THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 5007, 15 May 1889, Page 4

THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER.

LITERATURE-

‘ Allow me, Bolitho, to obtrude three facts on yonr consideration,’ said Mr Buddlecombe, still on the sarcastic tack. ‘ First, that chairs are only made of wood j secondly, that they possess sufficient stability without ramming their legs through the floor ; and thirdly, that you are not sitting for your photograph, with me as the object on which to keep your eye fixed. You will excuse my candour,’ concluded the sarcastic gentleman, with the sort of sweet smile a dog gives you when you take a bone from him. *¥6B, I’ll excuse your candour, if you’ve got any; only too glad to do so ; but I don’t believe you can have a particle,’ was the reply. For once in his life old Bolitho was in a towering rage, and while he boiled over, Mr Buddlecombe simmered quite pleasantly in the consciousness of having at last done unto Bolitho what Bolitho had so often done unto him.

1 Keep your temper, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Buddlecombe, quite refreshed by the novel transposition of affairs. ‘ At your age you should really exercise more control over your angry pasiions.” ‘ I am not ashamed of being in a rage, sir,’ retorted Mr Bolitho, proving his statement by proclaiming it at the top of his voice. ‘lam in a rage, sir, and it’s only right and natural and proper to be in a rage, sir,’ continued old Bolitho, crescendoing until he roared with righteous wrath. ‘Look here, Bolitho,’ said Mr Buddlecombo, still pleasantly tickled, like a child with a fresh toy, by the brandnew sensation of keeping his temper while Bolitho had lost his, ‘ don’t you think you somewhat miscalculate the size of this apartment ? It does not absolutely require a voice of twenty trumpet-power in full blast to penetrate even to its farthest corner. I must again ask yon to excuse my candour.’ ‘ And I again tell you I don’t believe you have any candour to be excused,’ was the angry rejoinder. ‘ls it candour to carry on a clandestine cofrespoadeßce with a lady —a lady of dazzling personal attractions ? Is it candour to make and keep an assignation with her, the purport of which you are unable to disclose to your wife ? Is it candour ’ s J

Here the catechism was cut short by Mr Buddlecombe casting aside the polished rapier of sarcasm, with which he was ludicrously awkward, for the loaded bludgeon of abuse, a weapon he was more at home with.

‘ Mind your own business, you old fool ! ’ exclaimed Mr Buddlecombe. A furious “ You’re another! ’ coupled with an asservation that it was his business, rose to Mr Bolitho’s lips, when, reason’s voice, which up to now had been all but drowned in Mrs Buddlecombe’s tears, whispered to him that he must not be too sure of that; and, though the tones were still rather water-logged and weak, they induced Mr Bolithb to pause and ponder in this wise : Perhaps he had been hasty; perhaps he had leaped without looking, and had consequently floundered into a quagmire of illusion ; and, after all, might not Mr Buddlecombe engage in some perlectly innocent transaction with a lady, concerning which it were better to be reticent with his wife, on the principle Harry Percy pursued towards his * gentle Kate ’ ?

* Constant you are ; But yet a woman, and for secrecy 3So lady closer ; for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not

know And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.’

B,ut there could not be the same objection to confidence in a man when that man had been a friend from boyhood. Such were pretty nearly the thoughts which Mr Bolitho, with all traces of passion gone from his countenance, proceeded to put into words. ‘ Come, come, Buddie, old friend, I have been hasty. I have been led away by appearances, but I have no doubt you will be able in a tew words to clear away the clouds of misapprehension, and put things in fheir proper light. Tell mo the whole truth ; or, if you are bound by secrecy, it will be sufficient for me if you give your word that there is nothing in the matter your wife or I, or any other honorableminded man or woman, would consider wrong. I ask ibis more for Mrs Buddlecombe’s sake than for my own.’ .Now, of the two persons, as the reader may well imagine, Mr Buddlecombe would have preferred his, wife as a confidant, had confession to one or the other been obligatory, and Mr Bolitho’s last move was a false one.

‘ Confound your assurance, sir ! ’ thundered Mr Buddlecombe, his ire rising as suddenly as Mr Bolitho’s had fallen—a see-saw by no means uncommon between two people Laving a difference of opinion. ‘ What right have you to demand an explanation of any course of conduct I may choose to pursue ? ’ ‘ I have no right to demand one,’ replied Bolitho, keeping his temper woudsrlully well ; ‘but I should imagine that any victim of a groundless suspicion would be only too ready to give an explanation which would clear himself in the eyes of anyone, most of all in the eyes of the best of wives and the oldest of friends. By ouroldfriendship, Biiddleconibe, I ask you to give me this explanation.’ ‘ And by our old friendship I won’t do anything of the sort. Look here, Bolitho, it’s my opinion that that same friendship is so old that it’s worn out —worn threadbare, sir, and the texture will no longer stand the strain of any prying impertinence or confounded familiarity. Do yon understand me, or shall I endeavour to make my meaning plainer ? ’ Still old Bolitho kept his temper, and continued his remarks- as if the insulting rejoinder to his appeal on the grounds of old friendship had not been spoken. t ‘ I admit there may be some good I t reason for withholding an explanation

from your wife, because, with all their beautiful traits of character, women do not possess the knack of keeping a secret. But with me that objection cannot hold good.’ ‘ You wafit an explanation, do you ? ’ ‘ Yes, I do; and mainly in order that I may, if it’s a good one, set your dear good "wife’s mind at rest.’ ‘ Then you may go to the Antipodes, or any other.placeyou choose, in search of it, for you won’t find it here. And the sooner you’re oft on your travels thff better.’

Now old Bolitho’s nature positively overflowed with the milk of human kindness, but there was a point when that milk could become sour. Goodnature carried too far becomes contemptible. A man whom you could not kick into a rage would be-—not-withstanding his undoubted claims to be considered an extraordinarily goodnatured mortal—a very paltry fellow indeed, Mr Bolitho now lost bis temper. ‘ There’s only one conclusion I can come to, then,’ he said, raising his voice and bringing bis clenched fist down on the table with a mighty blow ; ‘ and considering your age, your position, your good charming wife, your sweet innocent daughter, and the pure home you have defiled, it’s my opinion that you’re a confounded old reprobate. Now, sir, do you understand me, or shall I endeavour to make my meaning plainer ? ’ ‘ Get out of my house, sir ! ’ said Mr Buddlecombe, beside himself with passion, and trembling from head to foot, as he sprang to his feet. ‘ I order you out of my house, sir ! And il you won’t go, I’ll have you removed by force. There’s the door, sir ; and I’d advise you to go peaceably through it, unless you prefer being thrown out ot the window ! ’

(To be Continued)