"THE GAMBLER."

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIX, Issue 13150, 5 December 1906, Page 2

"THE GAMBLER."

CHAPTER VIH.-(Continued). At. the word husband, Clodagh looked up quickly; then her eyes dropped to 'her, wedding ring. "Thank you!" she said almost inaudibly. And an instant later Milbanke stepped forward deferentially and offered her his arm. In silence they passed . down the aisle of the church, in the centre of which stood the old stone font at which Clodagh ihad been christened, and on which she had been wont to fix her eyes during the Sunday service while the rector preached. All at iciEjce this iaanimate friendly object} seemed to take a/new and unfamiliar air—seemed to whisper that Clodagh Asshlin existed no more, and that the stranger who filled her pi'ace was an alien. Her, fingers tightened nervously on her husband's arm and her steps involuntarily quickened. Outside, in the calm, grey, misty atmosphere, they lingered for a moment by the> church door, in order to give Nance and' Mrs Asshlin the opportunity of gaining the cottage before them; both were ill at ease, self-conscious, and acutely anxious to curtail the enforced solitude. And it was with a sigh of relief, that, Clodagh saw Milbanke dra wout his watch as an indication that they might start. About the'gate, the little group of curious idlers.lhad been augmented. And as Clodagh stepped to the carriage an irrepressible murmur of admiration.passed from lip, succeeded by a cold and critical silence, as the bridegroom!-—well bred, well dressed, but obviously, and incongruously old—followed in her wake., ~ ■ Clodagh comprehended and construed this chilling silence; by the. light of her owh< warmappreciation of things* and beautiful; . And as'shejstepped hastily into ithe. waitingcarriage a .flush: of something* iike/.shaane rose iotly •to'-lher 'faffe.■'■.■ , The drive -to- the cottage; scarcely "occupied live mMute's: j laid eveh'had they desir; ed it, there was no time "for, conversation! Milbanke • 'sat' upr%ht."-aird Embarrassed; Clodagh; lay. ; back 1 in her. corner of the roomy.;barouche, her eyes fixed resolutely upoti. the! window ,her fingers tightly clasping the ivory "prayer-book. One fact was occupying her:mind witih a sense of anger and ' loneliness—the fact that her cousin Larry had not been present in the church. Since the night on which her engagement had been announced, the feud between the cousins had continued. During the weeks of preparation for the wedding Larry lhad avoided Orristown; but though ho overtures had been made, Clodagh never doubted that he would be present at the ceremony itself. And now that the excitement was passed, she realised with a shock of surprise that she had ' been openly and unmistakably deserted. The thought was uppermost in her ~ mind as the carriage stopped; and when her .aunt came forward to greet them, her first question concerned the absent member of the family. " Where's Larry,. Aunt Fan?" she asked.

"'My dear child, that's just what I've been asking myself. But come in! —come into; the house !"*■.■' Mrs Asshlin was fluttered by the responsibilities- of the moment. "Why wasn't he in church?" • Clodagh asked, as she followed her into the narrow hall. -.-... . , ;. Mrs Asshlin threw out her hands in &• gesture of perplexity. . "How can! tell?" she raidi; '-; Boys are .incomprehensible things. '; ;_:l'm,^sure-rrer-—, ■ Jaim'es is not old enough-to: :that?" " s : "■' -';'. ; ,'-"" : ' ;.■ ; !t/ ...-v.; : ; .;-..; ' She glanced' ' Milbanke looked, intensely embarrassed, and 'Clodagh,coloured. *.-;! \ : ." Well, we'd .better not wait for Larry," she interposed .hastily.. -"You* know what a, time :it takes to get round to Muskeere with that Wg barouche." Mrs. AssHin became all assiduity. " Certainly!—certainly, my dear child! Mr Curry and his brother are already waiting. Won't you come in?" With; hospitable excitement she marshalled' them into' the' dining-room. '■■■',. .! The room into.which they were ushered, though i small was ibright and cheerful';. ja-hd-j,- notwithstanding the season, there were flowers upon the table: and mantelpiece. But even under these favourable conditions, the lunch wais scarcely a success. Mrs Asshlin 1 was genuine enough in her efforts 1 at entertainment; but the guests were not in a condition to be entertained. Milbanke ;was! intensely nervous; Clodagh sat straight and rigid in her chair, uncomfortably unconscious of insubordinate emotions that crowded up at every, added suggestion :of departure. Even the rector's brother—ra bluff and hearty personage, who, out of old friend&hip for the' Asshlin family, had con isented to act as best mDan at the, hurriedly arranged wedding—felt 'his spirits damped; while little Nance, who sat close to her sister, made no pretence whatever at hiding the tears th'at kept welling into her eyes. It was with universal relief that at length they rose from the table and filed out into the'hall. There, however, a new interruption awaited them. In the shadow of. a doorway they caught sight of Hannah, arrayed in her Sunday bonnet and shawl, and still breathless from the walk from Orristown.

At sight of the little party she came forward with a certain ungainly shyness;: but catching a glimpse of Clodagh, love ■conquered every 7 lesser feeling. ■■ ' - "Let me have wan last look at her!" she excl'.dmsd softly. "That's all I'm wantin'.". : , And as < Clodagh turned impulsively towards her ,she held out her arms . "Sure, I knew her before any wan of ye ever sat eyes en her!" she explained, the tears running down her cheeks. "Go on now mise—ma'am," s'he added brokenly, pushing Clodagh towards the door, and turning .to Milbanke with an outstretched hand. "Good-bye, sir,! And God bless you!" Her sing song voice fell, and her hard hand tightened- over his. " Take care of her!." she added. "An' -don't be .for--gettin' that she's nothing but a child, still l , for all 'her fine height, and her good.looks."; She spoke with a crude, rough,; earnest-; ness; but at the last words her. feelings, overcame her .' With another spasmodic pressure, she released his fingers and, turning incontinently, disappeared into the back regions of the cottage. ' 'For a moment'Milbanke remained where she had left him, moved and perplexed by her hurried words ;then, suddenly remembering his duties, he crossed the hall and punctiliously offered. his ; arm to Clodagh. ,:/ V." '-■:-• '-''-■■'■ : • "The..carriage::is;,-waiting,", he -said, But Clodagh shook her head. "Please take Nance first," she murmured in a;low, constrained voice. He acquiesced silently, and as he moved away from Her, she turned to Mrs. Asshlin. "Good-bye, Aunt Fari>!" she said. "And teu.Laity that I'ni—-that I'm' sorry. He'll know what it means." ■••. Her carefully controlled voice .shook suddenly, as pride struggled with-affection and association. Suddenly putting her arms round Mrs Asshlm's'neck she kist?ed be r thin cheek; and, turning quickly, walked

I forward to the. waiting,carriage. /There was.'a moment of .excitement; a spasmodic ! waving of handkerchiefs, the sound of a stiffled sob and the tardy throwing of a slipper;' with a. swish of the long driving whip ,the. horses bounded forward, and the great lumbering carriage swung down the hill that led to the Muskeere road. . As they, bowled through the village street Clodagh shrank back into her corner, refusing to look her last on the scene that for nearly eighteen yeans had formed a portion of her life's horizion. The instinctive cling ing to familiar things that forms so integral a part of the Celtic nature was swelling in her throat and tightening about her heart. She resolutely refused to be conquered by her emotion; but the emotion —stronger for her obstinate oppression of it—threatened to dominate her. For the moment she was unconscious of Milbanke, sitting opposite to her, anxious and deprecating ; and she dared not permit herself to press the small, warm fingers that Nance had insinuated into her own.

With a lurch, the carriage swept round the curve of the street, and emerged upon the Muskeere road. But scarcely had Burke gathered the reins securely into his 'hands, scarcely had the horses settled into a swinging trot, than the little-"party .became suddenly aware tahat a check had been placed upon their progress. There was an exclaim-" ation from Burke; a clatter of hoofs, as the horses were hastily pulled up; and the barouche came to a halt . With a movement of surprise. Clodagh turned to the open window. But on the instant there'' was a scuffle of paws, the sharp, eager yap of a dog, and something rough and warm thrust itself against her face. . ■ . ■■■••', -\-. ■■■.■■..-. ■ .." Mick!". she cried, in breathless,- incredulous rapture. / Then; she ; glanced; quickly over the dog's.red•head/-to the hands' that "\ had'lifted, 'h.iih.to kthe.^rriage./window. ;. '■■". LaTry'!". s.he--®aid ;.bslow. her breath., :. , '] Young. Asshlin was standing in the middle, of the road-jT-redjlshy, and excited. ,"1 want/you tpvvfeake him,' Clo," he. said awkwardly, "for aa-for a wedding present." ri;>. -.■'/!- '■'■ •■'■'."''■ For one instant Clodagh sat overwhelmed by the suggestion; and next !her eyes unconscviously sought Milbanke's. "May I?" she saM hesitatingly. . It was her first faltering acknowledgement that her actions were no longer .quite her own. - Milbanke started.' "Oh, assuredly!" he said—"assuredly!" And Clodagh opened the carriage door, and took Mick into her arms.

For one moment the Joy. of reunion submerged every other feeling.; then she raised a glowing, grateful face to her cousin. "Larry -" she began softly. But old leant "down from his seat. . '•■,-■ "We'll be late.-for the thrain," he announced imperturbably. Again Milbanke ..-. started, nervously. "Perhaps, Clodagh "he began: Clodagh bent her head. . " Shut the door, Larry," she said. "And —and you were a darling to think of it." Asshlin closed the door. "Good-bye, Nance! Good-bye sif! Goodbye, cio!" -.:■;.. He looked bravely into the carriage; but his face was still preternaturally red. ' Clodagh turned to ihim impulsively. "Larry "she.began again. But the horses started forward; and the boy, lifting his cap, stepped back into the roadway. Clodagh stooped /forward, waved her hand unevenly, then dropped back into her/seat,>.A, :l: :.:,;.;■;•,;;.; ■.'•■.'/■■-::. '; "■; •'.,.'-.'.".■' !'" While the ;horsesi icoyeredl-a; q\iartei! : of a mile,: she sat'•'■.without-• movement or x s'peech:; But: at last' 'his 'adoring': eyes ttf herface,■.;Mick•.:.ventured ■:fo".touch v lier-'hand. with.a warm; reminding tongue. ; The gentle appeal of the action—the bun dred memories it. evoked —was instantaneous and supreme. In a sudden irrepressible tide, her grief, her uncertainty of the future, her home-sickness inundated !her soul. With a quick gesture she flung away both pride and restraint; and,, hiding her face against the dog's rough coat, cried as if she had beena child.

part m. CHAPTER.-I: It was nine o'clock on a morning four years after the wedding at Carrigmore; the season was late spring; the scene was Italy; and, FloTence-r-the city of tranquility made manifest—lay ,at rest under its coverlet of sun and roses. In the soft, early light,,the massed buildings of the town seeme dto blend together until, to the dazzled eyes, the Arno looked; a jmere .ribbon of silver as it wound under its bridges; and the proportions of the Uuomo became lost in the blue haze that presaged the hot day to come. The seine was vaguely beautiful, viewed from any. of the hills that guard the city; but front no point was its soft picturesqueness more remarkable than from the terraces, and windows of a villa tfhat nestled in a curve of the narrow, winding road between San Domenico and Fiesole. This villa, Tinlike its neighbours, was long and low in structure ;and in addition to the stone urns, luxurious flowering plants, and wide, iplanted jalousies common to Italian houses, it boasted other and jnore individual attractions—-to be found in a flight of singularly old marble ,steps that led from, one level of its garden to another; and in the unusual magnificence of the cypresses that grew in an imposing semi-circle upon the upper terrace;; : It was under the shade of these,sombre trees that a breakfast table stood, awaiting occupation, on this particular morning at the 'hour iof nine . The table in itself formed a pirture, for in the warm shafts of sun that: slipped between the cypress trees, silver-and glass gleamed invitingly, while in theb midst an immense Venetian bowl filled with roses. made a patch of .burning colour? Everything was attractive, refined, appetising;- and yet, for some unthe; inmates of the villa appeared- in! no to enjoy the meal that awaiteq them.

For fullyl ten minutes after the coffee ;had been laid upon the table, the Italian gnian-seryanlj stood immovably attentive,his back stif, his glance-, resting expectantly upon the vS-andah; then his natural interest in the-meal eoused him to alter his position and cast a .sympathetic: eye: upon the coffee ia imminent danger of-growing: cold. '...■■{■ Five moiie minutes passed. He looked again >t. "tlfe villa ; sighed, and gracefully flicked a:fly! from the basket of *risp rolls. Then isuddoiily he stood newly ierect and vis his!,. quick -ear.: caught' the. swish of'aiskirt and -the sound of: a: light; step.' A ; noment "later Ciqdagli emerged upon the sunny terrace, followed, by - her dog Mick. ;' At any jeriod of existence,, four: yea/rs is a span bf time to be reckoned' mth. But when lour years serves to .bridge the gulf betwefn childhood and vomanhood, its power b well-nigh limitless. As Clodagh stepped through the. long window 'ofIher room 1 snd came slowly : oit.iinto r the aniorning ligtit, it would have ]>een a'veryclose obseHßE who would, at a first glance, have recognised the unformed-girl, of four years ago ii v the graceful, weltdressed wo-

man moving forward -through the Italian "sunshine. Oh!a second:'glance, or a third, one would; undoubtedly have seen traces of the long*, undevelopd limbs in the tall, supple, figure;. caught a suggestion of the rough luxurious plait in the golden-brown hair coiled about the well-shaped head; and have been fascinated by numerous undeniable and haunting suggestions in contour and colouring. But there memorywould have hesitated. 'The Clodagh who had scoured the woods, scrambled over the rocks, and galloped across the lands of Orristown was no longer visible. Another being, infinite.y more distinguished, infinitely moie attractive —and ,yet veguely deprived of some essential quality—had taken her place. In the four years that had passed since she left Ireland she had-, from being a child, become a'woman; and below the new beauty that nature had painted upon her face Jay an intangible, a poignantly suggested regret for the girlhood that had been denied her. (To be continued.)