LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6017, 27 August 1887, Page 1

LITERATURE.

THE SILENCE OF DEAJS

MAITLAND.

[Bt Maxwblii Geat.]

p^he right of publishing "The Silence of Dean Maitland " Has been purchased by the proprietors of the Canterbury Timcs.~]

(Continued.) Chaptbb IS.

The lost day of the year dawned bright and cloudless, a vety prince and pearl of winter days, and Everard's heart bounded 'within him aa he looked out on the ruddy morning, and felt it a joy merely to live. "I ehall long remember sixty-two/h e thought; "it has been a good year, and to-day will crown and complete the whole. To-day I will make sure of my fate." The wine of life never before had the sparkle and effervescence of that morning; ifc was almost too much for a sober mind. Had Everard been superstitious, or even introspective, he would have presaged disaster at hand. Instead of which, he lejoiced in hia youth, and felt as if his body were turned to air, ss he sprang down the staircase and into the sunny breakfast-room.

MrMaitland was late that morning, and Cyril read the simple household prayers. Everard loved his sweet custom of family prayer, remiss as he often was in assisting personally at it ; it seemed so fit and harmonious for that holy incense to ascend from the altar of the innocent country home, and to-day it acquired a sort of pathos from the youth and grace of the reader. The scene lived long in hi& mind, irradiated by a sweet light of peace and holiness 5 the kneeling children and Lilian, the sunshine touching their hair; the bowed heads of the maids j the dignified bearing of the reader ; the musio of his voice— a voice soft now, and soothing as the murmur of tho brook beneath the trees, with none of the tragic tones they knew so well. Just as Cyril was about to pronounce the closing benediction, Mr Maitland, thinking the prayers done, entered, and, seeing how they were employed, dropped on his knees in time to receive the lad'a blessing. The sight of that grey head, bent thus before the young priest's benison, touched Everard profoundly, and he felt humbled to think of his own world-Btained soul by the side of these spotless creatures — priests and women and children.

"Lead us not into temptation/ said Cyril's pure, rich, voice, chorused by the innocent trebles and Everard's own faltering bass. What temptation could possibly befall those guileless beings that day? What harah dissonance could ever mar the music of those tuneful lives ? he wondered. AM he was glad that his own faltering petition Had gone up to Heaven with those of hearta co pure, though even ho could scarcely fall into temptation in that sweet spot, he thought. Cyril announced his intention of walking into Oldport that bright morning, and Inlian, of course, waa to go part of the way with him. Everard had been asked to shoot over aotne of the Swayestone covers, and rather surprised Cyril, who knew that hia friend liked sport, by saying that he had declined the shooting party, and wanted to join the pedestrians. "You had far better shoot, Henry," he said ; " a mere walk ia a stupid thing for you. You have had no amusement whatever since you have been here." " To-morrow we plungo into a vortex of dissipation," said Everard. "Will you give me the first dance, Lilian ? By the way, I suppose hia reverence has given up these frivolities."

"Oh, I shall dance at Woodlands tomorrow," replied Cyril. " Just two square dances with Marion, and then, I suppose, farewell to such delights." " I cannot say that I like to see a clergyman dancing," observed his father, " though I danced myself till I was forty, and should onjoy a turn with the young people even now." " Then, leb us have a quiet carpet-dance while the boys are here," said Lilian; " just the Swayneatones and Gairetts and Marion, and father shall dance with each of us in turn."

"Oh yea!" cried Everard; and Cyril chimed in with great animation, " Jub£ one more fling for me; 11 and Mr Maitland went off laughing, and saying he had nothing to do with it— they mußt ask their mother, and Lennie and Winnie jumped for joy, and announced that they should not go to bed heforo their elders, and the little fSto was regarded as a pleasant certainty. Cyril kept them waiting some f minutesafter the appointed time for starting. He had important letters to write, ho said; and when at last he appeared, his face was full of care and perplexity. In the meantime, Lilian and Everard were very happy on the sunny lawn together, vißiting tbe invalid donkey and other animals, and wandering about their old playground, past the spot where the twins used to play at Kobineon Crusoe, and where Everard helped them build a hub, and recalling a thousand pleasant memories of their childish labours and sports. There was hoar-frost on the delicate branches of the leafless treeß, and the sunshine was broken into a thousand jewel-like radiances by the little sharp facets of the ice-crystals. There was an unwonted sparkle also in Lilian's eyes, and a deeper glow on her cheeks than usual. The air vraa like wine.

The blacksmith was clinking merrily at his glowing forge as they passed Along tho road, and his blithe music carried far in tho etill air. Granfer was sunning himself outoide, according to custom, ready for a chat with anybody, and commanding from his position a view of all the approaches to the village. Hale, the wheelwright, -was there, getting some ironwork done, and turned with Granfer to look after the trio. '

" Ay," observed tho latter, shaking his head wisely, " a viner pair than they twins o' ourn you never see, John Halo, so well matched they be as Sir Lionel's bays." "A pretty pair," replied the wheelwright ; " but give me the doctor. There's muscle and build ! "

"Ay," echoed Straun, between the rhythmic hammer-strokes ; " a man like he's a credit to his vittles."

The young doctor's appearance certainly justified this observation, and his walk and bearing fully set off tho robust manliness of his athletic frame, which was further enhanced by contrast with Cyril's Blender grace. The friends were of similar height, but Henry's shoulders were higher, and made him look taller 5 his chest and back were far broader than Cyril's, and his wellbalanced limbs were hard with muscle. The suit of grey which he wore gave him breadth, and displayed his form more fully than did Cyril's black broadcloth of severe clerical cut, which had, moreover, the well-known effect of lessening the outlines of the figure. The delicate glow which tho sparkling air had called into Cyril's worn cheek waa very different from the firm hue of health in Henry's honest face { and the fearless, frank gaze of his bright brown eyes, and the light-brown moustache, looking golden in the ounßhine, gave him an older look than Cyril's cleanshaven features wore.

Hale observed to Granfer that whoever attacked the doctor on a dark night would find him an ugly customer, which Granfer admitted, adding that Cyril's strength all went to brain-power, in which he was supreme. Lilian also observed Henry's athletio appearance in contrast with her brotbes's slight .build,, and, then- eho re-

membered how the friends but the day before had been playing with the children in tho hall, and the fragile-looking Cyril had given hia muscular friend a blow so clean and straight and well-planted thatthe doctor had gone down like a ninepin before it, to the great amusement of the children and satisfaction of Everard.

Farmer Long was driving into Oldport in his gig, and there beside him sat Mr Marvyn, charmed to see his three pupils together. "I shall not see you again, Henry," he said regretfully, " unless you stay over Sunday. I only came back for the entertainment yesterday. I have a parson's week to finish. Cyril I shall see again." And so they parted with regret, since Everard was greatly attached to his old tutor, who had encouraged and developed his taste for. natural science, and upheld, him in his choice of a profession. " And I -wanted to tell old Marvyn about my germ theory," Everard said, a3 the gig disappeared. " "Sou will be able to tell the whole world soon," replied Lilian, to whom the theory had been confided and explained that very morning. "Not yet," said Everard; "it takes years of patient study and experiment to verify a scientific theory." "Old Hal always was a patient fellow," Cyril observed. "Do you remember the rows about his dissections in his bedroom, Lill?"

Lilian replied that she remembered the odours, and they all laughed over the old schoolroom jokes and catastrophes, and were very happy as they climbed the hillside by a field-path, leaving the road below them. Afterwards Everard remembered the rare and affectionate expression, "Old Hal." And now in the bright sunshine ho was pleased to see Cyril so like his old self — careless, cordial, and light-hearted, all the asceticism and sadness put away ; ambition, toil, and care completely forgotten. He knew that Cyril loved Marion truly, and would be happy with her, and yet it struck him that morning that his strong, half -instinctive affection for his twin Bister touched a yet deeper chord in his nature. Now that Marion was away, there was a greater ease about the twins ; each seemed to develop the other's thoughts in some mysterious manner. They laughed to each other, and walked hand-in-hand like children, seeing everything through each other's eyes — the still, sunny winter fields and brown woods stretching away to the sea, the flocks of weird white seagulls, the occasional rabbit or pheasant starting up before them, the larks, silent now, fluttering over the grassy furrows, the bright berries in copse and hedgerow, the sheep peacefully munching the mangolds a solitary shepherd was cutting for them in a lonely field. They called each other Cyll and Lill, abbreviations none else ever used; they contradicted each other as they never dreamed of contradicting anybody else. Everard walked along, sometimes by their Bide, sometimes behind them, as the nature of the path obliged, and listened to them and loved them. The twins were never so delicious to him as when together in his familiar presence, of which they seemed to make no account. So long as those two could meet together thus, an immortal childhood would be theirs, he thought ; ago could never rob the beautiful bond between them of its bloom. Presently they quarrelled. Lilian eat on a felled tree in the woods through which they wero passing ; Cyril leant up against a tree, and Everard looked on with amusement, and loved them all the more in their childishness.

"Oh, you babes in the wood!" he cried at last ; whereupon Cyril flashed upon him one of his droll glances, and laughed. "Come, Lill/' he said, "I forgive you this time."

Absolute harmony and utter unconsciousness of past anger was established between them on the instant, and Everard was amused to hear them plunge straightway into a grave discussion upon tho limits of free-will. »

(To be continued.)