CHAPTER XV.

Otago Witness, Issue 1602, 5 August 1882, Page 25

CHAPTER XV.

Wedding Garments. ARGABET Blythe having obtained Vyner'fl consent to settle the time of their marriage when she liked, at once began to make energetic preparations for that event. She had only very little 1 money for her purpose, and to add a trifle more she pinched the already meagrelyprovided household almost to starvation. ■ Nellie naturally noticed this ,but she said nothing; Hatton, however, considered it her duty to give her mistress a hint. ■ 'I'm getting that thin, Miss,' said this oblique-eyed handmaiden, putting her hand as usual on her hip, 'that you can count each rib, like a 'maciated greyhound.' ♦ I am "sorry you are getting thin, Hatten, replied Margaret, ' perhaps if you took oatmeal , porridge you might improve.' * Don't think it would 'gree with me, Miss, said Hatton, ' but perhaps a little more meat .would.' ' But Margaret turned a deaf ear to Hatton's ' •hint.' There were certain dreßses that she must have, she decided, before her marriage j ' to get these the most rigid household economy was required. But Margaret was careful and J clever, and as she cut and contrived her wedding garments, she scarcely noticed how pale ( and stern her promised bridegroom looked, or how, the blooming colour had waned on the ' cheeks of her fair young sister. ' Full of herself and her own prospects, Marcaret Blythe worked cheerfully on, but at the , same time she did not forget the scheme she had proposed to her father about his future . and Nellie's. She, of course, had to ask Vyner's consent for the Major to live with them (in case of Nellie's marriage) before she could propose to make any formal arrangement on the subject. Any woman with keener susceptibilities would have noticed the half-start and the frown with which Vyner received her request. But if Margaret observed these signs of emotion ; she never guessed their real cause. 'Walter, I have a great favour to ask you. ' If Nellie marries, may my dear father share our home ?' said Margaret. Then Vyner started and frowned, for the j words ' our home ' grated harshly on his ears. ' I know many men would object to such an arrangement,' continued Margaret, ' but I know , also, Walter, dear, that you are different to most men, and thatyou will respect my motive [ for this request. You see Nellie is almost a child, and if she marries young Mr Saunders, she naturally will live with the old lady who is so devoted to her son, and thus my father would be left entirely alone.' , Vyner now forced himself to smile. 'But is Nellie going to marry young Mr Saunders ?' he asked.

' I hope so ; nay I am almost sure that she will— so if my mind was at rest about my father '

'My dear Margaret, I do not wish to hurry you to leave him.' Margaret's face flushed. \ ' Walter, do not trifle,' she said, 'my father is very dear to me -most dear— dearer on account of his sad affliction— but there is someone who is twenty times dearer— someone that I cannot part with now.' And Margaret put her hand softly and tenderly into her botrothed's, and looked at him with the love she truly felt shining in her eyes. During the last few days Vyner had been trying to school himself to play the part he too plainly saw that fate (and his own folly) had allotted to him, He was going to marry Margaret Blythe he told himself ; but though he knew this, he hated to be reminded of the fact.

Thus the words ' our home ' had grated on his ears. And yet he felt at this moment (with her hand in his) how unjust he was to Margaret. He was not a man who perhaps would nave cared to have his father-m-law to live with him under the ordinary conditions of married life. But the fact that he did not love his future wife only made him more gentle and complacent to her wishes. ' If Nellie marries, and you wish your father to live with us.' he said, after a few minutes' • consideration, 'of course, nay dear Margaret, I shall wake no objection— l shall be glad for him to be with you,'

Then Margaret expressed her gratitude in many tender words. ■ *It is like you to say so,' she said. ' You are always noble— always considerate, my dear, | dear Walter— and lam the happiest woman in the world.' i Margaret was really happy. If an uneasy feeling crept over her sometimes when Bhe remembered Walter Vyner's confession about I Nora Trelawn, she soon threw it off. 'He loves me now,' she told herself, ' and I know that I can keep his love. All men have I had some early fancy or other, but they have ! but one love, and I am Walter's love — and I will prove myself worthy of his love— l hope I 'am worthy of it !' 1 Poor Margaret ! Wrapped in her interise jself - appreciation she never saw ' Walter's ' .wearied looks, or heard his impatient sighs. .Trying to do right, when to do wrong was his j heart's desire, Walter Vyner walked on the narrow way with laggard footsteps, looking loften lingeringly and sadly back at the broad : 'and pleasant road he had left behind. ! ' But he never sought Nora. No answer had Icome to his few 'sad words of almost last fare {well as they both (Nora and Vyner) felt them ! to be. Nora understood and respected Vyner's motives even amid her own bitter grief. And |for a time that grief seemed utterly to crush 'her life. She felt ill, and Lady Stainbrooke, iat Buckstone (who was not without her paid j informants in Nora's household), heard of her i illness, and resolved forthwith to bury her , wrongs in the past, and again hasten to her rich niece's side. ! In the meanwhile Margaret Blythe was j going on industriously with her pinching and i stitching. She told her father how pleased ! Vyner was that he should share 'our future jhome;' and then she enlarged to the Major on the 'great benefits that would accrue to them all if I Nellie would make up her mind about ' young Mr Saunders' proposal.' This was Margaret's way. Nellie had, she jknew, made up her mind about 'young Mr I Saunders' proposal,' but as she had not made it 'up the way that Margaret wished, Margaret 'quietly ignored Nellie's decision. And she .persuaded her father (gradually) to see it in ■ her own light. James baunders waß rioh and | good-natured, and the Major was poor, blind, i and old. j ' I may die any day,' he Bighed, ' and where ■ would my darling be then ? I cannot expeot ' Vyner to look after her as well — you are quite j right, Margaret — she would be better married.' 'I will speak to her, dear father,' said Mar- ! garet. ' I will tell her how happy it would j make us all to see her happy. We can all live I near each other, and Nellie will, I am sure, come to see you every day. Yes, we must try to settle it.'

So Margaret! tried to settle it. She began very seriously — • Nellie, dear,' she said, ' I want to say a few words to you — very serious words.' Nellie's face flushed, and she looked quickly up. ' Walter and I,' continued Margaret, ' are getting tired of waiting, and Walter in the most generous manner, has proposed that our dear father should share our future home. You see, Nellie, dear, we are poor, very poor, and this will place my father in an independent and easy position for the rest of his life, and I am sure I need not tell you that I will study his comfort in every way/ Nellie made no answer to this, but her face flushed to a yet deeper bloom.

' He shall be my first consideration after dear Walter,' proceeded Margaret, ' so Nellie, dear, only your future makes me anxious now. Of course I cannot ask Walter for my sister to live with me as well aa my father. Generous and kind as Walter is, that would be expecting too much, especially when he knows, dear, how excellent an offer of marriage iB only waiting for your acceptance.' *You mean James Saunders, I suppose?' said Nellie, with a certain harshness in her voice which was very seldom heard there. ' Yes, his mother was! telling me only yesterday that he is quite devoted to you, Nellie, and sometimes gets quite low about you. It is very flattering for so rich a young man, and one so much run after also, to be so devoted, isn't it? You are a fortunate girl, Miss Nellie, I can tell you ? But jesting apart, dear, lam so anxious this should be settled, and then there would be nothing to interfere with Walter's happiness and mine.'

' Then am I to understand, Margaret, that my father wishes to give up his house— wishes to live with you— and that I only am in the way?' asked Nellie, with quick emotion. 4 Dear Nellie, do not put it in that stupid way ! I have never told you— what good was it to tell you, and to worry a young girl — all the struggles that I have had to keep things straight in the house; and, now, when my earnings will be gone, I am sure it would be impossible for you and dear father to get along. Everything coats so much nowadays, and servants eat so much, and are so extravagantlook at Hatton— that unless one has a good income it is impossible to keep things square. No, Nellie, you must not be selfish. Father does not like to say much to you because he is afraid of hurting your feelings, but he fully agrees with me. And just think how comfortable he will be with no coals to buy, or butchers' bills to pay— nothing in fact to vex or trouble him. And you will live near us too, dear, in the Saunders' nice house, and you can bring dear father luxuries— l 'am sure you will like that, Nellie ' But Nellie had turned away her head. Then to her sister's dismay a sharp sob sounded in the room. ' You need not make any further arrangements about me, Margaret !' said Nellie, with much indignation in her tone and manner. 'If father is tired of keeping me I shall not trouble him long, but don't please deceive poor James Saunders any more. That at least isn't fair. I am not going to marry him, and you have no right to lead him to suppose that I am. _ You have made all arrangements it seems without consulting me— and, and— co I need not haye worried myself so nnich 1' And sobbing bitterly Nellie hastily quitted the room. Margaret felt exceedingly annoyed, more than annoyed. But still she hoped Nellie would give in, Nellio on her part felt angry and bitterly wounded, that her father was ready to let her go— ready to give her up to anyone, so that he might live in comfort m Vyner's house ! Let us follow the weeping, indignant girl to the little bedroom she called her own. See, she hastily unlocks one of the upper draws, in her humble small painted chest, and takesout from, its resting place there, the cabinet-sized portrait of a good-looking, fair-haired young man. Murray, Viscount Seaforth, smiling as he now very seldom smiled, was portrayed in this coloured specimen of the photographer's art. Murray, Viscount Seaforth, taken five years ago, in his first uniform, when a light and boyish heart beat beneath the braided jacket.

Nellie kissed tho smiling face; pressed tho smiling face to her heaving Bob-rent bosom. ' Oh 1 Murray, my love, my love,' she whispered, ' I need not have grieved so for father — need not have vexed you. They want me away, and I will go— go with you my love, my darling —my only one now on, all the wxfcb, 1 r

Then she sat down rocking herself to and fro : the smiling pictured face still lying on her breast. Loving Lord Seaforth even as she did, (to leave her home— to leave her fatherseemed a terrible step to take so suddenly to this modest, tender girl. But Margaret had wounded her very deeply. Nellie, quick tempered and sensitive, did not pause to consider that her sister was probably exaggerating their father's wishes to suit her own purpose, bhe 'only thought they all wished her away— and 'I will go— go— ' wept Nellie, kissing again the smiling pictured face. Then she read over once more (perhaps for the twentieth time) the last words that the ioriginal of this smiling pictured face had sent 'her.

• "When are you going to make up your mind 'little Nell,' she read iv Lord Seaforth s careless handwriting, 'and take your worthless (literally remember) adorer for better and for < worse. A friend of mine has offered to lend 'me for a month or so a shooting-lodge, or some sort of house at least, among the wild Western 'Highlands. Will you come and kill thored deer in the forests, and the black game, and 1 fish for salmon in the mountain streams, my I Nellie? Ah, child, joking apart— let us go ,a\vay for a while from the weary life here, and Ibe together by the blue waters of the lochs, 'on which the grand grey hills picture themselves in a fashion which should make our ! finest painters tear their best canvas in despair. There ! is not that a poetical description, my rosy-cheeked little love. Come then, let us leave duns, debts, all Borta of bothers behind, and we can get the fatal noose tied in Edinbro' fast enough— only you must not tell, I Nellie ; you must never, never, tell till I give !you leave. Things may turn out better— I some rich old relation may die, and leave me I his happy heir, &c, but for the present you i must promise to keep things quiet. The world 1 —our little world— must not know, but little ' Nellie knows what she really is— what she will 1 always be, to her own

'Seafobth.'

How often she had kissed the scrawl at the end of this letter in which her Murray had inscribed his name 1 That signature, when she first saw it, had seemed to part them— his J different rank stared her in the face as it were !! — but now she felt that no rank could part them ; perhaps she only loved the young man more for having held out his lordly hand to clasp one of hers who came of such low estate 1