CHAPTER VIII.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 11635, 16 March 1901, Page 2 (Supplement)

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BBKD-ING OF THE TWIG. "Jnst as the twg i§ bent, tre tree's inclined." —Pope. The Earl of Hanton found only one resource in his desolation, and that was the companionship of Sir Philip Wyverne, the father of S*r Guy. They were not merely neighbors, but between them existed a strong and siii cere friendship. Sir Philip was a kindly, warmhearted man, and he loved the cross, sallen pair, in whom no one els« saw anvtbing to admire. Lady I'hilip Wyverne died when her son, Sir Guy, was still a little child ; and her husband, who literally worshipped her, never thought of remarrying. It was then that tho proud lady of Hanton found ample scope for her manoeuvring. The Wyvernes were rich beyond measure. Tbeir lands were feitile, ; their coffers overflowed with gold ; and she, whose presence was always welcome there, laid her plans accordingly. She made herself very useful to tiir Philip by wise and kindly suggestions over his 6on. To her inflaence Guy owed many indulgencieß, many pleasures that it would never have entered his father's mind to have given him. Lady Hanlon was not ordinarily cf a caressing temperament ; but sbe lavished more love and kisses on little Gny in one hour than fell to her own child in a year. The boy soon grew to love the beautiful, haughty countess with something of the same affection he would have given to his own mother had she lived. And Lady Hantoa played her cards with consummate skill. While she won the boy's heart for her own, she continued to interest Sir Philip so deeply in her daughter, Viola, as to make him care for her, after Guy, more than he did for any living creature. She managed it all so adroitly, and with such easy grace, no one thought aiiy scheming had been required. •We hate no son,' she would say at times, when the earl sneered cynically at her well-laid plans ; *we have no son ; but with care we may make something out of our daughter.* 'It would be the first lime anything useful had been done with a girl,' was tho uncompromising reply. 'I shall be curious to see, my lady, what you can do.' •If we can marry her to youDg Wyverne, and so bavft only a share of the wealth that ovoi flows at Haddon, that will be something,' said the countess. Even her grim lord Baw the feasibility and wisdom of such a project. Then, arousing herself from her former indifferent 1*)1 *) regarding Lady Viola, the counter went suddenly to the other extreme. Sbe who had been allowed to spend whole days in the woods and grounds, attended only by her favourite dogs —

I neglected, forgotten by all the world — } she was now so carefully watched and tended that she could not move in comfort or in peace. She must be careful the son did not burn her face, >or the wind roughen it. She must I give op out-door ramble?, and wear ' gloves both day and night. Bhe must read less. Jest her eyes should grow dim. She must give op ber absurd practice of running when she was in a hurry,, of singing when she wo? pleased, and regulate bor every movement and word by what Lady Ilanton called 'the usages of r-oli'.c society.' And all this was don? that she might attract the son of this rich neighbour, and so open tha door of their prison-house and let them go free. For this end Lady Vi< la studied from morning until night, under the auspices of Madame St. Ange, No one ever said anything to her about trying to improve her mind, to ennoble her ideas j no one ever taught her to think or reflect. Self-discipline and self-control were never brought, as parts of her education, to bear upon her. An for higher, holier notions — love t of God, reverence for religion — Lady Hanton woold have opened her eyes in proud surprise had they been mentioned before hsr, and would have said, with her usual air of superb disdain, that such things were oxly intended for the lower classes. The highest incentive ever offered to Lady Viola Carew was that one day she might be mistress of Had don Hall, that she might have a grand house in London, where Lady Hanton could visit her, and once more catch a glimpse and mingle in the world she loved so well. I should ffish tnis picture of the home at II an ton deeply engraved on my reader's mind : the grim, ruined, peevish master, who seldom quitted the two rooms he had chosen for himself ; the worldly, haughty lady, still beautiful enough to be admired, full of passionate, eager longing to resume her lost place in the world ; full of ambition ill-repressed, of zealoua, eager striving; and the daughter, young, beautiful as a poet's dream, but cruelly ilUtrained, cruelly ill-managed. So they led together their dull, isolated, dreary lives. No visitors ever came to Hanton, for there were no means of entertaining them. The earl bad so proudly and sternly refused all invitations that no one had now the courage to offer any. A thousand a year in that vast mansion barely found them in the necessaries of life ; its luxuries were all foreign to them. And the one only mo<Je of escape was that Viola's lovely face might win the heart of Guy Wyverne, heir of Haddon. That was Lady Viola's religion, her creed ; the only faith in which she was brought up, her ultimatum, her highest earthly good — to be Lady Wyveme, of Haddon. The young heir grew up, handsome and accomplished, true and loyal of heart ; of so true and loyal a dispoi sition himself that he never suspected disloyalty in others. So honest, so honorable, so generous, so chivalrous, that the darker phases of human nature were sealed dookh to him. He went through the usual routine ; he went to Eton and to Oxford, where he secured a double first, and then on the Continent, where ho remained for some time. He was pot only clever and talented ; 1 the rare fire of genius had descended to him. Guy Wyverno not only did everythiug well, but there were many things in which he excelled. He had the greatest of all earthly gifts — a poet's soul, the glorious gift that falls to ho few. It was his, and j he knew it. His lips had been touched ! with fire, they sang so sweetly of the | beanty of earth and heaven. Sounds that others hardly beard were music to hiii ; light that was darkness to other eyes cheered him and brightened life fit him. A poet's soul 1 Does the wondrons treasury of heaven hold a higher gift? All the music, tho poetry, the beauty of earth, open to him, the very music j of the spheres unroll before him ; and j this divine gift of poesy Gay did not j neglect. The pity was that he was rich, and j could live without work. Had fate or fortune obliged him to study for th j means of livelihood, the world would have been the gai r. As it was, at .nes for whole months together bo nf r wroio a line. Then the fever of mposition would neiae him, and the terary world would read in wonder so gs so sweet and thrilling they were unlike the utterances of any mortal lips. Old Sir Philip was very proud of hi gifted son ; not that he undo stood much of poetry himself, but that in a dim, vague way he felt its beauty.

'We have had warriors aud statesmen among the Wyvernes,' ho used to say ; 'but Gny is our first poet. 1 When the joung heir returned from his Continental tour, ha came to Haddon to reside there. Of all the places he bad ever seea, his own home, so yrandly pictnresqne, pleased him best. The woods o\ Haddon were full of song to him. Every tree had it 3 own voice, nnd told its own 6tory. Sir Philip's delight when Guy came ho rue was unbounded. 'My son has tried tbe Continent. He hns been to London and Parip r ' he would say, proudly j 'but he likes Haddon b?st. He is fond of home.' It was then that the Countess of Hanton gave proof of her exquisite tact. Daring Guy's vacations she had carefully kept Viola out of his sight, fully resolved he should not grow familiar with that wondrous beauty she intended to burst upon him in full glow as a sadden revelation. When the yonng heir was at Hanton, Lady Viola was strictly kept to the acbool-room, Madame St. Ange, who understood Lady Han ton's policy perfectly, keeping watch and guard. Guy knew t^at the conntess, who was co kind to him, and to whom he owed so many plrasures of home, bad a daughter, in his boyish, curious way, he bad asked many questions about her ; but Lady Hanton always replied, with tbe same kind, indulgent smile, that she was busy at, work with her books and music. Sometimes be had asked if he might con>e orer to Haddon, and then, with the same soft smile, her ladyship would reply that her little ghl was too young and too timid to associate with or even to interest Guy. His curiosity died away after a time, and his interest, too. When he came home to Haddon as its heir, he had almost forgotten the existence of Lady . Hanton's daughter. Sir Philip resolved upon giving a 1 grand ball to celebrate his son return, and it was at this fete the cuuntess intended her daughter to make her debut. 'Entirely in his honor/ Bhe impressed upon Sir Philip, who already lored the young girl very dearly. *Yon cannot tell how pleased I am that Viola's first step in life should be taken in honor of your fon, whom I love as though he were my own.' Sbe could speak after this fashion to tbe simple old baronet, who held every won. an as an object of highest reverence, and never dreamed of scheming:. ! He liked to hear the haughty l*dy praise his son, for whom he thought no words good enongh ; but that she had any motive in it beyend the one of ex • pressing her admiration he never dieamed. That ball Lady Hanton intended as a coup d'etat. She meant suddenly to present her beautiful daughter to Guy Wyverne — to watch his gradual bewilderment and faec ; nation ; for that he would fall in love 6he never doubted. Nor was the Lady Viola 1e39 anxioas Mian her mother, Sbe knew all that depended on the ball — an tho tmnression she should make on Guy ; the whole world to ber depended on it. If he should admire and love her, then before her lay freedom, wealth, and gratification of every wi9h, the release of her parents from what both she nnd they thought prison. Pleasures that sbe only knew by name shone before her. Gayety, life, amusement, fashion — all that was bright and glittering — seemed to beckon her onward ; and all depended on the love of a young man who could never, she said to hersdf, have seen a face more beautiful than her own. So the day came round. Lady Hanton had, by various ingenious de« vices, obtained money enough to send to London for a ball dress that should eclipse all others ; and the day dawnei on whioh Guy Wyverne and the Lady Viola Carew were to meet for the first time. (to be continued.)

•w.

WILL-O'-THE-WISP DE WET. BY H. HKRVEV, IN THE UEG:ME> ". Oh, Christian De Wet, \ou are I bat. The slipperiest cove created. And to that brick who's called OKI Nick, I fancy you're reiatM. For, Christian De Wei, to us you've Bet The task of your entrapping, But whenever we try, you're slim and spry, And. we never can catch you napping. Oh, Christian De Wet, how is it you get Clear each time we're on you ? How is it you bap ou some friendly gap When we're closing' in upon you ? Oh, Christian De Wet, though you are beset With cordons tight and fast, sir, No matter to you, in a jilTy you're through, And the whole world stands aghast, sir ! Oh, Christian De Wet, in spite of the net We all have spread to nab yon, You bally old rip", you give us the slip, And refuse to let us grab you. Sure, Christian De Wet, we never have met A chap who's so elusive, For out you creep, when we're asleep, In a manner most delusive. But, Christian De Wet, oh, don't you fret, "We're bound to catch you some day, And when we do, be sure for you 'Twill be a very black Monday. Then Christian De Wet, with keenest regret (Yoor fate it might^be meaner), We'll pack you on board witb your slippery horde, And send you to St. Helena !