Chapter XXXII. Orange Blossoms Wither Aunt Mary's Story.

Otago Witness, Issue 1764, 12 September 1885, Page 24

Chapter XXXII. Orange Blossoms Wither Aunt Mary's Story.

Walter Fitzurse was quite determined to study hard and go in regularly for making a great position at the bar, in literature, and in Parliament. He would have^to begin with the bar and literature. The Senate would come in good time. He was not yet quite certain as to the path of paramount distinction which he was to tread, but he did not think it was the bar. " Gout and a peerage at fifty," Disraeli's definition of success in the law courts, did not seem exactly an enchanting prospect in his eyes or those of Janette ; and neither one nor the other would for a moment have taken account of the fact that gout without the peerage is the more ordinary reward of severe legal studies. Janette yearned for some career for her husband which would have made him a leader of men towards the temple of brotherhood and peace ; and it seemed to her that possibly the House of Commons might be the b,est vestibule for such a shrine.

Walter began by taking chambers in the Temple. A young man who had taken a set of rooms about twice too large for him agreed to let one-half and share of a small clerk to Walter, and here was the first sod of the new career turned. Every morning regularly. Walter went to his chambers ; aiid at first he studied law. After a while he found law somewhat dry, and he read a French novel in order to refresh his mind. Then he felt inspired with poetic passion, and he 'began a poem full of wild emotion — of yearning to solve all the mysteries of man's destiny. He did not finish this. He strung his lyre to the theme of love ; ho got a certain way on in a piece of lyric effusiveness which it would never do to show to Janette. He drew several several heads of women with wonderful masses of hair and divinely-pencilled eyebrows ; and he began to doubt whether, after all, Nature had not intended him for a painter or a sculptor. Then he found that it .was quite time to go to the club and have some Juncheon. He met one or two men at the club, and they smoked and played billiards ; and Walter had to hurry away at last in order to got to his chambers in time to be found there by his wife. It was agreed between them that Janatte should always call for him at the chambers at 5 o'clock. If she didn't come and carry him away, she said, she was sure lie would stas' there until dinner time, blinding Jus eyes with study. Then they would wander home together, and Walter would tell her of his studies and of his literary aspirations, and she was never weary of listening. Sometimes she was able to come in her father's carriage ; and .then, indeed, Walter was delighted with her. He was proud ( to drive through the streets of the West End 'in what he coinplp.-»pn i tly called

his wife's carriage. He made it stop at the club, where he told Janette he wanted to leave a message; and he would get out and keep Janette waiting a few minutes while he went inside and talked to one or two men, and perhaps one of the men would come out on the steps when he was going, and would take off his hat to Janette, and Janette would blush at the idea of being seen waiting for her husband; being seen to have a husband; and then Walter and she would drive off together ; and it would bo hard to say which was the more proud — she of the husband or he of the carriage. This was what the outer public saw. Camiola already saw something move.

" Beastly cad, that fellow," Captain Creighton observed one day to Mr Montagu Broom, as the two stood on the steps of Walter's club, and saw Walter and his wife drive off.

" Oh, come now, I don't go quite so far as that, don't you know," Mr Montagu Broom replied, in gentle deprecation. Mr Montagu Broom appeared to be one of Walter's closest friends at the club. It was a junior 'club, and was made up chiefly not of juniors, but of seniors who had not been able to procure admission to any other club. There were some disappointed olcl soldiers there and a few unpromising young soldiers ; some amateur authors who, being able to give good dinners, occasionally brought real professional authors to dine there. A good many stockbrokers and other gentlemen from the city were enrolled on the books, and there were some hunting men from the shires, who liked the rather highly-flavoured tone of the institution. The club' was emphatic in everything. There were peculiarly gorgeous fur coats to be seen on its steps in the winter, and the most startlingly white hats and white waiscoats in the summer. There was a common talk of deep play in connection with this club. When Walter first had the happiness to be made a member h« was under the impression that he was received into one of the most fashionable and exclusive coteries in the metropolis. Mr Montagu Broom- was one of the city men ; he had no end of money to spend.

" Don't think he's so bad as all that, 1 ' Mr Broom pleaded. "He don't quite know his way about yet ; but he will in time. He's a deuced smart fellow. Got a lot of money with his wife, I'm told. She's an awfully pretty girl, though a trifle pale for my taste." "Told he hasn't got a penny," Captain Creighton said senteutiously. " She comes of a good family I hear." " He does too," Mr Broom observed. " Don't you believe it. Mark my words, sir ; that fellow is a cad ; a cad and a sweep."

Now Captain Creighton was a man of good family who had somehow got at odds with his good family and with fortune generally. Mr Montagu Broom was a man who had come up from nobody knew what, and had probably taken the name of Montagu Broom for what Kinglake calls the sake of euphony. Mr Broom, therefore, was anxious to make out that all his friends were men of good family; Captain Creighton was always promoted by some mys,terious impulse to question their right to that distinction.

Walter and Janette drove away proud and happy, in ignorance of the discussion that was going on about them between the two eminent members of the club. Even if Walter had heard the whole debate, every word, he would not have been displeased. He would on the contrary, have been highly gratified. He would have taken it as a tribute to his importance ; the disparaging comments would have become in that sense a sort of panegyric ; it was somethiug to be talked about ; if one is not praised the next best thing is to be censured ; to be' ignored is the worst fate that can befall. This was Walter's unwritten creed : ho never could see such real difference between notoriety and fame. He knew people talked about him now a good deal and he was delighted.

Camiola was wandering purposeless on the lawn at Fitzurse House the first day of her stay — the day of her arrival. She came on Christian Pilgrim.

"Mr Pilgrim ! I have not seen you for a long time ; a very long time. I hope you are well." She held out her hand.

Pilgrim at first was confused and awkward. He had not spoken to her, he had hardly even seen her, since the day when carried away by a wild passion he made such a foolish figure of himself. He did not like to think of that now. He had no doubt in his mind that Romont was in love with her, and he could not but believe that she must be in love with Romont. No one could help loving her, he thought, but he could not understand how any force of passion could have made a man like him, poor elderly Christian Pilgrim ; proclaim such a love to such a woman. She was looking pale and not happy ; a shade of melancholy tnade her more beautiful than ever hi poor Pilgrim's eyes. It made her seem more like the kind of divinity he would have worshipped ; had often worshipped in his dreams of night and dreams of clay — a being in woman's form full of divine syirpathy with all the trials and sadnesses of mortals.

"Itis a longtime," he timidly said ; and then stammered out " I hope you have forgiven me, Miss Sabine ?"

" Oh, yes ; long since ; let us not think of that, Mr Pilgrim, it was nothing ; I said then I fort."

gave 1 " It was so wrong of me, I so forgot myself, and I didn't know then half how good you were."

" I don't want to think any move about it. I am not angry, we will forget it and be friends." Another girl would have hastily passed on and left him with the conviction that she still was offended with him, and so kept his pain all the longer alive. But Camiola never when she could did anything by halves, and she had an instinctive perception that if Mr Pilgrim and she were to be good friends again they must beg}n at once and she must put him on the footing of friendship from that moment. So she stopped in her walk and showed that she was inclined to get into talk with him.

'.' Vinnie Lammas is so grateful to you,", he said after a moment. " She is never done saying how much she owes to you."

" Vinnie ; oh, lam very fond of Vinnie. She has a true little heart and a tender nature, and I hope she will be very happy. Oh, here comes Mr Fitzurse."

Walter Fitzurse indeed was seen lounging up one of the walks from the gate with that air of general ownership of everything which was among his many impressive qualities. He looked a Jittle surprised at seeing Camiola and Pilgrim in seemingly close conference. Walter was all for the brotherhood and equality of men v/hen he was making eloquent speeches for Janette's ear ; but his personal feeling was that fellows like Pilgrim ought to keep their distance. He made his most graceful bow to Camiola and tried to be at once friendly, dignified, and condescending with Pilgrim. Pilgrim turned abruptly away.

"I do not know how it is. Miss Sabine ; but I have an instinctive consciousness when men dislike me. lam sure our poor friend Pilgrim does not like me." .Camiola was wondering whether the same

instiuctjveness served him in the case of women. She had always disliked him. She had distrusted him from the very first moment. His presence constrained and chilled her. She could talk freely to almost everyone she met except to him. Lately she had come to have better reason for her dislike than before ; for she could see that he cared nothing for Janette, and that he was growing tired even of pretending to adore her. Camiola had seen this so much that she almost felt tempted to assume a right on the ground of her friendship with Janette, and remonstrate with him. Even for his own sake she had sometimes thought it might be well •to do' this, for assuredly if Janette's father and mother found that there was any cause for complaint they would rcseiit it. But she had shrunk from doing anything that would seem to bring her too much into his confidence.

" I don't think Mr Pilgrim is a man of many dislikes," she said coldly ; "he always seems to me a kind-hearted and a just man." " Your Mnd-hearted and just people can have their dislikes, I assure you. But I can see that you would find it hard to understand' such feelings ; you are far above narrow jealousies and spites." '

" I am sure I am not half so far above them as Mr Pilgrim is ; I never saw any jealeusy or spite in him."

" You are too good to see " " I don't care for insipid goodness of that kind. If you mean that for a compliment, Mr Fitzurse, it doesn't attract me at all. How is Janette ?" " I would much rather talk about you than about Janette. Janette and I get on very well : but I have not found her all that— well, that a man whom you honoured with 'your love would find in you." Camiola lost her temper. She had heard something like this before.

" You tell this to me," she said ; "to me, the nearest friend of your wife ; to me, who love Janette better, far better than myself ! You come to me, her friend and sister, more than sister, and you hint your complaints of her, and you try to excuse yourself for not understanding her, and you think I can listen to such stuff ?f You have taken her out of her happy home where her people adored her, you have made them angry with her for the first time in all their lives, and now you go on as if — well, to be sure — she was not quite worthy of your sublime attention." "It was all done in great haste," he said ; "we hardly knew what we were doing." " She didn't know what she was doing," Camiola exclaimed in generous anger. " I did ; yes, I never believed that she was doing a good thing for herself ; I never trusted you," " I can forgive anything you say to me because it shows the nobleness of your friendship for her. How generous and brave you are, Miss Sabine."

" Generous and brave, because I stand up for my dear darling Janette ? WHat sort of women can you have known, Mr Fifczurse, if you call that generous and brave ?" , " Women generally are not quite so devoted to other .women, I have always heard. But you can afford to be generous, you can have no fear of rivalry anywhere." " Rivalry — in what ?"

" Well, in the world's admiration, I suppose." " Were we talking about the world's admiration ? What do I know about the world? What have I to do with its admiration ?"

" Our own little world is the world to all of us; and in that world you have its whole admiration ; who that knows you does not admire you?" ' ' , ' ,She grew red and hot, and she did not want to show too much anger. He was becoming dangerously, odiously complimentary in his words and his way of putting them, and Camiola was especially anxious not to show any perception of such a meaning. " Thank you," she said., quietly, " that is very kind of you. Ido like a great many people, ancl lam glad if they like me ; but we were talking about Janette." . '

" You have the love of all the men who know you, I think," he said in< a sort of dreamy way, a$ if he were only talking aloud. " I verily believe poor Pilgrim adores the ground you'tread on." This was said in such a way as to make it seem a mere playful and harmless allusion. Walter began, indeed, to bo afraid that he had gone rather too far.

" Very few men whose respect and regard I should value more than Ido Mr Pilgrim's. But I wanted to say something about Janette, Mr Fitzurse ; I shouldn't have begun this talk only for you but as you did begin it I think I must say something." He shrugged his shoulders melodramatically. " 1 know what you want to say ; I can guess it ; and I know that everything you say will be just and right." (To lie continue^,)