MAUD'S LOVE STORY.

Otago Witness, Issue 1950, 4 April 1889, Page 33

MAUD'S LOVE STORY.

Specialty Written for the Witness Ladies' Page. Bt Dili, Chapter 111. " Presairve us I Here's the maister comin' up the hay paddock, an' a stranger body alang wi' him," exclaimed Maggie the next afternoon, as she and Maud were busy in the kitchen. She had just glanced out of the window, which commanded a view of the paddocka and the white dusty road beyond them through a gap amongst the gum trees which surrounded the garden. Maud hurried to look over her shoulder, and she too beheld the phenomenon in question : her grandfather feebly making his way towards the house through the paddock nearest the road, and by his side a young man who was certainly not one of the dwellers on the Flat, and consequently of course "a stranger body," as Maggie said. But the colour came into her face as she looked, for the tall, youthful figure, with its gracefully erect carriage and its garb of light-coloured tweed, had come nnder hex observation before she thought. She went back to her rolling-pin and her lump of dough (she was making scones for tea) with a fast-beating heart, though she said carelessly enough : " Yes. Grandfather is actually going to bring him to the house, I believe." " Weel, the like o' that now 1 " Maggie was still at the window, with hands on hips, staring with all her might. "If he isna airming yer grandfaither noo like's he was someone belanging till him 1 The impidence o' some folk is something in the extreme I Maud," she added suddenly, after a long pause, during which the old man and his companion had nearly reached the garden gate, « wm it no.' fee the laddie ye.feU ia wi'

yestreen 1 Strangers are no' that mohy here aboot." ' :': ' Maud gave one. more half-furtive peep. " Yes, Maggie, I think it is," she said; with cheeks aflame.'

Arid then she fell to rolling dough, and tried to look as if the fact made no difference in the world to her.

Maggie said nothing, but she thought much and wrathf ally, if her looks told true. And, oh I with what a baleful stare she regarded poor Jack Revell when Mr Herrick brought him in, explaining in the low, muffled, hesitating yoice in which he always spoke of late, that ." this young man,'? whom he had accidentally met at 'the roadside, was tired, and would like a drink" of milk. "He'll hae to mak' the 1 best he can wi'* kirnmilk (buttermilk), then," was Maggie's gracious response, " for there's nane ither." , Jack had not the least idea what " kirn- rmilk" might' be; nevertheless he declared that to him it. was as nectar,, and Maggie tramped away to fetch it, her plume of hair waving majestically, for the hat and net had not been brought into requisition that day. It said' a great deal for Jack's courtesy and self-control that not a smile nor the suspicion of one curled his lip at the odd spectacle of J Maggie en dishabille. _ ' There was a beaming, eager, look in his \ face as he turned to Maud, and he actually j blushed at the contact of her fluttering • fingers when she shook hands with him. He was 3uch a very young man, you see — only two years older than Maud herself. The blush extended and grew brighter when she said shyly : " You see, grandfather, this young gentleman and I have met before. He is Mr Jack Revell. Do you remember what I told you about him to-day 7 " The old man looked earnestly at his guest while Maud was speaking, and then, rising from his chair, he came and laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. " Yes," he said, " yes, my little girl, I remember. He is a brave lad— a brave lad. God bless him I " Jack looked— as most people do under such circumstances— extremely foolish, and was wildly casting about in his mind for something graceful and modest to say, when Maggie made a welcome diversion by bringing him his draught of buttermilk. "Thank you, ma'am," he said heartily, looking at her with a smile so bright and winning that it almost brought an answering gleam into her own scowling face, but she had her features well under control, and suppressed it in its dawning. " He'll no' beguile me wi' his weel-faured face an' his fletherin' (flattering) ways," she thought, as she turned away with a sniff, or rather a snort, of contempt, which startled Jack so much that he nearly dropped his tumbler" of nice fresh buttermilk, albeit he was anything in the world but nervous. ; After a little more friendly chat Jack hinted that he would like to be taken for a walk round the farm, and Maud and her grandfather went out of. doors with him — only Mr Herrick soon got tired, and sat, down to rest on a bench at the bottom of the garden, while the boy and girl finished the tour of the premises alone. During that ramble they learned as much of each' other as though they had grown up side by side from babyhood ; and they came in at tea-time looking like two people who had no doubt at all that life was worth living, and had reason for the faith that was in them. For at 18 and 20 friendship and love grow apace. All too soon that bright day was gathered into the treasure-house of the past ; but afterwards if often came about that Jack " found himself in the neighbourhood of Te Mara, and just thought he would look in "— very often, considering that 10 good; miles ! stretched between the farm and the survey camp, and that Jack had no horse of his own, and was sometimes hard put to it' to obtain the loan of one.' By-and-bye Maud looked for his coming two evenings in the week as a matter of course, and he for his part talked no more of " happening to be in the neighbourhood." And of course things went on between them in just the dear, foolish, old-fashioned way which I hope we all know— or shall know— so well. . Not that anything like deliberate love-making went on— far from it. Only long rambles and long confidential talks while the. spring was mellowing into summer — that summer when! to Maud the sun was brighter and the sky bluer than ever were sun and sky that bent' .over the Grey Plain before. That was all. Jack did all he could to make friends with Maggie Eoss, for this spoilt boy — the petted son of a widowed mother, and the nephew of half a dozen doting maiden aunts— could not understand that it was possible for her really to dislike him. She was only eccentric, he thought— very eccentric, indeed; but then she was no doubt exceedingly nice too, if he could only coax her to lay aside that unfortunate manner of hers. Every old lady he knew was nice in her own particular way (Jack liked old ladies), so why not this one ? So he set himself to win her heart, and indeed if Maggie had been anyone but her own ill-conditioned self his winning wiles and guiles would certainly have made it his willing captive. However, Maggie was most emphatically herself, and heeded not the voice of the charmer; though one day, j when he triumphantly brought her a Maori kit full of beautiful white clay all the way from the Camp, because he had heard her bemoaning the want of some for her parlour fireplace, she did so far forget herself as to say: "I'm shair, laddie, I'm muckle obleeged till ye." But that was the only occasion, and at last Jack was fain to acknowledge to himj self that Miss Eoss was rather different from any old lady he had ever come across before, ard was perhaps better left alone. Jack heard a great deal of Robert Chancellor in one way and another, but the two young men never met, for Robert had gone away to a distant farm of his for the summer. So three happy months slipped by, and then there came a change. The boy and girl who were fond of each other acknowledged to themselves that they were also a man and woman who loved. One warm, hazy evening in early January the two were standing beside one of the giant gum trees v i which enclosed the -garden ground-r-Maud dreamily watching Jack as he cut the letters of her name into its bark. ■

"There now !," said Jack, , who, had,, been spending the last fiveV minutes in silently elaborating his work, " * H-e-r-r-i-c-k,', as even, as can be. 'Maud Herrick.' What a, pretty little name it is, too I " " Yes," responded Maud dubiously. " Don't you think ' Herrick' sounds a little odd ? I never heard or read of anybody that had the name except ourselves." " Well, it isn't common, certainly ; . but then, you know, Maud, that's the beauty of it. And once, long ago, there. was a poet who was.called Herriok— Kobert Herrick." " A great poet 2 " ' " Oh, I don't know about that. Perhaps he was. He wrote mostly about daffodils and—and things of that sort. Pretty verses that seem to mean most when you sing them." Here Jack paused for a while, and then added hesitatingly : "I know one poem of his that he addressed to a lady he called Anthea." "What did he say to her 1 " Maud wanted to know. " Well, Maud, he—loved her, you know " — Jack's voice was wonderfully low. and tender by this time—" and he wanted to tell her so : to tell her how much he loved her. I can remember one verse of it, Maud, and it is this ; Thou art my love, my life, my heart, The very eyes of me, And hast command of every part» To live and die for thee. Before Jack had finished his little quotation his arm had stolen round Maud and hig cheek was touching her hair. " Oh, Jack ! " she whispered, and made one little effort to pluck his arm away, but its only effect was to make its clasp the firmer. "Maud," went on the low, tender voice, " I read that poem a little while before I saw you, and I laughed at it because I j thought it was nonsense. But now I know better, dear, for I have found my Anthea, and " Alas 1 discord is never far from the divinest harmony. Before Jack could finish his cooing the front door was thrown open, and a shrill voice shattered the silence and made the lad and maiden start nervously apart, feeling as one does when roused from a dream by an alarm bell clanging from a watch tower nigh at hand. "Maud, come ben the hoose this verra meenit 1 " screamed Discordia In the person jof Maggie Ross. " Aucht o'clock, an' me that has to rise at fower the morn's morn keepit oot o' my bed because ye haena' as muckle sense as would guide a bit three-year-auld bairn I Come here at ance, I'm sayin'." From the neaiing sound of her voice Maggie was evidently approaching to- en- j force obedience* to her command. She \ guessed where they v, ere, though she could not'-see them because of- the trees. " Yes, yes, Maggie, I'm coming," answered Maud, and off she sped, but not before Jack had masterfully helped himself to a kissj and whispered a few rapid words in her ear. - What they were she knew not, for her heart was beating too loud and • fast to let her listen. Maggie met her about half-way up the path, and walked back to' the house with her in wrathful silence. That, wonderful exultant light in Maud's eyes' and a certain something about her whole appearance had told her plainly enough what had passed between her and Jack since last they had crossed the threshold, for in some things' Maggie was only too observant. Maud was languidly astonished when ' the old woman merely said, as she took her bedroom candle, II Mind an* no' sit up readin' ; I want ye to rise early the morn, an' gang to Mrs Oraigie's wi' thon sittin' o' parteekler eggs"; for she had felt, in a vague sort of way, that a storm was brewing, and expected metaphoric hailstones and coals of fire to drop from Maggie's tongue. Not that it would have made much' difference to her just then if even a worse thing had befallen her than Maggie's wordy' wrath. What was anything to her now in comparison with the one blissful, bewildering fact that Jack Eevell loved her— had kissed her and told her so 1