GOLDEN FLOWER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19418, 28 August 1926, Page 5 (Supplement)

GOLDEN FLOWER.

BY DULCE CARMAN. (Mrs. D. Druinmond).

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued). Flower leaned forward a little eagerly. Was this the solution of the, mystery ? Oh! Why had none of them ever guessed it, when the answer was so simple? "She was so young, Flower!" Rosemary continued, "Such a child—only 17 —and she had never known either her mother or her father. There had been nobody to love in all.her life except the fair girl—and the two boys—t-lie old family lawyer, who saw to all her money affairs, and the old nurse who had brought her up from babyhood. And the boy found, too, that it was not the girl he was engaged to whom he really loved, but the one who had always been her shadow. Neither of them said anything. 1 don't thiuk either of them ever dreamed of doing anything to upset the existing state .of affairs. He was engaged —they considered that final. But they were so young, Flower, that is the only excuse I "have" for them. She was seventeen, and he was only twenty-two. When he came home on leave, it was almost Christmas time. He had only a fortnight, and the girl he was engaged to was swallowed up in a whirl of parties and pleasures. She was pleased to take him about, with her, to be seen with him everywhere, but she would not give up one'single pleasure for his sake. In three days he had married the other girl, Flower!" "Good heavens!" murmured Flower, " What whirlwind." "Think of it, Flower! Fourteen little days, and after that,- perhaps never any more. The two boys managed it all between them. The girl cared nothing at all what happened to her so long as ho belonged to her before he went away again, perhaps for ever. The younger boy approved of this match as much as he had objected to the other. The fair girl was not told. Of course, she ought to have been, but she didn't really care, and there was so little time.

" So one morning, just a week before Christmas, the two boys, and a kindly old lawyer, the younger girl and her nurse went out to a church in an out-of-the-way comer of London, and there they were married. The other boy had. been a wonder. I,le had even got a sweet little cottage far away from town for the nine precious days that were all that were left. They stayed there together, the girl and her nurse, and the two boys. Oil, Flower! What is the use of keeping up pretences? You know who it is I am speaking of. It is so clear in my sight to-night. Nine little days, all I have ever had of perfect happiness!" "But some do not even have that, dear," Flower reminded gently. " No. That is true. And they were such days. The others managed everything for us, we had nothing to do but to live for each other. I can remember every smallest detail of that weddingmorning, Flower. They say a girl never docs, but I think I knew that I should have so little happiness that everything was photographed upon my memory to last my lifetime. God took my memory away, afterwards, to save my reason." "None of us ever guessed!" said Flower, " Not even Ailsa." " It was such a bitter morning!" Rosemary went on unheedingly. " Snowing, too, I remember. I wore a white cloth costume trimmed with ermine, and the sweetest little white velvet hat with silver wings. lie said I looked like th. spirit of Christmas. And the Christmas morn ing. too. We were so gay, because he had to leave us before dinner-tline, the nine perfect days enderl then. We motored down to the station with him, and quite at the end he made his brother pro- ; mise that he would always stay with and watch over me until he •■ame home apin. And Brian also promised to keep our marriage a secret until Maurice himself was able to break the news to Ailsa. You see—" with a sad little smile, " none of us ever dreamed of Dawn, and we absolutely refused to believe that there was any possibility ot Maurice not coming back. I can't say much about the rest, Flower. " He didn't come back, they martyred him! And the shock of his death tent my memory to sleep. Bride and Brian talked things over. Bride was anxious to proclaim our marriage, and fjec '.lie storm. Brian said no. • His oath still held. I, worse luck, knew nothing, except that in a hazy way Brian and Maurice seemed to be mixed up in my shadowed mind. I did not think that Brign was his brother, but I oid not clearly think of him as Brian, either. He took us away. Flower, we travelled everywhere, from doctor to doctor. He gave up Ins whole life to me. If he had not promised to keep our marriage a secret, nothing would have mattered, but think what he did for me, shielding and sheltering all these years when I could not' free him from the burden. Oh, Flower! Maurice was the love, the only love of my life. I do not know, even now, how I shall go on living to be an old woman without him, but he was never so fine>as his brother. You think a lot of the boy Ailso has married to-day, but. ho cannot be a whit finer than Brian. It has been to-day's wedding which has lifted the seal of silence from my lips. Now that Ailsa is married —happily married—to someone else, it will not mutter if the

(A NEW ZEALAND ROMANCE,) (COPYRIGHT.)

world knows that Maurice was mine. Only Brian holds that his oath still stands! I wanted him to let us go away —Bride and Dawn and I —right away somewhere where he need not he bothered with us unless he wanted to, ami he said that 1 could never go away from him, because his oath still stands. He promised never to leave me until Maurice came home, and Maurice will never come!" She gazed at Flower despairingly. "Heis so fond of you!" Flower suggested. gently, "Look! I can tell you something. I dressed Dawn's doll for him. 1 don't think he knew 1 did it myself, but I promised to see about it for him. 1 asked him who it was for, and he told iue a very little about Dawn. I said 1 supposed he must he very fond ot her, and he answered ' Save one person only, the dearest on earth to me to-day!" He ,inust have been thinking of you then. Perhaps he has grown to love you very dearly because you have been so helpless, and in his care—and you are so lovely too ! The finest men are made like that!" Flower ended helpfully. Rosemary shook her head with a little smilt* " Von do not know him as well as I do! If 1 was the most beautiful woman in all the world to-day, he. would never love me in that way !" she said positively. " Brian is the soui of honour and loyalty, and I—belong to Maurice"!" " Yes—l remember!" Flower said quickly, as into her brain there flashed the remembrance of some words spoken by Brian to Ailsa on the occasion of their fast meeting. " You were Maurice's property always, Ailsa!" he had said then. And—with all my faults —i never poach." " He was not speaking of me when he said that to you!" Rosemary said, meaningly. " But lam sure that I know just whom he meant. Did you really never guess ?" "I thought he meant you!" Flower raised honest eves to her companion's face. " I knew of nobody else." " No, dear. He did not mean me. He was thinking of somebody else —the one woman God made for him in the beginning of the world. And yet, if I had always remained a helpless burden on his hands, he would never have told her—never have shown her what a wonderful thing it can be to be loved by a man of his stamp. He would have stayed by me, and cared for me, because the men of his house count their word sacred, and even if his heart broko—and hers broke —ho would still have ktpt silence, and allowed the world to think that 1 was his wife. God spared him that—spared them both a wasted life when He gave my memory back to me! But He left me stilJ a burden. Flower! Do you think that it would spoil Brain's wife's happiness if she had to have Dawn and Bride and me always somewhere close at hand' # "It couldn't possibly spoil anything for anyone," declared Flower warmly, " I should think she would lovo it. 1 can quite understand why Ailsa used to lovo you so. But I hoped you would always be somewhere near here. I can't imagine you anywhere but in the bungalow in Arcadia. If Mr. Damarel is going to be married fit sounds so odd, because we all thought ho was married to you), he may want to go away from hero. We shall miss you all dreadfully, if you do go away." We shall have to go, I am afraid!" Rosemary answered, with a little smile. " How Brian has left homo so long I really do' not know. You see, after Maurice was killed, the garden with the statues, and all those things wore Brian's, and all these years he has left them to tho care of other peoplo. Of course he will want to take his wif? home to the homo of his fathers." " Oh—of course!" Flower spoke a little absently. She was trying to tit the Hawk—just as she had been used to see him in tho bush, and by the kiwi-side, into this age-old garden that both Ailsa and Rosemary loved so much. Rosemary eyed her a triflo •wistfully. " I should love to have you for a sister, Golden Flower!" she said, caressingly. " Oh! I would love to have you, too!" the girl answered enthusiastically. " I always wanted a sister so much, and fate never gave me one. Don't you think we ought to bo allowed to fix these things up for ourselves ? Suppose you and I adopt each other. Only Dawn will have to call me auntie. It has always been a grief to mo that I can never have any nieces or nephews of my very own." "Dawn will lovo to call you auntie!" declared Rosemary meaningly. " That will be perfect. And I think it was very sweet of you to tell me >vhat you have done, and I only wish I could tell you how fine I think Mr. Damarel has been. Words aren't much use, are they? ,They always seem to fail just when you need them most. I must go now—mother will be wanting rue. Will you come out for a little while 1 Or would you rather I sent Mr, Damarel in to you ?"

" I don't think I will come out again to-day!" Rosemary said with a little sigh. " I am very tired. Yes, I would like to see Brian before he leaves." Flower smiled and nodded as' she left the room, but Rosemary sighed as she turned again to the rapidly-darkening garden. " It is almost as bad as trying to show a cat a mouse!" she told herself a little whimsically. " Unless Brian takes hold for himself, 1 am afraid we will just have to wait and pray for a miracle to happen." CHAPTER XXI. THE MATING OF THE HAWK. Sweet, of my infinite dreams Little enough endures— Little howe'er 1 it seems, It is yours—all yours 1 Fame is a fleeting breath. Hope may be false or fond: Love aliall be Love till death. And perhaps beyond! —Autkor Unknown. "I am going to leave you dear people alone for a little while!" Flower poked her head round the living-room door as she spoke. " With Jim away—and all these weddings in the air, I find that my woodpile has run out. Oh! There is a little left yet, mummy!" in answer to Mrs. Gerard's quick look of inquiry, " but not the kind I want. You see, I am making cakes—and cakes—and then cakes! And biscuits too!" Bride is making jam!" she added as an afterthought. " That sounds almost as though you must be preparing for another wedding," laughed Rosemary, raising lazy eyes from her book. "No! Not a wedding—just a honeymoon. I am stocking Ailsa's pantry for her home-coming. Pickles r sauces, jams, jellies and marmalades—and cakes, scones and biscuits. Oh! I am not doing them all now," in laughing answer to Rosemary's quick exclamation of wonder, " Ever since they were engaged, I have been making double quantities of everything. I want to do the scones to-day—-they will be just cold by the. time the train gets in and our travellers return. But scones mean a hot oven. Now, down in Jim's fifty acres, I saw a lovely pile of maire chips the other day, and not very far from them a rata log that had some nice-sized blocks left by it from Jim's last firewood excursion. " I don't mind annexing his wood to do his own baking with, so Denis and I "are off on a foraging expedition, leaving Sunshine and Dawn to do anything you may want. We shan't be very long, because we don't really want a great deal. A little maire goes a long way." "I like maire!" Rosemary said lazily, " But rata I love. It is so smooth, and such a lovely dark red." "The mark of the murderer!" Flower said unexpectedly. Rosemary looked at her with a new interest in her brown eyes. "Mark of a murderer!" she repeated curiously, " How in the world can a tree be a murderer?"

"The rata is!" " How in the world can it be? " " It is an old Maori legend." plower said, " One of the prettiest, I think. A Maori named Whakatau told me it years ago, when 1 was quit a a tiny child. I loved it so much, and he told me so often, that 1 am sure I could repeat it word for word as I heard it." "Please do!" entreated Rosemary, " Would there be time for the scones if you did v " "Oh! 1 think so!" with a hasty glance at the clock, "just imagine that I am a very dignified old Maori, and you will got the right atmosphere for the story." i " The Maori legends are very interjesting!" Mrs. Gerard s.iid, gently, " I ! have forgotten -much of this one, and | shall be pleased to hear it again." "In the long ago!" commenced Flower impressively, " When Maoriland-(Ao-tea-roa, he called it. That is the Maori name for .New Zealand, and means •'the long white cloud' you know), when Ao-tea-roa was still undiscovered, and the bush was young—when Tans Mahut.t reigned over all the forest—it was then that this tiling came to pass. " In the very heart of tho bush thengrew a stately riinu tree, rearing its head proudly above all the trees around it. The birds built in its branches and when they went to drink at the little, ferndecked pool where punga ferns and toitois gazed at their own reflections, and wonderful mosses and lichens hung from every damp spot, and scrap of rotten wood, thev spoke of its height and wealth of foliage." And. at the foot oi the big liniu grew a tiny vine, which clung affectionately to the great tree, and twined itself about the massive trutiK. " Year by year the vine grew—season by season 'its' coils tightened round the tree which, supported it, till—one morning—just when the snowy stars of the wild clematis whitened the bush far and wide, and the golden glory of_ the kowhai covered the flats, the riinu died all its strength crushed, all. its lib* stolen by the vine it had nourished so long. Then there was grief throughout, the bush. The birds mourned for the tree that had sheltered them, the trees grieved for tin: loss of tluir stateliest companion; but the vine grew and thrived until at last it. was as big as the tree it had killed. Then it, sent a thrill of triumph through its widespreading branches, and refused to listen to the jeering remarks of the other trees, and ignored the fact that (lie birds would not build in its branches, or even hide among i»s leaves from the. glare of the mid-dav sun." "This is tragic!" said Rosemary, slowly, as Flower paused, "Who would over think of anything like that in the bush ? " " This sort of thing goes on wherever there is lit'o in any form," Flower said, "To continue —although the once-tiny vine was now a great tree, it had no friends among its companions. Ail hail loved tho stately riinu, and all disliked to see the newcomer usurping the place of the favourite it had killed. Only the sunlight played hide-and-seek among 'the 'sombre green of its leaves, spilling itself in wondrous .shifting patches of shadow on the mossy ground beneath, and the soft breezes .caressed the tree lovingly, whispering words of hope and consolation. And the bush awoke—one morning—from tho drowsy hush of a summer night, to find that the alien's branches were smothered with snowy blooms. " Tho bees, unable to resist .the heavy, intoxicating scent of the spotless blossoms, hummed round the tree, tasted vhn honey, and flew away heavy laden —only to return again and again. And tho tree rejoiced, for it was no longer forsaken. " Tho resistless' heat of the noon-day sun, drew forth a stronger fragrance from tho nameless flowers, and there sounded a rush of wings through the still air, as tho birds—conquered at last —alighted in swarms among tho blossoms. News travels swiftly in the bush, and before another sun had risen, Tano M.ihuta himself had heard of the wonderful thing which had happened to the outlawed free. And, as tho g;reat should bo merciful, ho removed tho ban from tho troo, and issued a decree, saying: , • i . " ' Birds shall build in your branches—tho bees shall, lovo to feast upon tho honey of your blossoms. Your niiitno shall bo the Rata, und you shall bo a power in tho bUsh. Bub—you who suck the lifeblood from the tree that succours you—who crush and kill, and thrive on the misery of your own creating, you surely have no right to the white flower of purity and innocence. And, by tho Runu , that you killed, yortr blossoms shall bo scarlet! Thus, by tho blood-htio of your flowers, all the bush shall know that you} are a murderer, and live by blood. This „ little must bo so, but in all other things you aro free! ' > " And the Rata, nameless and outlawed no.longer, reared its stately head aloft, and spread its branches further. But tho blossoms that it had borne so proudiv withered and drooped, and fell in a brown shower round the roots of the parent, tree. The dis,appointed birds find hoes left it, and flow back to the other trees, but soon returned to tho wide branches where tho perfume of the wonder flower# still clung faintly. And the birds built' nests among it's leaves, and reared their young ones, teaching them to hop from twig to twig and, after tho fatigue of their first flight, to return to the snug security of the wido branches. * " Tho seasons passed, and orsce again tho wild clematis whitened the bush. Then, to tho delight of the bees, and'the colony of feathered songsters who called tho Rata ' homo,' tho great tree bloomed once more. And the sweet-scented blossoms, which clustered in such wild profusion, were scarlet! Tho Rata, was an outlaw no longer, but it bore the mark of blood, and the Rimu was avenged. Thus it came to pmss. that tho words of 'Fane Maliuta were fulfilled, as, of course, they must have been, for ho reigned over all tho bush, and his word was law!" "What a pretty story! "exclaimed Rosemary, as, Flower ceased speaking. "You must tell it to Dawn one day if you will—she would love it. And Brian! tic adores old-folk tales of any nation. There is a wonderful collection of folktales in tho library of the house that goes with the garden I told you of on Ailsa's wedding-day! " Flower nodded cheerfully. " Any time at all! " she said, readily." | " But I must get my chips now. Deriit is taking a bucket, and 1 am armed with a sugar-sack, so you will see us come home laden presently." " Don't try to carry too much, dear," warned Mrs. Gerard gently. " You might strain yourself, you know." " No! I will bo very careful of both of us, mother. Good-bye—don't quarrel till I come back again.' She nodded! brightly and left the room, and presently they saw her going down the road with Denis who - was talking animatedly as they went. Mrs. Gerard devoted herself to the crocheting which was all that she was able to while away the long hours with, and Rosemary returned to her book, hut found it impossible to got interested again in the story which was so much less interesting than real life. It was quite with relief that she welcomed Brian's voice at the window. "You look very cosy in here!" he said, cheerfully. "We feel it! " smiled Mrs, Gerard. "Won't you come in and join us?" Rosemary smiled slightly at the quick glance that Brian's eyes cast round the room. " I don't think he had better, really!" she objected, " listen, Brian! Flower has run out of firewood, and she has some very important baking to do before tho wanderers return. She and Denis have gone to Jim Dene's fifty acres, if you know wtiiere that is. Don't you think it would be a good idea if you went and helped them? Oh—Brian! Send Denis back with a few chips to ' start * the oven —isn't that what, Bride calls it?" " Something like that, I believe! The fiftv acres? Oh! That is just this side of Accident Ridge, where Jim was hurt. They could never carry wood from there— I will go over at once." " I thought you would!" Rosemary murmured mischievously, " providence must have sent you over just now!" She murmured with a smile, us sho returned to her book, " If he can't manage things for himself after a lead liikc that—• nothing in this world would ever be any use to him." (To bo continued daily.)