A TALE OF TWO HEMISPHERES.

Otago Witness, Issue 1323, 7 April 1877, Page 20

A TALE OF TWO HEMISPHERES.

By Fabian Bell.

(Written for the Olago Witness.) Chapter VI. From Stella's Diary. December SO. — I have been very ill. " Few people lie so long at death's door and recover," Mr Alleyne says, and for that recovery I ought to be thankful, and I am thankful, though at times I feel so weak and weary that life seems a burden too heavy to be borne ; but I must not give way to this feeling. God has given me back my life ; 1 must try and use it in his service. My illness began on the very day that Mark left me. Dear, dear Mark ! I was looking for him and watching for him when 1 saw a man watching too, and that frightened me; and then I got Mark's letter; and then — the rest is a blank.

They tell me I broke a blood vessel, perhaps so. Something seemed to give way, and then all was dark. I lay insensible for more than three weeks. What became of my consciousness, of my bqul, during that time I wonder ? Did it sleep in the body, or did it go out of the body, free and unfettered ? Surely tho soul can never be really unconscious ] I have a fancy, I dare say it is a foolish fancy, that my soul went to join Mark ; that my spirit held communion with his spirit ; that he encouraged me to be strong, and brave, and patient ; that he told me he was innocent, and promised to return to me ; above all, that he bid me get well and live for his sake. For his 'sake ! Is there anything on earth, that I would not do or suffer for his sake —

"When I woke from my unconsciousness a strange doctor was by my side, and Aunt Janet had come to nurse me.

That first return to life is like a dream to me. Something frightened me ; I cannot now remember what it was, and then all was again' dark. In this darkness I beemed to grope my way like a child. Kind hands touched me and soothed me and drew me back to life, and Mark's spirit urged me to live and help him. But it was not Aunt Janet who nursed me then ; a tenderer touch smoothed my pillow; a gentler voice answered my inoanings. I grew better slowly but surely, and my kind doctor and nurse rejoiced at the triumph of their bMII. For a long time I did not see Aunt Janet ; I had a foolish shrinking from her loud voice and step ; at last my conscience told me I was ungrateful, and I asked for her. Soon after this the trained nurse, who had been so gentle. and tender, left me, and after departure my recovery was not quite so rapid. With all my good intentions and real gratitude, I could not help shrinking from Aunt Janet's words and touch. W,hen she opened her lips, I dreaded to hear what she would say. I knew she thought ill of my husband, and she had never understood me. Perhaps the latter was my fault — that I did not understand or appreciate her as she deserved ; but I was bo weak that I could not reason, and act upon my reason. When my aunt approached me I trembled ; when she was by my sido, I could not rest, and sleep was impossible. •

At this time I began to perceive plainly the change which had come over my dear old friend, Elaie. The shock which had struck mo to the earth had affected her also. She loved Mark only less than I did, and his mysterious disappearance affected her painfully. She moved about like one in a dream ; her activity seemed to have deserted her ; she would sit for hours doing nothing, with her bii3y hands crossed upon her lap. When spoken to, she answered at random, or with a mournful shake of the head ; it was too evident that she was failing, mind and body alike. Ar I gained strength she lost it, and became more fragile day by day. Mr Alleyne was good to us both ; no words can say how good. His skill as a doctor, his sympathy as a man, seemed to be always helping and guarding us. Ho was more than a physician ; he was a friend, and what a revelation this new experience of friendship was to me. He seemed to see without looking ; to answer without being spoken to ; to understand •without words.

He it was who, seeing that I should never get strong while Aunt Janet remained, so wrought upon her by suggestions of possible mismanagement at the manse, and short-coming 3on the part of Elsbet and Jock, as induced her to declare that she must return in time to superintend the curing of the winter bacon. Then it seemed that she had all along hoped to take me back to Scotland with her.

" Mrs Leydon is not strong enough for such a journey," said Mr Alleyne, quietly.

"Then I will wait until she is," returned my atint, resolutely.

" The climate of Scotland would be too cold for her at this time of year."

" It is her native air, and I have always heard that when persons are ailing they are so never likely to recover as in their native air." "As her doctor, I forbid it." " As her nearest relative, I insist upon it." " You will kill her." "You wish her to stop here, that you may not lose a profitable patient." "Oh ! aunt, do not aay that. Oh ! Mr Alleyne, 1 am so sorry," I cried, turning from one to the other. " You know that.it is not true.— no one

better," returned the doctor, proudly. "MraLeydon, when you were lying insensible, your aunt wished to dismiss me. I was conceited enough to think that your life depended upon my efforts. I refused to take my conge from her hands. Now you are well enough to do without me, and so I can say good-bye to my * profitable patient.' " " Don't leave me like that, Mr Alleyne, and for no fault of mine. I am grateful to you, no words can say how grateful ; but I am not well enough to do without you yet ; lam very weak," and the tears, which I tried in vain to restrain, fell upon the hand which he gave me. He smiled to hide the pain which 1 saw working in his face, and perhaps to calm my emotion as well as his own. "Do not distress yourself, MrsLeydon. We mercenary fellows are not so soon disposed off. I shall see you to-morrow," and he left the room. Aunt Janet looked after him with a sniff. •" Well, Mary, are you coming to Scotland with me ?" " No, dear Aunt ; lam going to remain here." "What, in Brighton?" j "Yes, in Brighton, or in the neigh- j bourhood." "And may I ask the reason for such an extraordinary determination 1" "Certainly, you may. My husband left me here. I should like him to find me here when he returns," "And are you silly enough to think that he ever means to return V " I know he will return. He has promised it, and I have perfect faith in him. It may be long hence — months, years, a whole life-time. We may be old and grey-headed before we are re-united ; still I shall wait for him, and he will come." " No man deserves such confidence — it is impious." " Aunt, you don't know Mark." " I know him better than you do. He is a scheming villain, who, to gratify a sudden passion, inveigled you into an almost private marriage, and who now, that his misdeeds are about to be found dut, deserts you like a coward, as he is — deserts you, as he has' doubtless deserted others before 'you." At this insinuation the blood surged lip into my face and neck. I felt myself choking with passionate indignation. " Your words 'are' false, Aunt Janet — false as they are cruel. Of whatever crime my dear husband may be suspected, he is innocent/ and'rio human being shall say 'a word against him in my' hearing." ] " Hoity, toity !" said my Aunt, tossing , her head. . ; liad been ill a long time : I was very weak', and so when T tried to defend my absent darling words failed me, and I burst into a passion of tears and hysterical I sobbing. "Mark! Mark! come backto me." . On. the following day I was so much worse that I could not rise from my bed, but the still hours of the night; had brought counsel, and I decided on the course [which it* seemed right and wise for me to follow.' I would not go to Scotland. I would not leave ' Brighton until my Husband returned to me, or I received the letter, which lie had promised, when my actions must be decided by his wishes or commands. In the meantime I would, beg my aunt to leave me, for I felt that I could not recover while she remained. All this I told her as quietly and gently as I could. She made a dozen objections to leaving me ; one was that it was not "proper" for a young woman like me to live alone. " I shall not be alonej Auntie, Elsie will will be with me, and she and I have lived together for years. And no w that the old woman is weak in mind and body, I shall be glad to care for her, and return the goodness she has shown me from my childhood." At last came the real reason for this desire for my society. If I returned with her, she expected me to contribute handsomely towards the housekeeping expenses. I now saw a way out of my difficulties, for I told her at once that I did not intend to accept more than £100 per anniim of the money my husband had appropriated to me ; that I should consider the remainder as a sacred fund, to be spent in his service, or kept until hia return ; also, I felt that a time might come when some of this money would be required for legal expenses, and to establish my husband's innocence. When I get stronger I shall return to my painting. I can find employment here as easily as in London, and it will be good for me ; it will keep me from thinking. If I had nothing to do, I should break my heart dreaming over the past, and I must not do that. I must live and work, and get strong, ready to help Mark when he needs me. When Mrs Grant found that my resolution was not to be shaken, she also discovered that I was well enough to be left, and that she was much needed at home, where her long absence had thrown all things into confusion. So she packed up her boxes and returned to the North. I paid all her expenses, and gave her a grey silk dress and many other things to which she had taken a fancy ; and she in return gave me a great deal of good advise and a volume of sermons. All this took place about two months ago, and since then I have got bettor very rapidly ; it seems almost like magic. On Christmas Day I had a pleasant surprise. I was sitting in my new lodging, somewhat exhausted in body and mind, for Elsie and I had just been to aervico in tho i curious old parish church, when Mr f Alleyne came in,

"I have brought you a visitor," he said, " a stranger, and yet not a stranger, for you have heard much of each other. My only sister, Bessie." Then she came to me at once ; took my hand firmly in hers, looked into my eyes, and kissed me on the forehead. " Walter is your friend," she said, in a singularly clear, sweet, and distinct voice, the only voice I ever heard that was really like a bell ; "let me be your friend, too !" i I was too nervous to respond at once to her frank kindness, and said, rather | awkwardly : J "I am glad to see you. Mr Alleyne has often spoken of you." " Too often, perhaps," she said, with a bright look at him ; "so that you are tired of me before you see me." " Oh, no ! indeed I must have spoken very stupidly to make you think so. But if you knew Avhat a lonely life I have led, you would understand how difficult it is for me to express myself properly." "Bessie," said her brother, quickly, j "tellMr3 Leydon what we want her to do." "We want you to come and spend a real Christmas Day. Don't say No ; I see j it on your lips ; you must come ; we have brought a carriage for you, and you shall not be too much tired." "Thank you, but I cannot, indeed I cannot. I am not fit to go out visiting. Mr Alloyne, you know I cannot go. " u l know nothing of ,the kind," he answered lightly. "I think you are strong enough, and that the little change will do you good. You know, we English think a great deal of Christmas Day. It is the festival of the year with most of us, and Bessie has come to spend it with me, and I want you to come too." And because they both wished it I wont, though I would much rather have remained alone, and afterwards I was very glad I made the effort. We had a happy day, full of quiet genial talk, and at night I felt as if i had know Bessie Alleyne for years. She is like her brother, but I think her character is stronger and more firmly balanced. Already I feel that her clear sense and judgment would be a tower of strength, and her fine sympathy a never-failing refuge in the hour of trial. I see. her every ,day, and every day I admire, I esteem, and I love her more. January 4. — Bessie Alleyne has been in New Zealand. It seems so strange to me, and yet I do not know why it should seem strange. But New Zealand and Australia have never appeared like real places to me ; they are just like spots on the map, nothing more. How Bessie laughed when I spoke of the two countries as one. She says they are more than a thousand miles apart, and in climate and productions more .unlike than England r and Italy. Her uncle and aunt were ' among the first settlers in ' Canterbury, and they are now living in Otago ; and she told me some amusing colonial adventures of theirs and her own — for she has, spent two years in the latter 'province. .How strange it seems to me to speak, with some one who has, been all round the world — a woman too, arid no older than myself. How much she has seen, and how little I have seen. I- have never been out of Great Britain, nor on the sea even for an hour. Bessie is now more than ever a heroine in my eyes. January 9. — The New Zealand mail is in, and Bessie is answering her letters. When shall I have a letter to answer? Oh, Mark! Mark, my love and' trust never waver, even for an instant, but my heart aches. January 10. — Bessie Alleyne has left Brighton. I shall miss her very, very much. She generally lives in London with her eldest brother, who is a widower. She has invited me to visit her, but I do not think that I shall ever have courage to go among so many strangers. I was never very brave among strangers, and now I dread them. It seems to me that they always look at me, and wonder why I am alone, and where my husband is, and then, that they blame me or pity me, and I do not know which hurts me more — the pity or the censure. I have done no wrong, aud Mark has done no wrong; and yet he is alone, flying for his life, aud I am alone waiting, waiting. Ah, me !if I only knew where he was, and what ha was doing — that he was safe and well ; that he loved me still ; if I knew even so much as that, I think I could be patient, for "men must work and women must weep." I will return to my painting. I dare not think — " that way madness Ues." (To be continued.)