LADIES' COLUMN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6126, 12 March 1898, Page 3

LADIES' COLUMN.

IN DEATH^S_DBSGUISE. (Australasian.) She was not fan-, she was not fat — but she was forty ; indeed, to be quite correct, she was forty-four. She was dark-haired, and owned the remains of a brilliant complexion, and a well - preserved slight figure, and the gentlest, sweetest, expression in the world. He was a fine - looking young fellow of three and twenty, with au intimate knowledge of tho ordinary traveller's world, and a bright, enthusiastic temperament which made him a general favourite. Ho was a worshipper of beauty too, and Beatrice Rylance looked very pretty indeed the first evening she appeared on deck. She was lying back in a low canvas chair dressed in some soft white silky stuff, and the moonlight shone full on her finely-featured face in its frame of wavy black hair. She was a childless widow, returning to Australia, after a brief trip to see her late husband's relatives in England. They had wished her to stay altogether in the old world, but she was home-sick for the bright-skied new one; where her calm negatively happy married life had been spent. Herhusband had been years older than she was, and the match was not a love one on her part, so that she only mourned when ho died as one mourns for a tried and kind friend ; but she was innocent as a girl of all that humau beings can feel who have loved and lost. Gus Pakenham was making his first trip to Australia, meaning to look round him, and invest some of his spare capital in the great now continent, and he was full of thirst for information, and interest in the antipodes. Beatrice, who had been born and bred in the bush, was able to interest him, and there was nothing ou earth then that she lovod like her Mother Country ; ahd she was drawn to thia handsome, wellgrown young fellow from the very first, mainly on account of his enthusiasm in her favourite subject. Ho spent almost all his time with her, ahd the passengers have plenty of spare time on the big ocean liners, in spite of lbs continual round of amusement which invariably means hard labour to some, and the scandal-loving part of tho miniature World were shaking thoir heads and whispering long before the moonlit evening on which impetuous Gus laid his heart at Mrs Rylance's feet. " I fell ih love with you at first sight," he said; "I knew you were toy fate directly you spoke to me." Beatrice was startled indeed, and geutly but firmly refused him." The ship's society heard of it somehow, and decreed that sho was quite right, although her sweet nature had gained her many friends, and even stout Mrs Ward, with hor seven single daughters, acquitted her of " trying to catch the young follow." Still it was only in human nature to remark that " a man may not marry his grandmother." However, Gus was not easily beaten. They wero ieft together in the music saloon some days afterwards, and he seized the opportunity, and proposed again. His stormy, masterful wooing was so unlike poor Beatrice's past experiences that this time she was startled into admitting that she did care for him very much, only it could never be — there were twenty years between them. And then Gus cursed his youth, and longed for grey hairs and stiff joints, as perhaps a young man has never done before or since. But she persisted in her decision, and felt physically tired when Gus left her at last. It was so hard to withstand so imperious a lover, especially as — but no ; she would scarcely admit that possibility, even to herself. And yet, after that clay in the musicroom she found herself blushing furiously several times when the tall figure came towards her. She-grew to know every expression of the handsome sun-browned face, whose chief charm was that same facile expressiveness. And she knew for the first time in her life what it is to be jealous — for the first time at forty-four ! — when he spent a whole evening with the youngest Miss Ward, talking in the low, earnest tone she knew so well. That he was simply seeking for sympathy for his hopeless love for Beatrice Bylance she did not know, for Pakenham was one of those men who always look as if they we're devoted to the woman they happen to be talking to. Jealousy is not a becoming emotion, and that night she gazed long and earnestly at herself in the glass— looking closely, one could see the faint wrinkles round the eyes. In another ten years they would show plainly enough, and in another ten years he would be scarcely in the prime of life. She shook down her rippling wealth of hair ; there wero no grey hairs yet, but dark women, when they do begin to age ! " Folly, folly," she said, " there is no fool like an old fool whose heart is young," and she thought of various of her acquaintance whose stiff steps and portly figures were quite unsuited to gaiety, however their hearts might be beating a merry polka tune — of the old maids, to whom life still held possibilities of romance, but in whom the world only saw the semblance of lovable womanhood past for ever in wrinkled ■ faces and shrunken figures ! But from that out Gus grew moody. He scarcely spake at dinner, and he ate next to nothing, but drank rather more than was necessary. Truth to say, Gus was a very love-sick boy, indeed, and, man-like, could not hide t. He even hinted at suicide, and the pleasures of floating on — " Beneath the sea, Beneath tlio sea." - Beatrice was dreadfully worried, and in certain lights the wrinkles showed plainly now. Had they been on shore she would have flown temptation, and put as many miles as possible between herself and Gus. Here in this circumscribed space, with the wide blue sea all round, and the wide blue sky above, escape was out of the question, unless she could develop wings or fins ! Love and idleness. Had Gus been able to work, his case might not have been such a serious one, but unless be changed place with one of the stalwart A.B.s that was out of the question. There was a latent fund of motherhood that had never found expression in Beatrice Rylance's nature, and it awakened now, and she grieved, as a mother would, to see him so miserable. When Gus proposed again there wa. a capful of wind blowing, and they were alone on deck. A great tress of her hair unfastened, and swung across his face. She strove to put it back, and loosened her hold on the rail to do so, and the fierce gust of wind flung her against him. Gus promptly took her in his arms, and then he kissed her. The flood-gates of long-sleeping passion seemed open then. Tho warm kisses on her lips, the firm clasp of strong arms, the depths of a deep love answering iove — there was no thought of resisting now. Gus was not refused this time. Gife wished to make, the engagement public next day, but Bhe shrank from the looks and oommonts, the veiled smiles of astonishment that she knew must meet the news. Gus, in his fool's paradise, saw •none of this, but for all that it did leak out. The young man's look of pleased responsibility, and the air of proud possession that seemed to envelope him, told its own tale. Mrs Rylance'? pretty colour returned, and the light of happiness mado her look scarcely thirty. After all, it .seemed as if she had done the right thing in accepting him when ho sat at her feet in the long starlit evenings, and poured out all his hopes and ambitions, all his love and desire for her. "We were made for each other," he said. " But I was sent into the world years too soon," she answered. But such speeches as these were always refuted in the same way. Gus was a demonstrative lover — there was no doubt of that— and a new world had opened to the woman, starved heart, a world of delights she had never dreamed of. They were married very quietly in Sydney, and then went up to her western fetation, which had been.tb.e- home of her

childhood, and was now her own; for Beatrice was very much alone in the world — orphaned and widowed, until Gus supplied every want with his wonderful love for her. , The bush life added another, touch pf romance to his life' with her, for to the young Englishman everything Australian was romantic and full of possibilities—the very fact of beiug able to • kill -all wild things, feathered or furred, within a fow hundred yards of the liouse, was a joy in itself. Then he threw himself heart and soul into tho management of the run, and was willing to take lessons from the wise old Scotchman who had taken charge of Eaglesnest for half a lifetime. Beatrice rode well, and they spent many long happy days picnicking by the river and riding through the sweet-scented scrubs of sandalwood and pine, breathing the enchanted atmosphere of cloudless spring and first romance. Of course people talked of the unequal match, but as years went on, and Gus seemed as contented as ever, people began to say this case was the exception that proved the rule. Pakenham looked older than he was, and Beatrice knew the value of becoming veils and different shades of pink, and though not a vain woman spent much time in designing dresses, to suit herself. She was a sensible woman, and knew that the average man is a creature to be ruled by the senses, and so during the five years after her mariage her life was an ideally happy one — and then Pussy Chandler came to Eaglesnest. She was a slip of a girl, with fluffy, fair hair, and big serious eyes, with dark, long lashes, and a hard little mouth, Sho had no features to ensure her being a pretty old woman, but she was decidedly a pretty young one, with her soft baby complexion and slow, quaint way of saying clever things. And she was young — very young — although owning twice Beatrice Pakenham's knowledge of the world and the world's cvil — for Pussie had lived a hard life, and had fought the world in uncongenial company. And to her Eaglesnest seemed the very height of luxury. She was a distant cousin of Beatrice's first husband, and at first came on a visit, which lengthened out until circumstances seemed to point to her stay being a permanent one, the little pariah was so utterly friendless and so sad at the thought of leaving darling Bee and dearest Gus. She brought an atmosphere of merriment and frivolity into Eaglesnest that was unusual. Ib rather wearied Beatrice, but Gus seemed to enjoy the nonsense and the laughter, and she was at first glad to see him' amused. The long rides he enjoyed so were not all roses to Beatrice, who could not afford to ruin her complexion in the hot Australian sun ; so Pussie often, went with him, tying a big flop hat under her chin, which hat would simply have made the elder woman look ridiculous, but which suited Pussies infantile, style all to pieces. Gradually a change was coming over Gus, which only the sharp eyes of love could discern. He showed temper once when his wife suggested that Miss Chandler miglit be wanted at home. " Poor little devil," he said. "Can't you let her enjoy lifo a little while. Sho has a hard row to hoe at the best of time 3, and sho makes things lively for us." Beatrice sighed. Pussie had ono of her wild fits on, and had challenged Gus to race her to" the lagoon, and she had seized Beatrice's hand and urged her to try, too. She was always sweet aud lovable to the elder woman, and was so contrite and apologised so profusely when sho made one of her blundering Httle speeches " about people being ancients and antediluvians, and hoping she might die at forty," that Beatrice felt there was no reason for the dull pain that was slowly growing in her heart. There was a time, too, when she had thought anything over twenty quite middle-aged. It was not Pussies fault either that she could amuse Gus with her. stories and knowledge of a world which he knew well, but which had been only a name to the shy bush-reared woman, and could she blame Gus, who was such a very boy in some ways, for his delight in those long rides and mad races after kangaroos which which were beginning to try both her nerves and health, and which brought a rosier glow to Pussies cheeks and a brighter light to her eyes, and yet The days passed on, and Beatrice kept in the background more and more, and her love-sharpened eyes saw that she was not missed particularly. To do Gus justice, he had no idea of her trouble. He was as kind in his manner and as courteous as ever to her, but there was a spice of wickedness about Pussie that was very invigorating after the long years spent with a woman who was too large-hearted for gossip, too good and true for the realities of life. As for Pussie — Ah ! well, the i world is a rough school, and Becky Sharp ! has many descendants, and Pussie was compounded of a strange mixture, from which one item, " a heart," had been omitted. One afternoon in particular Beatrice remembered all her life. She was standing waiting at the slip-rails with Pussie for the man of the house to return. One of the station children, a brown-haired tot of two, had toddled along with them, and Beatrice had lifted it up in her arms to cany it over the creek. The baby crowed and laughed, and pulled at her hair with its busy little fingers. Untidiness is only becoming to the very young, and Beatrice, trying to put back the straying locks, with the searching westering sun shining full in her face — and trouble was not improving her failing charms — was not looking at her best. At that moment Gus cantered towards them. She looked up and smiled at him, but the smile faded quickly. He was looking at her closely — very closely — and his face looked disturbed. What have you been doing to yourself, Bee ; you don't look at all well ?" he said, irritably, and then he looked at Pussie, with her fresh young tints and active movements. Sho swung the baby to her shoulder, and told him to let her give the child a ride. He dismounted, and gave the bridle to her, whilo he held the baby on the saddle. It was a pretty picture. Gus was very fond of children, and they of him, and his face was merry and clear again as he encouraged tho baby to "hold on," and Pussie ran ahead urging the horse to a quick walk. Beatrice turned away to hide the mist of tears that would rise. She was nearly fifty now, and time will tell. Her cheeks had lost some of their rounded outline, her figure its slightness, and there were grey streaks in the thick dark hair. She remembered that night on board the steamer, when she had shuddered at the thoughts of what ten years inieht do. In ten years from now she would be quite an old woman, and Gus His merry laugh rang out, as if in answer to her thoughts. He was carrying the baby now, and soothing its fears, and Pussie laughed, and said he would be a good nurse, and wondered to see a man so awfully tond of children. And then Beatrice wondered also, but not aloud, if things would have been any different if Gus had had a child of hi 3 own to be a link between them. Next day Gus and Pussie went for a long ride to the farthest boundary. It would bo the last one, for Pussie was soon going away. Beatrice had managed to work that — cleverly, too — so that even Pussie did not suspect her hand in it, and Beatrice hated herself for stooping to subterfuge, but she was fighting for what was dearer to her than life. Yes, Pussie was going, but things could never be as they had been. The woman's eyes were opened, and she saw all the horror of the long fight before her with the vanishing years, and knew that no human power can conquer time. Her heart was very bitter as she watched them ride away. Pussie waved to her theatrically from the slip-rails and then they were gone, and Beatrice went into the big, lonely h.use alone.' In all that.followed Pussie Chandler was wont to assert that Beatrice Pakenham had not an ounce of heart. "As for me," she said to her sympathising listeners, " I -was quite upset, and ill for days. It waa a dreadful thing. The horse bolted in sight of home, and Gus A was flung against the big bloodwood tree

befoi-e our eyes. I tore up as fast as I could. You see I had been riding with bun, and Beatrice and tho groom ran out °f the stable-yard and got to him just as I did. "And when the groom said, 'Oh, ma'am, I m afraid he's dead,' .lie scarcely looked sorry. Most women would have screamed and fainted, but not Beatrice Pakenham. She just sat down, and took his head in her lap, and gave orders to send for the doctor, and all that as coolly as you pleased." Which, allowing for exaggeration, was exactly what did happen. Beatrice held the poor, crashed body in her arm?, without either screaming or fainting. He was not dead, but she knew he would die, but he opened his eyes once, and he spoke once. " Bee," he said, "Darling ' Bee,' " and the look in his eyes and the words took her back to the starlit evenings on the ocean liner, and the unforgotten time of love that seemed undying, and when two human beings caught the glimpse of heaven that only comes to men and women once in a lifetime. "Bee," ho said, "Darling Bee," and Beatrice waa satisfied. Pussie also told her friends that Mrs Pakenham was wicked enough to disregard her husband', last wishes. " For he had just boen telling me, said Pussie, " that he wished me to live at Eaglesnest always, and that if ever any - thing did happen to him (strange, was it not, that he should speak like that just before the dreadful accident happened ?). he hoped that I would have his diamond ring to wear in remembrance of our friend ship ; and, of course, the old woman re fused to comply with either of his requests Poor Gus, I ouly hope his spirit was hovering round somewhere, just to see the look on her face when she knew he was really dead. He would know her real character then, at any rate. lam speaking the truth when I say she looked positively ' glad.' " And, no doubt, Pussie did speak truth as regards her last assertion. Beatrice took her sorrow strangely, though a deep and lasting sorrow it was. There was never a day but she would miss tho quick footstep and the merry smile of the man who was more than husband — lover, friend, and sou iv her lonely life. And yet under all lay a feeling that it was all for .the bast. At least, he died loving ber still. His words proved that, and the haunting nightmare of the fastfleeting years was vanquished for ever — age to age, and youth to youth. Had he lived neither would have escaped the inevitable consequences of their folly, and she still had the memory of the golden years before his love had changed or cooled. So, no doubt, if Pussies pious wish could have been realised, and Gus Pakenham's watching spirit have seen, it would also have understood, and no doubt realised, as Beatrice did, that sometimes mercy is in death's disguise.