into his. >"! .m, I did not mean with you, pet. he i , keeping her hand in his. "Well, ' Sain Otley, how are you, now you have M3d your strength':' ~,,„,. ■■'■' *Weaker than I imagined, air. Kushwm. ii have' discovered that you were nearest ' • Hand that I must crave your hospitality SfcSher day. A sunstroke is more sen,f. than I believed. ' Dl a very serious tiling Uldml, OS VOu I, ]„ irn ing"trom experience, As to anfij day, L another lo that, 01 a Week. Sieve Die, WO who live out here in the S are only too pleased to have Visitors X can tell us something ot the Old Coun- ■ X In fact, hv staying you will be doing i . 3, creator kindness than we do yon. : '■■'' ■You must allow me to say 'Ao to! w fW » exclaimed John Otley. . " Or. rather, i ■'■ Teach speak as we feel. If, Mr. Kushwin, | 1 i stranger, accept your generosity lor a : ft* dws, pray allow me to introduce myself : Lreiully—sliow mj credentials, as it were, | Son si-1 lust be my own introducer." j "jfonecd—-no need," interrupted his host. j • «\Ve to not practice strict etiquette and I Bunetiln in the bush, 1 can assure you. Besides, .oiiih carry their credentials on the surface, and an officer—" "ghoild always be a gentleman," put in the capai". smiling. Well, I hope so. Of course there are black sheep in all ranks, unfortinr.tplv. '.though i have served Her MajestA',l do so no longer; for, having succeeded" ti a. small income, I laid down my jjujs—fo' the army is rather a monotonous Brofessioi when one is not on active service { Land resolved to see something of the j world, i have always had an inclination i to Aastrdia, and to make myself acquainted with life in the bush. So 1 started, and I here I an." "I fear," smiled Mr. Rushwin, "that Australia lias treated you but shabbily. Nevertheless, if you care to be our guest, longer, we will try to make compensation ; and I promise to introduce you to station life. Ah! there goes Soph's gong broom and tea-tray—to summon us to dinner. Will yea come," Captain Otley, or shall Soph bring your chicken, or what invalid dish be prepared for you, here?' "I'vouli rather come with you. I have had too much of my own company lately." "That is well. Can I help you'.'" But the captain found himself equal to :. walking alimc along the few feet of verandah to the sitting-room where the dinner was waiting, villi Mrs. Hepburn seated at the top of die table, her mittoned hands ; clasped retdy to say grace. The meal had drawn nearly to a close when Captain Otley, missing his handkerchief, and searching in his pockets, putting his hand in one, suddenly started, flushed, then turned deathly pale*. At that instant Mr. Busbwin, looking up. saw the change. "I find, captain,' he remarked, pleasantly, "that 1 must still use my authority as y'our medical adviser. You are certainly overtaxing your strength and talking too much, lour complexion and my sister's spotless tablecloth are rivals in whiteness. I must insist upon your taking rest in your own room until tea"; when, if you feel disposed, you can join us again ; and, while we talk", pet shall sing us some of the Old World ballads." "When the reward promised is so tempting, cannot refuse to comply with your actvice." said Captain John. " "I love Old World ballads," and Biis eves rested on Gladys. "I knew Miss Bell sang. She has the soul of music in her face. ' As to myself, I confess I feel a little fatigued, so will retire, though indeed loth to go." "A stitch in time, Captain Otley, saves nine." suggested Mrs. Hepburn. "Which means, I suppose," .laughing, "that an hour's rest now will save a compulsory nine later. I will delay, under such a threat, no longer." "A most agreeable, and I should think, well-informed, young man," remarked Mrs. Hepburn, arranging her fork and spoon symmetrically on her plate. "Yes." acquiesced Mi. Rushwin, cheerily. "He quite brightens us up. Only imagine how London must be —Temple Bar, down, the Thames with an embankment, like a boulevarde, andand no end of other improvements. Pet, you must see London, some day.'' But pet did not answer, for she had passed out on to the verandah. She had not ] spoken anything in their guest's praise; but silence is often more eloquent than j words, when hearts are young. Meanwhile, the captain had gone slowly up the stairs, hearing Soph humming some plantation ditty close by ; but no sooner did he close his room door, than his weakness fled, an expression of annoyance and alarm appeared on his countenance, and he drew from the pocket previously mentioned, a letter.

"Confound it!" he muttered. " I had forgotten I had this. Is it possible, while I was yonder laid on my back, that they could" have read it? I "ought to have destroyed it. But how could i suspect the sun would knock me over-like a ninepia? If they had read it— Bah! Do not their manner, their behaviour, prove they haven't? If I'm any judge of character, my friends below are too honourable to read a letter that was not theirs, though it laid open before their eyes ; and if the negress saw it when she brushed my clothes, I doubt if she could read it. Still, I'll not run another risk. I'll answer it straight off." ' Hastily he ran his eyes over the pages, as if to refresh his mind regarding _ certain items; then striking a match, ignited the paper, watching it barn to ash. After locking the door, sitting out of sight of everyone in the garden beneath, he drew the writing materials with, which he had been provided toward him, and begin to write rapidly. CHAPTER XVI. THE LETTER HE WROTE. "Dear Old Fitz,— distance between us is of that extent, that such a confounded time elapses befote the writing of a letter and the receipt of the same that by now—aware Wyour defective men, ry, especially in money matters- -possibly you "have forgotten you ?ver wrote, or what you said in your epistle, or, at least, have not noted my delay in answering. "The truth is. ] have been 'prospecting,' not for gold, and vet it is for that precious metal, only not in its virgin state, but. when it ha'.-; passed through Her Majesty's taint. Stay, you ask what J have been and am doing ;' why I so suddenly quitted the army and migrated here? I will tell you. 'Open confession is good for the soul, and that a commodity both of us want. With is, Fitz, pot cannot scorn kettle. "To commence, 1 left the army to prevent being—let me own it—cashiered— kicked nut—expelled. It's tiuth. I was the victim of baccarat. 1 acted idiotically, lacking the calmness and self-control, 1 am glad to say, I have acquired since. "Baccarat, was profitable, and well eked out my pay—vous comprenez, rnon ami? But one unfortunate evening, it appears, .the colonels suspicions were aroused. Unnoticed, he carefully watched the play— that is, he carefully watched me. '.the result was a nasty remark, an accusation refaring to my honour. In plain English, he declared I cheated. "My 'spotless virtue' was at once in amis. Indignation sat upon my brow, but I saw immediately the game was up. In jfly rage I flung the cards into the colonel's face. Between you and me it was the best thing I could do for a cover. There was a shindy. 1 lied after the whole mess had retired from me. , 'The next morning I sent in my resignation. It was, of course, accepted. No scandal was made, for play was curried on *° such an extent in the mess that I might .have said more than was pleasant. ■ :■ "Therefore, the affair was bushed up. I 'retired without beat of drum, with more .debts than cash! The incident was far worse to my creditors than to me, for be- ;* fore they knew I had left the army 1 had -'...decamped to fresh fields and pastures new, - a »d was miles beyond their reach. " Well, there I was, it gentleman—the .son of a gentleman—with just c wretched Income of fifty pounds, left by a spinstei

aunt. I, who had started life with the vow, by fair means or otherwise, to make and enjoy money. " What was Ito do? I was in the blues, when, one evening, sitting over the fire smoking with Tom Grimshaw— know 'Join Coaching Tom exclaimed: '"A fellow like you hasn't a right to despair. Your glass, let alone the women, has told you you are a handsome dog, if you require the telling. Why can't you manage to run off with an heiress?' " Drowning men catch at straws. I had always been a favourite with the fair sex, so rather caught at the idea, I told Tom I would think it over, and give him. for the suggestion, a pony on my wedding-day. The thought grew upon me. Why should I not succeed? I was not greedy. A nice, comfortable competence, I told myself, would suffice, if the girl was young and pretty. Middle-aged and ugly must bring a higher price. " Well, finally I resolved to set the green cloth aside for a space— was, after all, risky, and—uncertain. Besides, once a gentleman, always a gentleman. I had some conscience, so" was beaten by the low blacklegs who have not—and start the matrimonial scheme. But where to commence? gland would be too long, if not useless; so 1 deckled on Australia.

" 1 have always had an inclination to that continent and a bush life, while not much capital would be needed to get into society, for 1 was and looked a gentleman ; therefore, it would be no difficult matter to get upon familiar terms with the squatters, who, I had beard, were hospitality itself. By this means I might come across some widow, fair, fat. and forty, well off in gear; or, better, the blooming heiress of a wealthy squatter, who would bring a thriving station for a dowry. Resolved, I did not let the grass grow under my feet. Two months ago I landed on this Tom Tiddler's ground, and have been prospecting ever since, with this result, that at this moment I can, if I like, cry, ' Viva!' " ' Joy, joy, my task is (lone. . The gates are past. And Heaven is won!'

"But, no; I will not cry 'Victory' until I hold my heiressnow I feel but on the right road. The twig is limed, and already I am sure she is ready, with a little skilful luring, to jump upon it. It was just this. A few days ago, while riding— Lance-lot-like, in questthe sun, my hidden friend, knocked me over with a coup de soliel. When I returned to consciousness I found myself being excellently nursed and tended in a station. The owner was elderly, and evidently a well-educated gentleman. 1 also saw a prim piece of femininity —and a negress.

'* I didn't object to the rest, yet I was impatient to get on my way, when I made a discovery. The old gentleman had a grand-daughterit lovely, innocent bit of girlhood—his heiress. It's just likely she never looked upon 'a young gentleman of my figure' in her life. "At any rate. I feel certain I have made so decided an impression that 1 have but to hold forth my linger to have my pretty Gladys soon fly upon it. " But I am too old a bird to be precipitate —I must first learn for certain what my host is really worth. Captain John Otley cannot throw mmself away for a pretty face.

" There is my little busy bee in the garden. Busy among her flowers, for an excuse, I verily believe, to look up at this window. Yes, her eyes are in this direction. Well, men perpetrate such lovers' follies, why should not women? You cannot tell how pitifully and sympathetically she regards me when I appear to grow faint or have a twinge of pain. Poor little monkey ! I hope she is worth the. winning, for her sake, —she is such a. tender, gentle dove that, having mentioned Sir Lancelot, I may as well carry out the —there may be a modern case of Elaine, the fair daughter of Astolat. "Ah! there is the sound of cups and saucers. The, tea is near ; after it. lam to hear pretty Gladys chirrup. I, who have sat at the feet of the lovely but faulty Raspon devouring sound. Bah! that is past. I am summoned. I must end this anon. Perhaps 1 can give you more particulars in regard to my worthy host before I fasten this down."

" Your rest has done you good, Captain Otley," remarked Mr. Rush win, as the ex-officer entered. " You look twenty per cent, better. There is nothing like sleep in most cases. Nature is the best nurse."

"I perfectly agree with you,' answered the visitor. "My only- fear was I had indulged too long, and kept you waiting." " Not at allnot at all. I have but just come in myself. Pet had to fetch me. We are busy, and rather short-handed at present." "I wish I could assist you, and be of service."

Gladys gave a merry little laugh at the idea.

"Really, Miss Bel!, I meant it!" exclaimed the captain, turning to her with one of his best boomerang glances, which made her feel so very much like the fascinated bird. From a boy this kind of life in the bush has had great attractions to me. In proof, lam here." "Well," laughed Mr. Rushwin, "tomorrow you shall see something more of it, then shall better judge." The tea was a favourite meal at Silver Peak. Work was at an end, and it was the pleasant hour of rest and conversation. Evening had come before they quitted the table, when Mr. Rushwin and the captain went to sit out on the verandah. Mrs. Hepburn sat down to her work-bas-ket, near the lamp, while Gladys, a little nervous of that third listener, sang in clear, pure tones, her " simple ballads." The calm, Southern night of the bush settled down around the little household. Intense silence reigned. Who would have guessed the disturbing element which had found its home there? . After awhile, the captain came in. devoting himself to Gladys and her ballads, his praises making her pulses flutter, and her cheek grow warm and pink. Certainly the guest had very winning ways. Had lie not,always been a favourite with the fair se*x? Before retiring to rest, Captain Otley finished his letter. "I have succeeded pretty skilfully in drawing my worthy host," he wrote. "It will not be so very great a catch, still, it's a comfortable nest, and certain. In the language of the Old Country, he is i' warm.' Pretty Gladys is the orphan ' daughter of his only child. He is de- ! voted to her, all his thought is of her. ! He could well retire, but prefers to add. I guinea to guinea for her sake. I think i I shall go in and winthe silly little j mouse, I am sure, is mine for the asking —and enjoy the pleasure of sitting, like a patriarch of old, under my own fig tree." (To be continued daily.)