SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 13016, 2 July 1906, Page 2

SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

, : — l> (Continued.) William staggered against the tree. An appointment at naduignt! His lore, whom he had believed to be as pure as ahe was beautiiui! Oh, shame! shame! What Stephen said was true. All fair and beautiful women are alike; the lore of one man cannot suffice; they trick and lie to their lovers' faces, and laugh at them behind their backs. In what way did his manhood call upon him to act ? To go to Laura, and proclaim her shame in the midst of her gay company, and then fling her from him .for ever? Should he in this way openly disgrace her? No, he would watch her; this night ihe would play the spy upon her, and satisfy himself if Stephen's words, were true. If they were, and if at midnight this false girl 'met her- lover secretly, why, then—

But he could think no further. A dozen times his thoughts carried him. to this point, and there he stopped, dazed and confused.; He glanced at Stephen Winkworth. Was it possible that he should ever grow like this man—hated by and hating all? Love had made the world: beautiful to him; if love jwere false, in what fir whom could he believe?

If love were 'false! Was not (the proof strong enough? Already, in his heart, love's pure spirit was defiled. "Oh," he groaned, clenching his hands in agony; Laura, Laura - ! How could you thus deceive me?" He had judged her. Weak a* he was, he had condemned her. The first whisper of unfaithfulness —it mattered net from what lips—had been to him a pioof of her guilt. - But he would watch to-night., To this, amid much confused wandering, bis was settled; and, so resolved, he moved mechanically .towards the house. "Don't grieve too much, my lad," said Stephen, B as he walked by William's side; "she is not worth it * It is" hard to bear; but it is better now thin after." "Be«ilent!" exclaimed .William moodily. "You have" told me to-night that which may blast my life." Yes;' this man had poisoned the well which had sweetened his existence. This man r had made him- doubt. Efe met Laura in the passage. Uneaey at his long absence, she had been looking, for him about the house, never thinking that he had been out in the cold night for such a Jength of time. Her face lit, up gladly jaa she stepped towards him. Could .he not see .that there only purity and innocence dwelt? Could he not look her jtruthful eyes, and see the reflex "of he? stainless soul?

No. Doubt and jealousy had blinded him. Maddened by what .he had heard, he pushed, rudely by her, and then, with sodden remorse, stooped and kissed her, despising "Bimself the next moment for the, impulsive tenderness. ' , ' t *She drove back the tears that had welle* into "her eyes, and laying her "head timidly upon big shoulder, nestled fondly to .him. "I have missed you'ever so.long," she said-sweetly, "and poor Alice has been asking after, you so anxiously that she must have been afraid you ( wexe,,lost." " Laura,"' he* said, wirETa* fierce passion in his ivoice, "dp you,, loye „n»?" %. "Yon frighten me; the girl, shrinking tinridty front, byn. He -Observed the ' y and misconstruetl 4*- v '' '' * / - "Answer * me," he said J sternly i- "do not (shrink from me", or evade my question., You know I-love, you, do you not?" "Yes, William." " >, Every harsh word he spoke to her crounded him as though it were a dagger's point. He was conscious of the suffering he was inflicting upon, her by his own pain in the infliction, bub he set his teeth close, and did not flinch.

"You know how perfectly I love you, I#aura. You know the hold you have upon my heart. You know that I lad better be dead, than live in the belief that you loved me, and discover too late that I have been deceived. You know this, do you not? Answer me." ' " I believe it," she answered, with trembling lips. "And answer ime again," he said solemnly, "do you love me?" "Yes, William," she replied, with an appealing look. "Honestly, purely, without deceit?" _ "Indeed, indeed! it is so! Oh, William, ,Vhat x change has come over you?" Did this content him? No. Tie doubts that haunted ham were phantoms that played about every word she uttered, and bore it to his sense with dfetorted meaning. What had Stephen told 'him? In another man's arms, but an hour ago! Shame! Shame! "1 suppose," he said, with a quiet bitterness, " it is the usual way in which girls answer their lovers."

"William, William!" she cried, her sob& now' breaking into a paroyxsm. He was frenzied with love and jealousy,, but he could not be entirely indifferent to her emotion. That she was false he had proof in words, but not yet in deed. He would wait for this x confirmation, and then would decide how to act. In this spirit he strove to soothe her, and although she was almost heart-broken, \her sweet, loving nature conquered, making excuses for his altered mood, and after a time she looked up through her tears -and smiled. Reuben Harrild's Christmas parties always broke up early. Some of the~anerrymakers had a long way to go, and the weather had to be taken into considerfv|ian& Upon -the stroke of ten,/ prepared to trudge or be driven to their respective homes. The-evecangtjhad bwgiJ a pleasant one, and each one v ;WMhttl hi* neighbour a merry Christmas and a nappy New Year. Event the Woy J Wymers thawed into geniality^shook hands cordially with all sorts of people; and as for Doctoivßax,' there jrasj not i« in "the companyrwhb didTnoY-behave as though he were in a raging thirst, and mistook the little doctor for a pump! ' "The' annoyance of it is," said Doctor : -l3ax, as, his face beaming twithAgpod nature, he tied a cravat round his throat, "'that everything must cpmef V to-an M"I Mr Wymer sententibusly, "not everything." . V "No?" queried Drßax^'"7 ;" No. There is. ; law ? " . ,8&l& r ,3f£ T v '. : "- „; ': "Of courser, except the -Btw, ! "' t eaMl ! fchtf do'ctor;''**that will'go on forever.' from that, however; there is always nie something of sadness in the last stage of a pleasant experience; but it is pleasant, too, to look forward to other pleasant 'experiences to come. Then, life hasrits; duties. As Mr Wymer would say,; there is the law to look after"—Mr Wymer nodded complacently—" which returns the compliment by looking after us. However, we have nothing to do with law to-night." "I beg your pardon," corrected Mr Wymer. "Have we, then?" asked Doctor Bax. "Ir. what way?" " The law of goodwill and kindness, said the lawyer, with a slight colour in hh parchment cheeks; .adding in apology, "it is not -against the law to remember it Chris-fmaS'." This sestiment was received by the little , doctor with beaming smiles.

"Well said, Mr Wymer, well said; but it is not against the law to remember it at all times." " I referred ; only to Christmas," said Mr Wymer, guardedly. "Well, be it so. It is good, then, to feel that the law of kindness and goodwill reigns to-night at least, and that when we wish each other a merry Christmas and a happy New Year, the words are not tered unmeaningly/' ... ,— s -... With many more g033 wishes, ihe. party was about finally to break up, when Dr Bax took a small cotton bag from his pocket,- and, opening it, held it out/ to the company. " For the poor," he simply .said. • " I beg your pardon," said Mr Wymer, looking into the bag, which happened to be a blue bag. . , . i . "For the poor," repeated Dr Bax. 1 " Whose poor ?" asked Mr Wymer, judicially. " Mine—your's—God's." . ; Mr Wymer's face instantly lost its judicial, aspect. ' : " Pardon he said, dropping a coin i into the bag; and Doctor Bax's eyes glistened at the flash of gold. ' Miss Wymer contributed a small packet, saying stiffly, " Six and eightpence. I never give more; I never give less." Every one, from high to low, -gave*hia miite, William Fairfield being the last. Dr Bax gently nudged the young. farmer, who sullenly flung some pieces of money into the bag. His ungracious manner drew the attention of the. little, doctor upon him, and from William's face his eyes wandered to The trouble delisted there startled %im, but lie made no immediate reference to if. " This is, good," said Doctor Bax, drawing the'strings of the bag together. "I am a rich man. lam a happy man. Thank you, friends, in the name of the poor." A dogcart was waiting outside for the doctor; he stood at the side of the pony until William came from the' house.

"Here you are at last," he cried; "jump in." \>- 'l* But William turned" away, saying he was not in the humour for company. Dr Bax laid his hand gently upon the young man's arm.

I " That is just the reason why company should be forced upon you—unless, indeed," said the doctor, with an upward glance, at William's white face, " the impulse which urges you to shun your friends springs from pure happiness. There are feelings so sacred as to demand solitude—feelings with which, when our" souls are stirred by them, only the spirit/ of' Nature can have communion. When I was a young'man, I was at intervals for a brief space under such a spell. Then I would wander into the woods, where no human eye'"'could behold me, and my soul would pour out its gratitude for the heavenly happiness -which melted me into Vorship. William, when I was your age, I lovsd.'V-v •'...- • r " And now- " questioned William, ' a •tone which exhibited no sympathy for his friend., His grief and despair were overwhelming in their selfish force, and he had no room in his heart lor other sentiment. -3 And now," replied'Dr Bax/with simple pathos, "I am "alone in the world. Ah, noT' he himself; "how can T» man.' b0 alone when humanity calk out to him, holds out its hajid; and says, 'Gu&me «f your hetri?; double my joy by sharing it with me;' lessen "my sorrows and'■troubles by" sym'pathising wifchr'themj' No, lam not alone, though the woman I loved was snatched from me by death. Upon her grave I can lay not only sweet memories, but such daily duties as it is in my humble power to perform, and which it gladdens her soul to see, as she gazes upon me from the spirit-world with eyes of love." i "You are fortunate in your memories," said William moodily. "If I had not the evidence of my senses, I should think that it was Stephen Winkworth who makes that remark to me, not the William Fairfield who has as true cause to bless his lot as as man dare hope for. Yes, Jhank God, lam fortunate in my memories; they are the stars | of my life. William, I have some visits to make, and you must accompany me. No, I will not be 'denied. , You need companionship. lam a doctor of the mind as well as of the' body, and I can see that you are suffering." He paused for a while, inviting confidence, and, eliciting none, continued':' icome to all men af tikes, "aM; aftftougK ' I do not desire ■to " intrude upon yours r against your wish', I shall not allow you 'to brood over your and magnify 'them out -of alt reasonable proportions." William started at the word "shadows," and considered fo* t 'was but a few minutes past 10 o'clock, and the appointment!'which".}Stephen Winkiworth'had told ft™ that Laura had made With another loverjw&Sj.iipt fto 'take place ■until an "hour "after midnight. Dr Bax was his true friend, iand he could not ihake i him off without resorting to subterfuge. He had.time to>accompany the doctor,-and return to witness the false girl's treachery, ,if Stephen Winkworth had not lied to him. ' % ✓ "I will.go with you," hie said .

; ./Away jbej. .sped; to the adjacent Village, 'the '"ponythrowing up, the snow >w&cmj with his hoofs, as though he knew upon what errand they were'bent. Dr Bax lived 1 drew rem'at his house. A pretty maid, rah out to hold the pony, between whom* and herself: an intimacy of an affectionate Ur < gDome h^l^p^r^saia^thevdoctor^ cartt' h mis was being done, th«>doctor employed himself in counting the money he /had coUeoted, at Mr .flJarrild'sj As- he, wrappel he ek^iiney_ : -||e! '~"' ;-"-it'^vS' i «i x waicy'' : for useless. trifles which I can do very well without. When I OTC|e^ T ni extrava,gant 'the 'motley 'thus saved till Christmas * "*¥ have-fskencroach upon it tonally, but I Wix>>? WidfyNtx ' Ss pos--gible. Ihave caught myself," he said with a laugh,. " fatigjrjjngi jiieedlese things but of sheer^wilfitoesSj^f6r , ' ; 'fche" purpose, I do believe, of adding to, my store of Savings. ! have : fortunate'ifchia year,: but bet foriaSiafci ! >eliouighr ,: T shere are so'r many, and little!" '-",*' Despite himself, t'Wflliam' = knowing: how Dr Bax .was riot'-blind-■ teMihiaf;better moqd of his companion, but he; did ridi' appear to openly ob^rve^t.' : vt .. '-'■'- " Is this your yearly custom?" '■■ asked William. <.-..' t .n; :?:■' " It-is; and one of my best pleasures. We must be off now." -They!-.had not far to go. The doctor, drew rein again at a hovel, from the small window/paries of which a single rushlight could be seen burning. He knocked at the door. "Who's there?" cried o. voice. "Doctor Santa Claus;" replied the doc-

far, in a loud cheery tone, "with medicine." (To be continued.)