FLOWER OF THE BOG.
(AN IRISH LOVE STORY).
» m I - I CHAPTER XXV. On the instant Nick's face shone, and he tossed his head up with a gay laugh. " She's first-rate. Last time I saw her she was the sweetest, gentlest girleen that ever twined about a man's heart-strings. Whichever way you find her, she's just Patsy, and adorable. She could coax the birds off the bushes. Her raat-c'li isn't in the three kingdoms. Ah, now, you're laughing at me, or is it with me ?" " With you, rejoicingly," Aunt Susan replied, conscious of implied treachery to Alan, but also of a very tender penchant for Nick. " Talking of Patsy, I may say I've called specially to see AJ.au on pleasant, business, and here he comes." Alan leaped the stile. "You, Boyle?' ho said "curtly. " I Pottigrcw, all agog to crave a favour." "A favour from mo?" lifting ironical brows'. "You and no other." Nick laid the reins on the saddle and went forward to Alan and Aunt Susan stepped into the hall, nact heard in dire dismay Boyle's mellow \oice attuned to persuasiveness. . " I want you to be best man at tuo "wedding, arid not a loot I'll stir out of • this till you've promised. Patsy would be charmed, I know, and I'm bent on having you best man, so the favour's as good as granted before you speak at all.' " A lovelier trowso no bride 01 the {pPArcys has evu wore," cried Mary Brannan ecstatically, folding daintv garments'and laying them away in perfumed cardboard boxes. Patsy's bedroom was a litter of dressmakers' and milliners boxes and scattered tissue paper. She sat on the side of the bed, watching Mary and listening to her with weary patience. Wheeling round abruptly, Mary_ was smitten °by the languid pallor of her mistress' face. . , u " Lonesome ye are at lavm the ould roof," she said, hurrying over to her and clasping her to her flat bosom. Sure, 'tis natural. Ye may think the world of Nicholas Boyle but home is home to a slip of a girrul. I wish I was goin" wid ye. If himself could spare me I'd hop it to the Curlews blithe as a lark in summer." " Yo'u mustn't dream of deserting father," said Patsy dully. " I'd like to have you there among the strange people, only it can't be. You have to stay, and I have to go, and that's settled." , We'll drive back and forrard so often you won't feel the change, Miss Patsy. And ye'll come to us in a carriage wid your grand, big husband, proud as Punch and his wife." 'Hi 9 Slender body she held in her embrace quivered. " Not but Jamsie and me and himself will miss ve, sere," added Mary, raising a corner of her apron to her eyes " I didn't see Jamsie about the place. Where is lie Mary?" " Iri bed, nursin' a pair of stiff legs." " He. wasn't at his work yesterday either." " Because he wint off wid himself the night before and took an ajrin' in the asscart. That's how he got the stiff legs, divil's cure to him ridin' the counthry like a lord." Patsy looked doleful and puzzled. " I wanted him, and I wanted Con," she complained, her lip drooping. "Con hasn't been over for a long, long time." " Ma,sther Conrad is studyin' diligent to plaze.his father." " And Miss Pettigrew ihas stayed away."' » ""Simpson sez she's busy packin' for her journey." " Everybody has forsaken me, Mary. Everybody's sick of me." " Aw now, I'm ashamed of ye to have the bad mind," Mary scolded briskly. " 'Tisn't forsakin' ye they are, but attin din' to their own affairs, thinkin' ye are doin' the same, A young lady soon to be wed is expected to have a dale of occupation. Quit mopin', alanna bawn, and tell me who ye! 11 be pickin' for bridesmaids instid of Miss Jane and Miss Dora. Bern' in mournin' they're out of it." u Fm not caring a button about bridesmaids," fretfully. "Ye must. Three weeks will fly in a twinkling." "Oh, do stop pestering mo or you'll drive me prauy." . • It dawned on Mary that something particularly galling was preying on Patsy, and she caught her by the shoulders and turned her face round to stare at it in alarm. Then an illuminating thought made her smile, " Ye silly pet!" she exclaimed, " I was bothered to guess what, had ye in the dumps till it burst on me that Mr. Boyle rode past yesther.day and didn't come in, but he ruz in the stirrups and waved his cap in case ye'd be lookin'. He'll be here this evenin' widout fail. Pinin' for him, were ye, my dove?" her glance arch. •"To be sure not. By no manes were ye pinin' and wishin' he had come in." She bent to kiss the ivory cheek. " A hard riddle to read is the heart of a maid." she murmured. " A wee while ago ye'd have thanked nim to keep his distance and lave ye alone." Unable to bear the torment of Mary's artless prattle, Patsy jumped off tho bed and said she would go to the garden. " And stay in the sun to get a rosy, happy face for him," said Mary, bustling to the wardrobe and taking a tweed coat from it to cover the girl's thin frock. " I'.ll tell him ye're in the sheltered gummer-house undher the plum-trees. See ye don't wander far or ye'll miss him, and maybe he'll go home in a huff," wagging her head slyly, " He's that tiger for a sight of ye, if ye aren't on the door,'step he'll cry, ' Where is she ? Where is my Patsy ?' And the light in his blue eyes shinin' like a million candles lit for joy." "You're a sentimental goose," said Patsy, pushing her into a chair on top of one of the cardboard boxes, and fleeing as Mary crashed through the lid with a squeak of dismay. The garden was sunny, its high hedge excluding the cold wind. Walking up and down to warm her chilled blood, and banish, if possible, the melancholy which had fallen on her with the near approach of her wedding day, she took herself to task. Only three weeks of liberty, wore left to her, precious as the brief" span of life allotted to the condemned. Resigned to the inevitable, she said she would endeavour to be a true wife to Nick, whose goodness out-weighed the defects that had repelled her; would try with all her strength to think no more of Alan, and the past would remain self-imprisoned inside the four walls of Curlews until she had forced herself to learn the lesson of forgetfulness. If love can beget love she might, at least, gk>w fond of Nick, she meditated, her eyes distraught. He had done so much for her father and her, he loved her so dearly, that she would be an ingrate if she could not muster up a little fondness in return. She had wronged Alan cruelly, in ignorance, and it was hard that he should have to suffer too, believing her false. Was Jamsie right when he upbraided her for acting according to her conception of honour ? When he said she would bring Nick unhappiness, and it was better for one to have the pain than three to share 1 Jt? She did not know. She had obeved her conscience. Tiring of the garden paths, she rested ' on the low seat of the summer-house, and > Gaw herself as a helpless human fly i entangled in a web of circumstance. f fetella was the spider who had spun the web to entrap her. She wondered how Stella felt rf out her handiwork. * A quick, firm step on the path caused c Patsy to raise her bead, and frame a * tolting welcome for Nick. J •Bnfc was that Nick's tread ? £ ?°K ed ' startled, into Alan's face. 5 ti'Arcy me Where l d S e t you, Miss f a "comrJiion. Sat '' a " d rOSC again in ' & ? La^'" tn he Sa ' d casuan .y- "H f M " I V'nJrllJgT* with bobs.; I
(COPYRIGHT.)
BY MADGE BARLOW.
CHAPTER XXVI. Patsy shrank away, her breath coming in gasps. Alan leant against the rustic shelter awl gazed down upon her serenely, unmoved by her intense distress. " Boyle has asked me to bo best man at the wedding, and I'vo consented, Miss D'Arcy. ""Thought you'd be interested to hear it." "You've consented?" incredulously. "Why not? I've been through worse." " Mr.. Pettigrew, you"—she stopped and choked—" you won't do it if I entreat, you not to ? " " Boyle has my promise, and I don't see why I shouldn't be as good a stickler for my word as you. It's every bit as honourable as the famous D'Arcy word." She gripped the seat with both hands, shaking from head to foot, white one instant, and scarlet the next. " Did—did Jamsie Brannan tell you ?" "Tell me what?" " Anything," faintly. "Concerning you?" "Me and the D'Arcy word." " No. I derived my information from another source, and got a surprising explanation of your treatment of me. I was fairly bowled over. I hadn't a suspicion of Miss Marquis. She's really eifted in the spying and fiction-spinning line. Painted me a cad of the first, water, didn't she' And you swallowed her lies, and jilted mo for Boyle. I could ask vou to break vour engagement and come back to me. but T won't. You needn't bo afraid T will." Patsy gavo him a scared look, twisting and untwisting her fingers in nervous panic. " Respect for the D'Arcy word forbids me," he resumed. " A fine old crusted principle of that type ought to bo supported. Our feelings are of no importance provided we can preserve the sanctity of the family fetish. When I'm best man at the wedding it'll buck' us to remember the Spartans we wore." " I had to keep my word," she panted. " You had to, and you shall. I'm on yotir side." "You wish me to marry Nick?" It was a despairing whisper. . " Is there any loophole of escape ? " " You see there isn't." " Then your question was unnecessary. [ don't matter to you." " You do matter." Her resolutions went for naught in the wild agony of regret and longing that seemed to rend her. " You know you matter," turning her stricken face to his. " I loved you— I still love you, but Miss Marquis convinced me, and T accepted Nick to show vou—to pretend you were nothing to pie. Afterwards Jamsie proved that she had lied, but I was bound—held fast—and 1" wouldn't tell you, or let him tell you. T made him swear he wouldn't, and T'm in misery—misery—I want to die. Why :an't people die who want to?" She :ast herself prone on the seat, and her hitter, convulsive weeping changed him swiftly. He v stooped over her. " Patsy," he said in consternation. "Go away! You are crueller than I." " I won't go. Sit lip and listen to me." " You say harsh things. Leave me alone." " Patsy, you'll make yourself ill, crying like that." " I—l hope I'll ma—ma —make myself burst a blood vessel," she sobbed vehemently, audi a smile flickered to his lips. " You dare to, miss, and you'll answer for it. Listen, Patsy! You compelled Jamsie to swear he'd never tell me what Stella had done, and why you accepted Nick; but voa neglected to swear him to silence in respect of Nick, so fche night before last wise Jamsie drove the donkeycart to Curlews and told Boyle the entire story." " Told Nick ? " her- eyes dilating. • " All. there was tc tell. He took his time and did his errand thoroughly. As a result Nick rode to Grange yesterdav and had it out with me in a long and serious talk." "Was he angry?" She caught her breath sharply. " Not angry—he was deeply grieved." A flame of indignation dried Patsy's tears. " He was angry and vindictive, or he wouldn't have asked you to be best man. Oh, how could he. knowing what he knew ? " " But, clear girl, it's Nick's idea that the best man at a wedding is always the bridegroom." With a stunned expression she put her hand to her eyes. " Don't you understand ?" said Alan. " Nick has given you back to me. He saw your foolish notions wouldn't let you reach across the formidable barrier of your pledged word to give yourself, so he relinquished you He refuses to marry you. The jilt is jilted, and serve her right," mischievously. "He was as resourceful as he was on Whin Hill when you got him and me into a tight comer and his nimble wits saved the situation " " I'm not dreaming, am I, Alan ? " " You* are not You are free to take off that gorgeous ring." " T belong to vou ? " " You are Nick's gift to me. Heaven bless, him !" " And bless Jamsie, too," she said tremulously. "To think Nick wasn't angry! Are you angry with me.?" her voice timid. "To the verge of desperate deeds. I hope you are properly terrified, shaking in vour shoes." "Now, ana I?" She crept close to him, a trace of her old roguishness in the eyes Nick's generosity had made solemn " You're a born teaser," he laughed, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her hungrily. " The dance you've led me, but I've caged you at last, and you are mine to have and to hold Nothing shall part us again, sweet Still. I owe you tit for tat and I'm going to take a fierce revenge," his lips crushing hers, exacting toll of recompense for love's scarrings. "I won't spare vou; you'll get your full and well-earned desserts. Aren't you sorry for yourself, you wicked, captured Patsy?" " ' Twould bt a siu to spare me," she said, demurely radiant. " I'm asking no quarter." When their first raptures were exhausted, sir said chidingi>\ " you might have come yesterday, Alan." " 1 had to await delivery of this," he replied, drawing < sealed and bulky envelope from hi;-. breast pocket. " Nickthought it would help us to get the paternal blessing He has redeemed the mortgages Duggan flourished over your father's head. Bog House and its lands are unburdened by a single debt." For several, moments Patsy was very quiet, clinging tc him, her emotions conquering her. Alan laid the envelope in her hands and gave her time to regain her composure "Happy, my darling?" he whispered. " Too happy,' she smiled, nestling nearer. And then, in tender, hushed accents, " Feeling the coals ot fire, Alan, burn in my heart." Nick had dressed for dinner with scrupulous care, and pinn d a cartiation in the buttonhole of hii evering suit, for he was dining with Patsy, and in a lady's company "one must be spick and span. On the table her photograph confronted him, leaning against a vase of hothouse blossoms. He had sent his servant out of the room. Having finished the tarce of dining, he filled a wine-glass and stood up. On his eyelids was the blistering smart of grief that found no outlet, and about his: mouth heavy lines were scored, but he looked a gallant gentleman a.j he raised his glass and bent smilingly toward that pictured face. " Here's a health to you and yours, Patsy," ha said " ' Slainte,' and ' slainte, and ' slainte' again. May a thorn never vex yo ;r little feet on life's pathway, ' Flower of the Bog.' " THE END.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19513, 17 December 1926, Page 20
Word Count
2,576FLOWER OF THE BOG. New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19513, 17 December 1926, Page 20
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