BEYOND RECALL

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1715, 11 January 1905, Page 65

BEYOND RECALL

(By Clara Bell.)

A flood of light streamed from the floors and windows of a fine old manor house that fronted the sea, making a luminous path for itself through the darkness of the night. Rocks and cliffs were thrown into bold relief Kv the broad glare, and around them gulls, frightened from their nests by an unwonted light, circled with shrill caies. Beyond, a vessel stood up, tall and gnosuiy, against the dark sKy. To-night the Hiltons, of Hilton Manor, a ball. A naval vessel wa, anchored in the harbour near by, and the officers had been invited to attend the balL

Through the open windows float o'] the sound of music, mingled with the tread of dancing feet and the ring of gay voices : but the merriment around only deepened the gloom on Henry Linden s face, as he leaned, in the moonlight, over the railing of the verandah. “What* shall I do?” lie said. ‘Tt is so* difficult to choose,” and. he looked at the ghostly ship, on which he was to sail to-morrow morn ng.

Then he fell to pacing up and down restlessly.

Once he paused opposite an open ‘“’indow, and his eyes flashed as the; fell on a group near him. Yet tho sight of Alice Hilton’s pale, delicate face might havo softened him. He only saw through his jealous eyes, the* crowd of young men around her, the looks oi admiration directed toward her —heard only her dear, sweet laugh, and watched how she coloured at sometliing spoken almost in a whisper. “Fools!” ho muttered, “to worship that insignificant face. There are a dozen handsomer women in the room.” Yet he would almost have* cursed the innocent beauty that had led him on that summer, and now left him to choose between love and ambition.

“Suppose I throw up everything, and marry Alice,” lie resumed, “shall I be doing a wise thing, or making a fool of myself? I wish someone would tell me. W'hat have I always most desired? Love ? No ! Yet I was very near choosing poverty and Alice Hilton to-night. I have been a fool all the summer ! I meant to devote myself to Miss Hilton, ■he heiress, and, instead, I lost my time with Alice, the poor cousin, in her uncle’s house.”

In his usual tone he explained to the hostess that he had luties to* attend to before the ship sailed, and he must be ♦he first on board, but he faltered a little as he an proa cited l Alice, and tried to speak coldly, as if he had no remembrance of all the dreamy happiness of that short summer. It* smote him to the heart* to see how her face fell—to catch tho sudden gleam of tears in her . es; but, he hardened himself and said a few indifferent words about a hapoy meeting tlnee years hence-, when his ship would have returned,, **and as he ended lie held out his hand with a smile. “Good-bye,” he said. “Good-bye,” she answered simply, and she placed her hand in his. hot- a moment it lay there, then si.'po*ed out. She turned away, as he did, and when he looked back she was waltzing with Charlie Brand. “After all, I doubt if she loves me,” he said, to le-ssen his self-contempt. He did not note her white face or forced mirth —did not see her afterward, when, in her own room, she crouched down on the floor, hiding her face in her hands, crying out that she was very tired and wanted to die.

The ship Albatross sailed next day. One person watched it floating on the water, watched it till the white sails bore it out of sight, one who wrung her hands, with a heartbroken cry, and afterward rose and went away with a shadow resting thenceforth on her young life. Through stormy seas the great* ship sailed safely to her distant port, and one on board her bore ever with him the memory of a fair face framed m by dark brown hair, and lighted by tendar, fathomless eyes. Alt Smyrna he fell grievously ill — struck down by a malignant fever. In the dreary night watches thoughts Long banished would come crowding on h?m. Alone in a foreign land, with no one to care whether he lived or died, no ministering but such as chance strangei hands might render, he was haunted day and night by a memory. Often he fancied he beard a light tread beside mil, and felt a cool, gentle band la : d on his burning brow, or heard a soft voice singing old songs she had sung to him once. How long ago it seemed ! And when he grew better and could walk again, on sweet Syrian nights, beside the sounding sea, and under the everlasting stars, his o>ld hopes and desire® fell upon h : m, and in his new light —the light* Death’s torch had thrown over bis life-—he saw how false and selfish had been bis existence ; how be bad held the richest blessing that could crown his days, and thrown, it away as worthless when he dropped Alice Hilton's hand that night and went away, forcing back the words that hovered on his lips.

He would go back, and, confessing all. entreat her to give him one more chance. That she still loved him he never doubted. False himself, he never questioned her tiruth.

And so, after three long years, the Albatross sailed homeward.

It happened that, though hound to another port, the vessel touched on its way at the harbour near Hilton manor, thus giving Henry Linden the opportunity he desired. On© bright autumn morning he started to walk to the manor. As he neared the house it- started him a little to see no sign of life about it—no smoke curling up from the tall chimneys.

The great hall door stood open, and near it, sunning himself in the vorrn dah, sat the old steward. The family had geme abroad, (lie old man said, and the house was shut- up. Where were the 7,- ? He could not

' r gntly tell; those outlandish foreign names never stuck in his memory. They would not be back for a long tune, that he knew. They wore all well by last account.

Harry Linden turned away bitterly disappointed. He had been so sure of meeting Alice, and explaining everything. But it was some comfort to wander over the ground, trodden once with her, alive with memories of her. He cams, at last, to the pretty little church, nestling among drooping willows, and softly unfastening the latch, he entered the ohurchvard. He*" well be remembered the spot! He could look -o* clearly into that evening when Alice had' brought him there. The sun had set, but the sky was beautiful with those soft tints that L nger after day is gone—faint violet* and salmon and gold; and in that dim light her face locked wonderfully fair and pure. He was standing now just where he had stood then, beside the white marble cross that marked her mother s grave, s,nd he thought how he had spoken with a shiver, of death.

“I have never been afraid to die,'* .she had answered softly: “perhaps because an early death has ever l eon piesent* to my mind.” How the memory of her words ' uir.cd him cold with an u nolle fined dread! A cluster of scarlet flowers grew close against the base of the white ci jsHe stooped to gather them, and he swept them aside, his eyes fed upon a name carved on the smooth base a name not there before. It read: ADIGE HILTON, And beneath: Aged IJ.