HELEN.

Otago Witness, Issue 3035, 15 May 1912, Page 81

HELEN.

By E. Gladys Hahvet.

She tried in her own way to see life through her sister's glasses, but somehow the lens grew misty, and the shadows looked inky dark, or the sunlight too dazzlingly bright for her vision. • She was very young, and to her it seemed something too hard to understand. She felt it should be a smooth surface, but she found it made up of many angles and corners which no fitting could make seemly and smooth. Helen Carlton had been born in the Darrawal Mountains, where the great silence was broken only by the sound of wind-tossed trees or the cry of wild bird, and it seemed that environment touched her nature deeply. When William Carlton left a good billet on the Down to take up unsettled country "at the back of beyond," his friends thought him foolish; when he took his young wife and infant daughter with him to share the hardships of the bush, they called him. mad; but the big-hearted man and his brave wife never questioned the wisdom of their undertaking. Nor did they regret their decision until Mrs Carlton's last illness.. Then fears '. assailed her for the two young girls she was leaving behind her, and remorse seized him that all unthinkingly he had brought his dear ones beyond," the aid of medical skill. After his wife's death William Carlton drew within himself. He left his elder daughter to manage the household, and Helen, to her own devices. And while one sister worked the other dreamed. She would take her work far away and on some mountain peak let, her thoughts' roam unfettered, while her idle fingers lay in her lap. But, with mystical power kind Nature soothed her pain and left its quiet influence over her mind. There was too little to do in the small household for two pairs of hands, and Jessie was glad to be without her sister's assistance; but she often found herself wondering what strange charm Nature had for Helen. To her a storm was just a storm. Something with much noise and more or less moisture. To Helen it was, according to her mood, a triumphal hymn, or a wild defiance of warring spirits;, her vivid imagination seemed to feed on' the incense diffused from her fanciful bush lore. The smallest turn of fate changed it all. Their father was not unkind, but he did not understand his daughters. He chided Helen for her idleness, and. extolled Jessie for her, industry ; but he did not attempt to balance things at. all.' ." ; There came many troubled days for the two when the memory of their mother's example had lessened its influence. That invidious barrier which so often arises, between the industrious and indolent barred the way to their mutual sympathy. Jessie, proud of her housekeeping skill, looked down upon Helen, while she, with her overflowing heart and idle hands, looked upon her sister as something with clipped wings and fettered feet. One afternoon Helen put on her hat, and went out for a long mountain ramble. She walked brooding the while over a passage-at-arms that had taken place between her sister and herself. She did not take reproof well, and had hastened out of the house sullen and rebellious. With tear-dimmed eyes and anger-wracked brain she made her way along the mountain slope. Her mind was too full of her own concern to notice landmarks, and' she wandered far before it came to, her mind that the country had an unfamiliar appearance.. . Then, when--she tried to. locate her whereabouts she found she had made a mistake and taken the wrong spur as a guide. She was not alarmed, for she knew the .mountains too well to feel lost, but she set to work to climb to the top so that she might take her. bearings. She sat on the crest for some time watching the glorious scene before her, then she reluctantlv thought of returning Before she did so she. looked down the opposite side of the mountains. Some nock lilies—nlwayb favourites of hers—grew about 70ft below, and despite t'ie fact that it was getting late, Helen r'"-<bered down to them. She'had the r "*s in her hand when she heard a •"•man cough. Swiftly, she turned toward •ho sound, and saw on a terraee imme'lintelv below her a man standing at the ■•nM'ance of a cave. Before she could realms her position he saw her and spoke. "Have you lost your way, madam 7 I have a notion"— with a whimsical glance over his shoulder toward the cave—" my residence is a good many miles' from the nearest ata'tioh hereabout. Will you tell me from whence, you have come ?" Hi.s manner was easy and his tones those of a gentleman. Helen answered him franklv. "I have come from Larwella, across the Darrawal Mountains, and climbed to the crest to get my bearings. Then these flowers lured me down here." " How far are you from Larwella" "About five miles, I think." *"And"—looking at his watch—"it is now nearly half-past 4 o'clock. Don't you think you are either a very dai/ng or very foolhardy young lady to take t} ( e risks vou do. The Darrawal MountainT make diffi-

cult climbing, so how do you expect to reach home before dark?" Helen looked frightened, for, in truth, she had never noticed the declining sun. Now with a start she noticed that it was alarmingly low. "I must indeed hurry,'' she replied. "Good afternoon!" And she started on her way. Before she reached the top the cave-dweller was beside her breathlebs from his rapid ascent. " First to be orthodox. My name is Clive Feilding, and my way lies close to Larwella, bo 1 hope you will permit me to accompany you. I daresay you know some short cuts. " . " ' Helen did, and she made use of them, for no sooner was her homeward journey in progress than she suddenly realised how v&ry tired she was. Even though her companion help her over the rough rocks and tore down vinos and bushes to make a way for her it was dusk before the lights of home shone before tihem. When they could discern them her companion raised his hat and said good : night. i " But you said you had to come to Larwella on an errand." '' My errand was to see you safely within the fold, Miss Carlton; but I want you to make me a promise before I say goodbye. When next you take a notion to do the Darrawal Mountains start in the forenoon, and you will have daylight for your return journey. Youi would have had a lonely walk by yourself." He shook hands with her and vanished into the darkness before she had realised that thero was a strong reproof in his lightly-spoken words. For the first time in her life she felt guilty at her tardy appearance: but Jessie was awaiting her father's return .ere she sat down to tea. A few minutes • later he came in, and in the bustle of the mcaf Helen's late appearance passed unnoticed, for which faot sahe was undeniably thankfu). ' . • That was her first meeting with Clive Feilding, but it was by no means the las*. Ho stayed in the vicinity opossum-shoot-ing, and two or three times Helen found herself so closo to the caves where the best rock lilies grew that. s°he climbed across, and, being so close to his camp, looked in. Clive grew very interested in her. Her pitiful little history touched him, and he sympathised deeply with the unhappy girl: but he steered clear of sentiment, and tried to fill her life with more substance and less illusion. Her fancies and theories were very pretty, but it was bad food for her romantic brain. Ho gave her some drawing lessons, and lent her some books, and tried to make her feel he was her friend ; but he did not encourage her visits, and racked his brain to find a way of explaining the conventions to her. In this decision he failed to find an oppor: tunity. Helen was too innocent to sen any wrong in the free comeraderie of a man and a maid, so he left it as it was. One day Helen came jm with a bunch, of wild violets and ' trailing fern. Her father, sitting at the table as she entered, looked contemptuously at her. . ■« ' ' Better if you stayed at home and

scrubbed the pots instead of running about the bush pulling up wild things, You will go out oivx too often and be coming to grief one of* these days, so look out and mind yourself." "What harm can come to me in the scrub, and as for washing pots, you know Jessie will not let me help her," she answered hotly. " Because you are so ignorant," retorted Jessie. "Who's fault is that?" Helen exclaimed angrily. "Look here, Helen, this idiotic life of your 3 must have an ending. If there is not work enough in your own home to teach you the manifold duties of life, then you must go into the world and learn them there. You have never done a decent day's work in your life, and I am determined that from henceforth, things must change. You must stop your senseless ramblings and look to the house See to it, Jessie, that she has more to do." The father spoke very sternly. "Father, it is no use. She does not mind what I am saying to her. She goes on thinking of the noise some stream makes or the note some bird sings even ■while I am telling her what to do." Jessie spoke aggrievedly as she sat down, but Helen flung herself out of the room with fierce rebellion tugging at her leart.. She kept to her room until it was dark, end there built plans for her future. She would flee from Larwella that very night. She got up and donned a dark *arge, and stole quietly out. But once she stood upon that white line of road that led outward to the gate of the world she grew fri<shtened, and then in one flash her decision was made. The mountains did not isrrify her as much as the open country-, did. She must see Clive and tell ham. She never questioned the impulse of hnv heart. Grey crags and tangled vines lay i between the Darrawel heights and herself, but without hesitation she aped away into the darkness. The resentment that burned within her left her blind to tjhe difficulties that lay across her path. Just one thought stood out." She would find peace and appreciation with Give. H«r loadstar was so bright that she never looked at the darkness at until she stood beside the fire at which Clive sat. Then she felt her fatigue. Clive Fielding was smoking and gazing into the smouldering fire when he heard his name called pantingly, breathlessly. He sprang forward with a sharp exclamation, and led the white-faced girl within the firelight. " Good heaven, child, why are you here?" " Because they don't want me at home —because you told me one day that you liked me. May,l slay, please?" * Yes, for a little while. I'll make yOu tome tea and cut a lovely fresh damper just out of the ashes. You'll feel better after you have eaten something, and then we'll decide what we are going to do." " Going to do! Surely nothing tonight?" " Indeed, yes. There is no room for you here, Helen. "No room, when any one of those lovely grey caves would make a beautiful spare room. I'm so tired that I would sleep on jagged peaks, I think. May I stay, Ciive?" For half a moment he held her hands in silence. Yet there was no hesitation in iris heart. His decision was made before dhe spoke; but pity kept his lips silent for a while. " No, dear, I may not let you stay here." "Oil, Clive, I am so tired—so very tired! Let me 1 stay here, please." "In very kindness I must take you lway, Nell." "When?" "Tonight. Now, drink your tea." He placed food beside her and" turned away evon while she was protesting over the troifbie he was taking. Within half an hour he was back with a saddled horse. The fire gleam flickered across her, and her white face looked rosy red under its fitful glow. She was fast asleep, with all the tired lines showing in the young face. He noticed with a.thrill of pity that her thin shces and stockings were worn into holes, and her feet showed scratched and bleeding through the worn places. But he shut out all the tenderness in his heart and steeled himself to be very firm for her sake. " Come, little girl. We must be going It is nearly 11 o'clock." She still slept on. He touched her. "Look here, little Nell, I am going down to the flats to have a glance at my snares. I can't leave you here, because the devilish bears kick up such a row that they would break anyone's nerves—not accustomed to it, I mean. It curdles my blood, so I reckon it would just about finish you. Hop on my Cheyanne and come with me." " You are not going to take me home?" " Not I. So up you get on Pansy, and we'll get along." She rode for nearly an hour in silence, Clive leading the pony. .At last he put has hand on her bridle rein. " Helen, you have been a very silly little oirl to-night. When you are older you will understand that the world does not allow young 'possum-snarers to"entertain young ladiM in your position without Madame Grundy makes a fuss about it. The Carrisford Settlement lies just across the next hill, and among those who come here to start here for themselves is a dear woman for whom I have a very great reverence. I am going to put you in her charge.!' A choking sob interrupted him for an instant. " It is no use for you either to fly into tears or protests. I have made up my mind, I am doing right, and you must make the best of things. Mrs Hemes was a Girton girl before she threw aside all her science defrees to marry my chum, Jack, so I know am putting you in good hands." •A little later Clive drew rein at a tent doo, and went in to interview the occupants before he let Helen dismount. He returned with a tall, slender woman, who trent up to the girl and laid her hands gently upon hers. "Ofi, yon poor tired child. Clive tells

me you lost your way and stumbled upon his camp. Now, come with me, and we will find comfort and rest. Jack and Clive will make us some tea > while I . attend to the poor bruised feet." 1 Helen slipped from her horse, thankful for the darkness, for her cheeks were burning with a newly alighted fire. She knew that she had 'overstepped the observances ; she knew that Clive had brought her to this sweet woman, to whom love and womanliness had seemed so much I more than renown, as to a sanctuary. A wave of self-consciousness overwhelmed the girl, but her companion took no notice. She put dainty china on the rough table, and sliced bread with just enough conversation to set her at her ease. It was" when Mrs Herries took her to her bedroom—a hessian-linsd tent, carpeted with skins,—that she thought of Jessie's little room at home. The white nightgown ! folded so carefully reminded her of her sister's care of her. Her fused brain sudj denly realised how great a blow she had dealt her father, and she fell upon her knees. It seemed so momentous an ending to so trivial a commencement. It was a very perturbed household to which Clive Feilding drew rein two hours later. He heard the cooee before he reached the house, and found Helen's father, lantern in hand, just setting forth to seek. There was no need for details. "I have just come from the Carrisford Settlement, Mr Carlton, with a message from Mrs Herries there. Your daughter is in her care to-night. She got bushed or something, and followed the Darrawal Range instead of this one. No, thanks, I won't wait for any tea. I have some •snares to see to, so good night.' No thanks needed, I am sure." And he was off without waiting to describe how or where his daughter had been found. Mrs Herries went across to Larwella with Helen, and she begged so hard that she might be allowed to keep her for a while that her father consented. He was glad to have his girl in good hands, and the Girton woman found such rare material in the crude Australian that she revelled in the task of teaching her. Helen studied with fierce zeal, and was like a stray sunbeam in the prosaic settlement, and, carrying a new light with her to the old house in the mountains, it was made the brighter by her visits. Clive left the district, and both Helen and the Herries missed him much. Time wore on its steady round, and the anniversary of Helen's meeting with Mrs j Herries came and went. The apt pupil was now the loved companion of the latter. The elder woman had imparted much of her own sweetness and womanliness to the motherless girl, and she repaid her tenfold for all she did. One day Give's friends were thrown into a state of great excitement over a post-card. -Give was coming up to spend the winter at Carrisford. The Herries joyouslyplanned pleasant holidays and foretold a happy time ahead. But Helen suddenly seemed to .tire of the settlement. One definite idea surged in her brain—viz.', to get into the world and try her wings in a big flight. She wanted to get away —to get out of herself,—and one day after a loving farewell to her benefactors she drove with her father to the little railway station nearly 40 miles from Larwella. From there she faced life in its many moods. She launched herself in that great maelstrom called the world, and two weeks later Clive Feilding returned to Carrisford. J It was five years later. Helen s lot had ! been burdened with many experiences. But a kind fate seemed to guard the girl. Her path mostly led through pleasant places, and, thanks to Mrs Herries, her attainments qualified her to accept lecrative situations. She bad been governess on a station on the Rivsrina when, one day, she received a wire from her father asking her to come home as her sister was dangerously ill. She made all haste to do his bidding. Four days later she looked through the train and saw the little station of Larwella glinting in the sunset light. There was no sign of her father on the platform, and a cold fear assailed her. Then her common sense came to her aid, and told her all must be well or she would have heard.' she was looking round, trying to realise that when she had gone 'away there had been no thought of railways or railway stations when someone approached her. "Hello, Nell! Have you no word for an old, chum Or," lowering his voice, "are you too proud to speak to 'possumsnarers now?" Clive waited for her to speak, and her ! tongue refused to give him a greeting. She fancied that he could hear the beating of her heart, and she knew the colour was flaming her cheeks. She had so hoped that her worldly wisdom would come to her aid when she and Clive did meet, and the manners that she taught her "pupils seemed to have been left in the absent schoolrooms. She wondered if her companion noticed her silence. If he did, he made no comment. Not until they were out of sight ' of the little station and just, in view of the old home in the valley did Clive speak, Then he caught her hands. "Stay one moment, Nell. I want you to answer a few questions before we go further. Have you found any fairer place than this in all your travels—and has any knight of golden fleeces or golden ore unlocked the chamber of love in your heart? I pray not, for, Helen, I want to ask you the question now that I longed to ask five years ago, but waited to give vou your chance. I want you. Nell. I love you Nell; and I pinned i my whole faith on yours. You loved me once —-what now?" Helen drew back protesting!v. "No, no. Oh, Clive. I did not know how silly I was. Oh, forget—please, forget, , and let me go back to the world and work ' out my own salvation." ! " I'm sure I won't! We'll work any-

thing there is to be worked together. I loved you that night you came to me, and I wanted to take you in my arms and kiss the tears away, but I also knew the right—the knight thing—to do was to take you to Constance Herries—remember Lovelace's words? Well, they applied to me that night. If you had not come back this year I would have gone after you. Your lips, please. W I want my betrothal kiss before I see Mrs Jack Herries again. She is nursing Jessie, and actually kept your father back while she sent me to meet you in his stead. Helen's father and Mrs Herries met them at the gate. A warm handclasp between-the men told the father all he wanted to know; while in the girl's starry eyes and happy smile' her secret was revealed to the woman's loving glance. She caught her to her throbbing breast and softly whispered. "Beloved, I see you have come into your own. The clouds if your girlhood have dispersed in the sunshine of your womanhood's love. My whole heart is with you and Clive to-day." The sun "«t in a glory of gold ; a violet haze wrapped the valley in a far-stretch-ing mantle, and the grey dusk light settled on Larwella. Th~ sisters sat hand in hand, learning, in silent thought; some of the bigness of life, and the smallnese of mind. And all was peace.