PRIDE OR LOVE?

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19214, 31 December 1925, Page 14

PRIDE OR LOVE?

BY R. BBOCAS.

A IfEW ZEALAND STORY.

John Harlane stood bare-headed in the heat. In loyalty Mike stood in the hottest spot to be found near him. When his master stood as he did. now, looking—looking down the valley, over j a magnificent pohutukawa in its brilliant Christmas dress, and right out to sea, looking—if Mike could possibly imagine such a thing—as though he had forgotten the existence of his faithful comrade, wbr, then, that comrade knew that he Was needed very near. The most tempting shade might whisper lullabie-s to him in vain. John was a typical New Zealander, tall, bronzed, wide-shouldered. His jaw spoke of will-power, and his mouth and eyes of steadfastness. Mike was a handsome collie, . with many generations of highlytrained ancestors to his credit. Also with an idolatrous worship of his master—and one other. Ho knew that soon John would coire out of that still silence, and would ne?d a friend to catch his first look. 4 So he did. He came to himself with a shiver, despite the heat, and looked round as though seeking' anchorage. When he ■■ saw Mike's wistful, help-offering eyes he stooped to pat him with a broken " Thank goodness for you, you faithful old friend." Then, taking a fresh grip of himself, he said more naturally, ' I should not be loitering here, Mike. Come on, we 11 have dinner." At the word Mike walked gravely toward the kitchen door, and Harlaue set about cooking the bachelor meal. He did his best, but the weather had not been very, kind to his reserve of meat, and the result of his efforts was not exactly appetising. Mike's plate was heaped the higher of the two. He ate it slowly, so slowly that Harlane bantered him with a friendly , grin. 'Not quite the thing, eh, boy Never mind, we'll get some fresh meat soon. I believe you're the next thing to human in your tastes. Well, we'll go and investigate the damage that strange dog did last night. I'll have you free tonight—l guess he won't come again!" He washed up and-replaced everything in its obviously appointed place, finally ■carding the pan and dish-cloth as he hatf seen "someone" do, then saddled his horse to ride almost to the boundary of / bis section. / "A 'good thing," he thought as ho rode, " that Mike and I had taken the fat lambs away before this brute of a dog found the place. If I could only catch him at work a dose of lead should be his portion. Why, Mike! What's up ?" for the dog had been casting backward glances for some time, and seemed torn between the desire to keep up with / him and the craving to return home. When John pulled up Mike dropped to his haunches with surely the most pleading expression that ever a dog achieved. " Well!" exclaimed his puzzled master, "you must have a reason—you're not a slacker! But what is your reason?" Mike threw another wistful look in the home direction, then resumed his request to be absolved from duty. "Perhaps the strange dog is there, and you are aching to give him a lesson." said John. "Yery well, then, do you go see, Mike; I must go on." Mike shot away as though released from actual leash,/and John rode forward, feeling doubly lonesome without his faithful shadow. But he had been at work little more, than an hour when Mike dashed back. "Hello!" John greeted him. "are you EatiEfied now? You don't look any the worse for your fight. Was it a fight, old chap ? Gee, but you are excited—what a look you can give a man! You just about talk, Mike lad. . . " The sun was setting in a great crimson glow as John rode home. He slowed down to watch the changing colours, bank upon bank of fleecy gorgeousness, merging into the sea-line at his farthestview, and at his nearest resting on th<-crimson-flowered pohutukawa that divided his section from the beach, and which was at once his pride and his most pain fui memory. At last he became aware that Mike was silently trying to direct his attention to ward the house, aud he withdrew his gaze from the sunset and slowly brought it to' bear on the spot at which Mike almost pointed. The spot, was his own house door, but opfn —not shut as he had left :t—and in the doorway stood a woman, also watching the sunset. Her eyes were shaded by a raised "hand, and her face held a glory only partly borrowed from the miracle she was watching. Harlane's first eager expression was succeeded by one of despair. He moaned, " Ah, God! don't let me go mad—don't let me see visions to add to my torment!" But the vision did not melt, and gradually his strained look passed, giving way to one of joyful .certainty, and then of ineffable peace. He rode slowly forward, and Mike—satisfied now that John had recognised their visitor—bounded forward to speak to her. She dropped to her knees and hugged him, then looked up and saw John. They looked at each other in silence, then—as usual in great crises—trivial words came uppermost. " Then, that was why Mike begged to /■ come home this afternoon," he said. " Yes," she -said rather faintly, and moved toward a seat as though her knees trembled. " But how in the world did he guess you were here ?" "He loves me," her tone was very low. John took a decisive step nearer. " If that were sufficient I should have j known you were here before he did," he said significantly. She looked at him' long and searchingly. " Still ?" she asked at last. " Are you quite sure ?" " Still," he answered firmly, " and for ~ ever. And lam very sure." " But, how do you know ?" he hardly could catch the words, " what—l may be ?" " Because, I know you so well," he said gently. " And now" —trying to rally her with a lighter tone—"why should Mike be the only one to receive arrears of greeting?" She rose and flung her arms round his neck. "I thought you were never going to kiss me'" she sighed as he held her : ! : ClOfti. "look, I have supper ready. Afteivards * have much to tell you." "You soon got. to work!" "he exjfck. used to try and keep the as you left it, but it never looked

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like this. What did vo;i find to cook? The meat is a bit too high for you." "I brought it>with me." "It" was a golden-brown chicken. He sniffed appreciatively. » " There hasn't been such a smell in the kitchen since you left." he said, then catching her pitiful look he hurried on, "Wait till I've had a wash; and as to what- you want to tell me, just take your own time. Nothing else matters now that you are here—not that 1 can quite believe yet that such is the blessed fact!" " Ah! you make me very humble," she returned. Over supper they touched only on minor matters; her journey, how she had managed to smuggle herself in, as it were, while he was out. " I rode the last stage," she told him, " it. was more unobtrusive, and left my luggage at the port. You see—l did not know whether you would want me to stay." " You knew!" he said concisely. "Well—l hoped—but I could not 1c sure, after—" she left it at that until ail the dishes were put away. Then she sat down determinedly. " Get your pipe going," she* said, "I want to tell you everything, then we can close this chapter of our lives." " It's going," he said presently, " fire away if you are sure you'd rather." " You remember," she began, " that when your impetuous -courtship burst- into my life I was taking singing lessons?" " I remember." he nodded, " and they thought you were bound to ' arrive.' " " Even then," she went on, " it was a battle between love and pride, but you won, and I came back with you to New Zealand fully intending to keep pride under. At first, the novelty helped, and the beauty of the country —and I shall never forget that Christmas week when you brought me home—and the first sight of your valley." Our valley,' you called it then," he said tentatively. " Our valley, then," she said quickly. " But I must have lowered my aim, or something, for I grew to see only the sordid side of our work here. Day after day seemed to bring the same dreary round—dreary it seemed then —oh ! my mind must have been diseased." " Why didn't you tell me how you felt ?" he exclaimed. " Because I seemed possessed by a ! spirit of sullen resentfulness. I was j always picturing the different life that i might have been mine had my voice been trained, and most unjustly blamed you for spoiling my 'career.' Oh! how childish it sounds now!" " Well, tne idea of going Home to finish my training gradually formed in my mind, and I felt too wickedly tongue-tied to talk it over with you, but just brooded and brooded over it." " I could see something was wrong," he broke in, " but I thought that I had somehow failed you—not come up to what you thought me." "No, no!" she denied passionately. " You never failed me." " But how did you manage about funds?" he asked. " Why, just at my worst, my aunt left me a small legacy, and—my guardian angel must have been sleeping—l happened to get that mail while you were away at a sheep sale. And then—the bitterest thing I have had to remember—l left without any explanation, leaving you to return to an empty house." " Don't dwell on that, Margot dear," he said huskily, " that is all over." She choked down a remorseful sob, and went on, " I went straight Home and took up lessons again, and—fhey said the air here had improved my voice—l found it no trouble to sing. It seemed no time until someone was arranging for my first appearance." " You were away nearly two years," he murmured. " Yes—but I mean it seemed no time as such things go. Of course I had been partly trained before. However, the evening came, and I happened to be at my best. I sang with all my heart, and when I ceased I knew by the kind of hush that success had come, but—John—just as I thought to grasp and enjoy it, I looked out over the heads of the people and saw you—your very self. " You were standing looking down over our valley, out to sea, and your look ! of hopeless longing broke my heart. The valley loked just as it did the Christmas week you brought me to it—the big pohutukawa wore its deepest crimson—the low range of hills, dotted with light and shade—the picture was perfect. " In that moment I knew that without you nothing mattered, and that New Zealand had gripped me for life." "My dear, my dear!" was all John could manage. But his eyes said the rest. " I heard afterwards," finished Margot, " that I stood for only a second or two, then fell in a dead faint. The papers said I must have overstrained my heart, but I knew what was wrong with my heart. That was the beginning of the season, hut I was determined to be here for Christmas, and, and," her voice broke in a half laugh, half sob, " here we are. Arid you welcomed me! John, dear, you are wonderful!" " W T ait a bit!" her husband clutched at his hair, "you said ' we.' " " Yes, my sister Carrie came with me—she has been kindness, itself!" "And you left her at the hotel ? Won't that give her a poor idea of New Zealand hospitality-?" John's tone was very puzzled. "Don't you see, dear? How could we just walk in.upon you as though we had every night " "But isn't it your own home ?" " If you say so," with the ghost of her old whimsical smile. " I told Carrie that if I did not return she must arrange to be driven out; it's a moonlight night. She might be here any time now. I've j brought you a playmate for Mike, and I would rather he came straight home to- | night." " How bully of you tc think of it he cried boyishly. " Listen! there she is, | I declare!" He rushed her outsFde, and soon was enthusiastically greeting Carrie. " And where's the pup ?" he asked. j "The—the what?" Carrie grasped. But Margot suatched a bundle of , shawls from Carrie's lap and deposited it i in John's arms. " Don't drop him!" in a proud voice. ' " This is Mike's playmate, John." In the next half-minute he experienced more sensations than he would before have believed possible, for the bundle wore a golden, curly head, rosy cheeks, and the brightest of cy?r.. Father and son were lost in concentrated mutual inspection, then John stammered, " 11-h-how old ?" " Eighteeen months," gurgled Margot, " and so cute —I believe he knows as much as Mike." "Come and make Mike's acquaintance," said the flummoxed father. " Carrie, your driver will stay here for the night,""and he vanished indoors, tightly clasping Mike's playmate. " Dear Lord!" he breathed into his neck, " and I thought I was going to have another lonely Christmas!"