A STRANGE LOVE AFFAIR.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4407, 13 July 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

A STRANGE LOVE AFFAIR.

(By "Joan d’Or.") A restless feeling possessed me. It was the pressure of surplus energy demanding to he expended. This mentalphysical state was always a frequent one with me. My sister Pearl had, on account of it. nick-named me “Dot the Wild.” On the clay of which I speak my behaviour fully justified tho title. A wild scamper with Bosss, the house-dog, aroused my blood, and I eagerly sought my mare, Black Bess, who trotted quickly up at my familiar wh’stle. Out of the house came Pearl. "Dot, put on vour hat!” “Oh, hang my hat!” I cried, in true colonial stylo. Pearl tho Prim looked, an usual, all disapproval as I vaulted, man-fashion, on Bess’s bare back, and raced away into tho "Forty-Acre Field. It was a wild gallop. Lock by lock my hair (lately "put up," at my father’s request as- befitted the mature age of eighteen) left its moorings and streamed behind. At our approach some quietly browsing cows broke into a wild panic. A second later I nearly rode over a man who was striding swiftly across the field. As I flashed past I noted, with involuntary interest, the man’s figure and bearing. They were certainly very striking. -tall and erect, he moved with firm, yet .buoyant tread, a certain determination in which, combined with largeness of limbs and head, bespoke great strength of charactei'natinctively I turned my head ' The man turned too, and my eyes met two dark ones. Their gaze was so intent so full of expression, that a most unwonted thrill electrified my whole being. On 1 flew, thinking "What a handsome man ! And what eyes! I’m sure they’re warranted to kill at ten yards. They had aboxit five different expressions, all mixed into one. Wish I’d had my camera with me. "But come, Dorothea Mayne. Why do you forget yourself thus? Fancy you thinking of a man’s eyes for two whole minutes 1 There must be a mistake somewhere ?” Here I shook the mare s rein making her start off as if she were running for the Derby. ■ "Wish I could analyse tha'ifftook. Keen? Yea, but keen with the edge worn off. Determined, certainly. Full of interest, — that can’t be denied. 1 can imagine an ancient Homan looking like that when about to attempt some daring feet. But bother the man! Why didn’t he look the other way, instead of worrying me with his expressions. He regally must he dismissed from my mind.”

But despite this admirable resolve to my annoyance I could not get rid of the stranger's image. This was truly a remarkable tact, for I had never before admired a man. Perhaps because those few that I had met—except my father and one other had been insignificant and weak-minded. The other exception was James, my cousin. But he. though strongminded enough, was most distasteful to me, with that perpetual sneer on his clean-shaven face. He had come out from England some months before, to live in Lawrence. He frequently visited ns, and on these visits, to my ill-disguised disgust, he paid me much attention;' On the day in question he favoured us with his company at luncheon, keeping up a lively conversation throughout the meal, the interesting subject being himself. • However, for once 1 endured him without any great suffering. For X was thinking of the 1 dark-eyed stranger. CHAPTER 11. A sunny morning a week later. Out in the garden-path stood Pearl, holding her bicycle. "Goodbye,” she called. "I wonlt be away longer than two hours.” “Good-bye," I answered, from the grass, where I was rolling with the dog Boss. “Don’t forget the shot for my gun. If you'do—’’ The last part of the sentence was smothered, as the dog got uppermost. Pearl mounted and rode away. Suddenly she slowed down, and called back to me, “You won’t he lonely, will you? The revolver’s in. father’s study, you know, so vou needn’t be afraid.’’ I laughed merrily as I jumped up and shook off various specimens of dry grass and dust that clung to my dress. I afraM of anything! Why nonsense ! When the light crunching of bicycle wheels on the gravel of the drive had died away, 1 turned back ipto the house. After the brilliant sunlight without, the shade within was deepened by contrast into d.arkness. This gloom depressed me somewhat. I remembered that. Pearl gone, I was probably the only human being within a radius of half a mile. For that was the distance to the nearest ss-igb-hour’s, and I was alone In our house, father being in town performing his duties as magistrate, and Jacob, the gardener, being away on sick leave. Even Boss had gone, having followed Pearl in eagerness for a run. Then another thought came to me, making a sensation that was almost a shiver creep over me ’ like rising vapour, I had suddenly recollected recent daring robberies committed im the district —the work of one man, who was always described by the victims as masked. He would waylay peaceful settlers on lonely roads, and. by the gentle persuasion of a cocked pistol, would induce them to deliver up the money and valuables they carried. He then hound and blind-folded them, in such a manner that he had time to disappear ere they had freed themselves. All efforts to capture this man had been fruitless.

These thoughts, however, soon disappeared. chased away by my natural carelessness, and soon I was skipping gaily about, on household dut'ea bent. Whistling and singing, I carried corn to the fowls, and counted them as they seethed together, picking up the tiny grains. Then the sunshine enticed my steps into the orchard, a wilderness of green leaves and dandelion-dotted grass. The freshness of the soft air. the sweet sounds of Nature, the dancing sunbeams, entered into my soul, and made me feel all the ecstatic exuberant joy of youth and health and strength. Mv animal snirits. always hot. rose to boiling-point, and bubbled over in wild capers and snatches of song. All this much to the delight of a small, soft black pup. which, joined excitedly in my capering. Tip into a plum-tree I climbed, and shook it until the fruit, ripe and unripe, tumbled in showers around the little pup, which ran about nosing it in high glee. Down to the ground I did, and picked up the fruh. with the pup’s asistannee. Hard by a garden-seat invited repose. I threw myself upon it. in an attitude, however, that could not, except by a stretch of imagination, be called graceful. After some moments I grew drowsy, and the sounds of twittering birds and rustling leaves mingled confusedly in my ears. I slept, as I discovered later when I awoke with a’ start. My eyes opened on a sight 'hat made me jump up with a gasp. Before me stood & tall masked man! The highwayman! An unaccustomed sensation seized me. All my strength seemed to leave me. and my limbs tottered until. I nearly fell to the ground. But by a determined effort I controlled myself. “What do you want?” I demanded with rising courage. The man took off his mask, revealing a swarthy, clean-shaven face with an expression daring and reckless, yet full of a proud masterful strength that made it a face to compel admiration. But most striking were the eyes, dark, fascinating, irresistible. The instant I saw that face I uttered an exclamation of astonishment. This was ho whom I had met in the field a week ago. he of whom I had thought every day of the seven since, he who had haunted my very dreams! And he was the highwayman! “What do you want?” I repeated, but more faintly than before. The answer came in a voice, deep, strong, masterful. “I want you !" . The dark eyes smiled on me. but it was a determined smile. I strove to resist the fascination of it. I summoned, back my customary courage, and, drawing myself up, said haughtily, “I trust you will speak more explicitly. What do you want me for?” “For my wife!” was the startling reply. accompanied by a curious flash of the handsome eyes. Astonishment held me speechless foe a

second or tivo. Recovering, I answered, pretending to misunderstand. "And what can Ido for her?” But all the time it seemed as though I were fighting a battle with an individuality that was stronger than rny own, and of such a kind as by nature to draw mine irresistibly to it, as negative to positive. The man answered my question. "A great deal,” said he. “Where is she then?” I exclaimed impatiently. “ Here.”

1 looked around me, and then back at the smile that played over his features. “You are talking nonsense,” I exclaimed, angrily. "Let me pass!” In my heart I did not want to leave him, yet I raised my head high, and strode away. ‘ The man darted forward, and I ran. But. swift-footed though I was through much exercise, the man was swifter. He caught me firmly. “You cannot escape,” he said. I saw that, and adopted another course

"You are a coward!" I said, heatedly. “No gentleman would behave so!” Yet even as I spoke I was admiring the splendid poise of the man’s figure. A shade passed over his face. Loosening my arms, ho said quietly. "I will hot harm you. but you must listen to me. I came hero to ask you to be mv wife.”

“Indeed said I. with scorn. '"Your method is a little strange!” Now, although I spoke thus, although the suggestion to a stranger would have sounded preposterous, and even insolent, vet the tones thrilled me. the words cave me a half unwelcome pleasure. The battle within was becoming more desperate. I objected, not to the wooing, but to the manner of it. It aroused mv defiance. The man answered me. “When 1 first saw you, a week ago. riding so well, lins set hair flying.” ho seemed to

be musing, “the picture of health, youth, enorpv, determination/’ his voice ouickened. I said, ‘Wa have met at last. That, maid shall be my wife!' I read your nature when I looked at you. I have watched you since, and know that I read aright. You are a child of nature. I am another. I love you, and you shall be mine/'

Despite the defiance his peremptoriness aroused, despite the strangeness of it all, I felt that what he said was true. Those passionate tones thrilled me. and I trembled, my eyes drooped, my cheeks grew warm. But only for a moment. I mastered this softened feeling, steeled myself, and made a second desperate attempt to escape. But, alas! again in vain, and this time the man held me in a hopelessly firm grasp. Then ho drew ray face to his. He kissed mo. and I found myself gazing deep into his powerful wonderful eyes, that seemed to have unfathomable depths. I felt the last shred of resistance slip away. "You are mine, mine!" he said, as though prepared to argue the point out. with the whole world. I did not contradict him. For I knew that he was right.

Strange as it. may sound. I loved him! To my friends this statement would have seemed a contradiction in terms, and m past self would have treated the idea with fine scorn. But friends and past self were forgotten. I yielded, then, and in yielding I did not think of the incongruity of a match between me, daughter of a magistrate, and a lawless robber! So when my lover, looking at me as though he feared that he might have misread me after all. said, "Are you ready to make the sacrifice of becoming my wife?" I answered, “What sacrifice? Do you think 1 care " and then I stopped, for the question hashed into my mind, "What will father and Pearl say?” The man vsaw the doubt pass over my face. "There shall be no sacrifice!" he said almost fiercely. "You shall come to me as the Wife of a respected law-abid-ing " He was interrupted by a sound that fell like that of a thunderbolt on my ears at least. ‘‘Move and I fire! You are my prisoner!" It was my cousin James, who confronted mv lover, presenting at him a revolver, which I recognised as father’s. On his face the customary sneer was accentuated into a really repulsive grin of malice. Behind him I caught sight of Pearl, with such an expression of utter astonishment and dismay on her face, that I remember vaguely wondering whether it could ever wear off.

At the sound of James’s voice my lover’s first movement had been to slip a hand into his pocket. In a second he had turned and was pointing a revolver at my cousin. But as he did so he gave a start of evident surprise, and over his face passed a look of recognition, which was rapidly mingled with one of deadly hate. "Jim Crane!” he said, in the voice of one with a vengeance to take.

On my cousin’s face the grin became positively fiendish. "Yeh. Gerald Wordsworth !” , . "Found at last!” said my lover,- his voice deep with feeling. ‘‘The arm of justice reaches you at last! ’ said James Crane, whom from the first moment of this-encountor I had mentally renounced, as no cousin of mine. Here 1 who had stood before my lover to prevent the use of the fireaims, recovered sufficiently from my surprise to say, "James, please put up that pistol, tnd explain your rudeness to roy visitor.” ‘‘Clandestine visitor, you forgot to say,’ sneered Crane. Here my lover lost his temper. "Speak to this lady again and you are a dead man!” he said in a voice husky with anger. ... , Crane answered in incisive tones, "There are two can make that remark. "You appear to be unaware who the lady in the case is. Allow me to inform you that she is my future wife My lover's face paled suddenly, and he turned to me with a swift look of jealous questioning, and said very quickly and harshly, ‘‘Tell me that is a lie!’ ‘‘lt is!” I said angrily, "Like all of that person’s statements.’ Gerald smiled sardonically. , ‘‘As of old." he said. Then, afraid of bloodshed. I stepped up to Crane. "Give me that pistol," I commanded. I was ever imperatve—as Pearl would tell you—and Crane, out of habit, obeyed me now. He handed me his weapon, and I threw it away as far as I could.

As X expected, Gerald,, with the instinct of fairness—and not, ns some might have said in order to shield his weapon from the ’same fate—put his own pistol back into his pocket. Then he folded his arms. "That man " he said, with a sarcastic emphasis on the second word. ' if so I may call so despicable a creature, is the most shameless criminal in -existence. Through him I was ruined, and my —he seemed hardly abio to frame the next words—"my poor mother died. He paused to control his emotion. Then he continued, "We lived at Norwood, my widowed mother and I. and this fellow was tlmn clerk in the bank where I was teller. He was—though X marvel at it now—my most trusted friend. I was country-bred and reserved, and had few friends then He appeared kind and generous. But I found out to my cost that he was a despicable, heartless scoundrel. He robbed me, and, not content with that, brought against me a cleverlv-planned charge of forgery. 1 was forced to fly, for I could not prove my innocence. My poor mother, who was always delicate.” his voice became very huskv "could not bear the disgrace or the thought of my suffering, and she died, died of a broken heart . . . with no one to comfort her death-bed. I was far away, and did not know how my mother fared, until, comint back disguised. I found—her grave. That made me what I am now. My disgrace had embittered me, shattered my faith in man. This blow made me utterly reckless, a sworn enemy to society. This explanation I owe to you. as my betrothed.” These last words were said with a defiant smile in Crane’s direction, and produced a scowl on that person’s face. Gerald concluded, "Since then I have wandered over the world, seeking this man, who had very wisely hidden from me.' I tracked him to this country. I sought him. but found you." He took my hand, and seemed to forget Crane. ‘‘You are the peacemaker between society and m e. Until -I saw you X laughed at love. Now I know it is a XJivinely-given, natural instinct. He smiled down at me (for he is a little taller than I), and then, remembering we were not alone, be turned. and looked blackly at Crane. His voice was quite expressionless as he addressed that villian. "I have received information. through an advertisement in-

sorted in the New Zealand newspapers, that your guilt and mv innocence have now been clearly established.” Crane, who had hitherto assumed, with evident difficulty, a contemptuous indifference, turned pale at these last words. However, he said to me. ‘‘l wouldn’t listen to any more of this dramatic nonsense if I were you. Certainly, it’s quite true this fellow has rather narrowly escaped the distinction usually accorded to a gaolbird, but, "

The sentence was cut short by me. I cuTun’t bear the sound of his yoic«. 1 have heard quite enough.” But just then I heard a sound that was even more distasteful at the moment than that of Crane’s voice. It was the sound of carn-age-wheels on the drive. Father was home! 1 clutched Gerald’s arm. "Oh, go! Go at once!” But he sfood firm. ,1 will not go and leave you with this man. ‘‘Oh. how silly you are! He can’t hurt roe! Go, I tell you! Father will be so angry, and you will be arrested, and-—and all sorts of things!"

Excited women are seldom coherent. Gerald kissed me, and gripped my hand so affectionately that it hurt for some time after. "Good-bye, then,” be ( said, “until I come to make you my wife." Meanwhile Jim Crane had disappeared. As Gerald vaulted over the fence. Crane came upon me with mv father. ’ I will not describe the latter’s grave displeasure at my ‘‘strange conduct.” Father was always very stern. He had never,tried to enter into my life. I think my mother’s death had saddened his own life, and made him reserved and world-weary. He spoke little, merely discussing household matters with Pearl, or addressing a reproving remark to me. I think my carele-sness irritated him. On the present occasion he listened to Crane, who painted me as black as possible, and gave a dreadful description of ‘‘that villain Wordsworth.” As an inventor Crane might have been a success. I did not attempt to contradict him, but assumed an expression of hardened defiance. Pearl, who had thoroughout the piece been a silent spectator, was sorry for me. hut tried in a mild way to demonstrate that I was in the wrong.

Po I was friendless, and stubbornly awaited the worst. And it came, in the shape of an arrangement for my marriage with —Jim Crane! , , - The wedding day was fixed for an early date There seemed no escape. But 1 mentally vowed that I would find one, even the most desperate. Although, watched closely. I saw nothing of my lover vet I was sure that he would not be far away. And I hoped that he would see, and read aright, the preparations that were being made for my marriage with the odious Crane.

At last, one night, a few days before the wedding dav, I arose so softly as not to disturb Pearl, who shared my room in order to watch over me. I loft the house very quietly, and stole away in the bright moonlight. I would run away, anywhere. Perhaps I should find Gerald lurking under one of those dark swAving trees. Yet I shivered a little at the weirdness of the moonlit country. Where should I go? I started at my own shadow. Then a sound behind set my heart thumping like a sh'p’s engine. It was only Boss, who licked my hand sympathetically. Go homo, Boss'" I whispered. He did not want to go, but, with a crest-fallen look, he ob’yed me.' Swiftly speeding on. I soon stood on the hank of a shadowy creek that r iTthrough our grounds. For a moment the dark ripnling water tempted me strangely to seek in it sweet oblivion. But of a sudden a cricket chirped near; and then a leafy tree whispered encouragement. Ah. a shadow falls beside me! The next minute I am in Gerald’s arms.

There wag a wedding next day, after all. But it was a very quiet one, and no guests were invited.

A year later, still as happy as when I was a bride, I went to my father s open arms, while Pearl let fall a few briny tears. Crane had shown himself to be a thorough scoundrel, by robbing my father. However, for that I forgive him freely, for did he not thereby give me my daddie?