AND YET NO HABITATION.

Otago Witness, Issue 1422, 22 February 1879, Page 21

AND YET NO HABITATION .

IN THREE CHAPTERS.

By Fabiakt Bell, Author of "Stella" tho "Big Nugget," &c.

[Written for the Otago Witness.)

Chapter 11.

Miss Ayton was one of the guests at Deane Court at this time, and the only one who was staying in the house, and it is to her old nurse that I am indebted for many particulars which could have been known to none but the young lady and her hostess.

On the morning after the ball, Hubert himself or at least some news from him, was anxiously looked for, but none came; it was not until the third morning that Mrs Deane received a letter in the wellknown hand. A strange set look of anger, almost con*

tempt, came into her face as she read it— t ead it through twice over, very quietly, and then replaced it in the envelope. Miss Ayton was all curiosity, but too timid to ask a question which trembled on her lips. When the meal was over and the servants had left the room, Mrs Deane remarked : That her son had been detained in pain, where he waa spending a few days with a French officer, a com-panion-in-arms to whom he seemed much attached ; he proposed returning to Englandand Deane Court in a few, days, but in his absence she trusted that her visitor would- be able to amuse herself, for she quite counted upon keeping her for at least a month according to a long standing engagement. Nothing was said by Hubert of excuse or sorrow for his nonappearance when so anxiously expected and prepared for, and the elder lady was too strictly honourable to add to, or extenuate his words. It was evident that Hubert Deane was completely indifferent to the slight which he had put upon his mother and friends. . , After a week's delay, the soldier returned home. No flowery address was sent to meet him, but surely his mother's glad embrace was sufficient welcome. No words of reproach or anger crossed her lips ;:in the joy of that return all disappointments seemed to be forgotten. Surely even the old sweet days would return to Deane Court and its mistress, and all things go on as smoothly and brightly as of old. But the wheels of time never roll backwards. It is impossible to revive the old days, the old .hopes, the old life. Once gone, they are gone for ever. Those who are wise will think of them lovingly and tenderly, but never, ah ! never attempt to recall them; they are gone like last year's flowers, leaving behind them a sweet memory, but in actual presence only a few withered, faded, and dirty leaves. • • ■ ' ' There can be little doubt of Mrs Dean's object in inviting Miss Ayton to meet her Bon, and throwing them so constantly into each others .society, but if she thought to foster an affection between them her hopes were disappointed, for no word of love passed at this time between Hubert Deane and Maud Ayton; they appeared to be merely friends and nothing more. But still things were not as of yore : a change to be felt rather than expressed had crept over the Deane Court household. A strange restless spirit had superseded the youog soldier's insouciant manner ; a half suppressed excitement shone at times in his dark, sleepy, blue eyes ; his courtly deference to his mother often changed to brusque defiance, followed by an almost cringing humility, anon giving place to haughty indifference. He began 1 to go out a great deal and absent himself < for hours and days, occasionally mentioning his destination, but more frequently maintaining a complete silence as to the cause and duration of his absence ; his haunts, goings, and comings, being alike unknown' to the two ladies who watched him so anxiously, feeling that remark or remonstrance would be utterly useless, and might do harm, and chiding their fears with the assertion that afterthe long campaign he would naturally require more exercise and freedom than of old. As I have said, Deane Court lies close to the London road, and is not more than three miles distant from the populous and fashionable sea-port town of H . The Deanes had many acquaintances among its inhabitants, both residents and visitors, and if Hubert rode daily in that direction, there was nothing in his act to cause surprise or annoyance ; but his manner, changed, unsettled, nervous, roused a vague suspicion in his mother's heart, which could never be lulled to rest, and was all too soon fully awakened into bitter knowledge. One day the ladies drove into H— — upon a shopping expedition, and expecting to be occupied for some hours, ordered the horses to be put up ; but their purchases took up lass time than they had anticipated, and having an extra half hour at their disposal, they took a turn upon the parade. It was not the most fashionable season, and the promenade was nearly deserted ; still the view was fine, and the sea-breeze invigorating, and they walked briskly on. Suddenly the younger lady felt her companion's hand , tighten upon her arm with a rigid grasp, and looking into her face, beheld it fired and white with intense emotion, and her gaze rivetted upon the first floor windows of a house immediately opposite them. Maud Ayton followed the eyes with her own, and saw a woman sitting on a low arm-chair, and a man bending over her in an unmistakably lover-like attitude ; no very strange or unusual sight, had not the man been Hubert Lyneton Deane. Without a word, without a sigh, but with that strange look upon her face, the mother turned away and was driven to her home. Contrary to their expectations, Mr Deane appeared at the dinner-table in gay, almost wild, spirits, and rattled on incessantly, oblivious of his mother's chilling repellant manner, and the shrinking shyness of his visitor, who felt the moral atmosphere laden with the coming storm. With the absence of the servants, the false gaiety subsided, and an ominous silence fell upon the trio. Maud Ayton could hear her own heart beat, until the pulsation was actual pain, and rung in her ear like a knell. The prescribed twenty minutes had elapsed, yet Mrs Deane did not give the sign to retire, but sat on, lost in thought, the same fixed, passionless look of anguish on her finely cut features. But at last, with the action of one

throwing aside some evil spell, the young master of Deane asked if he should ring and order coffee. The elder lady woke as from a dream. " Not yet ; I wish to speak to you first." Then turning to her young friend, " Go my child, go into the drawing room, it is not fit for you to be here." And Maud went but the heavy curtains which parted the two rooms could not shut out all sound, and so she heard much of the conversation which ensued ; heard Mrs Deane bitterly upbraid her son for his deceit and sin ; hear him as bitterly refute and deny the imputation, declaring that Louise De l'Orme was as good and pure a woman as his mother hersejf — the sister of his friend and companion in arms, who had brought her to H for change of air. "And to be near you. Graceless boy, do not deny it. This then is the reason of the slight, the insult which you so recently put upon me and all our friends ; this is the cause of your changed manner, your constant absence from home. And who are these De l'Orme's 1 What is their rank, their birth, their position? that they should dare to aspire to an alliance with a Deane of Deane Court, a family who for eight centuries have held their own, and received no blot upon their escutcheon ; who are the De l'Ormes to mate with such ?" "It was no question of marriage," Hubert said, "he liked the girl and had flirted with her a little, that was all. Her family were respectable, no more honest bourgois, but in no way noble or distinguished. The brother was a nice young fellow whom he liked particularly ; in fact, they were a nice family altogether. He had not mentioned their presence in H— — because he knew his mother's prejudices in favour of rank and her dislike to all foreigners ; but they would be leaving in a few days and he should see them no more, and doubtless Louise would marry the fellow-countryman to whom he believed she had been engaged from her cradle ; in fact, there were no grounds whatever for his mother's displeasure and anxiety. So said the young soldier, but. his voice did not ring true, and Maud Ayton felt in her heart that his words were false. Surely a like doubt was in his mother's mind when she told how honourable the Deanes had always been, how they had held their honour untarnished through all those centuries, prizing and guarding it with their lives. "You cannot marry this girl, Hubert ; but I charge you, my son, leave her while there is time. From this day see her no more. From what you say neither her heaxt nor your own are as yet touched. Leave her then at once ; your honour, your noble blood, demand it." After some hesitation the required promise was given. Some conversation in a lower key followed, and then Mr .Deane went oub to smoke a cigar, and his mother joined her visitor. She glanced from the curtain to Maud's face. " I see you have heard all, my dear, and that Hubert is not so much to blame as we fancied. I have always heard that French ■ girls are very designing, and doubtless this one and her brother thought to entrap my son into a low marriage. However, all is now arranged. He has promiaed to break with the whole family, and I in return have promised that if he marries according to my wish I .will pull down this old house and. build a new and more commodious manion, of which, together with the whole Deane estate (which, as you know, my dear, is absolutely in my own power) I will hand him over the title deeds on his wedding day." "You are very generous Mrs Deane," said Maud, who perceived that some remark was expected from her. " Ah, my dear, there is no generosity in giving to those we love. I would gladly give him all/every thing I possess ; but he must not marry beneath him. He must not stain the proud and spotless escutcheon of our house. 1 would rather see him lie dead at my feet," And the old, hard, pitiless look returned to Mrs Deane's face. It was early in March when this scene occurred, and about the middle of May the county paper announced " that a matrimonial alliance had been arranged between Miss Maud Ayton and Hubert Lyneton Deane, Esquire, and that the marriage would take place in a few weeks." It was one of those engagements which take no one by surprise but the parties themselves. Everything seemed so very suitable, age, birth, position, adjoining estates ; everything perhaps, except those trifles, temper, disposition, and character, which, as everyone knows, are never considered in such cases. In taking a business partner for a certain term of years, a man is apt to be most particular in his inquiries and observations, shrewdly perceiving that unity of principle and action is needed to make their trade profitable, and themselves comfortable at home and respected abroad ; but in taking a partner for life such care and inquiries are deemed wholly unnecessary, and the wonder is, not that such rash unions should sometimes fail to produce all the happiness expected, but that they should ever produce any. But if the engagement between Maud and Hubert were a rash one, they could not plead ignorance of each other's disposition a3 an excuse. Considerable intimacy had been kept up between the two families for many years, and if the attachment were not of a violent nature, Maud, at least, had never loved anyone better than her childhood's friend, and although the episode of Louise Do l'Orme had threatened an eternal barrier

between them, still the difficulty had been so soon removed that it would be absurd indeed to resent it long, especially when Hubert seemed so penitent and eager to atone for his fault, and his mother urged and pressed his suit with a vehemence almost exceeding his own. So Maud said "yes," and Hubert declared himself the happiest of men, as in duty bound. He was a quiet, undemonstrative lover, but as his mother assured Maud, this was characteristic of the Deanes. They were always quiet, keeping their passions down with a strong hand; but loving steadfastly, deeply, truly, and for ever. And the girl believed her— it is pleasant to believe what we wish— and day by day her heart clung more and more fondly to her affianced lover, just because he was her lover and would soon be her husband ; for with some women the sun of custom and certainty are necessary to make the ice-bound spring of their affection, slowly thaw and well up into an exhausbless fountain. Shy and gentle, and as yet unwooed, she did not miss the ring of earnestness in his voice, or detect the coldness of his embrace ; his mother's assurances, his own professions, blinded her senses to an indifference, complete, almost contemptuous— a granite rock of indifference, against which the waves of her rising passion might some day beat themselves to pieces in useless foam. How much of all this Mrs Deane saw and divined none can now tell. The marriage was of her planning ; it appeared to give her complete delight and satisfaction. According to her promise the old court was in process of demolition, and from her dower house (a not very picturesque, but doubtless very comfortable residence, about half-a-mile from Deane Court), she was able to superintend the plans and hasten the erection of the new and splendid residence, with which she designed to fill its place. By the utmost speed and exertion the new home might be completed in the autumn, but the marriage was not to be delayed until then, it was to take place in June. After which the bride and bridegroom would go for their tour, visiting m&ny places of interest, native and foreign, and return to spend Christmas by their own fireside. It was a charming programme, but like many other programmes, not destined ever to become a reality. Immediately upon her engagement Maud Ayton had returned home, but j much of her time was still spent with Mrs Deane, who seemed never so happy as when in the presence of her son's bride elect, who was now able to join' her in the idolatry so long lavished on that son himself. To drive over to the dower House, to dine and sleep there, was now Maud's custom twice a week, and on the alternate days Mr Hubert Deane seldom failed to present himself at Ayton Hall. They were pleasant quiet gatherings, marred by no strong passion or haunting fear, and in the long bright evenings the trio would often stroll over to Deane Court, and watch the progress of the new buildings and admire their growing walls, speculate upon the most suitable furniture and prettie3t hangings, and at such time a soft blush stole over Maud's cheek and her dove-like eyes sought the ground. Then they would pursue the winding paths which John and I had so much admired— how beautiful they must have looked then, kept, garnished, and cared for ! — and sometimes the elder lady would sit down and bid them walk on without her, knowing how sweet those still evening hours must be to the young lovers ; and to one of them they were indeed sweet, dangerously, cruelly sweet. There came a time when the wedding day was close at hand, the dress chosen and made, the presents given, the breakfast ordered. , "Let us take one more walk through the gardens," said Mrs Deane, "you will not see them again until the winter frosts have seasoned the new house." And they went. It had been a lovely day. It was a perfectly lovely evening, so calm, so peaceful, a foretaste of heaven itself. The mother and son talked a little at intervals, but Maud's heart was too full for words. She was looking forward to that day week, thinking of the vows and promises she should then take upon herself. Waa she worthy of such happiness 1 Was she fit to be Hubert's wife 1 They passed through the shrubbery and into the wood beyond. Here tho straight stems of the noble young beeches rose at intervals on each side of the gravelled path, and met in lofty cathedrallike arches over their heads, and a solemn stillness, a quivering green shade, filled the whole splendid woodland temple. Mrs Deane was about to sit down and leave the lovers to their own companionship, when, to her surprise, she beheld a white figure crouched upon the ground at a little distance, and knowing that the village children sometimes trespassed here in search of flowers and berries, she went up to the girl, intending to give a few words of rebuke and send her away. "My child," she said kindly, laying her hand upon the intruder's shoulder, the face being hidden and the whole attitude speaking the very abandonment of misery. "My child what brings you, here." The girl sprung up, turning upon them a face so young, so beautiful, so despairing with its haggard features, and great black eyes, that Maud could not repress an explanation of pity. But the stranger heeded her not. Her gaze was fixed upon Hubert, and with a cry of " enfin, enfin, mon bien aime, je vous retrouve eniin," she threw her arms

about his neck, and then sank prostrate at his feet. Very gently, very tenderly, he stooped, and raising her frail form in hia arms, laid the poor aching head upon hia breast. " Hubert ! Hubert !" wailed his mother, " what is the matter 1 What is the meaning of all this ? Who is this Frenchwoman 1 Put her down, I entreat, I command you, and come with us. Do you not see that Maud is waiting." But he did not move, save perhaps to clasp his burden more closely, and to press a reassuring kiss on the closed eyes. " Hubert," sobbed Maud. " Hush," cried the elder lady. " Speak, degenerate boy, explain, excuse yourself if you can. Who is this woman 1 I insist upon an answer and justification ; or must I believe you all that your actions speak, false, perjured, faithless." "All that, and worse," said a voice hoarse and scarcely to be recognised in its depth of passion. A coward, a base, witless coward ; frightened at a woman's tongue, a woman's temper, a woman's wrath, and that woman his mother. Yes, madam, you are right. I am false, perjured, faithless coward, for this woman in my arms is Louise Deane, your daughter, and my lawful wife."

(To be continued.)