Connie Bell

Southern Cross, Volume 3, Issue 3, 20 April 1895, Page 7

Connie Bell

(All Rights Reserved)

A NEW ZEALAND STORY

(By Toi Toi.)

CHAPTER Y. Too late ! the curse of life! could we hut read In many a heart the thoughts that only bleed, How oft were found, Taigrave* deep, those words of saddest sound (Curse of our mortal state !) Too late ! too late ! —Axon. The mail that brought Edgar’s letter reached Dunraven on Monday, and there was no train till the following Thursday. As he explained that there was very little the matter with him, John arranged that they should iave two good long rides on the intervening days, so on the following morning they started off to a gorge about ten miles from the homstead.

When they had ridden about two miles John saw a mob of young horses in the distance, and telling his companions to ride slowly on in the direction he pointed out, he turned his hoi'se’s head and went to look at the mob.

Connie and Arthur rode on slowly and silently. She was fully occupied thinking of the trials in front of her, for her husband’s letter seemed to have freshened up the painful feelings which had been lying dormant for the last few days. Arthur too had much to occupy his thoughts, and whenever he looked at Connie he realized how great would be the blank when her bright presence was removed. She looked very lovely in the sunshine; hex- dark blue riding habit fitted her slender form perfectly, making her look slight and girlish ; she wore a soft blue felt hat and a sprig of jessamine at her throat.

* How beautiful she is,’ thought Arthur, and a pang shot through him as he remembered that very soon she must go her way and he must go his and in all probability see her no more.

Suddenly two or three horses belonging’ to the mob John had disturbed tore past, and Connie had barely time to take a firmer hold of the reins and sit down more closely in the saddle before Petrel was off—over ditches, staggering and floundering through swamps, over fallen trees and on as if he had gone mad. In vain she palled, until the strain on her arms was terrible, and her hands •were stiff and numb; therein had no power to check his wild career. John shouted to her to saw his mouth, but she could hear no hing but the thud of hoofs and a su ging in her head which told plainly that she could not hold out much longer. Arthur would have tried to catch up to them, but John warned him that Petrel was an old racer, and would only go the faster. ‘ Our only hope is that she may be able to stick on till he gets tired of it,’ he said hoax'se'y. On they flew, until they were in the midst of the young horses, and Connie, with white face, and wildly streaming hair, holding on for dear life, wondered how long it would last. All around her was a sea of manes rising and falling as they all rushed frantically on as if nothing on earth could stop them. John had ridden across to try and intercept them, but, as if understanding his strategy they wheeled round, leaving him further off than ever. He could see them, in the distance, tearing on, Petrel a little behind the others, when Connie, seeming to concentrate all her remaining strength, jerked the rein and Petrel not expecting this, lost his footing—down they came and Connie, knew no more.

Arthur had followed them at a short distance over obstacles that he would have thought it quite impossible for him to have cleared at any other time. With strained eyes and his breath coming thickly he watched their mad cour»e till he saw them fall. ‘ Oh, my God! she’s down!’ he cried and a mist came over his eyes. Push-

ing blindly.on, he came to the place where she lay. Petrel stood beside her as if ashamed of himself, his nostrils dilated, his eyes glaring, his; body bathed in perspiration and quivering with excitement. Arthur flung himself from his horse, and kneeling beside the prostrate girl, he, with trembling hands, unfastened her collar, and raised her head upon his arm. He thought she was dead ; she looked so white and still, and bending down over her he called her by every endearing name which came so easily to his lips. It seemed to him that he had loved her all his life, and yet as if it were all a dream. Presently John came up looking very grave and anxious ; almost at the same time Connie’s beautiful eyes slowly opened, and she sat up. By degrees it all came back to her, and looking at John with a wintry little smile, she said, ‘lt was my own fault for not riding him with a curb.’ ‘ The brute ! I’ve a good mind to shoot him,’ said John. ‘Do you think you are hurt ?’ ‘ Oh, no,’ she replied bravely, though she trembled and looked verv white.

Meanwhile Arthur stood a little way off trying to understand the emotion that had taken possession of him. This, then, was the meaning of the blank feeling of despair when he thought of her going away—this was the meaning of the intense pleasure and full enjoyment he felt in her society. The truth came upon him suddenly; the shock of seeing her lying helpless at his feet seemed to have forced it upon him. He was glad when John said—- ‘ Would you mind going home for some brandy and another horse ?’ All the way back he tried to analyze what he felt, but his brain seemed in a whirl.

‘ 1 love her, yes, I love her,’ he repeated, and could get no further. He went back, leading a steady old horse for Connie, and as he drew near to the place where she sat talking brightly to John and laughing at the fright they had all had, he looked at her with all his true soul shining in bis honest grey eyes, and he vowed that this great love of his should bring nothing but good to her. 1 She shall never be disturbed,’ he said, ‘ by the knowledge that she is the only woman in the world to me.’ He went up to her, and in his own kind way, which had an unusual touch of tenderness in spite of himself, asked her how she felt. ‘ I am quite well again, thank you.’ ‘ How bravely you stuck on,’ he said. ‘ Till I fell off,’ she laughed. ‘ I quite envied you your pluck,’ he said, throwing himself down on the turf beside her.

‘Did you ? Well, the truth is I was most terribly frightened. So, you see, a bi’ave appearance is not always to be depended upon.’ ‘ She says she quite enjoyed it for a. time,’ said John, from under the flap of the saddle, which he was putting on the fresh horse ; then having given Connie a little brandy, he mounted her, and they rode slowly home. ‘ I lost my jessamine in the race,’ Connie said, putting her hand up to her throat. Arthur could have told the fate of the little starry flower now lying in his pocket book. ‘ I will keep it all my life, and it shall be buried with me,’ he told himself.

Mrs Smith came out to meet them, carrying Frankie. She had grown very fond of the sturdy little fellow, and he seemed happier with her than with anyone else except his mother. ‘ I hope you are not hurt, ma’m ?’ she said to Connie, who was still white and trembling. ‘ Oh, no, Mrs Smith. I feel as if I had done something heroic,’ laughed Connie; but she leaned heavily on the good old housekeeper’s arm, dragging her habit, the weight of which evidently oppressed her. ‘ You must go straight to bed,’ said Mrs Smith, and she fussed about helping her to undress; nor did she

leave her until she had drunk some warm w ine and was comfort ably settled in bed. So what might have been a fatal accident was over, and he upon whom it had most effect was one who appeared to have the least part in it.

Arthur walked to and fro on the garden path for hours after the rest of the , household had gone to rest. -He thought of the many women he had known : women fair as Connie, judging from an outsider’s point of view, and of. how, though many had flattered and tried to attract him, they had met with but indifferent success. Now was changed —lhe world held nothing half so precious as this pair of violet eyes with the sad shadow in them.

‘Something troubles her,’ he thought, ‘and I can do nothing. Then he realized, with pain, that this love of his was a great trouble thathad befallen him. And be thought of it all until his senses became confused, and only the fact that he loved her with the one love of his life was plain. The next day, Connie haying quite recovered, they had one last ride ‘ To work off the effects of the fright,’ John said. In the evening they were dull and depressed, Connie’s departure forming a principal and not enlivening topic of conversation. ‘ May I call when I come to Dunedin, Mrs Howard ?’ said Arthur. ‘ Yes, certainly. I should be disappointed if you went up North without coming to see me—and Edgar will be very pleased to meet you,’ she added dutifully. (To be continued.)