FICTION.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVIII, Issue 3581, 5 November 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

FICTION.

TE RANGES PEAK. A ROMANCE OP GREATER BRITAIN,

[By Atha Westbubt.J (Copyright by the Author.) tConlinued.) CHAPTER XXII. FATHKB AND SON, Tho day had darkened into the short twilight of a New Zealand summer evening ore General Ashford returned to Glencourt. Sergeant Gunn, who had been on the watch for the arrival of his master, ran down to meet him. Throwing tho reins of his stool to a groom, tho general nodded to his old aorvant, and passed onward with a slow stop to the house. The sergeant followed. ‘lf you please, sir, there are two gentlemen waiting for you.’ ‘ To see ms, sergeant ?’ ‘ Yes, general.’ ‘ Who are they ?’ ‘ Mr Thornton, the lawyer, and—and another gentleman,’ replied the veteran, with some hesitation. *Oh 1 Thornton, Very well; let dinner bo served, and say I’ll join him directly.’ The sergeant saluted, wheeled about, and marched off, but returned directly before his master had gained his apartment. ‘ Sir, Mr Thornton has been here since morning, and bade mo acquaint him at once whan you returned. Shall I say you will see him before dinner ?’ 1 Of course, if Mr Thornton desires it. Be good enough to say that I am at his service.’ ‘ Thank you, general,’ cried the old awyor, appearing at the moment from ho other side of the corridor. I Wo will not trouble tho sergeant to carry your message,’ he added, advadcing and shalei ng his friend by tho hand. ‘ Glad to see you, Thornton ; come in.’ Philip Thornton turned to the dragoon and whispered a few words in his oar, then followed tho master of Glencourt into his private room. Their greeting over the lawyer said—- ‘ My old friend, I have taken a liberty in calling upon you at such an untimely hour, but I trust you will pardon the intrusion for the sake of auld lang syne. 1 am the harbinger of news.' The general is in the act of pulling off his overcoat, but pauses to look at the other.

‘ Nows, Phil ?’ "What news ?’ ‘ Well, good news I trust; but it will depend entirely on the way you receive it,’ returns the lawyer. The general takes off his coat and his gloves, then stands musing a moment with his back to the fireplace. ‘ Thornton, I am a plain man,’ ho answers, ‘ whatever you have to communicate, I pray you let me hear it in plain English.’ ‘ There are some matters that are not to be given in plain English, general,’ responds Thornton, seating himself near where Sir George is standing. ‘ Allow mo to ask you a question. Have you ever hoard from your son Temple ?’ The words were scarcely uttered when the speaker saw the general straighten himself as it he had received a sudden blow. His face changed from red to white, and from a deathly palour to a asken grey. Alarmed, the lawyer jumped to his feet and reached for the boll-rope. ‘Noj no; it is nothing, old friend—a passing spasm,’ says the other in a husky voice, and waving the lawyer to his seat. ‘ Unfortunately my liver is none of the soundest after ten years' service in India. You mentioned something about my son. What was it?’

‘ I asked if you had ever heard from your bey Temple since he left you,’ repeats Thornton, standing before his companion and looking earnestly into bis pale face. ‘ Look you, Ashford, I take the privilege of our friendship to tell you that I, Philip Thornton, a crusty old bachelor, ignorant alike of the subtle feeing paternal and the joy of married life, ove this boy of yours as if he was flesh of my flesh. My dear old friend, why should you and I make a wall of words ? You have a son ’

‘ I had,’ quickly interrupted the general, with a passionate gesture of his arm. 1 1 bad a son, but he sought to dishonour me.’

‘ Not so, sir. Youth Is ever prone to err when temptation leads the way. Dishonour means lying, cheating and whatnot. To be dishonourable is to trick, deceive, cozen and defraud, and if I know anything of the world and its ways, one who practises such deception must be a man well up in artifice, finesse and imposture. Will you tell me that Temple Ashford was or ever could be such a one ?’

‘A gambler and a profligate,’ muttered the general, with writhing lips. ‘Neither, sir. I’ll stake my reputation,’ returned the attorney, hotly, ‘The poor lad, totally unacquainted with dishonour, was but the dupe of those who practised it, else ha would not have acted as he did.

‘ I cannot enter the lists with you, Phil,’ responded Sir George, turning his white face towards his friend. ‘Words are your weapons—logic your profession.’ ‘just so. You haven’t the ghost of a case,’ said the lawyer, with a grim smile. ‘ Now look here, I don’t want an argument ; it would spoil my dinner. Hera is a letter received by me yesterday; could you guess who sent it ?’ General Ashford looked his thin hands together, but made no reply. ‘ Will you have the courtesy to read it ?’ cried Thornton, holding the missive towards him.

‘ Why should I peruse your correspondence, Thornton ?’ ‘ Because it concerns you.’ The old officer took the letter in his trembling hands. While he placed his gold spectacles on his nose, Philip Thornton rose from bis seat and became all at once deeply interested in a valuable oil painting at the other end of the room. This picture was a gem in its way, and had been painted by one of the first masters of the day. Subject, ‘ The Return of the Prodigal.’ In its application the artist had taken a departure from the well-known scriptural story; yet it was the same matter and material as that which happened ton thousand years ago, which happened ten thousand years before that —nay, which happens every day of our. lives.

The old lawyer had seen the painting a hundred times or more. He know by heart every streak of light and shade in it, from the dull, leaden, English sky to the two solitary figures in the foreground. The limping, weary, repentant youth and the forgiving, loving, father with outstretched arms ; but notwithstanding his knowledge of these things Philip Thornton looked long, and with all-absorbing interest. He had expected some token of approval of dissent from his companion—some exclamation or word whereby he might gauge the feelings of the general towards his prodigal, but in this the lawyer was disappointed. Turning his gaze from the picture to his companion, Thornton beheld the letter fallen to the floor. The general’s white head lay upon his breast as if ha slept, but the broad chest rose and fell in strong and pent-up emotion. Noiselessly opening the door, the lawyer glided out into the corridor, where Vane and the sergeant stood expectantly. ‘Go in, Temple and Heaven bless you, my boy,’ whispered Thornton, and the prodigal entered. Philip Thornton immediately closed the door on the outside.

‘ Look here, Gunn,’ he cried to the sergeant, ‘ I’m on sentry over this room; fetch me a glass of wine and a biscuit, and order dinner to be put back for one hour. If you allow any of the womankind to come beyond yon corridor I’ll have you : tried by court-martial. Now, begone I’ ‘ I’d like to shake hands with you, sir, Mowed if I wouldn’t!’ answered the old fellow, with tears in his eyes. ‘So you shall. Now, march 1’ The grim old-fashioned eight-day clock that stood in a niche in the stairway struck nine as Sir George Ashford came forth to dinner, leaning on his son’s arm. A radiant smile, full of hope and trust for the near future, was in his face now. Father and son had been two hours closeted together, and the lawyer was almost famished with hunger. They sat down together, a happy trio, their only attendant being Sergeant Gunn. It was a quiet meal. Two of the three were not in a talkative mood, and the third was too hungry to talk. When the repast was over, however, and the veteran had departed to retail the news of the return of his young master, conversation began to flow.

Perhaps the wine had something to do with the change. Among other things Temple detailed in a brief, concise way the conversation he had overheard at the inn, and also what ho had afterwards learned from Allan Grange respecting Captain Jocelyn, Philip Thornton said not a word daring the narration of facta with which the

reactor is already acquainted, but beat hia fingers on tho table befoio bim in a kind of glib monotony. It was a way he had of forging his mental links of evidence together. When tho young man had , finished, the lawyer said—- ‘ I confess I was in doubt respecting your identifying the man at—how d’ye call it—‘ Golden Dolphin.’ What strange names are given to publichouses : but the key to the whole business lies in the information imparted by tho man Grange, providing, of course, his assertion to be correct, viz., that our quondam J.P. is the convict Vanborough. To a professional man like myself tho case seems as clear as circumstances can make it. I'irst we have a don of unprincipled gamesters at Hawkosnest; (don’t hang your head my dear Temple).' With such base rascals, robbery, or oven murder, is only a matter of time and opportunity. Wo have a lure bird in the girl Riah, and the head of tho blacklegs also in the person of her sire. Tho chief is suddenly cut off, and most of tho crew disperse to fresh fields and pastures now. One of the band gets his noruji, but escapes. lie is a bold, long-headed follow, this Vanborough. Every avenue to his detection is guarded skilfully, save one, and that one ho leaves open to a woman. From Queen Cleopatra, who with her silken sails lured the warlike and kingly Antony to his doom, down to my lady Tigortail, women have been and will be tho downfall of any man who is fool enough to trust them. The escaped felon becomes comparatively wealthy. Riah Barjew flies to his arms again. Ergo 1 Her brother, who has given up swindling and turned bushranger, discovers the nest. This man has confederates who learn the secret. What follows? Your diplomat sees his danger and schemes quietly to got the whole troop hanged out of tho way.’ ‘ It appears absurd to link Mr Jocelyn with a low, rascally swindler and thief,’ said tho general thoughtfully. ‘ Ah, you are a soldier, sir. With you men are what they seem, but with us it is different,’ said the attorney. ‘lt is only another proof of tho fellow’s skill in having apparently so well ingratiated himself in your favour. What say you, my son ?' and he turned to Temple. ‘ X think you have summed up the case, sir. My opinion is that Ralph Jocelyn and Jocelyn Vanborough one and the same person. Nay I should have little hesitation in taking oath upon it. 1 have good cause to remember this man. Tho general turned with an imploring look towards tho speaker, which said aa plain as if he had spoken—- * Bet the sinful past rest, my boy.’

Keen and quick to note and interpret men’s glances, the lawyer came to the rescue.

‘ Well, well, Temple; lay down that formidable knife I pray. We will leave Jocelyn in the hands of his whilom servant for the nonce. And now what is to be done with reference to the intended visit of Paul Barjow and his confederates. Remember this is the night they promised to search for your treasures, general, and it is getting late now.’

• The treasures have been removed from Gloncourt, Phil,’ answered tha other. ‘ These ruffians will find noth'ng except, perhaps, a warm reception for their pains.’ ‘ Will you send for the police ?’ Sir George laughed. ‘My dear fellow, not I. Glencourt is able to protect itself against all the bushrangers in the colony.’ ‘ Very glad to hoar it. What are you going to do with my humble self, lot me ask ?’

‘ Send you home with an escort.’ ‘ Indeed 1’ with a vicious snap in his voice. ‘ I suppose you think because I’m a lawyer I can’t fight ? Look here. I’ll stay and have a bang at the ruffians. That’s settled.’

Temple Ashford rang the bell, and the sergeant appeared immediately. ‘ Gunn,’ said ho, 1 we have received information that a party of bushrangers are intending a raid here some time to-night.’ The sergeant’s eyes began to scintillate like those of a tiger oat, and he straightened himself as stiff as a ramrod. ‘ Thunder and smoke, we will make the rascals smell brimstone if they come.’ ‘ Have you any fighting men about the place ?’ ■ Three, sir; only three that can bo depended on,’ replied the veteran, ‘ Grange, myself and the groom, who happened to be an old policeman.’ ‘ Very well. Arm these men, and wait for me at the entrance to the west end of the terrace.’ Night grows on apace, a dark, lowering night, with a rising wind coming moaning over the uplands girding the ocean.

CHAPTER XXIII. ON THE WATCH, To throw stones at the stars, a man must needs watch that the missiles fall not upon his own cranium. In this world we are all seeking happiness. One wants to gain a fortune, another to spend it—one to get place and pay, another to build a name. But each and all of us kntfw full well that it is not happiness we strive for. If you toll the poet who has just published his volume of poems, or the new member of Parliament who has just distinguished himself by a Rue speech, that he will not be any happier if he attain the fame of Milton, or the power of Gladstone, and that for the sake of his own peace he had much better cultivate his farm, live in the bush, and postpone the days of dyspepsia, he will reply—- ‘ But 1 sir, I know that. I have not thought about happiness, I have made up my mind to bo so-and-so.’ To push on is the eternal liW of all active sons of the earth, and one can no more say to men than to children—‘ Sit still, and save your boots.’ If man were a machine, then ho might live for his happiness alone; but it is an Inevitable law that man, iu spite of himself, should live for something higher than his own happiness. Dot him be”a3 selfish and as egotistical as he may, his every desire links him with others. Many there are whose breasts are ever bared to the cruel tempest, men whose lives are against wind and tide from the cradle to the grave. Wattie Hepworth, a half-pay captain of a matching regiment, hadn’t sufficient money to pay his funeral expenses when he died in a second-rate lodginging-house in the East End of London. His two orphan girls, Gertrude and Elsie, wont to reside with an old maiden aunt who owned a ruin and a few acres at Harrowgate. Major Weldon, a dashing young dragoon, became enamoured of the elder and married her. Two years afterwards the major sold his commission and embarked for New Zealand.

Twelve months previous to the depar. turo of her sister Gertrude, Elsie Hepworth met her fate in the handsome person of Mr Sydney Black, the only son of a wealthy mill owner in Manchester. If ever the principle of evil was strongly developed in any one human being it was here, beneath the soft, bland manner of Sydney Black. Indulged by his father in every wish and whim, the young man had run without restraint into extravagances and vices which a large city offers to the depraved and vicious. Without love, except in its most gross and sensual form, Mr Black paid court to the belle of Harrowgate. It is a strange world, my masters, and wo often wonder how half the married pairs we find in it over came together. Loving and confiding, the beautiful Elsie was wedded. Alas 1 she soon discovered the true character of the man she had sworn to love, honour and obey. Nevertheless she loved him and clung to him, and bore with his refined brutality and neglect for five years. Then there came a change. Sydney Black was bankrupt. At the solicitation of Elsie, the aunt at Harrowgate assisted her to emigrate to Melbourne. Strange the profligate husband followed her and promised reformation, but he became more and more infamous in his treatment of her. As a last resource the outraged wife appealed to her brother-in-law. Major Weldon responded in person, and Mrs Black returned with him to Te Eanga’s Peak. All might have gone well with the unfortunate lady, but the evil genius, her spouse, discovered her retreat. His ruffianly conduct turned the station into a bear garden, whereupon the major horse-whipped Sydney Black from his domain. The maiden aunt at Harrowgate died, and with the nows of this event came a bequest of five thousand pounds to her favourite niece Elsie. Mrs Black, now that she was comparatively wealthy, resolved to attempt the reformation of her wicked husband. The man was irreclaimable, however. Had his wife’s five thousand pounds been available the gambler would have had it by fair or foul means, but fortunately the money was entailed for Mrs Black’s offspring. Thoold, old story—nothing more, nothing less. Incompatibility between two human mites, whose world was narrowed down to evil and good. Sooner shall water and fire join issue than these irreconcilable principles find a common resting-place. They had an only child, this ill-starred pair—a tiny fairy, with large violet eyes and golden hair. One night, when the woo thing was little more than two years ■ old, it was taken from its crib while it slept—stolen by some cruel kidnapper, ' and hid for ever from the eyes of Elsie 1 Black,

Ifc waa a beautiful afternoon on which Hilda Ashford found herself at To Ranga’s Peak. Grace Weldon had been expecting her friend, and rode some miiea on the Great Southern Road to meet her. They had not met for two years, and had much to say to each other, aa young ladies usually have who have been at school together. It was a strange circumstance which brought Mr Jocelyn to the station some two days after Hilda’s arrival there. Two miners out prospecting at the point of Pines, a high peak, situated a few miles distant from Major Weldon’s property, had discovered a rich vein of silver ore. Mr Jocelyn, who had been invited ' to inspect the ‘ find,’ called on the major, and was persuaded to spend a week under the hospitable roof of the squatter. General Ashford’s daughter accepted those tactics on the part of the magistrate with cold indifference, and to a sly question put to her by Grace Weldon only shrugged her pretty shoulders with provoking matter of-faot unconcern. ‘ This man is quite a boro,’ she said, coolly. ‘ I trust your father will not ask him to stay, Grace.’ ‘ It is too late, dear,’ replied her friend. ‘ Mr Jocelyn has consented to remain a week. I am truly sorry, Hilda, if this gentleman’s presence is a source of annoyance.’

‘ My dear Grace, one must first become interested in a person ere annoyance begins,’ replied Hilda. ‘ I am not interested in Mr Jocelyn, save that his presence hero may give colouring to a rumour which has not a shadow of truth in it.’

1 What rumour, Hilda ?’ 1 Only that Mr Jocelyn was to be my husband,' responded the other, laughing. ‘ Poor fellow I Perhaps ho really loves you.’

‘He loves himself better,’ rejoined Hilda, with an umnistakeable shrug. Another visitor came to Te Ranga’s Peak two days after Jocelyn. This latter was a low sized, chubby man about thirtyfive or forty, dressed in a brown, sober suit of tweed. Ho had short, sandy hair, his beard shaven at the chin. He brought with him a letter from a business firm welt known to the major, which explained in terse brevity the business of the bearer.

‘ Mr B. Hawke, is our agent on the look out for a suitable tract of country tor one of our clients. By rendering him any assistance you will oblige, Yours faithfully, Bagton and Wilkes, Wool Brokers, Dunedin.’

The kind free hearted Major was only too glad to show courtesy to the stranger, and Mr Hawke appeared just the personage to make himself at home with the Major’s guests. Though a common place man, he had evidently travelled, and had seen much of the world. He could talk well, play whist, and the flute, which instrument he had brought with him, carefully packed in his valise, could ride and shoot, and in short the “ agent " had not been at To Range's Peak twenty four hours, before ho was “on rapport" with everyone about the place. It was not to bo expected Hilda Ashford and her friend should remain long together without an interchange of secrets. Poor Hilda had little to give in return for the confidences of Grace. Her life had been devoted to the General, who mourned his long lost son. Grace knew the history of Temple Ashford, for she was at school with Hilda when that young lady was summoned to Glencourt after her prodigal brother fell into disgrace. The Major’s daughter hastened to change the subject for she noticed the cloud gathering over the fair face of her companion. Grace recounted the arrival of Nita Barry, and her two cavaliers, Fenton Howe and Vane at To Range’s Peaktold how the former’s life hung in the balance for many days; and how Aunt Elsie’s devotion saved the sufferer. Of the manner and bearing of Vane, the narrator grow eloquent and detailed the romance that led to the friendship of the two diggers. It seemed strange to Hilda that after fully two hours gossip, embracing every incident appertaining to these things, that Vane had scarcely been men : tioned.

1 Nita Barry and Fenton loved each other dearly, any one could see that,’ concluded Grace Weldon. ‘lt will be an excellent match, my dear. Mr Howe is of good family—-the son of a baronet, I hear—and will some day have money ; and as for my aunt's protege, she is one of the sweetest girls in existence, and so you will acknowledge, Hilda, when you become acquainted with her,’ ‘ Whut was this Mr Vane like ?’ inquired Hilda during a pause. 1 You have given me a vivid photograph of all the rest, but you have said nothing about this gentleman.’ A soft blush mantled Grace Weldon’s fair face. 11 scarcely know,’ she sajd in a subdued tone. ‘He was tall and fair, with a handsome beard and melancholy eyes.’ ‘ Is that all ?’

‘Noresponded Grace, with her blush deepening to rosy red. 1 No, dear Hilda. Temple Vane seemed a man about whom no one would pause to ask if he was dark or fair, tall or short, handsome or plain. There was a power of attraction 1 outroaohing personal graces or defects in.the man when he spoke to you, which swallowed up the idea of superfluous criticism. A giant in resolution, courage and honesty, a woman in tenderness, sympathy and patience, a man of men who ’ Hilda burst out into a silvery peal of Iqqghter at this sudden rhapsodical outburst op the part of Ijer shy companion, then noting the look of pain which gaye place to the blush, General Ashford s daughter drew tiie lovely face towards her own, and looking down into the depths of the innocent eyes said — 1 Darling, you have falleq in love with this knight errant whom nobody knows.’ Grace did not reply, but there came Into her face a far-off look, which showed her thoughts at that precise morqeut were not at To Range's Peak. '“I do not know by what subtle and strange channels wemorta's are attracted or repulsed,’ she said presently. ‘Two people-- and take a positive dislike to each other ere half-a-dozen words have been spoken on either aide — nay, a mere shake of the band will cause at times a thrill of feap or—or love. I know not who Temple Vane may be. He seemed to mo both proud and reserved, yet there was in his every look and word that which proclaimed him man, and stamped him with the nobility whioh

letters patent cannot give.’ 1 Dear Grace, it is well your Knight of Mystery has departed.’ ‘ Perhaps,’ responded Grace, looking slyly up at her friend. ‘ But if he came back again and asked me to be his wife I would—’ ‘Answer—' ‘ No," ’ put in Hilda, with a smile, 1 You are mistaken. My answer would be “ Yes.' ’ The two ladies were here interrupted by the approach of the Maori servant Tokoi. ‘ Miss Grace, the master wants to know if this boos belongs to you,’ he said, bolding Temple Vane’s diary towards her. 1 1 took it out of the gentleman’s room who left the other day, thinking it was the station day book.’ Grace Weldon glances at the folio carelessly. ‘ Take it to my room, Tokoi; I’ll look at it by and bye,’ she says, and Tokoi obeys. (To be continued.)