Nina's Peril.

Otago Witness, Issue 1355, 17 November 1877, Page 20

Nina's Peril.

A TALE IN TWO CHAPTERS.

Chapter 11.

It was evident that they did not know ■what to . make of the change. Pauline would open her great eyes at each of my wild moods ; but Hugh's grave face looked distressed ; he did not approve of this new Nina, apparently. I steadily avoided being alone with him, and contrived that Pauline should always sit next to him at the djnner table ; though, to my surprise, he took no advantage of the situation, but treated her with cold politeness — noth'ng more ; while to me he was as he had ever been — gentle, kind, and tender as a brother.

None the less I steeled my heart against him. "Itis a new deception," I thought. " He wishes to hid© his love for her, or he may be mean enough to wish to marry me for my fortune." This state of affairs continued for some days, until one morning Hugh found me alone. I had always been an early riser, and, this particular, morning being intensely hot, even so early as seven I took a book and strolled gently towards my favourite arbour, intending to read there until the breakfast-bell rang. This arbour was so hidden by shrubberies, that it could be seßn only from a thicket exactly facing it. To my surprise some one had reached it before me. Major Gordon was a great smoker, and had brought his cigar there, thinking he would be undisturbed. I could not turn back now without being positively rude ; so I quietly took the seat he offered me beside himself.

To my great indignation, no sooner was I seated than he placed his arm round me in the coolest manner imaginable, making me rest against him ; yet it was so naturally done that it seemed no more than a cousinly action, and mere affectation to resist it.

"There— now we are comfortable," he said, throwing away his cigar, "The early bird is proverbially a fortunate one, but I am rewarded beyond all my expectation. Do you know, Nina, this is the first tete-a-tete we have had since I returned ? I have scarcely had an opportunity of telling you how much I find you altered."

"For the better, I hope," I remarked, bluntly.

" Well," he returned, holding back his head, and pretending to eye me critically, "from a child you are grown to be almost a woman — and a very charming one, too ; but I must confess that to me, personally, you were more charming as a child. Two years ago I felt certain of this little Nina's love. But now — what am Ito say, little one?"

"I do not love you any less, Cousin Hugh— and, as a cousin,. I shall always love you," I answered, with a dignified air. , -

He spoke Very gently in reply. " Bat it is not cousinly love that I want, Nina, Why are you so sadly changed 1 You will scarcely suffer my arm round you at this moment ; you have not once kissed me since I came. Two years ago you would have done so without the asking."

His words so bewildered me that I scarcely knew what I said. Starting to my feet, I exclaimed —

" Major Gordon, you must remember that lam no longer a child. Would it be maidenly in me to make those advances you mention before the woman who loves you and whom you love ? " A light seemed suddenly to break upon hia understanding. Holding out his arms to me, he eried — and, oh, that loving tone could not have been assumed — "Come back to me, Nina! Come, little one— oh, how you have been deceived ! " I hesitated one moment, and in that moment the chance was lost. A rustling in the syringa bushes behind the arbour first startled me, and immediately afterwards Pauline's figure appeared in the doorway. She was flushed and panting, and a smile, which she vainly endeavoured to make agreeable, parted her lips. " I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a parcel come for you, Major Gordon, which the bearer is Waiting to deliver into your own hands." My cousin hesitated, looking from her to m*, and then quietly placed my arm in his. "No, no," said Pauline, quickly, taking my hand as if to draw me away, " it is so hot, Nina and I will follow slowly." Her look towards me was ao malicious that I involuntarily clung closer to Hugh's arm. He answered by a slight pressuie of the hand he held.

"Excuse my rudeness, Mademoiselle D'Esterre," he said, "but I am anxious to resume the conversation which you were compelled to interrupt. My cousin and I will come after you in a few minutes. The messenger may wait." Pauline looked baffled. "In turn, excuse me, Major Gordon. Nina, one word in your ear." As I bent toward her, she whispered, quickly, " Little stupid, it is your money, not you, he wants." With this parting sting, she hurried out of sight. The long winding path between the sweet-scented syringas seemed to me the road to Paradise that morning, as I walked slowly and thoughtfully up to the house, Hugh's strong arm around me, while his beloved voice, in low earnest tones, was telling me the tale of his lov — how he had known Pauline in Pari some years ago ? while I was yet a child

and he too young to know what real true love was ; how he had been fascinated by her for a time, till he had found how unworthy she was— till he had felt that his love for his child cousin had grown to be the hope and aim of his life.

And. when, hidden by the laburnums and lilacs, we halted in the path, and, at his request, I reached on tip toe to take his dear brown head in my hands and kiss him, as I had done two years ago, how proud was I at that moment — proud of my noble, handsome lover !

My joy was a little clouded by the remembrance that he was compelled to be absent all that day, but with such sweet thoughts to bear me company, how could I be dulli Even Pauline's spiteful speeches and inuendoes fell harmless. If -she had truly loved Hugh, I could only feel the deepest pity for her.

She had always slept in the same room with me. I felt little inclined for her company that night, though at the same time I could not easily invent an excuse for departing from the usual custom ; so, having undressed in silence, I laid my happy head upon the pillow, and fell to dreaming sweet dream 3, in which my lover and I were walking through endless paths strewn with roses, and bordered by golden blossoms.

Suddenly in the midst of my dreams it appeared that a serpent raised itself from among the crimson roses, and hissed in my ear. I woke with a scream, to find Pauline standing by the bedside. The room was filled with a singular rosy light, making every object in the room as clear as by daylight.

I could not hear distinctly what she was saying, but her face and lips were ashy white, and her eyes starting from their sockets.

In another instant her voice pierced my ear in words that sounded like a prolonged shriek —

" Nina, awake— awake ! The house is on fire !"

1 raised myself upon my elbow, still stupefied with aleep. I saw her rush wildly about the room, seizing her jewel-case, her desk— all that she could grasp that was valuable ; but I could not rouse myself — I seemed still to be in a dream, though now all was changed and ghastly Suddenly Pauline stopped and looked fixedly at me — it was a singular look, and I have never forgotten it. I can recall it now as plainly and with as horrible distinctness as upon that dreadful night. At first it was a wavering, irresolute expression—she moved half-way towards me, as if with the intention of rousing me from my lethargy, thenhalted, anda fixed determination and sternness settled upon her features. Once more she grasped her treasures, then walked hurriedly from the room, and I heard the door close behind her.

This seemed to break the spell that was upon me. I darted from the bed and flew to the window. It was a frightful scene. To the right of my bedroom was all in flames. A balcony which ran along in front of five windows, of which mine was the centre, had already caught— such ravages had the fire made before it was discovered.

Taking all this in at one wild glance, I sprang to the door. Oh, heaven, it was locked on the outside J

v I shrieked, I raved, I battered at the door with all my feeble strength till my hands bled ; but I felt no pain." Oh, Pauline, Pauline, you must have been mad with terror — you could not have doomed me to such an awful death !

Once more I flew to the window. The scene was changed. Nearer and nearer were creeping those awful tongues of fire, while below looked up a sea of horrorstricken faces, ghastly in the lurid light. One figure alone I could distinguishthat of ray lover carrying in his arms a senseless figure. It was Pauline. Then herwords were true — she was the love of his heart, and he had flown to her in the first moment of danger. Be it so ; but still life was so sweet — so sweet — and. I was so young to die. I stretched out my hands imploringly towards him. " Hugh, Hugh, save me too ! Oh, save me — do not let me die !" My voice, though I could scarcely hear it myself, it was so hoarse and unnatural, reached his ears. He turned towards me with a great cry, and rushed into the house. In that one look [ read that he would save me or die. A strange calm came over me ; Ino longer shrieked, but, standing erect before the window, and in the face of that helpless crowd, kept my eyes fixed upon the door from which was to come my salvation. It must have been but a few moments, though to me it seemed an age, before it came. I felt Hugh's beloved arms carrying me over the hot floor and down the stifling stairs. I heard his voice murmuring, " Thank Heaven that I have saved you, my precious Nina ?" Then all became dark. I was insensible for many days ; when I came to, it was to find myself in a strange room and in a strange house— for my dear old home had been burnt to the ground. Pauline had disappeared on the night of the fire, but some weeks later a note reached me through the post. It contained these brief words : " You will never see me again, but I write to tell you that— thought bear you no love— l am glad that you were saved. It was the madnesa of a moment that prompted me to lock your door-

Had I not f anted in the smoke, I should have turned to' set you free at the risk of my life.

" Pauline."

I was glad to receive that letter, and I hope that Pauline is now a better and a happier woman.

Scarcely a hair of my head was singed in the fire. But, alas, my poor Hugh I Even now there are scars on his dear face and arms, which I lament over, but which he glories in as the price of his wife's life.