"LOVE ASKS ONE THING-"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20922, 11 July 1931, Page 17

"LOVE ASKS ONE THING-"

BY OLIVE SQ4NDLYN.

The crimson pohutukawa blossom Jay Jiko a spot of blood qn the polished (larliaess qf the writing-tablo, where it had drifted down on the gentle breeze from the garlanded old tree outside the ppened window. For a moment John Murray lopped at the splash of colour beside his hand and then he took the flower up in his fingers. It had a velvety softness tc* his touch—a warm softness like the touch of Ngareta's fingers—Ngareta.

Two 'summers ago, and the blossoms on the pohutukawa trees had glowed aa brightly as did tliesei to-d,»y. In memory he could see those gnarled trees, with the' outspreading branches bending above the. sanded shores, with the scarlet blooms drifting c|q\vn. Ngareta had loved the rugged old trees, years old. Dreaming, he could bee her, as she danced her happy way over the danip, shell-strewn sands, arms outflung as she ran. Memory came slowly, softly back into the quiet room, memory that always bad remained, within his heart—sometimes curtained with a mist of dimness, but always there. This time memory went back to the. first golden dawning, the first faint gleaming of the dearest star.

Laughter breaking in upon the golden quietness of that summer day. Childish laughter coming to silence tho call of tlio bell-bird and little chattering fantail — laughter that rippled like the singing bush stream. John Murray knew who it was. There was only one who could laugh like that, Ngareta, littlp nameless one, the lpver of the trees and singing waves and the golden and red glory qf the sunsetß—Nga.retf 3 child of nature, with heart as variable and deep as the blue ocean itself.

" J can't understand why yon should take such interest in her. A girl who hasn't a nafn§|" hig eigtgr htgd said that morning, andl the poarcely*yeiled contempt in the soft voice had caused him to start.

" Why, Julie! I don't see why you should fee so bitter. Is it Ngareta's fault, I ask yqu, that she has no name? I 3 it her fault her parents are not marrigs ip tbe <syes of the law? And why shqpld'nt Ibe interested in her ? Nga? reta's father is my friend. No, don't say any mor&rr** as the girl's lips opened to utter an angry word, *' It makes no difr ference what you say; I always have mads my pwq friends!" A little, frown had creased his forehead as hi? sister walked away, angry disdain in every line of her figure.

But here was Ngareta flinging herself down beside him, curls ruffled with the fragrant freeze and a lovely cploup in her bronzed cheeks.

" Jt's such a day to be happy in, and Ngareta is glad! You are writing another story? I will be quiet, really, if you will let pie stay with you. I will sit and dream of the sea," pointing a slender hand down to whore on the sands below the little waves curled in one by one.

So an hour went by before John laid aside his pencil and papers and turned to the girl beside him. "Well, Ngareta, what are you dreaming about?" half smiling. Her brown eyes yvpro gazing out tq where the waves no longer broke iq tumbling white horses, to where all. the waters w e! 'e calm.

H I'm going there one! day, Jolui —away oufj w here the waters are still—and lam not coining back," §0 many timeg she said that, and so many times he had tried to break her of tho strange idea. But §he had only laughed and shaken her head. To-day, with all the sunshine gleaming around her and the bluq sky qnclouded and deep, she looked at him with eyes that held a dancing light"l have nq wish to live long." The soft voice had broken on a quivering note of pain. " I do not love life so well—l who have only one name." Swiftly he turned to her, one hand pressed upon the parted lips. • ' Many men will lovo you for what you are, Ngareta. You will marry and be happy.'' {, Ah, yes! Many men will love my beauty, but there will none want to marry pie." Then laughing, she tqrned her thoughts tq other' things. *~*# » » - • Happy days they were, spent in the forest or on the golden sands with Ngareta. Each hour spent in her company revealed move and piprp beautiful nature—so different and quaint, and yery, very swpet. , Only Julie, as the days went by, found the hate for the little nameless girl grow-: ing stronger. For she cpujd see that John was learning.to love the girl she hated, It was a bitter blow to her pride, for she had wanted her brother to marry someone high in the social world. With his kipd ways, his handsome face and_ his great wealth, there were many of Julie's friends who would have jumped at the, offer of his hand. Sq with all the bitterness of her heart she appealed to her mother. " Mother, can't you do something?" "If yon would explain, my dear, I might be able to understand." Restlessly, Julie wandered about the pretty room and did not look at the quiet, sweet face surveying her so intently. " You know, mother. You can see where things are leading. Don't you know that John is in love with that girl, Ngareta? And she is just the one to jump at his offer. Can't you do something ?" A soft laugh brought the girl sharply round. Her mother's face was smiling, and there was an amused light in the kind brown eyes. " Poor Julie. * You have taken it so much to heart, haven't you? Dq you think I haven't noticed what is going on around me? Do you think, if it had not been my wigh, I would have let tljings go on as they are ?" !< Mother!" The passionate despair in the girl's voice rang through the room. ?' Mother, you surely don't approve of John marrying her?" " Julie!" The mother was on her feet. a Let me te)l you this: that I love Nga? rela. I love her and I honour her, not for her name, but just for what she is. I think you also could take a lesson from her!" » The pick, white look on her daughter's face went to her heart, and she put her arms about the quivering body. " Julie, dear, you surely must not lake it so much to heart. Do yoij think the child should suffer fqr what the parents djd pr did not do? You would perhaps have Ipved Ngareta if she had had a name. Besides, dear, what is a. name, after alj ?' ? Sobbing with blind ragfe the girl flung away from her mother.

" Mother—to think you should give your consent—you, the owner of one of the proudest names in New Zealand! Well, John shan't marry that girl if I have tq jppye heaven aqd gqflb to prevent it. He won't—he won't!"

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Up in the privacy of her room, she paced like a caged animal, up and down, with desperate thoughts racing through her brain. There, musffc he soriie way by which aha could stop the inevitable marriage. It. was 110 use appealing to John. He wO'dd U.Pfc listen—would only laugh as her mother had done.

Ngareta. Hex thoughts stayed, centred round the lovely 'name. At Ngareta her poisoned arrow could strike. It might be hard, but it could and should be done. The proud heart of Julie had only looked upon the innocent girl as quo, of the lowest of her class, ready for what she could get, hard and merciless. She had not troubled to look deeper, to see the purest lqvo for the beautiful splendour of each lovely thing, did not know the sensitive, wistful soul. Little did Julio know hpw easy would be. .And how easy it would have been if Fate had not stepped into the little drama and taken up the part of honour and love. Changing swiftly into her out-door things, she sped down the stairs am\ slipped noiselessly past the. room in which, her mother was seated. She would take til® Uttle car and go and gee Ngareta. On the way there she could think out just what she would say. Had even placed her cheque book in her purse in case it might bo of use. There was nothing j»he would not do. A fierce joy burned into her heart as she hastened to the garage* doors and called for Haines. I want the little car. Run it out at once!" \

Sorry, miss. Don't you remember it was taken to the service station yesterday? Engino trouble," Oh, she ha(l forgotten! -And it had been her own fault at that. Still—— " Well, let rue havp the tourer! " " Sorry, mis?. Mr. John took out this morning. Ha and Miss Ngareta hjivp gone away for tho day.'' "Whore? "

«I don't know. He said not to wait up for him. ! ' With a flaming face, Julie turned away so that the man could not see> her quivering lips. She had been foiled today, but, there would be to-morrow—if it was not too late. '

That same day the soft winds of. eventide came fragrant &§ scents of drying grasses 'and[ wjiit^p^telled' clpyer growing so thickly upon the clifftqps. All about a silence, broken only by the sighing beat of the waves upon the singing sands, had fallen, and shadows were softly stealing upon the leaping pohutukawas aufj niassecj manuka sjjfybs. " It's so §till—so still, and the sun soon to sleep. Lpok at the gold and the Bale crimson pf the sky. Dp you think ie gates of heaven are li]sa that ? "

John started as the low, soft voice echoed on the still air, and turned abruptly to tho girl at his side. Shp lay still beside him, head pillowed on the soft pushes. In the fading light he_ could see the rounded, child-likp face with its halo of curls, gpipething in the look of the' brown eyes gazing UP i nto the glorious sky cau§g4 TO bend over her. A slow smile played about his lips—rshe was so like a child. " Ngareta! What thoughts are in yoar head now, little dreamer?" " I'm thinking, oh! so much of the 6unset skies these nights. They look so at me, and pall some nights, with the ypice of |he sunset. And I hear, too, the sea" waters call. Are yon also thinking, too, of the gates of the sunset? Would it be easy to slip through them ? I long so, John, to go away somowhere where names don't count."

A throbbing seemed to beat its way into his breast as if an unseen hand had Sounded upon his heart. Closer still o bent over her, and with a gentle finger touched tho softness of her cheek.' " Look at me for awhile." Such a depth of lovo in the quiet words—a great lovo kept so long in bonds of silence.

A look of wonder dawning in the brown eyes, slowly turning from the fading glory of tho sunset, to the pleading face.' " Don't you know I lovo you ? Do you think I'd let you slip away into the sunset? Little girl, don't you know I love you?" Gentle hands gathered her close, raising her from the scented grasses, close against his breast. / For one long moment her lips quivered under his, then like tho wings of a caged, wild bird her hands beat upon him. "No, no! I can't give my love to you. I must go to the sunset! Oh, John, don't you know they hadn't a naino to give me?" The wildness of her struggling stunned him, spring, she slipped from his arms' and stood swaying upon the clifftop, her hands pressed to her eyes. " You mustn't be Joying me, John !'' " Ngareta, bejoved, listen! Oh, God • —Ngareta—!" Without a she had slipped on the grasses at the edge of the cliffs—fallen from sight to the grey sands sq far below.

The sunset fires had faded from the sky and yet still a softened light lay upon the silent land as John knelt beside her. She lay upon her back, arms spread out and face upturned to tho sky, just a little while ago so radiantly beautiful. As he touched her hand she opened her eyes and smiled. " The darkness fell so swiftly—kiss me before I sleep."

That night was one never to be forgotten. Still sharp in his memory he 1 could hear the laughter and music ringing from the great hall of his homo as he bore the unconscious form of the little dreamer up tho stone steps. Could still sep' the startled, wondering faces of his sister's guests—the angry, halffrightened expression on her own pretty face as he strode through the dancers, up to his mother's room. The - long night—seeming endless—ho spent updor the stars, the cold gleaming of them seeming to strike into his heart like the touch of icy fingers, watching tho darkness fade into morning. Seeing tho first pale, gold of the sunrise spreading all over tlio eastern sky—the ! sunrise Ngareta loved. The doctor, coniiijg on silent feet, surveyed the grey face for one long moment before he spoke, " Well, she will live." Tho glad joy that leaped into John's heart did not reach his face. Tho look in tljp quiet eyes of the doctor had sopiCr thing more to toll. " Tell me, doctor. You arc afraid of something ? " " Your lilfclo friend will never see again. lam sorry." The firm touch of a hand op his and once more he was left alone. • < Never to see again— The glorv of the sunrise had caught the greenness ot the crowding pjnes ii] a network of gleaming gold. A bird called somewhere —sweet and very Jaw. The little flower petal trembled where it lay on "tlio table top, and a breath of perfume drifted in from the summer garden, Memory slipped away, back into the past pf the silvered years for a gentle stop was heard on the floor outside the closed door of the study and a sweet voice called a loved name. "John, oh, John-—are you there?" " I'm coming, Ngareta, dear little wife." " I want you to take mo away out there to the top of the cliffs. And you can tell me in your words of the beauty of the sea. And we will stay for the sunset.- It called me bo, to-day! Oh. John, I WJver can forget that (jay when yoij gave me all your lovo! Pome beloved, the beauty of the outdoors calls me so." And as John stooped to kiss the sweet eyes on which God's shadow still rested, a ray of light from the sinking sun stole into the quiet room and brought out the crimson splendour of. tho little polmtukawa petal. ■