THE END THEREOF.

Otago Witness, Issue 2652, 11 January 1905, Page 82

THE END THEREOF.

By Babbie the Egyptian. 'I

(For the Witness.) But who shall so forecast the years, And find in. loss a. gain to match ? Or reach a hand thro' time to catch \ The fax-off interest of tears? I "I am afraid that you are choosing husks," Guy Fraser said earnestly, after 1 i a tense silence.. ( ' j "You, need not so fear," Ella Fernley j answered, quickly and resolutely. "I have thought much about the matter, and I know that the choice which I have made offers to me greater possibilities of satisfaction than the alternative does. There is no need to dwell any longer on the subject, unless, of course" — -here the speaker's eyes softened and glowed with a faint hope — "you have changed your mind." The man shook his head sadly, and sighed. Who among the sons, of men "would not have sighed in this case? The woman he loved, andl who loved him, had decidedly set aside his claims and her own happiness in order, to' pursue that fickle and uncertain jade, "Fame." He was sorry for Ella, but he was far more sorry for himself. — Presently he brok*the silence, ■wearily: "You have made up your mind, and I suppose that I must Reconcile myself to v your will ; " but, Ella, jby your departure you are shadowing any life. I have^always thought' that - you cared! for me, ' and tha't-^-" -- , - - Ella's - eyes .-ere - intensely -wistful, although- she interrupted! --him impatiently. -"Guy," she said, "there is no use in going over th© old ground. , You know that your friendship "is very dear to me, but I have come to loathe .my present existence. If only you would give up your work and take me to Melbourne, or, perhaps, ev«n to Londoni — anyway, to some large centre, in which I could gain experience of the world ! I hays within me the power to write ; you know that, and I long unutterably for wider scope. Take me away, Guy; let us learn together- in a "wider world. I am not afraid of temporary poverty or of hardship. You have it in you to rise in your profession. Come, throw up your life in this corner, and come with me out into the world. Come ! ft She extended her hands toward him. He caught them fiercely, and drew her within the circle of his arms. His breath came quickly and passionately; he showered kisses on the fair face. Only for an instant did he yield to the tempting proposal; then, with a quick, indrawn .breath, he pushed her almost roughly away. "What of my mother?" he asked, suddenly ; and at the question all hope lett the grey eyes which but a moment previously had been radiant with bliss. "She would live with your sister," the woman faltered, and added feelingly, "It. is her happiness or mine. Do not answer me now; wait until to-morrow." "As yoji wish," he answered, heavily, and soon afterwards went out into the night, his heart burdened to breaking point with his own loneliness. It was longpast midnight when he entered his home. The weary hours had been, spent in a mental conflict so severe that the marks i thereof were plainly visible upon his face and in his heavy eyes. Fraser was a , strong man, physically and mentally,, and .

the temptation had been of unusual strength. Ella Fernley was possessed of a clever, fascinating personality. Added to this was the undoubted fact of her love for him. And she had offered herself to him if only he would leave behind the petty village life which was as dry ashes to his soul. How he longed to possess her, even as he possessed her love ! To have her within his home, although that home were but a hovel, would make it a palace of delight. She satisfied every longing of his soul, occupied every nook in his heart, and yet he dared -not accept all the bliss she offered. Stern duty refused to allow him to comply with the one condition that she had imposed. To leave Sacktown without first securing for himself a good income meant that the homo of his father must be sold, and that meant grief to his mother. True, the property w"as his ; it had been left to him, and on him devolved the duty of clearing off the heavy mortgage. But his mother loved the old place, and to leave her home would be as death to her. Guy sighed wearily as he turned the key in the lock. In the wide hall an old lady, his mother, met him. "You are very late," she remarked inquiringly^ as she drew off his overcoat. "I am," he answered contritely, "and you ought not to have waited up for me." "I was anxious ; besides," with moro than a suspicion of trouble in her tone, "I have something to tell you." "Come into my snuggery," he said, taking her arm gently and leading her to an open door; "it suits my mood to-night, and we can talk at ease there." He seated her in an easy chair, and made himself comfortable on the floor, placing his head on her lap. Her fingers strayed in and out of the thick hair— not cropped close to the head as is the prevailing fashion of to-day, — and soothed the unrest within him. After all there are compensations, even in mediocrity. Certainly were he away in a whirling city his mother's fingers would not thus caress him. Even the Prime Minister of England would value the content of such a moment could he find time in which to indulge his natural craving for affection. Mrs Fraser's first sentence scattered the rambling thoughts which were occupying her^ son's mind, and made him intensely interested in her news. "Annie was here this evening," she said quietly. "She came to ask me to* make my home with her. Her husband is quite willing, and sent me a" cordial invitation." The quiver in the soft, 'old voice did not escape Giiy,"\ and i more plainly than words could have done it demonstrated, to him the necessity for his sacrifice. He -took possession of the hand that rested on his head, and, drawing it down, pressed it to his lips. "Mother," he asked, "do you wish to leave?" The question was not answered, but after a little pause the old lady -continued bravely: "She said that in her house there is abundance of room, and that I ought now to leave you free. You have been a good son to me, Guy, but I suppose that you will be wishing to marry soon." "I shal never marry," the man. answered gravely ; "and you must stay with me, auotheree." * -"But what of the doctor's niece?" Guy set his lips' firmly, and for fully 10 minutes there was silence. -When he did speak resolution marked his- utterance. "Ella has come into a little money, and she wishes to go away in order to gain experience and additional knowledge. As you know, mother, I love her, and she loves me, but greater than her affection is her ambition. She wishes to rise In the world, and because I would hinder hex sse must needs oast me off." Mrs Fraser burst forth into indignant condemnation of the girl's conduct, but Guy interrupted her. ' . "I love iher, mother,"- he, said 1 . "You must not think ill of her. She is clever, and her nature cannot be satisfied with our humble life. here." The trouble in the old face increased. ''Can you be happy without her?" his mother asked earnestly. "I could not be happy with her," he answered evasively. "She loves her writing better- -than, she \ does me." "Poor boy-i" Another long silemce brooded over the occupants iof the "den^" then through sheer misery Guy threw off his reserve and exposed to his mother's sympathetic eyes his- great trouble. "Comfort me," mother," he said, with misty eyes and a sob in his throat. "To have losd her is so awful." And she did vexy effectually bring peace to the tortured heart. 11. Ten years have passed away since Ella eFrnley left Sacktown. By most of its inhabitants she was forgotten, but in the heart of lawyer Fraser her memory was fragrant. He had been a. lonely man even dxiring his mother's lifetime, but now that the grave was her resting place, and the old home dtevoid of her presence, his case was even worse. H© longed for Ella witlj. an increasing longing, but pride prevented him from communicating -with her. She had in some measure attained her purpose. Certainly she- had soared far above mediocrity, and if Dame Rumour spoke correctly, she was soon to be unitedi to Hai-vey Dean', a rising young politician of whose future many grevbearsd prophesied great things. His last piece of information concerning Ella had come to Guy through the medium of his sister Annie. That individual also was interested) in the girl, and had inquired by letter about her welfare from a mutual Melbourne acquaintance. Guy had received! the news in silence, but he had been stunned by it. He had always thought of Ella as wedded to her work, never as the wife of another. The thought maddened him, and eventually caused him to decide to throw up h"s quiet life andi go to Australia. But he did not find his way to Melbourne, Instead of obeymg inclination h& listened to his

pridia, aud proceeded to Sydney, in which, city he had resolved to gain for himself a name. And within -five years he succeeded in his purpose ; then, with overwhelming .eagerness, he went in search of a wife. During 15 years of Awaiting Fraser had gained a complete understanding of himself. H chad come also to comprehend more fully the reason of Ella's intolerance of her cramped circumstances. Life had opened before him, revealing to his astonished eyes treasures costly and marvellous. If only even at this late date , he could possess Ella he would bless th© ' period of revelation ; otherwise, all the intellectual feasts, andi all the bliss of perfect comprehension which were stirred within him until such time -as her magic touch should enrich and deepen them would turn to dust and ashes. But he prayed the Great Creator of all things that such a calamity should not be allowed, but that at last by virtue of his great love for her and her lesser love for him he might obtain the prize for which he had laboured and suffered for so many years. Surely his faith in God was great, but even more strange was his faith in the > fickle, frail nature of a mere woman ! {Fifteen long years, with never a look or a word, either written or spoken, to break the deadness thereof! He was mad to expect her to be his still. But he diid, and as he journeyed towards Melbourne his -heart was very tejider toward her. He would lavish all the we'alih of his love at her feet, and would snare in her triumphs of fiction even a she would participate in the glory of clear-headed logic and keea arguments. How time would fly! Life^ would be too short. She must now be"* 35, and he was 40. , He had her address, and, jumping into j a -ib, he told the "cabby" to drive to it j immediately. The horses flew, and in a i few moments he was standing in front of her home. Within the next few minutes he stood in her presence. But he did not recognise Ella in the cold, proud woman who greeted him. Success had spoilt her. He went away feeling like an old man. He had made a mistake. As he walked aimlessly away from her door she watched him through the closed) blinds, and bit her lips until they bled to prevent them from trembling. "He has waited 15 years," she thought, "and never a sign has he made until now. I hate him !" Two great tears stole down her cheeks and on to her dress. She noticed them im- ' patiently, and then, with a-brilliant sparkle in her eyes, went downstairs to entertain ' her next visitor.* '>lt 'happened to be Harry Dean, *aiid that afternoon he found his hostess more agreeable and more fascinating than' ever, before, and a faint hope stirred within him 'that perhaps after all his long, weary suit would) be rewarded. Misguided man! ' | HI. The man moved his bandaged head 1 slowly, and looked wqnderingly, at his ' nurse. - Then in a weak voice he essayed to ask an explanation. *You must not talk," the woman com- ; manded, gently. "You need' quiet, A j horse ran over you, and you are very ill. J They brought you here because my address _was found in your pocket." He seemed content, and wearily closed his eyes. ' To the anxious nurse it seemed) ' that lie relapsed into unconsciousness. The doctor's entrance at this juncture relieved j her from the sense of helpless responsibility that oppressed her. j "He regained consciousness for an In- ( stanfc," she informed him, quickly speaking j in a low tone ; "but I'm afraid he has gone back to unconsciousness again." • "It is just as well," the physician returned, sadly. "There is little hope of saving him, and even if lies survives he will be a complete wreck, and will be doomed to lie on his back for many years. The spine seems hopelessly injured." Ella repressed a cry of anguish with difficulty. Poor Guy ! The doctor noted i her white face curiously. What was the reason of the pretty authoress's agitation? Surely there must be some bond between his patient and herself. "You will get a nurse, I suppose," lie said, more as a fact than as, a supposition. "No," «he answered, and then added : "He is an "old friend of mine. The maids j will help me if I require help. But per- : haps lam not skilful enough ':" ' j '-'If you have suflicient nerve to follow ! my instructions you are fully qualified for the position of chief nurse," he assured • her, and then went to the bedside. Guy was unconscious, but he had only ] relapsed into that state after hearing the doctor's hopeless verdict. His work completed, the medical man departed. Ella knelt quietly by the bed and took one of the poor injured hands in hers. Slowly Guy opened his ejes. Dimly he comprehended the fact that hers were full of tears ; then memory called to mind his awful fate, and with a hopeless expression he uttered two words, "Better death 1" Ella understood, and sought to comfort him, but vainly. He had lost her, and he had lost health, he thought bitterly. Life held nothing for him. Days lengthened into weeks, and still Guy lingered on the verge of the Unknown. Ella was his constant companion and nurse, but he rarely spoke to her. He seemed to lack the desire to do so, and yet in the intervals of comparative bodily ease his eyes followed her with a world of longing in their expression. Within the woman's heart a great war was being waged. In her history this battle, which reut her with conflictingemotions, was as important as was the battle of Waterloo in England's ann?Js. Qn the one hand Success held up tantalisingly 4 fair laurel wiseati.; on tne other j Love revealed to her a modest, peaceful j home, in which happiness reigned, and the rival claims of ambition were ignored. Ella's heart was at enmity with the great aspirations of lier intellect; and the struggle was severe. Surely angels watchecj the strife ynth breathless interc.st 4 for pi ,

such warfare the product is eternal character. "What exceedingly great folly !" eriedi Fame. "Work on. Make the world listen to your voice. Sway the heax-ts of the multitudes." But ias this command fell on -willing ears another voice, sweeter clearer than the first, made itself hcurd. Love advised unselfish conduct, and promised perfect bliss^as the; reward thereof. "He is dying for want of thee," the pleading voice said. "He has waited so long." Eventually Love conquered, and Fume withdrew her tempting offers. It happened in this wise, one evening early in December. Guy was watching Ella very intently ;! suddenly the woman's eyes were raised to his, and in an instant the years which had gone over them since their parting in Sacktowu were as though they had not been. Ella saw in his eyes all the youthful ardour of those days, and then it faded', leaving an expression of complete desolation. Compassion for him filled her : she yearned to console him ; and yet "Guy," she ventured quietly, "do you not wish to get better?" "I have no great wish to live," he an; swercd" wearily. Presently she stole gently from the room. In Her eyes was -a soft, lustre, which Fame beheld, and straightway departed, leaving her sweet opponent a clear field. When Ella returned to the sick room she wore an old-fashioned, cream gown, and her hair, instead of being piled high above her face, as was her wont, was caught loosely in a coil at the back. She looked less stately, and more like her old self. Softly she moved over to the bedside, and there stood looking down at Guy -with tender, grey eyes and rosycheeks. "Dearie," she whispered, with a little catch in her breath, and then knelt down and placed her burning face besidls his. and placed her burning iace besidie his ;' "Guy, this is the last month of Leap Yeaf% and I, a lonely old maid, must needs make haste if I am to j>rofit by the year of privilege. Dear, wijl you make me your wife?" "Do you love me?" he asked; "do you, Ella, after all these years?" She whispered all the loneliness and dreariness of the time between her leaving »and his coming, and nestled closely to ■him. "How I love you," Be said, tenderly; "but I must not marry. lam a cripple."* ■ "You must not refuse me. I have proposed, and if you do not accept my shame will be unbearable." , He laughed at her reasoning, andi gently remonstrated with, her, although the loiigi ing in his eyes betrayed that his speech," was commanded-, by duty, not by inclination. And the fair proposer would not listen to his arguments. "Come," she urged him, .with a gladnote in her voice. "Once in bygone days I refused your love in exchange for ambition. To-day my ambition is to gain your love. Come, dearie, marry me and take me back with you to happiness. Life is so lonely without you." And with thankful heart he kissed the sweet, red lips, and accepted the Leap Year proposal. They were married on the last day of the old yeai. Ella wore aja old-fashioned cream gown, and her hair was loosely coiled. ' ' "A fancy," she whispered, in explanation, and as the "fancy" recalled more vividly the springdiay of their lives, Guy was abundantly content. "Little woman mine!" he whispered when the ceremony was over, "how can I help to satisfy you? Have you lost your craving for a broader life?" - "Foolish man," she answered. "This is the broadest of all broad lives. We are in love. Love is of God ; success is of man. We have soared bsyondi mediocrity and have attained unto the Divine." IV. "They were both very unwise," Dp Stavis's' wife remarked that evening, when her husband had completed his tale of the strange wedding which he had just witnessed. "Ella Fernley was making for herself a name. I suppose that her time will be quite occupied with her husband " now, and the public will be forgotten." There was a distinctly cross not's in the good lady's voice. Ella was a friend of hers. The doctor hastened to defend the foolishness of which the pretty authoress had been guilty. "He is in love with her, and, by your • leave, my dear, that counts with mostwomen. Besides, he is a splendid speciman of manhood, or wasr before his accident. Now he is a cripple, but his mind is quite equal to his wife's. I fancy," very thoughtfully, "that they were lovers long ago." "What reason have you for so thinking?'* the good dame queried with great curiosity. "She wore an old gown, cream, made in the style of the ones you used to wear long ago, and her hair was fixed up jusfc as you used to fix yours. That seems romantic." "Ah !" with a sudden comprehension ; then-, after a pause, "Maybe "they acted wisely after all. You know, Bert, "I'd have rather married you even had you been a cripple ; indeed, I'd have loved you all the more because of your misfortune." And the foolish old wife pressed her lips to her husband's bald pate. Somehow he liked it immensely.