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LITERATURE.

THE BELL OF ST PAUL'S. [Bi Walter Bksant.] [The right of publishing the "Bell of St Paul's" has been purchased by the proprietors of the Canterbury Times.']

part n.

V|Sgfe^ ChAPTBB XXVI. J^M.'. IN EICHMOND PAEK. Tflly »t in silence on the grass beside the lake of Eichmond Park. The afternoon wag warm and Bof t in the season of early autdsnn, the only one of the four which hawfly-ever disappoints us. The light of the slopfig sun lay upon their faces, the ferns were brown, and the trees were golden: it was so quiet that one could hear the whirr of the swallow and the browsing of the deer close beside and the snapping of the twigs when a rabbit broke cover and ran across. They were hundreds of mileß from the haunt of man : there waß no rambler in the Park that afternoon except themselves. There are many sweet and quiet spots round London whither the people come not, except a few on Sundays. There is a certain corner of Hampßtead Heath which they know not, even on the Sunday. There is a bit of Epping Forest which is always deserted ; there is a glade or two still left of Hainault Forest where you may wander undisturbed even by the gipsies : but the quietest and lonelieat spot of any is that beside the lake in Richmond Park where the herons fly overhead and the wildduck make long lines and acute angles against the sky, and the deer roam undisturbed and tlia wood-birds sing. Either Laurence brought the two girls and here they sat in silence, partly because all three were full of thought, and partly because the place was too beautiful for idle talk. "If it would only last," said Aithea with a sigh, "if we could only go on sitting here without getting tired, and if the sun would not set — Oh! it Beems as if one coa£4-never forget this place and this afternoon. Yet perhaps to-morrow we may' have forgotten half. Let us try to xanember it, Cassie. We will say to ourserreß, there was the Lake : there was the Bridge : there was the Boat-house —we mußt not leave out the reeds : behind us were the trees with the twigs lying about the roots and the brown fern stretched out beyond the trees : there was the heron flying overhead with his long legs behind him: there was the sunlight on the water and the blue Bky and— oh ! if one were a painter to put it all down upon canvas and preserve the memory of it for ever !" "And in an hour or less," said Cassie, "we shall be back again on Bank Side. Mr Waller, you are grave to-day. When you took na-to-thfl "WAgfc End yon Janirhedand talked. Has anything gone wrong?" "No; I have only something more to think of," he replied. "It is, in fact, something that should make me happier." "Mr Waller," said Cassie, after another little silence, "tellnsatlastwhy did you come to Bank side first of all—you who had all the rest of the world to chooße ?" "Bank Side is a very picturesque place : and as Aithea knows it is full of Elizabethan ghosts." "But it was not to see the ghoßts that came." Laurence, who had been lying at the girl's feet, rose and walked to the water's edge, and looked across the lake. Then he came back to them so grave of face that Cassie was afraid of him. Yet every woman likea to see serious purpose in the face of a man. "I came to Bank Side, Cassie," he said, standing before them, " not to see the Elizabethan ghosts, but to make your acquaintance." "Mine?" " Yours, and that of your father and the rest of you. I had also to find out, if possible, the truth about certain little things for one who formerly lived near you. Well, I made your acquaintance, and I found that as for these things I could do no good. So £ thought I would go away again. And then I — l made other friends, and I saw that there waa a story going on : bo I thought I would stay and Bee the end of it : but somehow, I became a character in the story, which served me right for looking on : and then, I fancied that the story was ended, and so I went away. But about that I was wrong, and so I came back again. And now the story Beems nearly finished. Both girls were silent because they also were characters in that story. "It will be finished very soon now," he said. "What will the end be like? said Caaaie. "T cannot say. I only know what I hope. I came here a stranger among all you people, of whom I had never heard. That waa only three months ago. What have yon become to me? For even if I were sow to go away and leave you, I could never forget you." "Oh! but what have you done for ub ?" BaidCaßaie. "I came among yon with alight heart," Laurence went on, " thinking to amuse myself. It is not precisely amusement that I have found here : it is a new interest in life, and a change in all my thoughts." He Bpoke to Caeaie, and he avoided looking at Aithea, who gazed straight before her and seemed not to hear. But her lips quivered and her eyessoftened. " I have a thing to tell you all," Laurence added after a little; "but you and I, Caosie, have been such special friends that I should like to tell you now. May IP" " Oh, yes, if you please." "Itiaaconfession. I came am6ng you with concealment of the truth. When I found, to my surprise, that none of you . knew what my name, I thought, would have suggested, I did not tell who I really waa, and I have never yet told any of you." "But weknow," said Casaie. " You are the son of Sir David Waller, who is Prime Minister of New South Wales." *' That is certainly true. But Jny mother, Osßsle, is you father's first coualn." "Ohl" Cbufe jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. " Aunt Cornelia said t>tfl rtfctiqT'.Tiifrhfciii'Mv you. had her. cousin,.

any notice of her. Oh ! then you are my cousin too." " I am your cousin, too, Caseie." He held out both his hands. "Oh I you are nay cousin— oh Imy own cousin !" "Yes. And bo, you see, you must call me by my Christian name in fature. But you need not tell Flavia or anybody just yet. It is our own secret to ourselves." "Oh! Laurence! — I am to call you Laurence — I am afraid it seems like taking a liberty. What will they say? Andia your mother, my cousin, too, really and truly a ladyship? Do they call her my lady?" "Certainly, sometimes." "And are you really rich, and do you lire in a big house ? " " Yes, and there is room in it for you. I have written to my mother to have it kept for you. Because, Cassie, you see, the story about the girl who went away and forgot her troubles is going to be a true story after all. You are going out to Australia with me, away from the old place, and you are going to forget — all kinds of things." Cassie hung her head and said nothing. Then they were all Bilent again— and what each thought o£ I know not. The girls sat Bide by side — and Laurence walked Blowly along the grassy borders of the lake while the sun sank in the west, and the warm autumn day came to an end. Presently he returned to them. " There goes the sun," he said. " Let us walk back to Eiohmondand have dinner. Even on the most beautiful day of the year — this haa been the most beautiful sunset of all this year, except one— we must have dinner. For my own part the happier I am tfce kappies does dinner make me. Men are made bo. Aithea, have we taken you too far ? Are you tired ? " Then they walked back in silence through the deepening twilight. Presently Cassie stole her hand upon Laurence's arm. " I am so glad," she murmured, "I am so very glad you are my cousin. I will go with you anywhere— anywhere — to get away from here. Are you sure your mother will like to have me P " The tables at the Star and Garter are not crowded on a weekday in September. Laurence took one of those which look out upon the winding river and the broad valley. At first they had the great diningroom to themselves, except for a young couple returning home after their honeymoon. It was the last evening before they were to Bettle down in the dingy suburb of the manufacturing town : the last evening of romance: next day the counting-house and the factory. When the College of Physicians has lengthened our span to a hundred and eighty, or perhaps two hundred and fifty, the honeymoon should take ten years at least. The dinner WBA.nnfc.firt.aa.aßLaß.fb.At gna in Regent street; but they talked with cheerfulness, and perhap3 it was happier. Cassia called Laurence cousin a hundred times ; she laughed to think what Aunt Cornelia would say ; she permitted herself little archnesses of speech which are allowed among young persons connected by a tie which is too Blender ever to become like some family ties, a chain. The waiter exactly understood the situation, although Cassie was the principal talker. He recognised the Queen of the Feast : he hovered around Aithea, showering upon her those attentions which only a sympathetic waiter can bestow : this was an English waiter, of course. He of Germany or Switzerland cannot understand these nuances ; he knows not the poetry of his profession. We must not set him down as mercenary because hi 3 thoughtful attentions received an ample guerdon when the ittle addition' was discharged. Chords of the heart may be touched without a thought of tips. This waiter had been young. Shall not beauty, youth and love between them be able to strike the trembling lyre and awaken as upon an iEolian harp a tender symphony ? The evening, however, was not to finish without another adventure. At the close of their feast when the waiter had brought them the coffee, a party of half-a-dozen entered the room and noisily took possession of a table reserved for thorn. Three were ladies and three men. The ladies, who wore magnificent attire and were all three very splendid in appearance and of commanding beauty and possessed of complexions moat wonderful andeyea most curiously bright, laughed and talked rather more loudly than is customary with ladies in a public place. One of the men corresponded in appearance and manners -to the ladies : he looked as if he could have played to the life the part of a buccaneer under the flag of the Jolly Roger or a gentleman highwayman, or a gallant cavalry rider under Prince Eupcrt. He would be set down by those who knew the world as a bookmaker, adventurer, modern privateer, or, to sum up, a bounder : his laugh was loud; his shoulders were square, and he carried a swagger as pronounced aa that of any old Peninsular officer in the Twenties. He was a goodlooking creature, black of hair and of eye, who proclaimed in his face the fact that morality or principle of the old-fashioned kind waa not his strongest point. The second was a young gentleman of more pleasing appearance and quieter manners. He took his part in the loud laughter of his friends. And the third, who placed himself at the head of the table and was apparently the host, was none other than the future President of the Royal Society — Oliver Luttrell. One of the ladies was the divine Giulia and one of the gentlemen was the gallant Mr Harry Stanley. Aithea turned her head and saw him. "There ii Oliver," she cried. "Does Oliver give dinner-parties at Eichmond? and what a strange set of people with him !" Caasie looked round and saw him too. He was bending over one of the ladiesshe knew this kind: she had assisted at the taking of their photographs : Oliver at the Star and Garter giving a feaat to actresses of the kind who laugh loudly and paint thickly — Oliver who had no money — Oliver who thought about nothing but science: Oliver who had been making love to Aithea and with such a party! But Aithea paid no more attention : , it was quite indifferent to her if Oliver entertained strange goddesses with feasting and champagne* The, givfif-oi that b&najEidt,

presently went away, the laughter of the party ringing in their ears. "Is yonr idol shattered yet ? >r Laurence whispered in the train. "He Bwore once that he loved you. Then he changed his mind. He swore that he loved Aithea— as if any man could love Aithea and give dinners to such people as thOße I Cassie, where is the lover bb you imagined him ?" "If the idol is shattered," said Cassie sadly, "give me a little time, Laurence, to clear away the fragments." (To be continued.)

VEI Xlslu

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TS18891116.2.2

Bibliographic details

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6703, 16 November 1889, Page 1

Word Count
2,214

LITERATURE. Star (Christchurch), Issue 6703, 16 November 1889, Page 1

LITERATURE. Star (Christchurch), Issue 6703, 16 November 1889, Page 1