BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 72

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

By Fairy Tale..

Bsauty and the Beast! That is what - they were called, and a very good name it was for them—especially to all who knew the Beast and understood the fairy tale. She was young and beautiful, and he was of maimed and ungainly stature. When they first ;ame to live in the parish much curiosity was aroused as to how Colonel Cranky —who was old and battle-worn —had come into possession of i such a fair young wife; and many wonderful romances were accordingly woven. But no one ever knew the exact truth about it, except the family lawyer and the clergyman who declared them man and j wife. As it all happened years ago, and the actors in this drama, are long since dead, there is no further need for secrecy, so T, Nathaniel Burton, barrister and solicitor, may be allowed to tell all I know of the story, as tli9 memory of it still haunts me in niy pensive moments. One night, many years ago, I was sitting by my solitary fireside, enjoying the sensation of rest after severe physical fatigue, as I had spent a long day in the saddle, having ridden some distance to visit one of my oldest and most influential clients, when a Message came from "Lady Staines requesting a business interview at her house early next morning on a matter of importance. Thi somewhat aroused my curiosity, as the firm of Ferguson and Bates was always i known to act for the Staines family. So on the morrow, aftei a hurried bieakfast, I made haste to await her ladyship's instructions. It appeared that her cousin, Bertram Barclay, a young Indian officer, who had no nearer relative living than herself, had sent Home to England his little daughter — only a few months old —to her keeping, with, no further information than that he had losrt his wife, and the request that I, who had bee> his playmate in earlier years, should share the office of trustee witli her ladyship, who was a true gentlewoman; - and although she had no '-hildren of her own, Mas well fitted to supply the place ! of mother to the child until his return. Little did I think when I saw the tiny bundle of what appeared to me shawls and lace in the nurse's arms how much that little life would afterwards help to fill up my own, and create in my heart a love and affection I might otherwise never have known. But enough —it is not of my own story T write. Time passed on, and the little^girl grew through the various stages of childhood. Each year endeared he. the more to those ar-ouna her. I can remember her now as I sit back in my chair and watch the clouds )f smoke as they curl upwards —a little toddling thing of two or three summers, that was sometimes allowed to Walkout in the garden by my side when I paid my periodical visits of trust. I can see t>he laughing face peep from behind the cluster of roses, tempting the sedate business man to a game of hide and seek; and then, again — but why these reminiscences? They crowd in upon my memory, making the past a dream and the present desolate. When the child reacr^d- the age of twelve or thirteen years,' Lady Staines died suddenly, leaving me ole guardian. What to do with my :harge was a question which puzzled me not a little. My home— the 'ionic of a lonely bachelor —was not a place suitable foi the little girl who required a woman's tender care in place of the mother's lovf which had been denied her. So, after mature consideration, a ladies' school suggested itself, and thither she was sent to spend three )'ears of her life, during which, time I only saw her at intervals. Her father, through various reasons, had been prevented from -etui^ning to England, and never having seen the child since her extreme bab}*hood, seemed hardly to realise that more was necessary fo* her welfare than a good education and the comfortable means he was willing to supply her with. But now that the girl was rapidly developing into- woman, I felt it my duty to ippeal to his paternal instincts by representing to aim the necessity for some alteration in the sy.st€m management, which had the effect of speedily bringing him back to England, accompanied bj a brother officer, Colonel Allcrdyce Cranley, who had proved himself a loyal and true friend in years gone by. Katherine, who had been named after her god-mother, Lady Staines, was now sixteen yeai-s of age, and greeted the father whom she had never known with a gentle shyness which, along with her other personal charms, quite won his heart. Colonel Cranley was also present at that first meeting, and I remembered feeling an unreasonable jealousy as I watched the two men, who could not disguise their admiration when they noted her natural grace of form and movement. What right had they to come and claim the child who knew them not, and perhaps take her away from me? Only the right of parent and god-father, I reminded myself; but I felt for the first time what I had never realised before — that she was Barclay's ;hild, not mine. His thanks and latitude for the part I had played in her up-bringing were fully acknowledged, and I shared her love. So I had nothing to complain of. After this Cranley, although not actually a resident, was a constant visitor at the house, where we often met, and as I came to know more of the man I thought less and less of his outward deformity. The casket was battered-, but the jewel within had remained uninsured. For two years Bertram Barclay enjoyed the companionship of his daughter, keeping an ever-watchful cari over her, allowing her few friends, or even acquaintances — guarding her jealously against the possibility of a suitor for her hand, but showing her every other thoughtful paternal attention witEn his power. Xhi&- \ w.aa lor pome time mrf fij»lc fe

understand, and how Tring "tils sfa-te of things could have continued it is impossible to say, had not something occurred to put an end to it. The change of climate tad affected him seriousiv, and for some months his health had shown signs of declining. A chill, caught one day in the hunting field, proved fatal, after having lingered about him for the winter months, during which time the girl waited upor him with a tender and loving devotion, which was as beautiful as rare in one so young. It was then— on a bright spring morning, when her own young life seemed fair and hopeful as the season— that the father, with regretful pity, told the child the secret of her birth. Three of us besides Barclay and his daughter— namely, Colonel Allerdyce Cranley, the local clergyman, and myself — were present at that sad interview, whither we had besn hastily summoned, and as we entered the room the slight girlish figure was bending low over her fathex*, giving him the strengthening stimulant necessary to sustaiD him during the coming ordeal. In obedience to her father's command she sat down upon a low chair at his side as he began his story. It appeared that Barclay at an. early age had been^sent to India with his regiment. Being naturally of a trusting and romantic temperament he had, at that time, held ex- . travagantly high ideals of life and its pos-" sibilities, with no thought oi suspicion of the falseness and insincerity such dispositions are often subjected to. When he was still quite a lad he had loved, with the first ardour of youth, a woma.i several years older than himself, whom he had, in good faith, married. - Little more than a year had elapsed when circumstances provided convincing proof that the marriage had been no more than a ceremony, and that he could never legally be her husband so long as another man, to whom sbe had been previously 'married, still lived. By this time the woman's true characterhad revealed itself, extinguishing the love he had so ardently bestowed, and the young man would gladly have welcomed his happy release had it not bsen for the fact that a little girl had been born a few weeks previously. Bai-clay, who was sore perplexed, took Cranley. his friend and comrade, into his confidence, the .result bein^, that the little girl had been sent home to his cousin, Lady Staines, who never received any detailed account of all that had happened in India, as he had purposely withheld any facts which might be prejudicial to the child's future welfare. On his return to England he had found the child no longer a child, and not until then had he realised the fact that in. the event of her marriage the secre' of necessity must be told. This now explained the reason of the seclusion in which she had been kept. The story was a severe shock to th© sensitive girl, who bore it with fortitude and courage, never " by thought or word blaming the unhappy father ' for the part he had unconsciously played in staining her bix'thriglit, and she clung to him all the more, as being the one person who would not visit her mother's iniquity upon her. I, as notary, have" seen many deathbeds, but I never saw a sadder or more impressive scene thap that, when the young girl, stricken with grief and shame, sat by the side oi her father in the abandonment of all that can hold life most dear. It is not for me to dwell upon the question of right and wrong, nor it is for me to do more than tell the story exactly as it happened ; but I do now confess that I then, for the first time, understood the full responsibility of a parent and the meaning ot the words, "sins of the fathers." Colonel Cranley stood behind her, and bore the resemblance of a faithful dog watching over a sleeping child. His love for her was only equalled by her father's and my own. Barclay, feeling that he could only die happily knowing that his child's future was provided for, almost with his dying breath joined theii hands and exacted the promise that these twe would wed. Shortly afterwards Colonel and Mrs Allerdyce Cranley went to live at Cranley Court, where I was permitted to visit them at will, always receiving a gentle, though hearty, welcome. Cranley proved himself a true, man, and gentle as* a woman with the orphan girl, who could not fail to give him in return that love, borne of gratitude, which he knew was all he could expect, and which he was quite satisfied to accept, never forgetting his ungainly gait and seniority of years. Cranley Court has now changed its owners, having passed on to another branch of the family, but there are many who still remember, and ofttimes repeat, with love in their hearts and tears in their eyes, stories of the colonel and his gentle lady. Years have passed since then and I am an old man now, but I still sit and dream of the young life that taught me many things I might never otherwise have known, and the supreme power a little child can sometimes wield over the heart of a man.

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