THE NOVELIST. After Long Years.

Otago Witness, Issue 1433, 10 May 1879, Page 21

THE NOVELIST. After Long Years.

A COLONIAL STORY. By Fabian Bell, Author of " Stella," the " Big Nugget," Ac. {Written for the Otago Witness.) j Chapter XX. 1 What is, what might have heen." A stroke of good fortune came at last to Maurice Stretton ; or to speak more correctly, something which a few yearß before, he would have esteemed good fortune, but which, coming when it did, he received with indifference. "Too late!" was his bitter comment, when he read the letter telling him that he was heir to a wealthy god-father, just deceased, in fullness of years and riches. A man, who, in life, had never stretched out his hand to aid him, and whose death he could not be supposed to lament. Too late. Cruel words, falling like a blight on youth's hope and energy, stilling the warm life pulses more effectually than the acutest pain of mind or body. For sadder far than the sadness of deferred hope is the blank despair which says — Too late. Too late to redeem the past ; too late to attempt a fresh start in life and make a better thing of the future ; all this was contained in the two little words with which Maurice Stretton received the news of his good fortune. He had been in New Zealand for three years, the greater part of which period had been passed in Otago, and during thorn he had experienced many vicissitudes. Six weeks after hia adventure in the mine, and as soon as he was able to travel, he fulfilled hiß intention of leaving Waiwai. The transfer of the mine having been effected, he knew that it would be useless to re-open the subject, or to attempt to convict Ellis and his co-part-ners of fraudulent practices ; that the deception would, some day, be discovered,

he felt convinced ; but his instrumentality seemed no longer required. Yet he could not Bhare the wages of iniquity, and, with a curt refusal he returned the cheque sent him by Ellis, and left the mine as poor as when he entered its service. As poor in purse, and how much poorer in that buoyant faith, in men and in the future, which is the brightest heritage of youth. He had been cruelly deceived, and it seemed to him— looking back over the past years— that David's words were true, and that " all men were liars." It is a terrible moment that, in which we lose faith in our fellows, and are tempted to adopb the cynic's creed, that "all men are rogues and all women faithless." Yet few indeed are fortunate enough to escape it, and the greater the trust, the more thorough the awakening. On a man's actions at this critical period depend much of the happiness or misery ; the success or failure of his future life. Jf he be patient he will wait for the blow to pass, if he be hopeful he will still have some faith in the future, if he be strong he will not suffer himself to be overpowered ; but if on the contrary his nature be impatient of suffering, weak from self-indulgence, prone to lean on others and depend overmuch on them, then, in all probability, he will sink under the trial, and his own character will deteriorate. Maurice refused the wages of sin, but he did not do it with his whole heart, and many a time he regretted the money, and thought that he had been over scrupulous. He had proved some men false, and he accepted them as types of the race, and too easily, and without any proof, believed others to be equally false, and among these he was foolish enough to class his brother Noel and Eveline Pasßmore. No man can think ill of all the world and long retain his own ideal of honour and truth. We must esteem Borne others better than ourselves, and deem them nobler and more worthy, or we Bhall easily sink to the level of that which we condemn. There is much truth in the caustic French proverb— on judge d'autres apres soi. (We judge others by ourselves.) So in his time of trial, Maurice fell far below his own ideal. And he who blamed others bitterly for their falsehood, became false himself ; he who was the victim of deceit entered upon a life-long course of deception. For he was false to his word, to his better self, to the woman that he loved ; and when he strove to love another he deceived her, and brought upon himself the just consequences of his sin. For Maurice Stretton had married I Maggie Macintosh. Sometimes on looking baok he scarcely knew how this thing had come to pass, and yet at the time, it had seemed quite simple and natural. He had deemed himself forgotten, and deceived by all ; Maggie alone seemed kind and true j that she loved him there could be no doubt ; she did not try to hide it, but did all in her power to attract and win him. When he left her, she wept; when he returned, she welcomed him with frantic protestations of joy. Her passionate nature acquired a certain power over his more gentle and yielding one. The only way to escape would have been to leave the country altogether ; this he did not attempt to do. He took a situation as shepherd, on an up-country station ; he knew nothing of his duties, and the awful loneliness of the life appalled him ; he soon changed his billet and became a rabbitter. It was at this time that the cry for exterminating rabbits rang through the southern and western portions of our province ; people seemed to have gone mad on the subject, they talked and wrote of nothing else. The newspapers teemed with articles ; their columns were filled with advertisements and suggestions. "The rabbit nuisance and how to rid ourselves of it," was the one topic of conversation and interest. In the destruction of these pests, a new occupation was called into existence. Men took their dogs and guns, planted tents on bare ridges or barren gullies, and spent their time in wholesale slaughter of these mischievous innocents. For a while the employment was amusing enough. A love of sport in some form or another J seems inherent in the average man, and the price paid for the skins gave a commercial value to the transaction, which imparted to it quite a business-like halo. But after a time the life became dreary in the extreme. No congenial society, no books, no amusement of any kind to vary the days spent in monotonous tramp, tramp, over bleak ridges, barren and rocky, exposed to all the force of a glaring sun, or the full sweep of bitter biting blasts. Maurice Stretton grew inexpressibly weary of the life, and longed for a change, however trifling. In this mood he visited the nearest township and found Maggie, a barmaid in the chief hotel. The rest is soon told. He was pleased to see her ; she welcomed him warmly. The lonely tent grew more and more distasteful, the little town was attractive. Maggie gained admirers, and with the innate cunning of a born coquette, played them off against Maurice, delighting to show him that others admired her if he did not. All the worst impulses of hia nature were aroused, and before he well knew what he was doing, he had given her a promise of marriage. After this, retreat was impossible, Bhe wept, and prayed, and declared that she could not live without him, when he hinted at such a thing ; if he had found fault with her, she was humble and submissive ; she no longer encouraged her attendant swains, but became gentle and obedient, andgave

! Maurice no excuse to withdraw from hid word. The change in her was marvellous, had it been real, permanent, and not merely assumed as a means to an end, it might have saved them both, and rendered their future life endurable, if not happy ; but unfortunately it was a clever bit of acting, and when Maggie Macintosh had attained her end, and became Maggie Stretton, she found it altogether impossible to maintain the deception ; besides it was not worth while, she was Mrs Stretton, and Maurice was bound to her by chains which there was little fear of hu breaking, however much he might, resent their galling pressure. - > . In all, except physical beauty, which each possessed in no slight degree, this pair was singularly ill-matched. -They had not one thought, or hope, or aspiration, in common. Maurice was a gentleman by birth and breeding ; his education, though ill adapted to his present position, had still imparted to him all that combination of qualities, difficult to define, but keenly to be felt, which we include in the term gentlemanly. Maggie was not only ignorant, but she was totally without that natural refinement which is found in all ranks of life, and whioh raises a beggar maiden to an equality with, kings. A lie that was not found out never troubled her conscience ; honour was a thing which she never could' b& made to understand ; all her instincts were mean, grasping, and selfish; and the passionate lore of Maurice, which might have redeemed some of her faults, was owing to his coldness— changed '•. by time into a devouring flame of jealousy. A year of poverty and privation, of angry recrimination, of reproaches) tears, and impatient repentance, had dragged its slow length along, when. Maurice received the news of his god-father's death,, together with a handsome remittance itom. the London agents. * ' Too late, " he cried bitterly. Maggie, rocking her infant to and fro 1 over the embers of a wood fire, and feebly complaining of the cold, looked up as he spoke, and catching the flutter of thin I pink paper, stretched out her hand exclaiming : •' Money— is it money ?" " Yes, money in plenty, "he answered, flinging the bank draft into her lap'- 'and standing up, he looked not at her, but at the bright coals fast turning into grey cold ashes, " Like my life," he thought. Maggie studied the order attentively. " I'm glad you have got some money at last," she said. " Can I read the letter V He gave it to her without a word/ Then all her coolness left her, and sho sprang to her feet exultant. • " Why, we are rich— rich. 'Won't 1 lord it over some of them. Til ha? e a buggy and two flash horses, and drive them myself, and won't I spatter the dust over some as I could name j won't I just. Oh my ! it will be splendid. Bnt fchen'l I suppose you'll be wanting to go home V " JMo, no," he said, with a shudder; " I shall not go home." Well, I think you might ask what I wish, " she answered, with a toss of her head. " Suppose I insist on going home,. I should like to see your people, especially that Miss Eveline you used to talk about, I should not have liked to go there poor but now I can hold up my head with the best of them, and be as Rood a lady as she." A bitter smile ourled Maurice's lip, but he said nothing. Maggie would not let him remain silenfc she loved to goad him to anget, deemingit a proof of her power. 1 ' I suppose you think I'm not a lady. "' "I fear not," he answered quiettr, "ladies are gentle in the manners, and neat, in their dress.'* l< Oh, its not worth while 'dressing here, with only you to see. But you give me lots of sugar snd see if I don't dress then." "I wish you would not talk slang. Maggie." " It does not seem as if anything I saywould please you. You found fault witht my Scotch, and now I can't speak English to suit you. I should think you had better put me to school again for a year or two." " I fear it would not do much good." "I guess you're right thera But you'll see, schooling or no schooling, '" I'll make» some of them stare when we get to Dunedin." " To Dunedin," he echoed."Yes, you'll have to go thera to get your money, and you don't Buppoae I'm going to be left behind, do you ? I have had hard work enough Bince I married you. It was better fun bar- maid at Gewingler's ; there was always some lark un» there." Maurice winced. " I wish you would forget that episode." he said. "Whyßhouldl? I'm not ashamed of anything I've done in my life. " v Are you not ? I wish I could say the same," he answered wearily. '•Perhaps you are ashamed of me," she answered quickly. "Is that what you mean ?" * " Don't put wprds into my mouth thafc I never intended." "But do you mean it, do you? 0h, % Maurice, Maurice, forgive me, 1 knowI'vegot a nasty temper, but you aggravate me so," and with a sudden change oorf r mood, she laid the sleeping child down,, and flung her arms round him, and kissed! him passionately. He returned the caress coldly and puir. her from him ; these constant changes of " mood ; this passionate demonstrative af- • feotion which bore no fruit, had become • a weariness and a pain, to hip, Ho foogeg*

i fora' love, restful and tender, in which, the heart could repose as a bird in its nest — the love of the ideal wife whose place had been taken by this shrill- tongued, passionate virago. He dared not think of Eveline, but his heart cried out for the days of old when he had been free to dream of the ideal lite, which had now receded for ever from his reach. In some men the domestic affections are strongly developed, while in others they Eeem .dormant or non-existent. The forme* - are largely dependent on female influence and companionship. They dedesire 'a woman's quickwitted sympathy in every, aotion of their lives ; she must never be too busy to yield them a ready iear, ,to throw herself into their pursuits, to aid in the composition of their letters, and a thousand minor details ; and in re-turn-they surround her with loving care und devotion, and those little attentions .which, make the wheels of life run smoothly. These men make good sons and brothers ; and, when happily married, fond and' faithful husbands; tut if unBucceßstul in their matrimonial ventures, they are apt to drift hither and thither like .^rudderless shipß, fall in with bad (Companions, and take to drink, and other hundred .vices. It is to such as these Ifchatjthe-old proverb applies : " A man is i what, a. woman makes him." .', f , Maurice Stretton had these domestic instincts strongly. A wise and gentle wife could have done with him almoet anything that, she chose, and he would .have loved and served her loyally. .Maggie was neither wise nor gentle, and in no way fitted for the position of a wife, ,as she understood neither the duties nor, the privileges which appertain to that mysjtic union, which we are told " figures forth the union of Christ and his CHurch." Truly there was little union, except in name, between this ill-assorted pair. Chapter XXL " And is it thug we meet V Mrs Maurice Stretton went to , D.unedin. ■\i t She. had attained to the summit of her ambition, a rich husband, a good position, carriage, horses, servants; handsome dresses, numerous admirers. - -She was a lady, bo far as money could .purohatjea right to th&t title, ho dimly defined and ouriously misapplied ; and her innate vulgarity and ignorance were .generally ignored or treated as mere eccentricities. It (Waa^musing to watch the speed with which she, assumed the airs and graces of a woman of fashion, the insolence and hauteur of her- manners, the varying grades of cordiality with which she welop,med her rich, and less rich acquaintances., Maggie Macintosh had been ft;,oonsuinmate, aotress, ■ Maggie Stretton „!tras:»till .more accomplished in the his- , iribriicart. ! In, one person's presence alone she did 1 not consider it worth her while to wear a mask,'.,, and. he beheld in all its unvarnished simplicity the mean, grasping Belfishness of the nature which was united ,to,h i is,.own. " Riches brought no happiness to him. Life was more endurable because he and wife, were not brought into such close and Incessant contact as had been imperative during, their, season of poverty. At large, .house, servants, and visitors, offer a thousand opportunities of escape and protection which cannot be found in Vtwo-robined shanty on the Maniototo Plains. /Maurice Stretton found his life inexpressibly wearisome. He had no profession or business to occupy him, no love of/ literature or art to take its place. A few hours Bpent in reading the papers at the Attienaoum and elsewhere, a saunter round various offices, and long yarns with "their various occupants, who are never "too | busy to enable the Athenians of St. Paul's time a centre without any. special pbjeot, late and elaborate dinner, and then* an evening at the Club. Such was the round of life day after day. ' ,Mrs Stretton went into, society and Entertained extensively. Mr Strettbn : Yaatraj^ly seen with her in public, bub liis "place ,was supplied, apparently to her entire (satisfaction, by half a dozen hangera-on, who appreciated open housekeeping and a complacent hostess. Mr .Stretton spent his evenings at the Club. It was rumoured that he played billiards and betted heavily, and that when he lost he consoled himself by drinking, more wine than was good for ' one of his excitable nature. ' ( It was, about, this ,time that the Belle "Helene, bringing 'the four survivors of the Blue Jacket,, came into port. Their atbry waajn all mouths, and, was related s at great length in the newspapers, but with the usual inaccuracy which attends the transmission of proper names.' John 1 Passmore figured in the reports as John Pararapre, , and. as his sister's Christian name' was not mentioned at all, Maurice had no suspicion that the hero of the fire) whose noble death made the colour come to hie cheeks and unbidden drops • rise in his eyes, was the friend and companion of his own earlier days. Eva, too, who maintained a strict privacy, during which she mourned for ier brother and waited for advices and remittances from England, had no means of identifying the Mr Stretton of whom she sometimes heard, a rich married man, with the poor young emigrant to whom ier heart yearned in her trouble with the tenderest most clinging love. She knew that Maurice had left Dunedin, and thought it probable that he had quitted the province altogether. Yet her faith pa, Ww never wavered, she felt convinced ' tfa*t ! iponer or later they would meet, and

the weariness of separation .'be for ever at an end. Maurice's accession to fortune had not occurred until just after she and John had left Ecglaud, and during their long travels in America and elsewhere, they had heard but little news of or from their English friend, and so she knew nothing of his changed state, and no kind instinct whispered her that he was near, and warned her to avoid the dangerous meeting. Although Eveline Passmore had lost all her own and her brother's belongings, their ready cash and letters of credit, still she was not pressed for money, for Captain Jackson, who was well known in Dunedin, offered to obtain for her any sum that she might need, and many hospitable doors were opened to receive the bereaved young granger. But Eva naturally shrank from society, especially that of strangers, however kind, and preferred to remain in quiet lodgings with her friend, Mrs Jackson, whose nervous system had received such a shock that she was utterly incapable of proceeding to Melbourne with her husband, who was compelled to hasten thither at once, report the loss of his ship, and submit to any inquiries which her owners or agents might think fit to institute. He was therefore only too thankful to secure for his wife the presence and companionship of the brave English girl, whose conduct during the fire had filled him with honest admiration and respect. So the two ladies remained alone in quiet lodgings near the Water of Leith, and they knew as little of what passed in the town, and of its current gossip and scandal, as if they had been living a hundred miles away. It even seemed possible that Eveline might come and go, and escape the fateful meeting. But it was not be. Mrs Jackson had a few acquaintances in Dunedin, and one friend- who had recently come with her husband and family from the . North Island, to reside there. This lady, a Mrs Armstrong, pressed the captain's wife and Miss Passmore to spend an evening with her. Often they refused, at last they accepted, stipulating that she should invite no other guests, but at the last moment Mrs Jackson declared herself incapable of fulfilling her engagement, and Eva went alone. It so happened that when in town that afternoon Mr Armstrong had invited an acquaintance to dinner, and while he was changing his coat he said, "My dear, I met Stretton this afternoon and had a long yarn with him about that coal mine in which he was interested ; you remember it, don't you, and I asked him to come and dine with us, quite en famille, and he said he should be delighted. You don't mind, do you ?" " Not a bit. fcf c's not a very formidable person, whatever his wife may be ; but I wish it had been some other day for Mrs Jackson and Miss Passmore are coming this evening." What, the heroine of the wreck ! Stretton may consider himself in luck. I know dozens of fellows in town who would give anything for such an introduction. They say she is a perfect beauty." "So she is, and better than that, a perfect lady, and as sweet as primroses. But the worst of it is that I promised to ask no one else." "No more you have, I am the guilty .party, and will bear all the blame, but we can't send Stretton away without his dinner. Hark ! there is the bell, your guests are arriving, madame." Mrs Armstrong hastened down stairs and received Miss Passmore with much effusion, regretting the absence of the captain's wife, and inquiring particularly after her different ailments. "It would do her good to go out a little and exert herself," said the elder lady. Then a servant popped her head in at the door and said, " Oh, ma'am, will you please to come here ?" And with a slight excuse the hostess hurried away, having said nothing of the other guest expected. Eveline took up a book, and going to a distant window to catch the last rays of light, stood there quietly reading. Her figure was clearly defined against the light. A gentleman entered unannounced. In the dim twilight room all the light of the departing day appeared to be centred round the graceful form standing erect and motionless in the bay-window. Points of light were reflected from the folds of her rich black dress, and from the waves and coils of her lovely chestnut-tinted hair ; her curved neck, her ear, her small white hand looked singularly, pure and white against the sombre surroundings. Something in the pose of the figure, the attitude of the bent head, the abundant coils with which that head was covered, struck him. strangely familiar and sweet. His heart beat wildly, he longed to hurry forward, and yet he hesitated, spell-bound with a strange fear, for he longed, and yet dreaded to see the averted face, which must of course be like the resemblance, the chance resemblance, of the figure. He made some slight sound. Eva turned quickly. The waning light shone full upon her face. His was partly in shadow. Yet the recognition was mutual and instantaneous. "Maurice." "Eveline." She sprang towards him, but he dare not clasp her in his arms. And it was thus they met after long years of parting, and, pain, met to endure

a crueller parting and a keener pang than any which they had before endured. For although one was false, the other true, one fuithless, the other constant ; yet spite of all faults each loved the other with the love that once felt endures for ever, and cannot from its very nature fade and perish, as do other and baser passions. {To be Continued.— Commenced in No. 1424.)