VII. WHEN THE ROSES ARE IN BLOOM.

Otago Witness, Issue 2730, 11 July 1906, Page 74

VII. WHEN THE ROSES ARE IN BLOOM.

TOM'S ORDEAL,

(For Special Subject week, 190 G.) By Paparoa.

The golden light of day had just sunk ove* the western Papaioas, leaving the little village of Moonlight wrapped in the everchanging glow of 0 summer's sunset; the village was very pretty indeed, and seemed to look move so in the calm flush of eve. Over the clear crystal creek that watered the valley Delow was a bridge, on which sat a boy and % girl. She nad only seen eighteen summers, and had a bright expressive countenance and a rather handsome figure. He was tall and manly-looking, yet still a boy; for from his appearance he looked no niore than twenty. They had been lovers from childhood, and the qunint old bridge was always their meeiingplace But tc-night they must part, and the old bridge will nevei mere be tbeir place of meeting.

Foi Tom Boyle was bidding home and friends a ior.d farewpli. A forgery of a cheque valued at £50 had been committed in the village, and Tom was blamed. He had, besides being blamed, been disowned by his people, but notwithstanding this he was not the culprit. There were, however, a few who had every confidence in his innocence.

Jim and 3iam had been fast friends. From early youth they had pledged their friendship to each other, and they were called "The Inseparables" by everyone around. Toui had two brothers and % sister older than himself, while Jim Harvey w.ts an only child. It was to Jim that his widowed mother looked for her all. There lived al«o in this pretty country village a young girl who«g name >vss Deris White. She was Tom's hope and defiro. Jim grew jealous of Tom, and tried all hn could to come between Dons and lie. Tern was blind to Jim'j intentions, and treated him as he always had done in the past. Ah, too true- is the sa> ing "that cur be«t friends are often our wors-t enemies ' It was Jim's hand which haci committed the forgery fo.which Torn v.-ps b'.amrd. Jim thought that if Tom weit ava-j he could win Doris as his o«^n ; heucv his roson for perpetrating tho wickcl deed and then blaming Tom. Ho found, hov.-e-ver. tbat, iusiesd of parting then:, as he thought, he had made them mora true, more loving, mid more loyal. The tie he desired to sever w;is lightened more securely than eve:.

Here now, in the twilight, sat Tom and Doris. The gr"it!e breeze cf evening fanned iheir [aces ar.d ru=lled tho leaves of the trees as it passed onward. Presently down the breeze came the voice of singing, and away on its -wings was wafted the sweet melodies of a, song which ran thus . "They were loamiug in the gloaming, When the rose 9 were in bloom; .Tuet n mai-len and her lover staunch and true And his rrird was filled with sorrow, And h«r thoughts were of the morrow, As she pinned a, rose upon his ooat of blue."

Tho sweet notes rang on until the song was finished. It cairied in its tone a touch of sadness which spoke only of how the heart of Doris felt, for very often cur tone of voice expresses more than we actually say in words. When the last echo had died away Tom aaid, "To-night, Dons, is perhaps the last night we shal spend here on tli3 biidge. That song will live for ever in ruy heart, for its sweetness has touched a chord it never did before, and it wi'l often che-er me when I am far from you in another land, for to-morrow I leave home, now no longer mine, perhaps for ever. They all blame me— yes, all but you."

"And why go for away. Tom 9" a«ked Dcr't. "I could never live" said Tcm, "in a pHce where lam bkmed for forgery. Ah, no, Doris, I could not, for my very heart revolts to think of my di c erueel rum:?. I'll go away, and then perhaps he who did the crime will confess his guilt, a>icl I'll return."

"But when?" spiel DoTi*

"Perh.»rs after ail is known, and I'm a rich man. I'll come back Promise me faithfully, Doris, that you will never think me guilty." "Tom, deareft, I promise you I never will; and do come back to me seen, won't you, Tern? 1 shall never learn to love any but you. I'll bo wa.tmtr Tom, wheuevei you come, for I "h.ill vi ='t tins bridge cnpij- eveat But whe:i, Tom, &I13I! I &es you again 9 " "When the io«es are in bloom, lry honour restored and my foituno irnde, I'll come. Until then 1 =l-rfl) ren'^iji .ir> e-iile- from licma and loved one=. When ihe-e come bjek. Doris darn.?r n.? I'll leUirn to claim you sis my own — n.y vcr\ o'vn " lif «ail, clpsping hci m his arm= and ki-Miii; hei tcnclerl} A t^or glistened in hti evi^s and trickled down her cheek, but 'he biuslipd it away, and o?id, "Before we part, Tom. let us make a promise that we will both be true to each other" As she spoke she led h'm to a wild rose bush that grew by the bridge, and, ?s if by one impulse, they both picked a ficwer. Ih^y then pressed them to thoir lips 3nd exchanged, and as they did they said, as if m one \<-ice, "I will be true." "G oo:l-byj. Tom." ?he "aid, grasping his hand. "Good -bye, dearest Tcm. I will nc\er break my promi°e — never " "No nio-e will I1,"I 1 ," said Tcm di awing her to him. Their lips met. and the.) sht bid her head on hi^ breast ai.d both <.obb=cl. -'Gccd-bye"— "Good-bye." As tho la«t ray of light wa« dying away and the stars connn« out in the blue sky abov, Tom cinse^cl the bruise bound hemsward, to sleep for the I**l night 111 the home he could not now call Ins own, and Doris wended hei way down the road in the opposite direction with a sad. aching heart, with his love and promisa and he with hers. Years aftsr there might have been seen walking down the read of the quaint intle Victorian village of Glenginy a man, tall and handsome, but with a fad expic^-ion on his face, which tells only of the emotions of the human breast. The harvest wa<- just beginning to be cut, and he w?s tired and !one'\\ This was Tom Boyle, the boy who had leit his home five long years ngo ; his fortune wss still unmade, and as he walked to his hltlfhut on the farm he thought of home and Doris. He opened the cloor and went in, and was about to light the fire to boil his keitle when his eye 3 fell on a lettei that lay on the table. He picked it up and read the addre", which was written in a clear, woman's hand. "Something must be wTong," he paid. "Surely this is not from home," as his eyes rested on the post-mark. "Oh, no, I know now it is from Doris." His eyes, which but a few moments ago were heavy and sad, now gleamed with excitement, and a broad smile passed over his whole fac-e, as if years of pain had Wn lifted off him. He tore open the 'ettcr with trembling excitement, and read. — "Dearest Tom, — You will be wondering, I know, why I write to you now. after so many, long, long years of silence But forgive me, Tom ; I have not known where you were. It was only yesterday that I was speaking 1 to a man named John Davidson, who came fromi Glengarry, and he told me where you were. He gave me your address, and, of course. X must write to you and tell you all. I havo

•earched io find your whereabouts for years, and vow Ido hope lam successful. I hav^j ■oh, such sad news for you, Tom. I do not know whether you will feel sad or glad when you learn all. Jim Harvey met with a terrible accident three years ago. A slip of earth fell on him while he was working in a gravel pit, and crushed hia spine. "We called a doctor to him; but all was useless, and he died, poor fellow, the same evening; but before he passed away he told his mother and me that it wa3 he who committed the- forgery, and ihus drove you away from home. I knew all the time you were innocent, though I never thought when you left that it was Jim who had done it. Poor Jim begged me to forgive him for yotir sake, Tom, as he said he would never seen you again. I granted him his wish, Tom, for I know you would be only too willing to forgive your dying friend. I kissed his dying brow, and bade him trust in Jesus. He opened his eyes and looked at me as if in thanks; then, smiling feebly, he murmured something to himself, and. sank to sleep." "Dear, good Doris," 3aid Tom, stopping for a moment to wipe away the flooa of tears that bedimmed his eyes. "God bless her pure aoul," and then he went on: — ■ "Come back, Tom, when you can. I am longing to see you again. The old bridge is just the same. I go there every eve, but you never come to meet me. Oh, Tom, dearest, do come home. Your mother and father are waiting to ask your, forgiveness. . They are all •well, Tom, and, best of all, your Doris is still true. I keep the withered- rose yet, and I often .drop on i£ a- tear when I think of you. Ever since Jim died I have been thinking you would come, but all in vain. Good-bye, dearest Tom. I am, oh, so lonely now. Still I will be patient, and await your return.— Ever your own loving Dobis." He brushed away a flood of tears, and, kissing the letter, lie put it back in the envelope and then lit the fire." "An angel's blessing," he said to himself as he made ready his tea. He pictured again his Doris xs in days long ago, and his heart gave a bound as he thought of meeting her. "But I lave not much money to go home with," he said, as he sat down to eat his coarse evening meal. Just then there came a Tap, tap at the door, and the daughter of his employer handed him a letter. "I think this is a telegram for you, Mr Boyle," said she. "The post boy gave it to m« as I was coming home." "With these words the girl departed, and left Tom alone in bewilderment. He opened it hurriedly, and his eyes read: —

"Tom Boyle, Glengarry. Ticket-holder No. 7863, drawn First Prize Tattersall's Melbourne Cup, £30,000. "(Signed) George Adams, Tasmania."

"It never rains but it pours," said Tom, in astonishment. "It was just what I was longing for. Now I will go home to Doris, «s soon as 1 draw the money." His heart, befcrre so heavy and sad, was now overwhelmed with excitement, and the joys that had been buried so long now dawned on him. "Horne — yes, home, to claim the one I have sighed and longed for these five long years." A few weeks later there might have been seen on board the s.s. Waikare as «he steamed down Port Phillip Bay, Tom Boyle, a. draft for £30,000 in hia pocket, and with a heart bounding with joy as he thought of his dear old mother and father, and, dearer far, his own loved Doris. It was a beautiful February evening. The sun had sunk in the western sky, the birds were carolling forth their songs to Tnd the daylight farewell ; the little silvery creek spanned by its pretty little bridge rippled ever onward in peaceful tranquility ; all earth seemed wrapped in stillness. On the bridge .stood a vjoman, tall and beautiful, with a. sad look on her face. This was Doris White, who used to visit the bridge every eve at sunset to wait for the return of the one she loved.

"Will he ever come back?" fighed she. "I wonder now if ever he will, or if he ever got my letter? Perhaps it was lost, or I should have received a reply long ere this? I wonder if he is still true? Ah, what a difference there would be in his home-coming to the way he departed Ah! cruel fate, and Tom so noble as to bear it all without ever complaining. I see the seasons come and go, the roses come, bloom, and fade away, only to return again with spring. But he never comes back to me " Such were Doris's thoughts as she stood on the bridge. The evening being yet young, she did not desire to go home early, so she leaned over the railing and commenced singing her favourite &ong — "When the roses bloom again." The last word had barely left her lips when a hand touched her shoulder, and the voice she had so much longed to hear souuded in her ears.

"Doris, darling, here I am back to fulfil my promise, am I not, and the roaes in bloom, too." She turned quickly round and cried, "Tom, dearest Tom! Surely it is you, Tom! Oh. 3»OTiT X ttsls longing fox- you. , iio-w tb-ariVf v.l I am you have come." He caught her in his arms and caressed her fondly. They kissed in silence, and she breathed a fervent "Thank God, our promises y/ere never broken." "Yes, thank God," he answered, as ho kissed her once again. "Always true, ever loving, all mine now!" eaid Tom. He released his arms from around her form, and told her of his good luck, and the letter he had received from her. Together <ihey left the bridge and walked down the road to horne — yes, home to peace and love aud happiness. "When the roses were in bloom."