Chapter X.

Otago Witness, Issue 1585, 8 April 1882, Page 25

Chapter X.

Impute it not a crime To me, or my swift passage, that I slide Over eighteen years . . and with speed so pace To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace, Equal with wondering. What of her ensues I list not prophecy,— but let time's news Be known wnen 'tis brought forth,— a shepherd's daughter, And what to her adheres which follows after Is the argument of Time. — Winter's Tale. ' Oh !— oh 1 Mary Jane, do come here and look!' 'Lia, I wish you would remember what I told you.' ' I beg your pardon, Marie, — I really forgot ; but do come here. See, they have actually sent the carriage for us !' At that announcement arose a chorus of delight from a bevy of school-girls, who flocked to the window, — . 'Oh!' * Just fancy !' • How lovely !' 1 How awfully jolly !' ' Miss Smith ! I am shocked to hear you use such a word ! Slang expressions are always | objectionable, and nowhere more so than on the lips of a lady.' And Mary Jane, who had not observed the entrance of Miss Primrose, murmured an apology, as she put the finishing touched to her toilet. ,' I came to tell you,' continued the governess, ' that Mrs Allon, out of kind consideration for Australia's lameness, has sent round the carriage, which I do not wish you to keep waiting. Quite ready ? Then we will, if you please, descend.' And she led the way, followed by Mary Jane and Australia, together with half a dozen young ladies who had been, by special favour, allowed to ' assist ' in the mysterious process of dressing. ■Both the girls looked well. Mary Jane at nineteen had a short, slim figure, bright c6mplexion, dancing black eyes, and a profusion of very dark hair— done up this evening in intricate plaits, ' inches broad. She was pretty, undoubtedly ; but it was a style that would coarsen with every year. And Mary Jane lacked that impalpable grace, born of a pure, refined mindj which characterises the true ls|dy, and with which outward circumstance's have 'nothing to do. Australia possessed it,' but' Mary Jane did not. She was riot,a. lady, and never would be. ' ' ', Australia was a head taller than her fostersister, with a well-moulded figure, and highbred ease and grace, of motion which , might well cause wonder, considering how she ' had been brought, up. Though having long outgrown her'girlish delicacy ;' she still retained,a sjightly fragile appearance, as is common to people brought up in tropical or semi-tropical climates. , She wore her dark brown hair falling in thick, natural curls round her face, which was an almost perfect oval in form, ana of a clear oHve tiht usually, though I never, saw any one, blush more easily or beautifully' than Australia at the least' excitement of her' sensitive temperament. But her 1 eyes were the, chief beauty of, her .face,— such 'eyes ! Some are like bits of looking-glass, others like bealds, many ( like windows with the , blinds down. 'Australia's were like none of these ;-jlarge, clear, ' and jbruthful, you saw her pure soul shining inihose soft brown depths. - There was quite a flutter in the hall of Miss Primrose's 'finishing Seminary for Young Ladies '—to quote the legend inscribed on the door-plate— as the girls entered the 'carriage, and many were, the envious longings which followed them as they rolled off. And while I they are on their way, let us take a retrospective glance at the fortunes of our old friends, the Allons, — who of course are identical with the owners of that carriage. The last eighteen years have brought as great changes to them as to the Smiths. Kenneth is now a successful barrister, with a large, and increasing practice. ,He has fulfilled his vow — the last of his father's debts are now in course of payment. The struggle had been a long and arduous one, and the burden was in no way lightened by his mother and brother — rather the reverse. Francis turned out .badly. He did notrnake his fortune at the diggings; he did not even make his living there, which was not surprising, seeing that he considered himself too much of a gentleman to soil his hands. He spent the most of his time in ' loafing,' and at the end of a year or two returned, penniless, to Melbourne. Having recruited himself at Kenneth's expense, he, then obtained a Government situation. Francis had really good abilities, and might have done well had he had the principle to resist self-indulgence and apply himself to work. As it was, his aim in life— personal pleasure, regardless of consequences — clashed with that of his employer, and he was presently dismissed. Then he set up as a sharebroker, and was so sanguine of success (Francis was always going to make his fortune) that he borrowed and spent freely, in anticipation. But that scheme came to an untimely end also. Finally, he tried auctioneering, — his partner in this latter business being a Mr Clark, a widower, with one very beautiful daughter. She was the idol of her father and brother, their one ewe lamb: all the more tenderly cared for because she was not quite like other girls. She had had typhus fever when a child, and from the effects of her treatment she had never been ; the same since, but with the body of a woman had the mind of 'a child of ten ; and the artless simplicity which had charmed at that age, only shocked arid saddened one now. Francis Allon, on beholdin the poor girl, was dazzled with her beauty, and set himself secretly to win her affection. He was but too successful. Three months afterwards they together disappeared from Melbourne, Francis having forged a heavy bill on Clark for travelling expenses ; and it was soon ascertained that they had embarked on board a small sailing vessel bound for New | Zealand. Who can picture the state of that ! father's mind, or the shame and indignation of Kenneth ! He offered to restore the money, but his offer was spurned. Clark determined to pursue, and bring Francis to justice for that crime, and thus spare his daughter's name. But the elements baulked him of his revenge. Portions of the vessel in which the fugitives had sailed were picked up at sea, but of tho crew and passengers nothing was ever heard. That was twelve years ago. Mrs Allon had never ceased to deplore her son's loss. She had loved Francis as much as it Avas in her nature to love any one except herself ; and, too, she Avas one of those persons Avho invariably canonise their dead, hoAvever ill they have treated — or been treated by — them in life. She had long been a confirmed valetudinarian —a fate almost certain to overtake a woman who has no necessity to Avork, and avlio m too solfish to interest, herself in the welfare of j oihers; ;md latterly Mra Alluu had become subject to [its of illness — nervous attacks, she told Kenneth, the penalty she paid for possess-

ing the most sensitive, delicate 6rganisation<Dr ■'• • Emdy had ever known. And Mr Allon, ' though he had no great faith in her doctor, saw no reason to disbelieve his mother. He only wished she could be got to take a healthy interest in life, and thmk less of herself and her ailments.

{To he continued).