THE ENCUMBRANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2497, 22 January 1902, Page 82

THE ENCUMBRANCE.

By Gilbert Dayle.

The fine autumn afternoon was drawing to a close, and the first grey shades of the approaching evening had settled on the little seaside town of Reddlesea. Along the lonely front, walking with a slight limp, yet holding himself perfectly erect, paced the major. He was a man well advanced ki years, with a thin, refinedlooking face, his hair white and closecropped. His clothes were old-fashioned in style, yet had evidently been kept with scrupulous care; the tight-buttoned frock coat fitted his trim, sparse figure perfectly, and was spotless. A coastguardsman, passing, touched his cap respectfully. Everyone in ReddLesea knew the major and his history. It was fifteen years ago when Godfrey Everard, having been invalided out of service on account of a leg wound received in some hrll fighting in India, had come amongst them, bringing with him his little daughter, an only child. A major's retired pay is not large, and with no private money to help him, an existence in a small, out-of-the-way place like Reddlesea was the only thing possible. He had rented Lyndale Cottage, a pretty little place on the outskirts of the town, and there, with her father as her sole companion, Christine Everard passed the years that had brought her to womanhood. At the end of the front the major had paused, and was gazing seawards. There was a certain look of despondency on his face. "So the boy is back again —arrived suddenly from London. I wonder what he has come for?'" he murmuied, reflectively. He stood for some moments thinking, an anxious?, troubled expression in his eyes. Presently he roused himself with an effort. "Oh, I'm a jealous old fool to worry," he growled. Then, glancing at his watch, he turned and struck out briskly in a homeward direction. It was 5 o'clock when he reached the cottage, and, as he opened the door, his old servant came out into the hall and met him. She gave a mysterious jerk of her finger towards the parlour. ''She's here, sir," she whispered. "Having tea with Miss Christine —a book and heaps of flowers this time!" she added, a grin spreading over her homely features. The major's mouth twitched slightly. Martha was privileged. "Very kind —very kind, indeed, of her!' he said solemnly. He opened "the door of the parlour boldly and entered the loom. A middleaged "lady with a good-tempered, smiling face and a -wonderful bonnet rose and greeted him effusively. "My dear major,'"' she cried, giasping him by the hand. '1 just dropped in for a minute to ask if you and Christine would come up to lunch to-morrow. She insisted that I should stop to tea and wait for you." Mrs. Benisher was a widow. She had been left with a cheerful hou&e and a comfortable income, and for the last ten years she had known the major and Christine and been unremitting in her attentions to the lonely pair. That she frankly admired the major was no secret, but he, with the recollections of the quiet, delicate woman who had been his wife, shrank from the advances of this thoroughly well-meaning but somewhat boisterous lady. vShe chatted incessantly, whilst the major listened with a charming air of oldfashioned couitesy. At length, when the smiling Martha had lemoved the tea things, Mrs Benisher stood up and announced her intention of going. The major saw her to the door, and leturning to the room, sank down in his chair, with a sigh of relief. "If only she would not talk so much and give me things !" he said pathetically. Christine came over to him and dropped on one knee beside him. " The fact is. father, dear," she said naively, "we're too fond of our own society! " He looked down on the fair young face for a moment, then bent forwnid and kissed her lightly on the forehead. " Yes, I want nobody but you, my dear," he said softly. " You shall always have me," she said with a smile, then ri«ing she got her woik and seated herself at the table near him. His gaze for a moment wandered round the neat little room with its hundred evidences of a gentle well-ordered life. He glanced at the delicate outline of the girlV sweet face, bent under the lamplight. " We've got on splendidly together, haven't we, Chris ; " he said suddenly. "We cou'.dn't do without one another now ? " There was a pause before the girl answered. Her head bent a little nearer to her work. "No dear, of course not,"' she answered in lather a low voice. Thf*n >-he rai«ed her head an'l s-miled brightly at him. " You are all I have, and you have on'y me ! ' <he added with the slightest tremble in her voice. '' Yes —only you ! 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soft sigh He picked up his newsp^ier and began to read it. Now and again nis eye would drift over the edge to the quiet figure working so industriously. At a quarter to 7 he rose. On two evenings a week he spent an hour at the Vicarage in connection with some church accounts. Christine went with him to the hall and helped him on with his coat. * " I shall be back by B—we8 — we must have our game then," he said as he kissed her. Every evening the two played a game of che^s. He limped away on his journey to the Vicarage. The work there was soon got through, and an hour later he was again entering the gaiden of his cottage. The night air had struck him as somewhat cold, and, seeing the window of the parlour open, he crossed the lawn with the intention of shutting it from the outside. As he put his hand on the framework, the sound of a man's voice inside the room caught his ears. He recognised it at once as that of Lionel Carruthers, the son of an old friend in the town, and as fine a young fellow as could be met. A nameless dread seemed To clutch at his heart, and almost unconsciously his ears strained for the words. " It's a wonderful chance for me, Christime," he was saying eagerly. " They have appointed me manager of all their Canadian business with a house in Montreal. I came down at once to tell father, then to ask you. dear " The Major put out a hand to steady himself. The thing which he had dreaded for yeais had come at last. " I know it is asking a lot of you to leave everything and come with me," went on the voice. " But I know you love me — you have told me so yourself ! " There was a pause, then the old man heard her voice — it was low and trembling. " Yes, I love you, Lionel — but I can't come." The Major drew in a deep breath. '" Oh, don't ask me any more! " continued the girl — there were tears in her voice now, and the Major felt his eyes .smart. "It is breaking my heart to say ' no,' but I cannot go ! Remember lam all that father has — think how good he has Been to me, how we have spent every minute together — I can't leave him here alone — go abroad, desert him altogether," she said with a sob. The Major leant against the window sill ; the ne<ct words passed him in a confused murmur. When he roused himself he heard young Lionel's voice again. "' You are right, dearest," he was saying hoarsely. " Still, it is very hard ! lam going now. To-morrow I shall come and say " good-bye ' to your father and yourself." Slowly, with a dazed expression, the Major turned and limped across the grass, through the gate and out on to the road again. He made his way round to the tiny front and paced its length, his head in a whirl. " At last, it has come — I am the encumbrance," he said with a groan. « For almost an hour he strode up and clown, wrestling with the thoughts in his brain. Suddenly he stopped and jerked hi< shoulders back. "She shan't do it — hang me if she shall !" he exclaimed fiercely. With an air of resolution he turned, and, crossing the front, walked along the main «treet. Finally he paused before the door of a comfortable looking house at the farther end of the town. For a moment he stood hesitating, with his hand on the brightly-polished bell-handle. Then, pressing his lips firmly together, he pulled it. "Is Mrs Benisher in?" he inquired of the seivant who opened the door. "Yes, sii ; will you come in, please?" For a second the major paused, then, as if nerving himself with an effort, he stepped briskly over the threshold, and the door closed upon him. Tne ntxt morning he T\as. down a little later than usual. Chustine met him with a smile. He noticed she "was somewhat pale. "Late nights at the Vicarage don't agree with you,"' --he said as she kissed him. They were both rather silent during breakfast. Afterwards Christine busied herself with house duties for some time, \\ hilst the major strolled in the garden in front of the house. Presently she came out to him. "Isn't it a lovely morning, father, dear?" she cried. "Christine, dear." he bagen with an attempt to impait some gaity into his fone. "I have great news for you. Listen !" There was a sound of the garden gate optning. Christine pressed his arm warnmgly. He turned and saw young Lionel Cdiiuthers entering the garden. "Ah, Lionel," lie cried, as he grasped the young man's hand warmly, "you aie just in time to hear the news I was about to tell Christine. ' His mouth twitched nervously. "You see, my dear, I've been thinking lately that it is not good for a young girl like you to have only my society, so " He paused. "Well, last night I asked Zvlrs Benisher to marry me, and she consented!" he finished in a rush. The two stood gazing at him in amazement. "Father!" exclaimed Christine, bewildered. He patted her aim affectionately. ' You see, my dear, anything might happ» n to take 3 011 away from me, and you would not like to think I was left alone. Some day you may even be married," he «did, smiling biavely at the pair. The gill gave a start, and a swift wave of colour swept over her cheek. She caught him by the sleeve and looked searchinglv into hi> face 'Bt Ceiuse f Understood, dear!" he said, and there wd«- a slight tremble in his voice. ''Because I kiuu you wouldn't have gone otherwise ' 'llieie w,i> ;i, sourd of quiik footsteps, and \l»rth.t nishtd out evf the hou<-e She was vis.bly (\ itcl, niifl <. 111 ltd 111 lit 1 h.md a ma_'ii,fici 111 bnuqui-t of n»-e--. 'Mis Bf-jnWi..) s s t |-v«i»t h>~- ]'"■[ ]>:nu_-')t ftt&6& iQi" iOU, i*i 1" fcilS. fciiiieik "Ajid ill*

told me something ; oh, yon don't mean to say, sir. she has got you at last !" The major smiled. "Yes, Martha, I have surrendered," he said, serenely. Christine was watching him with the tears glistening in her eyes. He drew her gently to him and kissed her, then grasped Lionel by the arm. "Be good to her," he said, softly. He caught up the roses, and with a' bright smile at them, turned and limped slowly across to' the Jiouse. — M.A.P. -