Chapter VI.

Otago Witness, Issue 2130, 20 December 1894, Page 9

Chapter VI.

Forsaken.

We must now, however, return to Jess. The tears she shed when parting with her lover were quickly dried by her glowing cheeks when she remembered that in two or three short weeks he would return to claim her for bla own.

Old Duncan and his son Wiliiam were astonished at her blythe and gay spirits. Never had they seen her so happy and joyous, 30 full of song and laughter, and they began to congratulate themselves that their fears that the visitor had captivated her heart were groundless. " Aye, lad," said Duncan, " the laßsie was no the fule we thocht her— we wranged her, laddie, we wranged her." " Two weeks more, one week more, and he will be here, my prince 1 my king 1 to claim his beggar maid I I wonder my heart does not burst with joy and gladness I " When the third week came and passed without word or siijn her ipirits fell somewhat, not much — for how could she know what business arrangement's had delayed him? Oh, ne, she must not be impatient and fretful and neither the father nor his son perceived any change In her: but when quite alone and her work done she could not help feeling to some extent the heart-sickness of hope deferred. As day after day passed by, in spite of all her noble efforts the heartsickness grew harder and harder to bear, and an intolerable weight began to oppress her ; not that as yet did she distrust her Peroy. Oh, no ; had Bhe not looked down into his eyes and read every thought of his heart 1 Was he not noble and true to the core? Oh, he must be ill— that was the cause of the delay In his return. Where was he 1 Why could she not fly to help him, to nurse him 7

Still the slow weeks went past— two months now since he had left with that last fond look of love through the window ; and now three months are gone, and stillno word — not even one little letter. First doubts had arisen of his truth and probity to be at once crushed down ; but again and again, like the Hydra's hundred heads, would they arise, and now at last she reluctantly admitted to herself that her Percy, her hero, was faithless ; but even now her true spirit made excuses for him. It was but natural —it was but right, that he should think of others, his friends and relatives, who would never forgive him for wedding a poor little maid like her. Oh, yes, he was quite right, quite justified, in leaving her, but, oh I he might have Bent her just one loving farewell. No 1 no 1 she would cry again ; it was his love for me prevented his writing. He could not bear to give me pain, and perhaps he thinks, he hopes, I shall forget him. How little he knows I I shall dio. I can never live through it ; but I must try to hide it all. They must not suspect — no one must suspect what took place between U3 ; and, loyal to the last, the brave girl tried to be as cheerful as ever, and firmly believed that she had succeeded.

But did she succeed 1 Ah ! no I Duncan M'Lean and his son viewed with surprise and growing uneasiness the change in poor Jess. No longer bright and happy, the songs had died on her lips, the spring gone from her step, pale and wan and thin she crept about the house. She still tried to keep up appearances at times, forced herself to laugh and chatter, but it was but a ghastly caricature of the old happy light-hearted girl. One day towards the end of May William M'Laan found himself alone with Jess. He was a lad of some 23 years of age, naturally sombre, heavy, and somewhat sullen in his disposition, and the alteration in Jess, whom he had truly learned to love, although from his undemonstrative nature he had not allowed the strength of his love to appear, had tended to render him more brusque and blunt in manner than ever.

"Jess, what is the matter with you ?" he iald. "Something is wrong. You never laugh and sing now } you have grown thin and pale and you eat nothing at all. What Ib It, Jess ? 41 Nonsense, William, it is nothing at all; I am quite wall anlioUn it is lust jour fanoy.^

"My fanoy, is It, my girl? Now just listen to me. It has something to do with that d d tourist, that's what it is," he answered savapely, " for a few weeks after he was gone you were gayer than ever, and since then you have grown worse and worse. Why shonld this be ? There is only one interpretation of it, and this is it : You have ever kept me at arm's length. ' Hands off,' you cry, and I have ouly loved you the more for it. Bat it has not been so with this young sprig of fashion. You have given him liberty which you denied to others, and now the consequences are at hand and you are afraid. Jesa I Jess 1 my girl, don't be afraid of me. Look, lam ready to marry you tomorrow and take all the blame on myself. Come, Jess, that's a fair offer. It shows I truly love you, don't it, lass? What say? Will ye take me now ? "

For a time Jess did not seem to understand William's allusion ; then, as its meaning broke upon her brain, she started back flushing with indignation.

" How dare you, William ? How dare you to speak so to me ? I thought you knew me better than to imagine such wiokedness of me. I'll tell father of you, I will, and I'll never speak to you again," and than came a flood of angry tears.

"You'll tell father of me, will you?' 1 queried Will. "Well, I'll call him myself ," and going to the door, he shouted, " Father, come here a minute."

" Coming, lad, coming," replied old Duncan, and in a moment more be entered the room.

" Father," cried poor Jess, " Willlambasbaen acoueing me of a horrid sin, and then says he loves me ; " and running to the old man and throwing her arms round his neck, she whispered, "You don't believe your little Jofs could, could be so wioked, do you 1 "

" Speak out, father," cried Will. "It is of no use to be mealy-mouthed now ; tell her straight out what we thought."

" Aye, aye I lassie, my pulr lassie," sighed the old man as he stroked her hair, "we ken that the heart of man is desperately wicked — the Bible tells us that — and that a puir little hts&ie like you is weak and easily led ; and now what ia to be done, lassie ? Ye must just confess your fault to your Maker, and He will forgi'e ye, lae«ie ; and then, ye see, Wullie loes ye sac weel that he will condone it a' lassie, and that will put ye right in the sight of the warld ; and wi' the blessing o' the Almighty we will be happy as aver and forget that serpent who entered our garden o' Eden and tempted our puir little Evo," and with his eyes full of tears the good old man patted her head. For a long, long minute Jess remained, her head buried in his shoulder; then slowly raising her face, blanohed to the lips, she gazed steadfastly at him, when, oovering her face with both her hands, she left the room muttering, " You too ; you too." The two men stood Rtaricg at one another. 11 It is all well, father," said Will ; " she will come round to-morrow."

"I'm no that sure," returned his father, shaking his bead gravely. " I'm thinking we're a' i' the wrang, lad — that's no weak and sinf v' lassie."

In the meantime Jess bad crept away to her room. Stunned, with a stony look on her pale face, she sat down on the side of her bed. Her little world seemed upside down. Her lover was faithless 1 She was alone 1 Those whom she looked tip to as her adopted father and brother have failed her in the hour of her trouble— nay, more, they believed her guilty of a sin at which her pure womanly nature revolted, and not this alone, but for the first time she perceived the difference in their natures. The calm coar«e way in which they contemplated this sin and proposed to condone it shocked and alarmed the pure virtuous spirit of the girl. " I must go," she muttered. " I cannot stay here — meet them every day I No ! I must go away— all alone I— all alone \ " As the thought passed through her mind, like a flash from Heaven or the whisper of a guardian angel came the verse, " When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." In a sudden flood came the relief-bearing tears, and Bhe threw herself on her knees to pour out her troubles to her heavenly Fathor. Then quickly packing up her small treasures and taking from a drawer a few notes, the result of the sale of her father's medical books and instruments, she stole out of the honse and caught the coach whioh passed the corner of the road a few hundred yards away, and by midday she was dropped In the town of Cromwell.