CHAPTER IV.

Observer, Volume 2, Issue 50, 27 August 1881, Page 584

CHAPTER IV.

THE TEST OF LONG FALLAS. We had had a week of it. If we had told each other the truth we should have said, ' Let us go hack to London.' Thus far there had been no signs of Sir John. The Spectacles informed me that he had arrived at Timbercombe, and that Cecilia had written to him. But, strangely enough, they failed to disclose what she had said. Had she forgotten it already, 01 was there some defect, hitherto unsuspected, in my supernatural glasses ? Christmas-day was near at hand. The weather was, so far, almost invariably misty and wet. Cecilia began to yawn over her favorite intellectual resources. My mother waited with superhuman patience for events. As for myself, having literally nothing else to amuse me, I took to gratifying an improper curiosity in the outlying regions of the family circle. In plain English, I discovered a nice little needlewoman, who was employed at Long Fallas. Her name was Miss Peskey. Quite a young girl, Miss Peskey had the self-possession of a mature woman. She had a trim little figure, soft blue eyes, and glossy, golden hair. Miss Peskey foiled me at every point. For the first week I never even got the chance of looking at her through the Demond Spectacles. On the first day of the new week the weather cleared up wonderfully; spring seemed to have come to us in the middle of winter. Cecilia and I went out riding. On our return, having nothing better to do, I accompanied the horses back to the stables, and naturally offended the groom, who thought I was 'watching him.' Returning towards the house, I passed the window of the ground-floor room, at the back of the building, devoted to the needle-woman. A railed yard kept me at a respectful distance, bxit at the same time gave me a view of the interior of the room. Miss Peskey was not alone; my mother was with her. They were evidently talking, but not a ■word reached my ears. It mattered nothing. While I could see them through my Spectacles, their thoughts were visible to me before they found their way into words. My mother was speaking. ' Well, my dear, have you formed your opinion of him yet ?' Miss Peskey replied : 'Not quite yet.' ' You are wonderfully cautious in arriving at a conclusion. How much longer is this clever contrivance of yours to last ?' ' Give me two days more, dear madam; I can't decide ttntil Sir John helps me.' ' Is Sir John really coming here ?' 'I think so.' ' And have you managed it ?' ' If you will kindly excuse me, I would rather not answer just yet.'

The housekeeper entered the room, and called my mother away on some domestic business.. As she walked to the door, I had time to read her thought before she went out. • Very extraordinary to find such resourcesof clever invention in such a young girl.' Miss Peskey, left with maiden meditation her work on her lap, smiled to herself. I turned the glasses on her. and made r discovery that petrified me, To put it plainly, the charming needle-woman was deceiving us all (with the one exception of my mother) under an assumed name and vocation in life. Miss Peskey was no other than my cousin Zilla, the ' angel of the school !' Let me do my poor .mother justice. She wa* guilty of the consenting to the deception, and of no more. The invention of the trick, and the entire responsibility of carrying it out, rested wholly and exclusively with Miss Zilla, aged seventeen. I followed the train of thought which my mother's questions had set going in the mind of this young person. To justify my own conduct, I must report the result as briefly as I can. Have you heard of ' fasting ' girls ? have yoii heard of ' mesmeric ' girls ? have you heard of girls (in the newspapers) who have invented the most infamous charges against innocent men ? Then don't accuse my Spectacles of seeing impossible sights ! My report of Miss Zilla's thoughts, as they succeeded each other, begins as follows : — First thought : 'My small fortune is all verywell ; but I want to be mistress of a grert establishment, and to get away from school, Alfred, dear fellow, is reported to have fifteen thousaud a year. Is his mother's companion to be allowed to catch this rich fish, without the least opposition ? Not if I know it !' Second thought : ' How veiy simple old people are ! His mother visits me, invites me to Long Fallas, and expects me to cut out Cecilia t Men are such fools (the writing-master has fallen in love with me) that she would only have to burst out crying, and keep him to herself. I have proposed a better way than fair fighting for Alfred, suggested by a play I read the other day. The old mother consents, with conditions. "I am sure you will do nothing, my dear, unbecoming to a young lady." Win him as Miss Hardcastle won Mr Marlow in "She Stoops to Conquer," if you like ; but do nothing to forfeit your self-respect. What as» tonishing simplicity ! Where did she go to school when she was young ?' Third thought : ' How amazingly lucky that Cecilia's maid is lazy, and that the needlewoman dines in the servants' hall ! The maid had the prospect of getting up before six in the morning, to be ready to go in the chaise cart with the servant who does the household work at Timbercombe — and for what? To take a note from her mistress to Sir John, and wait for an answer. The good little needlewoman hears this, smiles, and says, "I don't mind how early I get up ; I'll take it for you, and bring back the answer." ' Fourth thought : ' What a blessing it is to have blue eyes and golden hair ! Sir John was quite struck with me. I thought at the time he would do instead of Alfred. Fortunately, I have since asked the simple old mother about him. He is a poor baronet. Not to be thought of for an instant ! 'My Lady ' — without a corresponding establishment ! Too dreadful ! But 1 didn't throw away my fascinations. I saw him wince when he read the letter. "No bad news, I hope, sir ?" I ventured to say. He shook his head solemnly. "Your mistress" (he took me, of course, for Cecilia's maid), "forbide me to call at Long Fallas." I thought to myself what a hypocrite Cecilia must be, and I said modestly to Sir John, "Do you tlunk it's wise, sir, always to take a young lady at her word?" What a wonderful effect a well-put question sometimes has, especially when it is followed by sound advice. I took' back a conventional answer from Sir John, to keep up appearances. Our private arrangement is that he is to ride over to Long Fallas to-morrow, and wait in the shrubbery at half-past two. If it rains or snows, he is to try the next fine day. In either case, the poor needle-woman will ask for a half -holiday, and will induce Miss Cecilia to uake a little walk in the right direction. Sir John gave me two sovereigns and a kiss at parting. I accepted both tributes with the most becoming humility. He shall have his moneys worth, though he is a poor baronet; he shall meet his young lady in the shrubbery. And I may catch the rich fish, after all!' Fifth thought : ' Bother this horrid work ! It is all very well to be clever with one's needle, but how it disfigures one's fore-finger. No matter, I must play my part while it lasts or I shall be reported lazy_ by the most detestablewoman I ever met with — the housekeeper at Long Fallas.' She threaded her needle, and I put my Spectacles in my pocket. I don't think I suspected it at the time, but I am now well aware that Septimus Notman's diabolic gift was exerting its influence over me.. I was wickedly cool under circumstances which would have roused my righteous indignation in the days before my Spectacles. Sir John .and the Angel; my mother and her family interests ; Cecilia and her unacknowledged lover — what a network of conspiracy and deception was wound, about me ! and what a perfectly fiendish pleasure I felt in planning to match them on their own ground. The method of attaining this object presented itself to me in the simplest form. I had only to take my mother for a walk in the near neighbourhood of the shrubbery — and the exposnre would be complete. That night I studied the barometer with unutterable anxiety. The prospect of the weather was all that I could wish. (To be continued.)

Gisborne must be a remarkably dull place for eligible bachelors. A young gentleman from Auckland, who has been residentthere more than a month, writes to a friend in town stating that he had not seen a really goodlooking girl there, although there were one or two passable ones. Perhaps he is sighing for Ponsonby once more.