MARION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2130, 20 December 1894, Page 15

MARION.

(Sj>°cially written for the witness Christmas

Number ISJ4 )

Author of "The Goldies of Golden Terrace," Ac.

0 purblind race of miserable men ! How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for themselves — By taking true for false, and false for true 1 —Tennyson. T wrb a white Christmas. All night the suevrflakes had been sil«ntly, lovingly at vr ork, BhroudIng the fretzing earth in its soft, warm mantle ; and the Chrißtmsig sun rose on a scene of such dazzling purity and beauty that it ■eetnad like a glimpse of the outskirts of Heawn. So at least thought Marion Ellray, a?, W6ll wrapped tip in velvets and furi", she stood on the terrace of the old manor heuse, sarveying the picture, and unconsciously adding beauty to it.

A dainty little maiderj, with a warm brown complexion, brown curls, aud dark eyes—loving, frank, merry eyea, never yet dimmed by tears. Such a sweet, true Iface altogether, but very childlike, in spite of her 21 j ears. Hers had been such a sheltered, happy life. Ever since &he could remember Marion had lived at the Hall, with her grandfather to pet her, old Mrs Pinncotr, the housekeeper, to care for her, and Cousin Philip to play with. Old Squire Ellray had a horror of governessas, so Marion had shared Philip's studies under a tutor till she was 1(5, when her cousin went to college and she was released from regular tasks. "You know quite enough fora woman," deolared her grandfather. "I won't have my little ' nut-brown mayde ' turned into a bluestockicg. It is Mrs Pinccoct'a turn now ; she must teach you how to make preserves and possetrs. Your poor grandmother did not know half as much as you do, but no one in the whole county could rival her for jelUas and home-made wines." Marion, however, was well and thoroughly eduoated, for her tutor possessed the art of teaching, and to learn everything Philip learned was part of her creed. But she certainly wan wofully deficient in lady-like accomplishments, and for the first time in her life this deficiency was beginning to trouble her. She brooded over it, walking up and down the terrace this bright Christmas morning waiting for her companion. At last the hall door opened, and a gentleman appeared drawiDg on his gloves. 11 So you are come ? " cried Marion merrily. "I begin to think the cold had daunted yon, and that I should be leit to br*ve it alone."

11 It was not my fault that I was so long absent from you," replied her companion in low and mellow uccents. " Tray ran off with my glove, the little " Habit was strong, and an oath trembled on the speaker's lips, but he caught himself up. •' The little acamp. She led me a fine chase, and richly deserved her punishment." •' Oh 1 but it was not severe, Cousin Frank 1" Frank Elkay smiled slightly, tho upper Up revealing a momentary gleam of white teeth, but he said nothing. Somehow that smile made Marion uncomfortable. But the feeling passed. Ellray took her hand, murmuring a veiled compliment in that wonderful voice of his, and the vague distrust vanished like mist before tho Bun.

Certainly, Ellray's name did not; suit him. To a keen observer there was nothing frank or genuine in the tones of that melodious voice, the glance of those inscrutable dark eyes, or the curves of that mobile, handsome mouth. But Marion wae not a keen observer ; she was a simple, inexperienced girl, too wholly true herself to dream of untruth in others. They passed down the broad avenue, through the clear bracing air, under tho leafless trees whose branches stood out in delicate tracery against the pale blue sky ; and nothing of all the surrounding beauty escaped Marion's quick eye. She pointed out %o her companion with eager animation all that attracted her admiration. Now it was an exquisite icicle, its ethereal beauty yet nndimmed by the sun ; then the deer trooping across a distant glade ; or a redbreast, pruning itself on some leafless spray. And Dr Ellray listened with that earnest, appreciative attention which is the most delicate Compliment a man can pay to a woman. Presently they passed the lodge gates and wore out on the criap snow, with the village of Thornyhurat lying at their feet ; amoke curling up from rustic chimneys, and the church epire piercing the pale sky. Near by wound the river, placid and »teel-blue. Quite a different river, Marion thought, from that which had flashed and dimpled under the hot August sun that memorable afternoon when, on her way home from visitiDg ber cottagers, she had first met Frank Ellray. "Ah, there ii Cousin Philip," she exclaimed, as they neared the churchyard gate. Vlf we had only been five minutes earlier I I have not seen him for four months, and now you will have to wait until after service for an introduction." Di BlhrjJijpßfiarei feigned to the tflsap-

polntment. "Why do you call him Coiisin Philip 1 " There was a trace of annoyance in tha question. Marion looked np in surprise. " Why, he ii my cousin, you know, though not so near as you and I, who are the children of graDdpaua'a sues. Puili^'i* father was papa's cousin. And oh, Dr Ellray, I want you to lii;u Philip — he in so good, so noble and true."

The doctor smiled, and again the gleam of teeth was visible for an instant, bnt Marion I'd not observe it. Pier eyes were downcsst, for that melodious voice was speaking close to ber ear. Dr EUray would seek Philip's friendship for her sake. " This will be the first sermon I have heard him preach since he was ordained," she whispered as they entered the porch. " I would not hare mißsed it for anything." The doctor shrugged his shoulders as he followed her into the church.

In a great armchair drawn close to the fire sat old Squire Ellray, his gouty foot supported on a leg-rest. Simson, his man, was moving noisalessly about the room, arranging it, and *ervlng as a safety-valve for his master's temper. Certainly the twinges in the squire's toe were excruciating this moraiDg, and an uneasy, auxious mind made them the harder to boar.

The old man wanted Marion home— wculd nevsr have lot hor go could he hava borne to disappoint her wish to hear Philip's first sermon. For about the hundredth time that morning he had ordered the long-Buffering Sirason to the window to see If the church party were jet in wight. " Here's Master Philip, sir," announced the valet.

"And Marion— Mias Marion — is she tkere ? " " I don't tee her, sir." " Confound that Frank 1 What is he up to now ? Do you hear, sir ? "

Aod used as Simaon was to such explosions, he pave a slight start at the sudden roar. " Go down this instant, I say, and send up Mr Pftilip I Are you going, or " The valot had vanished, and almost, immediately Philip appeared. He, like Frank, was very dark — all the Ellrays were — but there the resemblance between the cousins ended. In the broad, open brow and straightforward glance of those clear eyes there was nothing to remind one of Dr Ellray. The old squire looked up, and held out a welcoming hand. " Why did you not come over last night ? " he demanded.

Fhilip explained. His train had been snowbound ; he had not reached Thornyhurst till miduight. "Whore is Marion?" was the next question. "I missed her at the church gate," said Philip, evidently disappointed. " She must have taken the wood path with Dr Ellray." " Confound him 1 " cried the squire hotly. And then, " What do you think of him?" "My dear uncle, I have not yet had the pleasure of an introduction to Dr Ellray." " Pleasure, stuff 1 I tell you, Philip, he is a bad lot ; and he is after no good here — mark my words. Hio poor father was wild enough, but he was an Ellray at heart. It's the mother Frank takes after, and there was not an honest fibre in her nature — falsa to the core, false to the core. And Frank is her own son." " I hope you are mistaken, undo." " Mistaken 1 Wait till you sea the fellow smile."

11 Where has he been all these years eince his parents died 1 " asked Mr Ellray. "In Australia, he says, practising his profession."

"What brings him here now 1 " " The very question I am contiuually asking myself," cried the a quire. " He says he is tired of roamiug ; means to settle in England, and wished to make the acquaintance of the only relatives be has left."

" That sounds reasonable."

" Yes, it does— if I could believe it. At first I thought; he wanted rnons/, but he doea not seem to be hard up. And yet, upon my soul, Phil, I believe that is what he is after. Marion is a prize worth trying for." Philip almost sprang from his chair. • No, no— not that I Why, Marlon is but a child ; he is old enough to be her father." "Just forty," nodded the squire; "but he looks ten years younger, and he has the voice of Orpheus."

" And Marion 1 " breathed Fhilip, leaning forward.

•' Marion is a child, and Frank is a wonderful stranger — unlike anyone she has ever known. She believes in him implicitly ; she pities him — we know what comes next. Philip, why don't you speak ? I had rather ccc Marion in her coffin than married to that fellow. Why don't you speak ? You know what has been the wish of my life ; and you remember our last interview, whon you confessed that it was youra also. Wait no longer, or you may be too late. First come is often first served with these young things." •• I will speak to-night," said Philip, rallying from the shock he had just received. Strangely enough he had never feared a rival. It had seemed to him that Marion must be aware of his love for her, and must return it.

The old squire's next words were reassuring.

"You are certain to succeed. She can never prefer a man she has not known for four months to you who taught her to walk."

" Yet— if she should ? " asked Mr Elkay.

11 Then she must. Marion is all the world to me, and if she chooses to marry that fellow I know I shall not have the heart to forbid it. But if it is her fortune Frank is after, he will be done. Hush ! not a word of this, mind, on your honour." And with a cautious look round the old man whispered, " I've made a new will."

" Another I — since last year 1 "

The squire nodded. "Yesterday, while they were &11 down decorating the church, I had Galton up, and it was all done, signed and sealed, and no one but Simson a whit the wiser."

And the old man rubbed his hands in triumph. " But," said Philip eagerly, " if, as you say, this makes a difference to Marion, why not let Dr Ellray know, and thus test his motives 2 "

11 No, no, no," cried the old msm, bis voice quavariug with akrm. " Not a worl, Philip Mind, you b»ve promisod. It wculd undo everything. I'm not the man I nsod to be, and that fellow bas a stiar.ge pow« ovar me. 1 know it,' 1 ho cried with impotent passion ; "yet I oatinol » e^i^r it — ie is m*Hmcric; I should bo (croeci ;o revokfc that oodicil befcra rooming." "Then what" is the. use of it? " "It makes me fe9l snfe — I can always produce it at the last. Not now, you know — not now, but just before the weddir.g. Thon Marion will see what he is made of — ab, then she will *cc 1 " Philip said nothing. He was thinking that the old man was almost in his dotage. "Ah, there they are at last," exclaimed the squire. From where he sat the doctor and Marion could be seen coming np the avenue. A handsome pair they looked. Mr Ellray rose at once. He waa eager to meat this interloper, who h«d so quickly become domosti- j cated in hia old home, aDd who threatened to be the destroyer of hia happiness. In the | corridor he met Simeon, and pau?ed to remark on the squire's feebleness, and the j change four montbß had wrought in him. | " It's this last attack, Master Philip," replied the old servant with respectful familiarity. •• It were fearful ; and no's worrit- | ingr, besides, over this Dr Ellray, which I make bod to wish he had never left An&traly." | "He does not seem to be a favourite of t yours," smiled Philip. The valot made no direct reply. "See here, sir," he said, pointing to a corner whure lay a little retrisver dog. one of her forepawu bound in pplints. She whined joyfnlly aa Mr Ellray stooped to caress her. " Why, Tray, old lady," said he, " bow did you meet with that mishap 1 " "It were no accident," said Simson indignantly. " She ran off with the doctor^ glove in fu», and that'a the way he served her." Philip started in horror. Such a deliberate, wanton act of cruelty 1 And Marion likdd the manl In the hall he met them both. Marion sprang forward, ready to welcome him with the old joyful eagemets; but some thought checked her, and their meeting was constrained. Philip folfc it keenly. Dr Ellray stood watchicg them furtively. Marion turned to him. " This is Cousin Philip." Aud then, with forced playfulness, " Stay, let me do it in style— 4 Dr Kllray— the Bey. Philip Ellray,' "ending with a graceful little curtsey. The cousins shook hands, their preconoeived dislike of each other growing strongor every moment. " A young prig, who will be confoundedly in my way," thought the one. " Not to be trußted," decided the other. Marion soon left them to become better acquainted, going up to siL with her grandfather and beguile him, as only she knew how to do, into a momentary forgetfulness of his paiu. He insisted on being wheeled in to head his Christmas dinner table " for the last time." Marion felt it was indeed to be the last time. Her heart ached ; tears were painfully near the surface, yet she chatted and smiled to him bravely. Her grandf athor was the only parent she had ever known, and was very, very dear to her. He retired immediately after dinner, but would not suffer Marion to accompany him ; she must stay and talk to her cousin Philip. Dr Ellray did not appear to notice the slight. Presently he left the drawing room to see that the " dear old man was comfortable for the night." Philip expected Mb speedy and discomfited reappearance, but either the squire had admitted him, or Frank did not choose to confess his failure. Thus the cousins were alone, for the first time. Mr Elkay leaned against the mantelpiece, looking down on Marion. She oat in a low chair watching the Yule log as It glowed and sparkled on the wide, oldfashioned hearth. She w&s longing to know what Philip thought of tho doctor, and rather wondered at herself for being unable frankly to ask. Neither of them spoke ; the silence was growing oppressive. Marion lifted her bright ohangeful faoe, with its child-like eyea. "Philip," she said, in her earnest voice, " I liked your sermon to-day so much." " Did yon 1 " Philip smiled, and then sighed. He had never looked forward to his life aa ourate of the parish of Thorny hnrst without thinking of Marion as his beloved wife and helpmeet. And now " Philip," said his cousin again, " I think you are changed ; ever so much graver than you used to be. But I suppose you think it proper to be solemn now 1 " Something in the tone, as well as the words, made It impossible for Mr Ellray to keep from laughing. 11 Assumed solemnity is never proper " ; he j said. " No, Marion, if I look grave it is because lam anxious. I have been thinking co much to-day of my future life. 11 But should that make you anxions ? You s re just where you have always wished to be. True, the rector being absent lays more responsibility on you." " Yes, and I wish to share it." "What! with a fellow curate? That is not like you, Philip; you used not to be afraid of work." 11 Nor am I now. I want a wife, Marion I want you." . •

For a" moment Marion sat staring at him ; then sho rose hurriedly, looking as if she meditated flight. Bat Philip held her trembling hands in his, and constrained her to listen. At last she found voica enough to S3iV * "Oh, Cousin Philip, please stop, for it cannot be— indeed it cannot." " Tell me why, dear." " You are so young," was the unexpected Certainly Philip's smooth face looked boyish be3ide the broczad and bearded countenance of Dr Ellray. " I am 23 ; well able to take care of you, if you love me, Marion." "I do lovo you," sobbed Marion; "you know I do. Have not we always been like brother and sister? Ob, why did you speak 1 I never thought of this— never 1" " For years you have been dearer to me than any sister," said Philip. __•' No, Marion,

I will not take a mere exense. I have waited long to say this and now" " Now it v too late. lam Frank Ellraj's promised wife I " Tne words, uttered almost under her bresth, w«r« lika a blow to Piulip. She i-c-ed >i,e r.eiviins Rrsst) r.f his hand on the iu^. tvnl;>K'<cJ. ih,>. >vh;t -rung lips, prs=s.;d c!o3e t.o t-tiil tut-ir quiver. np, -»nd a Birange, r>-g,et-fcil p^ng !.bor, ihrous;li h«r heart. S.^e u:id not dreaniad that Philip cmed for her nk« this.

Ho turned to leave the room, but paused, and came back to her side. " Marion." She had feared his anger ; her eyes filled at the excsediDg gentleness of his vofce. " Marion, you are a very child in experience; taka care— do nothing ha&tily ; above all, do nothing unknown to your graadfather or against hia wish." "Philip! how oould you think I should I Thi» only happened as we cam® homo from church, and I told Frank it. must dej end entirely o.n grandpapa. Of c-urse I would never leave turn. Frank is spuftkiug to him m/W, I think."

" Your acquaiotance with D' KHray haa been very short ; aro you ;ure yoa knoiv him, Marion ? "

" I thiuk so," said Marion confidently. " I did not like bim at first — neither did grandpapa; but wo did him injustice. He has told me tha story of his life. Such a sad, hard life, Pnilip. So when he said I was the only bit of sunahine that bad ever brightened it, how oould I send him back to Australia again, alone and friendless ? " "It is usually a man's own fault if he ia friandless," Philip could not help saying. Marion lookod up quickly. " Ah, I nee; you are projudiced. Frank is so liable to be niii.under.st od ! '

What could Mr Ellr.y ..aj 7 How could he^ — the rejeciod suitor — insinuate doubts concerning his riva.l, of whom ha knew nothing, however much he might suspect. "Good-bye, Mariou," lie mid, ond taking her hand he pressed i"; to his lips. Befoie leaving tho houie Philip sought his ancle. Ha found the old man in a pitiable sktto between fear and fury. Dj Ellray had just, i-ft him, having extorted his cunsout to tho ci yagernent. " I gave way so far," said the squire angrily, " but not au icch lurlher wili I go. Th fallow wanted tho wedding in six weeks, but. I have vowed that it. bhall not be till Marion is of age. That gives me six raonthb' breathing time, and who knows what may happen ? Answers may come to certain letters of inquiry I have written to Australia, or I may be underground— another attick like the last will put ma thara— and then," his voice sinking to a whisper, " then the codicil will appear I " Again Mr Ellray tried to persuade his uncle to make that document known at onoe; but, the squire was obdurate. Philip had to be satisfied with the reiterated promise that., come what might, Marion should not be married till she wa& of age. Upon reaching homa Mr Kllnvy found Ihe following lettur *«Miting him : —

St. Stephen's Parsonage, London. Dear Piim,— l h*ve knocked mys' It up, aud the doctor orders change of air. But I can't afford it; neither cm I We my work. Are you open to exchiuge fora month? I am equal to your duty— it would be child's play af rer mine. I know you vvi 1 oblige me if jou cau.— Your old ovum, Walter Ghay.

Philip's resolution was instantly taken. " I will go ; I cannot mtes her again just yet. I couldn't bear to sac her with thtit fellow."

Ho thought of the squire. "But 1 shall only bo ay/ay four or five weeks ; and my uuule is recovering. I must go."

" Praiss heaven, you are in time, 3ir 1 "

" What, is my uncle ill ? " " Didn't you get the telegram, sir ?— but I forgot ; it waa only sent this morning. Hu'a going f «aßt, sir 1 " " Dying I " exclaimsd Philip Ellr^y in distress, " and I did not oven know he waa ill. Oh I Mrs Pincott, it cannot be true I " " I wish it wasn't," sobbed the faithful housokeepfir, who had grown up from a child in the Ellray family. " But the gout have flew to his stomach, and the doctors cay there isn't no hope lof fc." " Who is with him now ? " "Dr Ellis, Dr Ellray, and Miss Marion — leastways Mrs Ellray as fche is now."

" Who ? " cried Philip. " La, sir," said the housekeeper, surprised, "don't yoaknow they were marrkd yesterday? Qaiti? quiet it was and a great disappointment to us all, I must say— we looking for a grand wedding when Mies Marion's turn came, and no young lady ever deserved it more, that I will say — and to be married at last by ber grandpa's bed, and she crying all the tirao like a funeral. But the sqaire was set on having it quick and quiet, Dr Ellray said ; though if I might make so bold, *ir, it have seemed to all of us as if the master did not know his own mind about it." With what feelings of self-reproach Philip listened to all this I leave you to imajzioe. The thing waa done ; Marion was irretrievably in the power of this adventurer. Philip turned away. He could not faoe anyone yet. It was a wretched day ; the grey clouds hucg low, presaging a fall of snow, and a piercing wind moaned through the leaflers trees. But Philip \va« insensible to the influence of the weather. What had ho done 1 Oh 1 what had ho done 1 To save himself he had selfishly left the old man and Marion in the power of that scoundrel. Why, why had he gone? What had ceoraed aX the time to be quite excusable Philip now condemned as selfish weakness, and felt that he could never forgivs himself. Too late now for regret— Marion was married; his uncle dying. Philip re-entered the house. In the corridor he mot Marion. She sprang forward. " Oh, Cousin Philip 1 thank God yoa are come."

"lam not too late?"

" No— l don't know," added Msrlon, bursting into tear*. "They hay; rMnt me out; they will not allow me to be near grandpapa. But I must go to him, Philip— l must I Make them let, me in." " Who is with him ? "

11 Dr Elli3 and Fiank."

"Wait hero, dear M-uion ; I ara going to my uncle. If I think you ought to be there I will come for you. You can trust me." Ye 3, Marion knew she could trust bim ;

yet how long the time Fflemed till his return. She looked into the grava face with mute appeal. Philip shook his head.

"No, Mirion, no; you were excluded in love. He is quite unconscious now. Tell me, dear, how it has bean. Why was I not sum f>>r? "

"ThU attack only cams on Us! M >nday, and yesterday I was— we were" Marion blund«red, iior face crimsoning.

" I have heard," said Philip gravely. " Yesterday you were married. It was very sudden, Marion."

" Yes ; but il was dear grandpapa's wish. Of course F;ank wished it too; but, as he sad, it was not ourselves, but grandpapa, whom we must consider ; and iudeed, Philip, he seemed quite uuhappy until I Consented."

"Are you sure, Marion— when you wore alone with bim?"

"Why,' 1 uaid Marion, comparing, "now I thiuk of it, I have not b»eu Hlone with him onco since— fb, sii.ee Christmas D;y. He has taken such a liking to Frank ; no one else could r ead to him or t».k t o him >o wtll. I would have been jealous if it had been anyone else ; but I was k» glad grandpapa should Isam to know and aj;piecute F:ank as he deserve*. Dtsar Fiankl [ uover kubw how I loved him till 1 caw wirh what patient gentleness he bore with poor grandpapa." Marion seemed to have quit« fo'gotten tha nature of her last interview wi'h Puilip. He looktd at her in coroptssioD. P«'>r innocent child 1 What an Awakening lay before htr.

Soon the summons for which they waited j cauio ; and Mirion crept in, to prePA the last kiss on tha dear l'pa that would utter her uanie nevermore. There followed a strange sad we^k, Who has not known &uuh a time? — the new sorrow presses ao heavily ;we go about the darkened house with noiseless fooUteps aud hushed voices ; wurat of all, i we wake frcm happy drearue to the disadtul reality. Thus it waß with Marion. She kept her room, setir.g no one but hm 1 ln>«band. Touched by her implicit trust, in him, Frank almost believed that he loved her, and wag all that Marion could wish. No one bnt himself knew how impatiently he loogod for the funeral to take plice. At last it was over, and now— life treacling on the heels of death— they were gathered in the dining room to hear the will read. Philip know the contents already —so did Frank, With the exception of sundry legacies to old servants, everj thing was left to I.f*rion. unconditionally. Philip was well off, but Marion had been entirely dependent upon her grandfather. Dr Kllray congratulated himself. Tho manor would yiold a good income. Of course he would not, Hve iharo. As for Marion— well, she wns a loving little fool ; she would not be much in his way. How had ho endured all these mouths of country life? Visions ot P-iris and London rosa itivitlDgly bofore him. But tha lawyer was fidgetiug wit.h his papers aril clcarirg his voice to announce a. codicil. Franfc staged forward. "I beg your pardon," he "aid, his deep, musical voice contrasting with tho lawyer's dry, businesslike tones, " I was not awaro of that document." •• Possibly not." " It was not kept with the other papers? * " Quite true, doctor; it has always been in my possession." " What is the date ? " " The 2ith of December last." Dr Etiray turned sharply on his couefu. " Were you aware of this codicil ? " " I waa aware of it, but I do not know its purport," replied Mr Ellray. Frank relapsed into silence and bant hia head to listen. The codicil was short nnd clear. It left £200 a year to Marion, and ovoryrhing elso to Philip Ellray, in tru«t for Mirion's elduht child when it should have reached thf ago 'if 21. Should Marion die without issue. th.3 whole of the property to revprr to Philip absolutely. Not a word of Frank. It <vns a htrange and an unjnst will. The old gquirc's one idea had been to baulk his grandson, and in this he had ontirrly poccseded. Oaring the reading Dr Elray'a face was a study. Marion turned her eyes away, dismayed and frightened. Hirdly had the lawyer finished when Frank sprarg to hi 3 feet, fiercely denouncing rho will as n forgery. Then he turned to Philip, and what followed was very hard for Philip to bear. This trust was not of his seeking; but hwvfrg baen Md upon him, he muht fulfil it. Bnr,it the fifrce torrent of abuse was hard for P.iilip to bear it was still harder for Mirtou. N.^ only did she feel for her cousin, thus unjustly accused, but this revelation of her husband's real character appalled ber. This was not the man she had loved ; whs it the true Frank? Her own first impressions of him, Philip's evident distrust, much in her grandfather's manner which had puzz'ed her— all this flashed through her mind, and seen in this new light, gave Marion i the answer to her question. She hid her facf, feeling in the shock of this discovery as if all she had loved and trusted in the world i were slipping from her grasp. Yet she did not tbeu see Frank at hia worst. Her presence was some restraint on him. He remembered that she was the only pprson who still believed in and loved him. But as the days passed by, Dr Eilray became conscious of a subtle change in hi* wife's i manner. It told him she was undeceived, ! and he grew renk!«BS. At the end of a few \ weeks he announced his intention to •e-'-urn to Australia. Marion, in terror at the prospect, ventarced to remonstrate. "Stay behind, if you choose," was the curt repiy. All her friends urged her to avail herself oE this permisßion. All except Philip. She was thankful lor his silence ; it made her comse the easier. For her resolve was firm. "Mr duty is with my hnsbanfl," she said. Alas ! for the wife when duty only keepa her at her husband's side. Marion knew now tbat she did not— tbatsheneverhadloved Frank Eliray. Her fancy had been captivated by an imaginary hero. She had unconsciously invested Frank with nil her own virtues; nowbhefonnd she had been Joying a shadow — a beautiful dream, that the reil Frank was— a'av, she checked herself—he waa her hmhaad ; sra bid taken him "for better, for worse." Marion repolved, God helping her, to fulfil her wifely dutiea with Rtrictest fidelity. Aod perhaps, in time, with her to help him, Frank might become thac which she had once beJieved him to be. So she went with him across the ocean to the unknown land be-

» cd Philip went baok to his quiet lector? to pray for her.

It is 3 o'clock on a lovely November mornjrg and tbe scene i 6 a New Zealand fannlrmse. From the little dairy, under the widespreading shade of a giant pohutukaxra tree, comes the regular beat of a cbnrn. Let us peep in The daiiymaid is none other than our old fiiend Marion EUray. Different surroundings indeed, and a different dress, yet Marion in her common print looks just as thorough a lady as she did in her velvets and fare that memorable Christmas Day ten jears before. Now the butter has come; iirah>l»g off the buttermilk, Marion pours cool water over the soft yellow mass, and then e«atß herself on the doorstep to reßt. It iB tbe Marion of old ; the glossy bands of dark brown hair shade the same sweet, true face. Bnt it is a woman's face now, with a sorrowful look in the brown eyes, and patient lines round the resolute little mouth that tell their own itory. The Btm is up, and the quivering golden light falls on a landscape whioh Marion is never weary of admiring. Close at hand stretches a dark line of bush, behind ■which rise the distant blue ranges. Before ber lies rioh open oountry, mostly under Cultivation ; at the foot of the paddock In which their house standß runs a merry little creek. It is hidden from view by great fern trees and olump* of flax, but all day lorg it " singetb a qniet tune."

But it is to the bellbirds Marion is listening this morning ; the bush rings with their musical chime. She smiles with delight, and for a moment almost forgets her Borrows. Hush I she eings— " Praise God from Whom all blesßiDgß flow." It is an old cubtom of hers to sing the morning hymn upon awaking ; not often has she done it of late years, but this morning she sings it through, and then, leaning back, lifts her eyea to the pure blue heavens. And as she gazes upward the Borrowf ul look is replaced by one of trußtfnl peace.

The last ten years have been long years end sorrowful, but not hard or bitter Marion looked her futnre life in the face before she left England, and has adhered to the reßolutioDß she then made. Recognising ber husband's real character ; discovering too late ber own mistake, Marion felt that for bis sake, ai well as for her own, she must make the best of it, and resolved to aot towarde Frank in all respects as if she loved bim. She had done her duty Bimply and Straightforwardly— neither piquing herself tipon its performance, nor fretting against And Btriving to evade it. And she is at peace. She baß gained some little influence over her husband : for this she thanks God and takes courage.

Dr Ellray has been Bteadily going from bad to worse during these years. Disappointed and chagrined, he had gone back to his old life, without even the ueceßtity for work as a safeguard. Marion often wished herself altogether penniless. They had been constantly on the move in Australia, yet always keeping to the towns. Marion never <irftw a free pure breath now without thank; fulness for her escape from the heat and dust of their sordid city homes. Three years ago Dr Ellray had taken it into bia head to come to New Zealand, and bearing that a certain village in the sunny north wanted a medical man, be settled there. He might have done well, but intemperate habits had grown upon him. Findlug that no one oould be induced to trußt him, even with the very simplest cases, Ellray set up as a farmer in a small way. Marion's hopes revived. Far from the temptations of town life, and with real work to ocoopy him, reformation might yet be possible. She was soon undeceived. •'The way In which that Ellray managed his place" soon became common talk among the thrifty settlers round. In fact, Frank let things manage themselves, while he spent bis time in the bar parlour of the hotel, smoking, oard-playing, and drinking— pleasures which are expensive, and by no means improving to -the temper. Ellray bad come — or, rather, hlB horse had brought him — home late the previous night, and he would be off again that morning, no doubt. His wife heard his footstep?, and started nervously. It was like the child Marlon to fold her hands for a moment and pray that he might not be allowed to strike ber. He bad done it before, and more than once. IU words Marion could bear — she cultivated the habit of not hearing them, and never replied — but blows, apart from her natural shrinking from physical pain, were an unspeakable degradation to her.

As she advanced to the house Ellray came out. Evil habits had left their trace on that dark, handsome face — handsome no longer, marred by sensuality.

11 Why isn't breakfast ready ? " He spoke to Mb wife as a good man would not speak to bis dog. Marion would once have thought it impossible for that voice to sound harsh or cruel ; but that was long ago. "I will hurry." " You had better, then. I'm off in half an hour."

Wbere to 7 wondered Marion. Often her husband would not leave his bed till midday, but she knew better than to question him. Over the breakfast table he vouchsafed to explain himself. " I'm off to town for the day."

Marion's heart Bank with dismay; she knew what would come of that.

" Shall you return to-night 1" she ventured. All the reply she got was a grunt, which might mean anything. Marion's heart swelled with indignation, and angry words rose to her lips, bat she swallowed them down and kept silent. Afterwards how thankful she was for thiß. Even now she had her reward ; just as Ellray was starting he spoke a kinder word than he had done for long before.

" Look here, Marion, if you are lonely just lock up and ride over to the settlement. Things will go on all right without you."

Surprised at the unwonted thoughtfulness, Marion looked up gratefully.

11 Thank you, Frank, I will see about It." Yet she knew, and bo did Ellray, that things would not go all right without her. Marion watched her husband, and then went back to her work. They kept no servant. Dr Ellray eaid he oould not afford it, and really with only the two of them Marion could not need telp. What did other women do ? He forgot Marion'e up-brir>ging. All things considered, it was wonderful how she had adapted ierseli to Jaer circumßtanceß— teaching net*

self to do the things that must be done, wondering sometimes what her dear old grandfather would have said or what Philip would say could they see her toiling at the rough, hard work of a settler's wife.

By the time she had milked their one cow that morning, made up the butter, and finished her housework Marlon was tired out So much the better ; she would Bleep well. She did not mind solitude in the daytime—, preferred it, indeed, to any society she might have had ; but the long, lonely nights with six miles between her and the nearest neighbour were a terror to her. The war was not long over; Marlon had all a new chum's dread of the nativeß, and would lie Bhlverlng with fright for hours, fancying she heard stealthy footsteps round the house, construing the melancholy hoot of ths morepork into a signal of attack. So now, tired as Bhe was, Marion would not rest. She took up a halffinished Nikau hat, telling herself it must be ready for Sunday. Whenever possible she rode over to the settlement for the afternoon service. It was a long distance, but Marion did not mind that. Frank sneered and grumbled, but still Marion went. This was one of tbe things she would not give up. The Bweet familiar service helped her through many a trying hour.

Marion's hat was growing into shape and prettineßß under her skilful fingers when Bhe heard the sound of a horse approaching. Oould Frank have returned after all? Marion sprang up. It was not her husband, however, but her minister. What could bring him at this hour 1 The old gentleman dismounted and, fastening Mb horse, came Blowly forward. Marion looked at him.

" Something is wrong," she exclaimed. " Yes, Mr 3 Ellray ; but not very much, we hope. Your husband has met with rather a nasty accident." " Where is he 1 Are they bringing him home 1 "

" Why, no ; we thought it better not. He iB at my house, Mrs Ellray, and has sent me over for you.'" Tbe minister's cheerfnl, confident tone did not deceive Marion. She felt it was assumed.

"Come in and reßt yourself," she said quietly. " I will not be long." In spite of bis protestations she would set some refreshment before him, and then she went to catch and saddle her pony. That she, Marion Ellray, of Ellray Manor, should ever have to milk cowb or saddle horses I would once have seemed to her quite impossible. It is an old saying—" No one knows what he can do till he tries." Bhe was soon ready. On their way to tbe village she learned such particulars of the accident as her companion could give. It appeared that Dr Ellray had loitered at the hotel till past noon. He set off at last in no condition to manage a horse. Two hours later the horee came back riderlese, and search being made, the doctor'a insensible form was discovered by the roadßide. He was terribly injured. Mr Lawry tried to prepare tbo poor wife for tbe sight she must witness. "Is there— is there any hope 1 " she forced herself to ask The minister ehook hiß bead. He regarded her with compassion — and with some wonder. He knew ,what Ellray was. Could this women, bo infinitely her hußband'B Buperior, really love the man 1 Marion almost wondered at herself — at the new rueh of tenderness she felt towards Frank. She forgot all the long years of ill-treatment. He was her husband, and he was dying. Poor Frank I poor Frank 1 In her desperate anxiety she urged her horsa to a gallop. And yet when at length she knelt at her husband's side he did not know her. He remained unconscious till midnight, and so died.

When all was over, and her husband's affairs came to be looked into, Marion found, to her dismay, that she waa soma hundreds of pounds in debt. True, no one could have come on her for the money, but that of course made no difference. Her husband's name mußt be cleared ; those just debts must be paid. Only give her time and they tiiould be paid. The creditors were pitiful and patient. Marion would give her annuity, and as much more as she could earn. She decided to move into town and try for music pupils. It was not a pleasant prospect, but It seemed tbe only course open to her. She might have applied to her cousin Philip, but in all her married life Marion had never sent home the least hint of her husband's ill conduct, and she would not betray him now ; so in the letter announcing Frank's death, she made no mention of her money difficulties. This was the first letter she had written to Philip since ber marriage. Dr Ellray had been intensely bitter against him, and had forbidden all correspondence. Excepting the letters of an old maiden lady who lived In Thornyhurst, Marion had been without news of her childhood's home and her old friends for ten long years. It was not the least of her trials. She knew that Philip was still nnmanied; ana that on the rector's death, a few yearß previously, he had succeeded to the living. But that was all.

Again it Is Christmas Day, bright and sunshiny, the great heat tempered by fresh sea breezeß. Marion EUray sits by the window of her little room watching the people as they stream past, all in their fresh, cool summer attire. Most of them, on pleasure bent, are laden with baskets; they will eat their Christmas dinner under the trees in the domain, or on one of the fairy islands whioh stud the gulf. There are family parties, groups of young people — significant pairs I— and all are merry and happy. Marion Blghs and turns away. From her window she has a good view of tbe oity of Auckland, with its hills and hollows, irregular and pioturesque. Beyond lie the broad waters of the Waitemata, iparkling in the sunlight and alive with oraf t of every description — from the fussy little ferry steamer, with its trail of black smoke, to the newlyarrived English vessel moving slowly up to tbe wharf. Marion gazes at this last hungrily. It Beems like a bit of home. What would she not give for one glimpse of dear old Tbornybnrst, shrouded in its mantle of snow 1 She closes her eyes, and the scene come? before her with startling vividness. A great homesickness has come upon Marion lately. She has made no friends in Auckland ; she Is " too stiff." People mistake her > cbjaeiß for piWe, rod resent it. J?ujd]ls ebb

haß— not many, and it will be long enough at this rate before the debts are paid off.

And even were she free to leave, there is no place for her in Thornyhurst. She takes a letter from her pocket, and smoothes it out. It is from that old friend of hers, Miss Manley — a long, go*sipy letter, such as exiles love to receive. It came by the last mail, and in her hurry to open it Marion tore a little bit out of the centre. Such a very little bit, and Marion knows well enough what the mutilated word is. She turns to that part of her letter now : —

"I told you last year of the beautiful young heiress who has come to live in your old home, and of the shameful manoauverieg which was goinsj on among the mothers wif h marriageable sons to secure this great catoh. Well, all that is at an end now, for the county has just been electrified — and diegnsted — by the announcement of her engagement to Mr ray. (This is where Marion tore her letter, but she knew well whose name it was.} Everyone considers she is throwing herself away. I don't ; the man and hiß profession are worthy of the best, and I have seen few better women in my time than Alice Lisle. Rich, beautiful, and courted, yet quite unspoiled, eho will make a model clergyman's wife. Your old poor Eeople cannot praise her enough ; and she as won my heart by coming to sit and cbat with mo just as you used to do. But do not be afraid, my dear ; there are no friends like the old friends. We have none of us forgotten you, Marion."

"No one— except.Phillp 1 " thought Marlon bitterly. "No wonder he never answered my last letter. But no— dear Philip, dear brother I— I will not think he has forgotten me. I ought to be glad he is happy at last, with one worthy of him. lam glad." In proof whereof Marion hid her face, and wept bitterly. But not for long did Marion yield thus to her feellngß. The bells were ringing for church. Bathing her eyes, and drawing a thick veil over her bonnet, Marion set forifo. There was but a scanty congregation. She bad a long Beat all to herself, save for a gentleman at the further end. The service soothed and • strengthened her. Absorbed in thought, she hardly notioed when it came to an end ; until all at once, becoming conscious that she was keeping the other occupant of the seat a prißoner, she rose hurriedly. Their eyes meet. " Marion 1" •' Philip 1 oh, Philip 1" So sudden and unexpected was the meeting that Marion turned dizzy. Mr Ellray supported her to the door, where the freßh air soon revived her. She clung to her cousin's arm, saying, with a sob in her voice : " Ob, dear Philip llam so glad— bo glad, to Bee you." Until that moment she had not realised how lonely she had been.

"I think you have wanted someone to look after you," said Mr Ellray, regardirg her with an unsteady smile. " I came aa soon as I conld."

" But when did you arrive 1 " "At 1 o'clock this morning," and he pointed to the English vefsel lying at anchor.

11 Ab,'*Baid Marion, "she gave me a fit of homesickness this morning. I little imagined you were on board her." How delightful it was to be talklDg to Philip just as she used to talk I She rested her eyes on thß dear familiar face, bo little altered. She had been feeling quite old that morning ; now it seemed impossible that eleven years should have passed since she and Philip parted. " How gocd of him," she thought. "to come this great distance just to care lor me I I wonder if— if he Is yet married."

But somehow it was Impossible to ask that question. They ate their Christmas dinner together, and spent the afternoon in happy talk. " You are the same Marion," said Philip, breakiDg a pleasant silence. "Far less altered than I feared to find you. How Thornyhurst will rejoice at your return I "

Marion looked up. 41 Of course I shall take you back with me," said Mr Ellray resolutely. " Your old home is waiting for you, Marlon ; It has never been the same since you went away." " It has been worthily occupied," eho ventured to say. Philip's face lfghtad up. "Yes, Indeed; Alice Lisle is a woman In a thousand. Think of her giving up everything that makes life attractive to share the toil of an East End London clergyman. . But Gray is worthy of her. You remember him, Marion ? "

Marion's heart gave a great leap. " Gray ? Did Miss Lisle marry Walter Gray 1 " "Of course. Mlbb Manley told me she had written to you about It." Marion said nothing, but mentally resolved to cut her letters open in future. The return to England having been deolded upon, Marlon had to make known to Philip the state of her affairs. Whatever Mr Ellray thought of Frank's conduct, he said nothing to her, but next day brought her a cheque for £500. " Take It," he Bald ; "it is rightfully yours. If you only knew what a mieery that trust has been to me 1 " So that was settled, and In a few weeks more Marlon had looked her last on New Zealand.

It is New Year's Eve. Marlon has been back in her old home for nearly nine months. Thorny hurst had indeed rejoiced at her return, as Philip had predicted It would, and none of her old friends had a warmer welcome for her than little Miss Manley. Marion finding the old lady in very straitened circumstances, put the finishing touch to her happiness by taking her to tbe Hall as companion. On this New Year's Eve Marlon stands looking into the fire, feeling rather weary. She has been entertaining the entire juvenile population of Thorny hurst. Tbey have but just gone, and Philip, who has been seeing them away, comes in and stands by her side. Neither speak. Marion'B thoughts fly back to just such an afternoon 12 years ago. How different — oh, how different her life haß been from what she then imagined s and for Philip— he had probably long ago forgotten the words he then spoke, and she must forget them too. But Philip put out his hand and drew her towards him, Marion lifted her sweet eyea to his faoe, and they understood each other without need of words. That eight as Marion sat by her window looking outjm B.white* fflsonliu jiQilfl.iihera

suddenly dashed out a merry peal from the old church tower. The New Year was born.

Some words which had been haunting Marion all the evening fell now Into rhythm with the measured chime :— King out tho oW, ring in the new, King happy bells across the snow. Tho year is going, let it go Ring out the false, riug in the true. [Tub End.]