Chapter X.

Otago Witness, Issue 1727, 27 December 1884, Page 11

Chapter X.

GOOD NEWS Mark how he drinks it in. As tbe parched earth the rain.

After the first week or two Faith's life became more bearable. She was relieved of the heavier part of the work, and was treated more* as a friend than a dependant. Her influence, too, began to tell. In her presence the husband and wife exercised some control over their temper. She could not only talk well herself but knew how to make others talk, and the time that had once been spent in jangling was now passed in pleasant and intelligent conversation.

There are some people who can live in a house for months without coming to care in the least for any of its inmates, or to interest themselves in the drama of life, going on around them. Faith was not of these. From the first Mr and Mrs Vincent interested her, and as time went on she was surprised to find how much she had grown to care for them. Pity we know is akin to love, and they both appealed strongly to Faith's compassion - Still her life was lonely, and theUonging for news of Aleck a continual pain. Sunday afternoon was her best time ; she epent it with her good friends at the village, and a talk with Father Jackson smoothed away perplexities and s t things in their true light. Faith's position at the Vincent's was by no means an easy one. She had made herself a favourite with both of them, consequently she was the unwilling confidant of each in their complaints of the other, and had need have had tha wisdom of Solomon to keep the peace between them. All this pulled Faith down morally,— lowered thn tone of her mind, bo that by the time Sunday came round she was more than ready for it, Mrs Jackson began to ba anxious about her.

' You are looking pale, and you don't eat,' she said, one Sunday afternoon, as they sat together in the shady little room. 'I am afraid tha work is too much for you.'

'Ob no; I have done little this week but eew. »It is the loneliness that tires me ; they and I might belong to different planets, for we don't think alike on any one subject.' * I'm afraid it is not very good for you to be there.' 'It in not pleasant, yet I don't know that I should like to leave them just yet, even if I had anywhere else to go. I do bo long to help them to a better life. Well, why do you smile V

' I smiled to think what they would say

' If they knew their servant regarded herself in the liejht of a missionary to them,' interrupted Faith, laughing. • Well,' gravely, • you know whether they have need of one. Poor Mr Vincent ! lam surd he is failing, though his wife will not see it, and I cannot persuade him to call in Dr Weiut. He was oufc in the bußh last Tuesday hunting for specimens, and got caught in that thunderstorm. He came home drenched, and the rheumatic pains have tortured him ever since. He rarely enters bis painting-room now, lies all day on the sofa reading or making me read aloud his infidel books. Little comfort he appears to derive from them, poor fellow. 1 ■ And then Father Jackson came in from his Sunday school, and the subject changed. That evening, as Faith was returning home, a strange thing happened. She had just turned off the mam road into the track when she heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs, and looking back who should she see but Mr Jones. He was riding along with h^B usual air of serene prosperity, and, being excessively shortsighted, had not yet observed Faith. To prevent him from doiner so she slipped into the scrub and got hehind a tree. 'What can have brought him here?' she wondered. 'Surely ha its not going to pester me again.' * No, Mr Jones was not going to do that, but. for certain reasons, he wished to see for himself how she was getting on, without, however, letting her kuow ehe was watched. So he came riding leisurely along, casting hia eyes about him as if he were • monarch o' all he aurveyed ' Now it happened that Mrs Vincent, devoured as usual with ennui, had been taking an aimless saunter, and. tbe two met within a few

feet of Faith's hiding-place. It was rare enough to meet a traveller in that lonely place. ' A gentleman, too, I declare,' thought Mrs Vincent, bringing her splendid dark eyes into play, ' and me in this fright of a hat. If I'd only had my bonnet . Why, my goodness, it's Jack ! Ah, Jack !' sha cried, and sank down in the most graceful of attitudes, dcx terously contriving to rid herself of the ' fright of a hat ' in her fall. The astonished Mr Jones was off his horse in a moment, and peering with his short-sighted eyes into the pale lovely face with its setting of rich dark hair. 1 Bless my soul, it's Lizzie !' he exclaimed, and his heart beat quickly. He had once been desperately in love with this woman, and the mere sight of her beautiful face revived the old feeliugs. Sha was, apparently, in a dead faint, from which Mr Jones' passionate adjurations and equally passionate kisses failed to recover her. < At last, at his wit's end, he remembered his brandy-flash, and applied some of its contents to her lips. Then the lady consented to open her eyes. ' Oh, Jack !' she sighed languidly. 'My darling, are you batter ? I little thought to meet you here. I havo been searching for you high and low, ever since that confounded interfering fellow, Aleck Garston, spirited you away,'

' Then you had not forgotten me V ' Never, nor that villain either. lam paying him out at last, though, but the plague of it is he don't know it's my doing, and must not, or it- would spoil all.' Now Faith had been all this time in a wretched state of indecision, longing to make her presence known, yet hesitating to do so. But at the mention of Aleck's name she started, and listened with her heart in her mouth. But she was disappointed. ' Never mind Aleck,' said Mrs Vincent, im patiently ; 'we are secure enough from his interference here. Let us have a good talk about old times ; and we must walk on ; •• the ogre " has a charming little trick of following me about with a spy-glass, and we are within range here.'

So they passed on down the road, and were presently out of sight. Faith emerged from her hiding-place and hurried home. At first she had room but for one thought— Aleck lived. Many and many a time had the prayer for him died away on her lips as the sickening dread lest he might be beyond tha reach of prayer seized her. At first it was happiness enough to know that he still lived, but then came the perplexing question—' Why has ho not come to me ? I cannot understand it,' mused Faith, ' but I will not doubt him ; he promised to tell me frankly if he changed, and until he does that I shall continue to believe in him.' Then her mind recurred to Mrs Vincent. Innocent as Faith was she could not help guessing there was something very wrong here. Sha would have given anything not to havo witnessed that interview; the knowledge thus obtained was a heavy responsibility. Mrs Vincent returned in most unusually good spirits, and made herself so agreeable that the evening passed with only ene disagreement between her and her husband. Once, when he was out of the room, Faith took occa sion to mention the name of Aleck Garston. Mrs Vincent looked surprised. ' Do you know him ?' she asked. ' I did, very well, at one time. We came out in his vessel ; but Ido not know where he is now.'

' Oh, he is in Melbourne. Going to be married, I'm told, to a lady with lots of tin.' Mr Jones had furnished tbi3 information, trusting it would reach the person for whom he intended it. Of his acquaintance with Faith he chose to say nothing to Lizzie. ' It is very curious you should know Aleck Garston,' continued Mrs Vincent, ' for he is . Goodness .' heras the ogre. Don't breathe Aleck's name before him for your life.' *

Faith hardly heard her. Aleck going to be married ! She did not — would not — believe it. But he was in Melbourne. So near,— so near, after all these years ! Should Bhe write to him? But there are some things a woman cannot do, and this was one. With all her previous letters unanswered, Faith could not write. 'No, I must go to Melbourne, and contrive to meet him,' she decided. ' A word, a glance will tell me if he is still the same ; and if he has forgotten he shall never find out that I have not.'

Yet anxious as Faith was to reach Melbourne she hesitated to leave the Vincents. She put off speaking from day to day, for every day Mr Vincent seemed to grow worse, and more dependent upon her. Then there was Mrs Vincent, livery day for tbe next week she took long walks, dressed as elaborately as she could manage without attracting her husband's attention. Faith knew what this meant, yet she dared not say a word. To rouse Mr Vincent's suspicions would be to call dawn a tempest on his wife and drive bar headlong to ruio, while in his present state of health the excitement would almost certainly prove fatal to him. As for Mrs Vincent, proud and headstrong, Faith justly feared that fcbe most delicate remonstrance would but do her more harm than good. With things in this state ought she to leave? 'Why sacrifice yourself to people who have no claim on you ?' whispered self. ' Think of Aleck ; the happiness of your whole future bangs in the balance.' 'Do right,' said conscience ; ' oas you would ba done by. Bnd leave the is'me in your Father's hands.' It wa3 a great struggle, but right conquered, and Faith stayed on. She soon began to sea that her patience would not be taxed long Mr Vincent grew weaker daily, until at last he could hardly walk without assistance, yet he steadily refused to see a doctor. The second Sunday after Mr Jones' appearance at Shepherd's Bush Faith bad to forego her usual visit to tbe Jacksnns. 'I'm going out,' Mrs Vincent said, in astrange hurried manner, ' and it won't do to leave him alone, I suppose. Why do you look at me like that, child ?' she added, shrinking from Faith's grave pure eyes. 'I think your husband is dying,' said Faith. Tha lady started. ' Dying ! Nonsense. Nobody dies of rheumatism. I've seen him worse than this and he got over it.' 'He will not get over it this time. You will soon be free, Mrß Vincent. In the meantime do nothing rash.' So paying Faith quitted the room. 'What can the girl mean?' thought Mrs Vincent ; ' surely she has not found out. As for Roger being na bad as that I don't beliavo it. It is nothing but a rhßumatio cold that ails him. But I won't go off with Jack to-day. NNto t I will not ' And putting away again a handbag which she bad meant to take with her Mrs Vincent went out. Her husband saw her go, and supposing that Faith was also gone, and he, weak and ill, left alone in the house, a sigh, almost a Fob of angui»h burst from him. Had Mrs Vincont seen the expression of his face then even her heart would have been touched. The mask of cynical ill-temper, assumed to hide bis suffering 1 , was dropped ; the mouth drooped in sorrowful curves, and the great yearning eyes, glowing with inward fever, were filled with a terrible despairing grief, He was seated

in his painting-room— Blufbeaid's chamber, Mrs Vincent usad to call it, mockingly, annoyed at never having been permitted to catch | even a glimpse of its contents. At firafc entering ono might have supposed it to bo an aviary, for it was filled with birds ; but they sat atiil and silent on their perches, though bo lifelike that one could hudly believe them to bo stuffed. What a blnsw of colour ! — scarlet and green, gold and blue, with all lovely giadations of tint. On tha tables lay scattered exquisitely finished paintings of native flowers. This collection of birds and paintingH was very valuable, and was the result of years of enthusiastic toil. Mr Vincent loved nature, yet, strange to say, had never learned to look ' from nature up to nature's God.' In his creed there was no God~-no hereafter ; death was the end of all things. And that end, he surely felt, w.is at hand for him. Oh, it was hard to die, hard to leave this beautiful world. Life had net been very fair to pooc deformed Roger Vincent, yat he cluog to it passionately. Ho looked round on his treasures ; each bird had a history to him, and he loved them all almost as if they had been aiivo. In obtaining and preparing bis specimens hia bruised and woundod spirit had found at least temporary sulfforgatfulness. But; now his hand bad lost its cunuing. Nuvernvire would he busy himself among them. He looked lound on his treaPurPH sadJy. Soon they would paaa io strangers, tvbo would care only for thoir money value. c Tha laat time !' be murmured, passing slowly out and locking tha door behind him. Thon be cro^t tlowly to the sitting-room, whore, to his surprise, he found Faith and a eheevv little fire awaiting him. ' Why aw you not gone ?' ho said gruffly, sinking back on the sofa. 1 1 am not going today. Can't Ido anything to relieve you, sir? asked Faith pityingly, for beads of perspiration stood on hia brow, and he gasj ifid with agony. ' Yes, reach me that bottle of! the top shstt. I could not get it if my life depended on it.' But Faith knew that was the laudanum bottle. ' It would not bo good for you, sir.' ' What could be better ? Will it not give mo sleop — a long, long sleop, and eternal forgetfuluefes '! lam a cursed coward or I would have used it years ago. My life has never b3on worth living : deformed, unloved, with never a day free from pain ; and now I am on the rack, every nerve and fibre burns with tormeat, and yet I dread to put an end to it. What are you crying for ? Why should you trouble yourself about me ? It is not "in the bond." '

' May I read you my reason ?' asked Faith eagerly, . ' Oh, if you like,' and Mr Vincent closed his eyes.

Faith took up her Bible, and turning to the latter part of the 25th of St Matthew, read the description of the Last Judgment.

1 That is no reason,' said the sick man, as she finished, ' for I am not one of those, you know — His brethren ' 'I am not to judge of that. I only know that you stand in need of help, and that God loves you.'

' Looks like it— doesn't it?' said the deformed man bitterly.

' Oh, I know it must bo very hard for you to understand, but it is true, nevertheless. Listen.'

And turning the leaves, Faith read : ' Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they may forget, yet will not I forget thee.'

Mr Vincent started, but Faith turned the leaves again, and read : ' Like as a father pifcieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.'

Then &he looked up. Mr Vincent was plainly much moved.

'I don't believe I ever heard those texts before,' be said. *My mother had no compassion on me ; she hated mo from ray birth, and when my two elder brothers, fine handsome ladE, died, one after the other, and I inherited the estates, she hated me worse than before. My childhood is horrible to look back upon,— a despised neglected little hunchback ; that is what I was. The wonder is I ever survived. Oh, I wißh I had died ! I wiah I had died when I was .young and innocent ! Whon I came of ago and was my own master, people becama more civil to me, but I had no friend, not one. Then I met my wife, and oh, how I loved her ! She came like an angel ot light to me, and flattered me into believing that my love was returned. Fool ! fool ! the very day we were to be married I overheard her mocking me,— yes, making a jest of my deformity and infatuation for her, and boasting of her powor over me. Read me that last verse again, will you ?' he added abruptly. Faith complied.

* " Like as a father pitieth hia children," ' he murmured, the wistf-ul yearning look in his eyes. ' I Beem to get a dim glimpse of what that may mean. I never imagined that God was like this. Leave me now, Faith ; I want to think it over. No, stay a moment.' Painfully raising himself he took from his pocket a small bunch of keys. Then Fidth had to bring bis detk and unlock it, when he gave her a sealed papar. ' Put it in the firo,' he said. She did so, and he watched it bum to ashes. iThen Faith left him and went to her room. Her heart wpb very full. She never noticed how time sped, and when the return of Mrs Vincent roused her she started to find it was growing dusk. Shfl went into tha dim kitchen, lit the lamp, and began to prepare tea Suddenly a piercing scream rang through the house. Faith snatchud up a light and hurried to the parlour. She encountered Mrs Vincent rushing from it. * Don't go in, don't go in,' ehe cried, clutch ing Faith's arm ; •he is dead, he is dead; and I might have run away this very night. I couldn't bear it any longer, but you saved me ; and now he is gone ! You saved mo ; oh, Faith !' and she burst into hysterical weeping.

Faith put- her gently aside and entered tha room. Mr Vincent was lying just as she had left him; but, oh, the change m his face ! It was as the face of a little child. The linea of pain, and sorrow, and evil temper were all smoothed away, and in their stead was an expression of quiet happiness never seen there in life, while round the mouth a sweet and tender smile yet lingered. One band lay on Faith's Bible, open at the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Faith gently closed the sightless eyes, knowing that yet another son had ' arisen and gone unto bis Father. 1