Chapter VIII,

Otago Witness, Issue 1832, 31 December 1886, Page 7

Chapter VIII,

Christmas came and went, and the New Year Bet in in all the splendour of the New Zealand summer — so different to what Marion had over seen at this sea3on before— yet Mark had not come. It was a mouth now since Mrs Ardern and Florence wont away, and only once during that time had any word com? to the Stephens Bveiything was safe in Phillip's hands, and Jonathan Ardern knew it, and troubled himself very little with business matters ho long as his friend and manager did not bring them especially under bis notice.

' They are making a stay of it, and no mistake,' Mrs Stephens said at the dinner table one day. Marion was present, and painfully on the alert for any scrap of news of those who were so close to Mark.

•Yes,' Phillip laughed, 'Jonathan Ardern doesn't often go in for a holiday, but he knows how to make it last when ho does. The harvest must commence in a day or two, and if that doesn't fetch him, why then I shall be inclined to give him up altogether. 9 ' If it is for his nephew's pleasure that he is making such a long tour, I can't help agrooing with Florence that it would have been as well to have reserved ib until afterwards. This is about tha beet time of the year for this part, and they might have gone north for a while with advantage during the winter.'

' Yea, but Ardern'a heart was set upon it, so it was no use saying anything. Ha dotes on this nephew of his, long as it is since he saw him before, and he seemed almost to think his own house not good enough to be the first place to welcome him to on his arrival, The lad is having the best first, that's all.

'I don't know,' quiet Mrs Stephens said, ' I think when I landed in the colony I should have preferred above all things having a home to go to, and beiDg taken straight to it.'

' Oh, you wouldn't have minded being taken first to enjoy the lions of the place if you could have done it as this boy is doing it— in first class style, and bad the comfort of knowing that the home was waiting at the end.'

•Well, perhaps not,' and Mrs Stephens laughed in her turn.

' I wond r, ' Phillip resumed presently, with a twinkle in his kindly grey eyes, ' I wonder if the two young folks will fall in with Ardern'a views. It is too good to be hoped for — he cannot hope to have everything in life bis own way.'

'I think it is the biggest mistake that could p-asibly b9 made,' said the wife, 'to set one's self about making a match of the kind. It seldom succeeds, or if it do6s, it seldom turns out happily.'

' You talk as if you were an authority, wifie. How do you know ?' ' Well,' she said merrily, *I am sure I am right if the majority of tales dealing, with such matches are to be relied upon.' ' Which is by no means certain ; though, like yourself, I think it best to leave such matters to shape themselves. As ours was left,' he added archly.

' No nonsense, sir.'

• But seriously,' Phillip said, ' it would be no small disappointment to Ardern if the young folks proved unmanageable. Since ever he knew that Mark Ardern would come he has set his head upon it, and vowed to patch up his invalid nephew for the purpose. I should think the lad ought to be willing enough, too. Very few would object to a wife like Florence, especially supplemented by bor father's thousands!.'

' My dear child, what is tho matter ?' Marion Gale was as white as the tablecloth.

'Nothing,' she said, the colour rushing back to her faoo in one scarlet wave at the question ; and almost choking herself in her attempt to swallow some of the water in her tumbler, she rose hastily from the table, and jerking out something about its being time she looked at the cakes which were in the kitchen oven, left the room and the astonished couple gazing blankly after her. ' There is something wrong with Marion, I am sure,' Mrs Stephens said at last, looking at her husband anxiously to see if he would confi,m her asser ion.

• There can be no doubt of that, I «n afraid,' he replied ; ' but what is it ? Is sho ill, do you think ?'

' I am afraid she is naturally delicate, but I fancy she is in trouble too.'

1 Han it never struck you aB strange a young girl like her leaving borne, and bo apparently alone ?' aeked her husband. 'It has, oertaialy j but many girls do it

nowadays, don't they ? At anyrate I have taken such a liking for Marion that I am sure there oould have been nothing wrong in her reason for acting aa she did. She loves her home dearly, I know, for the only time she ever spoke of it to me her face was a picture to see.'

' Ib may be home sickness pure and Bimple, then,' Phillip Stephen eaid. 'It is a disease not easily shaken off with some people. Don't you recollect how we suffered from it, wifie, in the eld days ?' Another day or two went by and another letter came from the Arderns. It was chiefly to Phillip on business— the coming harvest in particular, but there was a gossipy note enclosed from Mra Ardern for Mra Stephens. 'Florence and Mark are taking to each other Bplendioly, 1 tho former said ; 'they never seem happy out of each other's company, which pleases the pater very much, I like Mark exceedingly myself (which is fortunate, as Jonathan's heart seems so set upon presenting him to me in the character of a son), but I can't help thinking his will be the beat of the bargain. At all events I don't look upon it as any speoial virtue on his part that he appears to have no particular aversion for the parties' plan, for, though I say it myself, our daughter will be no bad match foe the ex-cashier of a Yorkshire woollen mill.'

It seemed to Marion Gale that her doom was being read as she listened to that part of Mrs Ardern's letter and then the comments upon it by Phillip Stephens and his wife. • The youDg fellow ia making good ÜB6 of his time, evidently,' Phillip laughed. ' Yes,' assented his wife, 'it iarv't often the young folks prove so tractable to the wishes of the old aB these two seem to be doing.' ' Well, so far as the " ex-cashier " is concarned, as Mrs Ardern callß him, I am inclined to agree with her that there is nothing especially to commend in his tractability.' ' When are they coming home, do they say V i

' About the end of the month ; and then we shall have the honour of making the acquaintance of thi* paragon of a nephew.' It was over at last, and Marion found herself free to leave the room if she chose.

_ It was Saturday, and there was nothing partioular to be done in the afternoon. It seemed to the girl that unless she could get away into the fresh air 8 )mo where she must stifle. Not that Bhe believed a word of what that letter had said or insinuated— she actually caught herself smiling at the idea when she reached her own room, though it was a smile which startled her as she saw it reflected in the mirror opposite — that Mark, who had grown up with her from childhood — her lover Bince ever Bhe could remember, apait from whom Bhe had never had one hope or plan— for whom she would haye — nay, had — sacrificed everything else in tho world — that Mark could . She stopped short for want of a name by which to call it.

And yet surely he was to blame in some degree. If ha had done at first what under similar circumstances she knew she herself would have done, frankly declared that he had left his promisad wife in England, this misunderstanding could not possibly have arisen. Bu 1 ; ho would explain it all when he came. Douot him ahe dared not ; for what would all the woild Le to her now if .

Ib was no use; she would not think it. Nevertheless, the four walla of the room seemed to be contracting and closing in upon her, and she flad downstairs with a dread at her heart which seemed to have grasped it with an iron grasp.

Mrs Stephens sat with her husband in t^e porch at the front of the house, and with fever-bright eyes smd white, dry lips Marion appeared before them.

' I thought if you did not mind I would take a walk for an hour,' she said. 1 Certainly ;go wherever you like, But it is rather hot for walking just now, ißn't it?' • Ob, I don't miad the beat, thank you.' As if heat or cold would matter much while this pain at her heart lasted !

About a mile away waa the beach, and thither Marion unconsciously sped, stopping not nor slackening speed until she reached the very verge of the blue ocean — the great, blue, restless ocean across which sixteen thousand miles away was her dear old home. Here wi s a land alight with summer bloom and sunshine, but there was home and truth and love. Above the splash of the waves at her feet and the roar of the deeper sea the cry went out, ' Ob, mother, mother, when shall I see you again V And Marion Gale sat down on a boulder near and sobbed out some of the bitterness of hor heart in the silence of the summer afternoon,