SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2925, 6 April 1910, Page 93

SHORT STORIES.

THE LOST BRIDEGROOM.

By Carrol King. Author of “Bonnie Blue Bell/’ “Ottalie’s Dower.”

I. Hazel Grayle was going to be married ; she was, moreover, to be married on the twenty-fifth of December—Christmas Day—and by special license, in her own beautiful home, so all her father's tenants in West Copsley, as well as her parents, brothers, and sisters, and even the servants in West Copsley, were resolved upon a grand old-fashioned Christmas Eve, to be kept up in the good old English style. The great yule log was already felled in the plantation, and huge piles of chopped billets of birch, beech, and fragrant resinous pine were ready to embrace the yule giant, and warm him to the very heart with their fervid heat. The " wassailers ' were already practising twice a week *or their high revels, and the "waits" knew they might look for unlimited largess, the Grayles of West Copsley being as open-handed as they were large-hearted. A few weeks before the fateful day Hazel was sitting alone, waiting to hear the sound of wheels on the crisp, hardfrozen road under the old sycamores of the kng avenue. Her lover, Lawrence Kirke, was to come from town with her brothers to dine and sleep at West Copsley, and all the final arrangements were to be completed, lists compared, presents inspected and discussed, in all the happy bustle that is inseparable from a happy bridal. It was growing dusk in the clear, frosty air of the early December day, and the young girl dimly saw the muffled figure that descended from the fly. "That is not Lawrence," she murmured, half aloud. "It looks like a lady." - Next instant the door of the room was thrown open, and the servant announced: "Mies Lawrence." "Light the lamps, Peter," said Hazel hastily, advancing quickly to greet her unexpected- visitor with outstretched hands and words of welcome. "I have such a stupid habit of dreaming over the fire and forgetting that it is blindman's holiday," went on Hazel; but she dropped her hands and quietly drew back a little, for Miss Hose Lawrence had made no effort to respond in any way. The fire was one deep red mass of glowing embers, but there was no flame to throw any light, and the two girls had to wait for light before they could even see each other's faces. Hazel, with the true instinct of a kind hostess, would take no notice of her guest's strange silence, but went on quietly: ' \ '' It must have been a cold journey, Miss Lawrence, and a three-hour run, too. I expect Mr Kirke and my brothers' every moment now—they will come from town together—and father comes an hour later. We dine at half-past 7, but you shall have tea immediately, and—here is Peter with the lamps. Build up the fire as well, Peter, and bring tea at once." While the man obeyed, in the noiseless manner of a well-trained servant, the two young ladies looked at each other, the newcOmer with a determined scrutiny that bore down Hazel's look of innocent curiosity. Hazel sighed softly as she met the steady gaae of the big, liquid, velvety eyes, that yet had such a hardness in them that she flinched before them. There' was so much melodrama in the newcomer's look and imposing silence that Hazel was aroused, even while she felt annoyed at the apparently deliberate rudeness to herself. She turned to her guest whenever Peter shut the door, and said pleasantly: "Will you take this chair, Miss Lawrence?" . "No, thank you, I will not sit down. I have told the man to wait, and he will take me back to the station immediately. I wished to see you, Miss Hazel Grayle, and to ask you about this." She held up a letter, which Hazel, with reddening cheeks, recognised as the note she had despatched only the day before, couched in terms of pleasant friendliness, to ask if Miss Lawrence would act as chi|£tf bridesmaid at the forthcoming " great event," seeing her own sisters were all so young and quite inexperienced. " Well," she said calmly, seeing Miss Lawrence waited for her to speak, " what explanation does my simple note require?" '' Only this. Does Lawrence Kirke know of this request? Does* he wish joe to act as chief bridesmaid at his marriage?" Hazel smiled involuntarily at the girl's

stagey manner; she was evidently playing a studied part. "The proposal came from me In the first place," replied Hazel coolly; "and Lawrence said readily: 'By all means, if you can persuade her ic come,' so i ■wrote and asked you, in a friendly and unconventional way. Will you come, Miss Lawrence?" "I will think of it, and consult his mother," she said coldly ; then she turned her expressive eyes full on Hazel's face, and they .doubly emphasised her curt question: "Do you know of any reason to make my presence undesirable at Lawrence Kirke's marriage? I see you do," she struck in quickly., "I see you know that I -was once the choice of your fickle lover! That I was more to him than any second love can ever be! It would scarcely be wise of you to have even poor little me as your chief bridesmaid, Miss Grayle." Hazel laughec" merrily; her nerves were all rudely jarring and tingling, but this bold woman ■ must never find that out! She said quite gaily: "I believe you are right! It would never do—poor Lawrence! So I take back my invitation, Miss Lawrence, and beg that you will not expose yourself or him to such a trial of faith." '_ Miss Lawrence heard only the liight raillery and amusement- in the tones; her •face became- livid with ill-suppressed fury. "You taunt me," she said fiercely. "Well —I am igoing! No, I want no tea; do you think I could break bread in this house?—but I will make you rue your ridicule of me to the last day of your lite!"

She left the room swiftly, half-choking with the tempest of her evil passions.' Hazel stood proudly motionless until she heard the fly drive away, then she, too, left the room, and van quickly to find shelter in her own room for " a good cry." She was suddenly taken possession of and pulled unceremoniously into the schoolroom, all unlighted as it was, and Lawrence's voice breathed in her ear: "Is she away? Isn't she am awful r.voman? Poor little lassie! She has been too much for your nerves, and I—l confess I am a coward wheire Rose is concerned—l simply could not face her." "It wasn't fak, Lawrie," sobbed poor Hazel, hysterically. "She is a horrible ghl I She says—she says no second love can ever be to you what she was " Lawrence's glad laugh seemed cruel to iher. "I believe you," he said, with relish. "She said what is profoundly true, my lassie! No one need. even try to ba what she was; you, little girl, least and last!—you couldn't do it. Hazel, I told you all the simple truth about it. She was engaged to me four years ago; she found that my poor brothei was older,by a year*tha.n I, and that he, not I, was the man with expectations. She threw me over in a splendid dramatic scene, and—you know her mad anger and disappointment when poor Aleck " "Never mind, Lawrence," whispered Hazel, soothingly "I ought to have heeded your warning—yet You see it seems strange to me that she, brought up by your mother almost as your sister, should feel so unsisterly, so wickedly." "She feels and thinks - and acts for the one being she loves beat on earth, dear, that is Miss Rose Lawrence," he said, ''• ln ('''" ''"*' TT "' fVl conviction.

as, site oui-ij evening of the twentyfourth of December; West Gopsley was in best looks and brightest Christmas cheer Inside the great hall of the mansion there was glorious summer warmth, and blowing fires that sparkled and shone on glistening green of holly leaves with vivid scarlet clusters of berries, and pale subgestions here and there and everywhere of clinging mistletoe. In a long corridor fomewhat dimly lighted, Hazel Gravle on a sudden met Lawrence alone, and, as once before, he twitched her quickly into flurtks er " r ° 0m ° f omnium^athe ™m superaZeJ'" he SAi6 ■ tend^l 7, "there is a seen T %™ SP^ te ***&*■ T h *ve seen it ad the I don't say anyone else would notice it; but I know your evary mood, and I have felt this cloud ovor you. Ml me all about il"

"There is really nothing to tell Law EPS. "£B3 T 5> ep r" n^at any time, but toSSJfon the eve of our wedding day I I am Well, but, Lawrence, look what cam* by post to-day! I have shown it to no one and T meant to Jestrov it. but—" She pulled out of her pocket a little square tinted, perfumed note, and be carried t*. to the hanging lamp, and read •

-iisro s many a. slip Twixt the cup and the lip. He laughed heartily as he turned to his pretty bride-elect again. "A bit of Rose's florid melodrama, my dear I Surely you have not allowed this to cloud our happiness*" There! Let thft cloud vanish as this, does." He held it in the lamp till it was consumed and threw the charred fragments *** H ™ l d ™ *

• j C lL oi m , m Sled impatient voices reminded them that they were being waited for, and they ran down to the great hall <fwt. a bnlliant group awaited" them. 'What a shame, Lawrence," laughed Dolly, the pretty sister next to Hazel in age. "As if you wouldn't have quite eoriougb of Hazel's company after tomorrow! We shall have very little time to hear and practise the carols as it is." ,'

rj village was all astir with life and cheer; every house had its own Christmas guests; young men and maidens home for

the holidays met and talked in eager groups. Vehicles of all sorts were' constantly arriving and departing. The youngs people from the Hall had what was almost a triumphal procession to the village, and their friends crowded round them, with respectful good wishes and greetings. As the little crowd trooped into the church, Hazel looked round for Lawrence —he and she were only of the audience to hear the carol singers; on the morrow they would be far away before the evening festivities began. " Mr Kirke 'll b? here '\ a minute, Miss Hazel," whispered Ruth Hutton, the prima donna of the little festival. "lie just stopped outside to speak to Ned Bruce."

Hazel nodded aii3 smiled, and the girl passed up to the choir, who were already rustling their music sheets. In the dim obscurity of the church —for it was Hjghted only for the choir—Hazel suddenly had a'strange experience; she found herself in a strange place—a great, bare lobby, with doors everywhere—an'i a muffled cry in Lawrence's voios reached her: "Hazel! Hazel! I cannot bear it!" " Joe Bryce," she whispered to a young man, the blacksmith's apprentice, who wastrying to walk very softly up the aisle, "please find Mr Kirke for me—l wish to speak to him a moment—he is talking to Ned Bruce outside." The lad turned instantly and went back, well pleased to do a service for Miss Hazel. Others were crowding in, attracted by the music, and the churchoffioeT was asked to lierht up, which he did, grumbling in audible grunts. It was just as the lights flashed out that Hazel saw who had entered the wide, old-fashioned pew, and stood beside her; it was Rose Lawrence, her bright eyes glittering with—was it triumph? Hazel could only return her gaze, but Miss Lawrence put out her hand with a quick impulsive movement, studied, as all was that this singular woman did. " I have come after all, dear Hazel," she said sweetly. " Please forgive and forget all my nonsense, and let poor little me have a chance!" Hazel touched the extended fingers, and said frigidly : " Lawrence told me yesterday his mother was too ill to be left —that you had said so. I am glad she must be better, seeing you are here?" Before Miss Lawrence could reply, Joe Bryce thrust his head over the pew-door. " Ned Bruce says Measter Kirke were speakin' to Willie Russell an* two or three more on 'em when he corned in. Happen he have gone down to the Vine wi' 'em, to see the big waseail-cup, an' the advent image o' little Jesus in a green box full o' flooers! They be justlovely, Miss Hazel." He withdrew quickly, and Rose .Lawrence' laughed. " How deliciously oldworld it sounds! Are you all Roman Gatholics?" "Oh, no, we wish simply to keep up the old Christmas habits that are dying out so. fast," responded I Hazel, distantly. "Did you not see Lawrence:" she asked, after a moment's thought. " I saw pothing of him," said Rose, her bright, uncanny eyes fastened on Hazel with keen watchfulness. "Mrs Grayle told me where to find you all, and sent a servant to pilot me to the church. It is very beautifully decorated —for your bridal, you happy woman!" Hazel did not answer her; the woman seemed as artificial as a doll stuffed "with bran. She was nervously disturbed by the presence of Rose and the absence of Lawrence, which she could not understand. " Why did you send me that old proverb by post, . when you could have brought it just as well?" she suddenly >isked, trying to look down Rcse'6 unflinching eyes. Rose laughed ; she was not easily disconcerted.

" Just for fun," she said gaily. " I was in one of my strange moods, and felt, Cassandra-like, impelled to utter a note of warning. Nobody minds me, deaT."

" No. I daresay not," was the stinging reply. " Those who yield to every passing mood are seldom to be minded. Oh, Jack!" she exclaimed, with glad relief in her tones; her brother approached the pew. "Do you know where Lawrence is? It is so strange of him " The break in her' tone made her brother look at her, and then his eyes rested with quick admiration on the beautiful face beside her, wreathed in smiles now, and vividly tinted. " I know nothing about Lawrence since I saw him come in with you, Hazel," he said, opening the high pew-door 'and stepping inside. "This lady is ?" " Oh, I forgot," uttered Hazel coldly. "My brother John, Miss Lawrence; I cannot think what has become of Lawrence, Jack? Suppose anything has happened to him?" ' Nonsense, Hazel," said her brother, j emphatically, and Miss Rose said j sweetly : " It is a bride's natural anxiety, I Mr Grayle--if Lawrence, naughty boy, i had been half as anxious, he would have been here long ago! The rehearsal is all but over." j Jack wondered, with a main's great j stupidity, what there was in that simple speech to make Hazel look so angrily j at the love.lv sylph beside _ her 1 He ! thought Lawrence's sister-cousin was, far j and away the prettiest girl he had ever j seen He was proud, when the rehearsal ! was over, to introduce her to all the young men. and watch their quick looks of curiosity change into admiration and j delight. But—where was the bridegroom? ] All had seen him at some part of the : evening,. but it was impossible to focus down any information as to the last time, j or the last person that had seen him I and spoken with him. He was not at the Hall, he was not in the village, he j was not in the church, nor in the park or wood. They were all disposed t* laugh at first—it was a stale joke, they said; but when parties had searched, inquired, even halloed r,nd shouted his name, j and when midnight; shinies and bells and |

voices rang out. and he was still absent, they began to wonder and look serious. All the groups met in the great hall and discussed next movements.

"It is a clear case of ' Mistletoe Bough' disappearance," said Rose Lawrence, in her soft, sweet voice. " Onlyit is not the bride who will -fail to appear at the altar! If only one knew- ——" 'A Lawrence had better not fail if he is above ground at all!" said old Mr Grayle, "bluntly, looking with disfavour at Rose. He was not bewitched by her lovely looks, and he had detected the somewhat acrid flavour of her remarks. 11/s had seen how .his pet Hazel had writhed in spirit when Miss Lawrence had, laughingly, enumerated all the cases she' knew of in which the bridegroom preferred flight at the last moment to matrimonial claims.

Soarch and conjecture were alike fruitless: whether Lawrence had been spirited away or imprisoned himself like the hapless "bride of the "Mistletoe Bough," .or had ..gone of his own accord, there remained but the aching void of his absence, and Rose ouoted. softH: Hark to the hurried question of despair: Where is the bridegroom?— Echo answers where ?

t Vi. Two years papsscxi away; two cj cies o; blank despair and sadness to Hazel, ot vivid, joy ml delight to her bonnie sister Dolly, who was married in August of the second year alter Hazel s bitter humiliation. Ail who knew Hazel sympathised fervently with the stricken bride; but dared not tell her so, for she carried herself proudly and calmly, looking her sorrow straight in the face, and overcoming it by unselfish sympathy for others. Only her mother-knew that she firmly believed Rose Lawrence tp he at the bottom of her lover’s strange disappearance; it could not be expected, but instinct overlaps reason sometimes, and makes a short cut to the truth. Only her mother knew of the strange v ision the two minutes in the church during which she bad been what the spiritualists call “clair-audient,” and heard Lawrence s voice call out in anguished tones . “Hazel 1 Hazel! I cannot bear it! It was the time of falling leaves, and snell winds wailed through the sycamores. A boy in smart uniform brought a telegram to Hazel, who was sitting with her mother in the same warm parlour in which we saw her first. “Mamma,'’ she said hastily, a spot of deep red rising in her cheek®, “it is from Lawrence’s mother ■ she is dying, and wishes me to go to her at once! X must go 1 She ' may have something to toll me!“ - Mrs Grayle looked at her _ sorrow fudy. “No, dear, she knows no more than we do ; it was impossible to think, evil of her. whatever her niece may “I know—l know', mamma, but she may have learned I’ll go at once. I shall be in time for the 3.15 train, and will arrive at Cadenbead at dusk. Hw mother saw that it would be best to let her go—she knew what it was to be consumed with an inward fever of suspense and impatience. Qadenhead was a small,, insignificant place, so there was no fly to be had at the station. Hazel found she must walk. It was a dry, gusty evening. Hazel walked ouickly, for the coppice was dark, and the road wound like a white ribbon through it. ’ , She sprang aside with a suppressed scream, when a man suddenly detached himself from the shadow of a group of trees, all marked for the woodman’s a:ce, and stood before her. “Oh Lawrence!” she said, and ter heart stood still—she could not move. “Oh, Lawrence, is it?’’ said the man, roughly seizing her arm, which be slightly shook. “Is Lawrence, the supplanter. here? * Is that why I am mewed up

like " , . . , Ha*el stood heirless, mute, -her heart beating to suffocation, but another man came up -swiftlv to them.

"Stop that, Mr Aleck." he said, with quiet significance. " You'll play this game once too often if you dont mind! You must excuse him. miss," he said, raising his cap to Hazel, "He ain't quite right in 'is 'ead." "Where is his brother—Mr Lawrence raising his cap to Hazel eagerly. The man hfd locked his arm in that of the other, who seemed cowed and submissive enough now. , . "Mr Lawrence, miss? Oh, that s him that's' awav in furrin' parts? Run away for fear o*' gettin' married, and writes to Mias Rose? I can't rightly say where he is. Come along you! An' come quiet, if you please." The manner in which he spoke was a threat in itself, although nothing could! be quieter, and Hazel ventured to say in a low tone:

"Don't be harsh with him! Pooler eature!" "No, miss—neither I am," said the keeper respectfullv. "But, you see. he's got eoftenin' o' the brain through drink, and—l'm blest if I know where or how he gets it, but he does—and then he's awful dangerous!" He showed Hazel, with civil kindness, the path across the lawn, and himself disappeared round a winr of the oldfashioned house with his patient. It was a great (relief to Hazel to be received by the housekeeper instead of Rose Lawrence, whom she felt she could not bear to see just then. She knew that the man's storv was only his version of the rumours about Lawrence that Rose had been industriously circulating far two yea<re back. "Will you have anything first, miss?" Mrs Armstrong asked kindly. "I've a room all " "Oh, no—no, thank you! I am. going back to West Oopsley to-night." said Hazel feverishly. 'Til just sit with" Mrs Kirke for an hour—slie Wished id se§ me."

} The housekeeper looked at her atten- " tively; she scanned her face to 'earnestly that" Hazel looked at her wonderingly, but before she had said a word of what she evidently wished to say, the sick-room bell rang impatiently, and she conducted Hazel thither at once. Mis Kirke was looking eagerly towards the door Gram, her reclining chair, her sunken black eyes wide and alert. She held! out her hand with a quick, yet feeble movement to Hazel. . "Oh, my dear! thank you for coming so promptly. I had sent for you so often through Rose, and yov were always too busy! Armstrong, bring me my desk. Now, lock the door, and go into my dressing room till Icall you." She spoke and moved with such feverish : energy that Hazel could not realise how ill she was. "Is she gone? Is the door shut?—and this one locked? Hazel, if Rose had not been ill to-day with such a nervous headache that she had to succumb to it, i should never have seen you: I begin, with the clear mental sight of the ! dying, to understand all now! Listen, ch,ikf! Two years ago, a few days before your wedding-day, my poor son Aleck broke away for the third time from the asylum where he was confined. Lawrence arranged to place him at a greater distance, under a doctor we had heard great things of. But he had to be found first. He had lucid seasons in which he was perfectly sane. Be and Rose had been madly attached to each other, and Rose was passionately angry that he should be confined at all—she taunted Lawrence continually with being a supplanter L On the very eve of your wedding he was found and taken away. Rose went with the doctor and the two keepers to point him out, and she told me afterwards that she was sure he meant to make a iguest at Lawrence's wedding ! Hazel! yesterday there was a terrible scene here! My poor, poor Aleck suddenly broke into j this very room, caught Rose with fearful j violence* and almost strangled her! He j said terrible things about her lying promises—that when his mother would die ' he and she would be master and mistress? My own head-keeper, Shaw, came in with a whip, and cowed the poor boy at once. I thought he had escaped again, and Rose told me she would write at onoe to the doctor, but to-day she has beon Unable to come down, and I sent Armstrong, my housekeeper, for Shaw. I forced him to tell me the truth. Hazel, my poor boyhas been confined in the east wing all along, and Shaw has had three times his pay to keep him there—it has been separated from the main part as unsafe for half a century back, at least. Shaw and his wife have kept Aleck there, and yet —I pay a round sum twice a year to that asylum doctor ! Oh, child,. do you see it?" Hazel's changing face showed that she had followed the eager torrent of words with quick intelligence, and now she felt her brain reeling. "You mean," she gasped, "that Lawrence is in the asylum and Aleck here ?" "I am sure of it I" She pulled a letter from under her pillow with feverish haste. " Now, call Armstrong —she will send a servant with you to my doctor's _house near the village. Give him that, ■and tell him all —he is to be trusted. Rose must not suspect that we know anything til] we have proved and verified all." Hazel kissed the thin, flushed cheek and hastened away, her own pulses bounding madly with hope and excitement. She wired to her mother in passing through the village —" Mav be detained eomc time; do not be alarmed." The old doctor's kind face and keen eves inspired her with instant confidence. She poured out her story with fervid eagerness to the much-astonished man, who paced ' the limits of his own consulting room like i one demented. Hazel would have fain set off there and then, but he persuaded her to let him take his wife into their confidence, and to remain with them till morning. r It was noon of next day when Hazel and Dr Belmayne ascended the broad stone steps of the "splendid shire Asylum, that stands in twelve acres of ground, j tastefully laid out with ornate flower beds, : shrubberies, and plantations. The arreat specialist received them himself with grave and perfect courtesy. "'Alexander Kirke!" he corrected, for they had asked for Lawrence. " Ceri tainly you can see him. He is one of ! the most violent and troublesome of-,all our patients sometimes, in the determined' intensity of his desire to escape. We dare j not relax our vigilance an instant, or we : would lose him. He has overmastered his keeper more than once in fits of homicidal madness, and then he has long intervals of perfect sanity, poor man !" "But, sir," said Dr Belmayne, seriously, "if a sane man were bv mistake carried off forcibly from his bride's very side on the eve of the wedding, would he not act like a madman? Would he not be i always devising ways of escape?" " Yea —naturally," replied the great | man. "We had one case of mistaken i identity here some years ago, but the i friends soon found him out. I have had | this patient for two years." While he spoke the door opened slowly, and Lawrence —pale, thin, wild-eyed—-stood on the threshold. Next moment Hazel was sobbing on his shoulder, and ! the two gentlemen slipped out kindly and left them together. Dr Belmayne ex- • plained the case to the man of skill; but, j he said, no doubt it would be wise to : treat it as a mistake only for the honour j of a much-respected family. Late in the afternoon of the same day i Rose Lawrence was sitting by her aunt's j bedside. She was ill and irritable, finding out what a dire retribution can be j exacted by an overtaxed nervous system. : j Mrs Kirke was lying back wearily among j j her pillows. She lifted her head quickly ; at the sound of wheels, and Rose glanced | up uneasily. I "Do you expect anyone, aunt? It is '■ I late," she said. " The doctor has not called to-day," said Mrs Kirke coldly, but Rose saw that j

she was straining her ears to hear tb.w ascending footsteps. With a sudden tightening of fear round her heart Rose drew herself up loftily, bracing herself to meet—she knew not what. When the door opened and Lawrence entered wit:i Hazel she did not move nor speak. They passed her without a word or look, straight to the eager, waiting mother. Rose turned quickly to leave the room, but Dr Belmayne stood in the doorway. "You had" better wait a little," he said, very mildly. "It -might be unpleasant for you just now, in the east wing, while the doctor and two keepas are there.'" Her face became white, but she kept, her stately erectness —her stateliness being, someone says, " of the mechanical part belonging to the spine, net to a. soul uplifted." "g o —the farce is over,"' she said in her grandest manner, and nothing remains but vre victis. Well, I have had my revenge, at least." "So 'far—yes," said Dr Belmayno coolly. "Of course you understand yours was the act of a mad woman, and you have made yourself liable to be placed under restraint as. being dangerous." She could not repress a slight start, but remained proudly silent, too good an actress to show when she was disconcerted.

" and we'll be married on Christmas Eve, just as if those two years had not been dropped out of our lives," said Lawrence's loving voice. " No, I will oofc be hard on the poor wretch the doctors will see to her. She must make her home elsewhere though, and vanish out of our lives. And then there will be no discordant notes in our song of ' peace on earth, goodwill to all!' "