FAN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7087, 1 May 1901, Page 4

FAN.

<By SARAH CATHERINE BUDD.)

CHAPTER I.

FAN AT HOME.

It was a goldfen September morning. {Fan Walters t a daughter of the rector of Forrington, was alone in the pleasant old Bchoolroom with its battered furniture. "Poor old room I" she said to herself. " What a bad girl I used to be !" Then seeing a gentleman through* tne Window, she jumped lightly on to a table* and looked out. "Oh, yes, that is Mr (Herbert. He is going into the turnip field. £No shooting party, only one keeper. I «m glad I put on my clean dress, I shall coax Mrs Charles to take ane to the Orange." She swung herself lightly to *he ground, just as her sister entered. " Oh, Fan, here you are ! you must take icharge of the children, .dm the shrubbery ; nurse 'has too much to do " — ! — "Oh, we are a dreadful family, groaned !Fan. "Such a lot of us! always something to do." t Then brightening Tip— ?'Bnt I can't go' this morning, dear, because I am going with- Mia Charles Lancaster .to the Grange. She will drive by about twelve o'clock with those dear ponies. I put on this pale blue on purmose. Do I look nice, Lbtty!" _ Charlotte Walters severely frowned, but ■what was the good ; of -being cross with (Fan? . "I have no patience with you, sne aaid, end went away, distinctly shutting the door behind her. "I «ro a bad, selfish girl," said Fan to herself, "I must turn over a new leaf. {But oh, if I am not quick I shall miss Mrs Charles." So she bounded downstairs, and was soon wait/in* at the shrubbery gate. Mrs Charles I*ncaster.i was a beautiful Tonng woman,, and had 'her ponies well in hvA. •.■*.■ "Why, Fan/ she criod, -reining them up, "where on earth are von going?" Fan blushed a rosy red.

" Oh, dear Mi* Lancaster, you are going to the Change. Do lake me with you;'. I am always welcome there, I am indeed." "Well, that is rather cool, Fan, but jump up, for the ponies are fresh." . As Fan gleefully took her place, the man «,t the ponies' heads merely grinned to flrimself, for he knew quite well that Miss Fan Walters got her own way with, everybody. , Lancaster Grange was a rambling old mansion, ivy-coloured, and picturesque, jwith charming grounds. ' v Mrs Lancaster was a fine-looking old lady with a calm, placid, brow, and sweet emile. It wa« touching to see the love be-' tween mother and daughter, and they seemed to hare as much to say to each other as if they had nofc met for years.

" You did nob mind my bringing. Fan, did you, mother dear?" But on looking round the room, there was no Fan to be seen. "Where can the. child be? She certainly entered the house with me."

1 " Oh, Fan will be all right, depend upon it," remarked the old lady. " She is so often here, and a perfect sunbeam wherever she goes ; we are both so fond of! lier. Herbert is so reserved, he takes to so' few people, out he likes Fan." A wistful look came into the the/>ld lady's face, and plow tears of age filled' her eyes. "He is any only care in thinking of the future. ■You have your husband and your children, but he will have no one always with him ;when I am gone."

At that very moment Mr Herbert Lancaster himself came rouind a bend of the carriage drive, surrounded by his dogs, and carrying a little spaniel in his arms. The little creature had a, look of pain about her lustrous eyes, and was drooping as to tail.

Mr Lancaster was a fine, handsome man, and looked his best in !his beautiful English home, surrounded by : the animals he so dearly loved. / At that instant down the carriage drive came -the flying figure of Fan, with her hat tossed to the back of her head — all life and animation. Through the partly— opened French window, they beard her fresh young ▼nice.

"Mr Herbert! oh, what is the matter with Snap?" "Fan, is that you?" he replied in a tone of relief, " Just unclasp her collar; the men are such fools if you ask them."

Fan obeyed with light, deft fingers, and then softly caressed the little animal, who tried to wag her tail and feebly licked the young girl's hand. "Here, take her, Fan," said Mr Lancaster, holding out the little creature, " she has hurt her foot and is lame."

"Lame! oh, poor little midget! and hare yon carried her all the way from Stone Cross?"

" And how did you know I had bean there?"-

" I saw you " — nodding her head—" I saw you out of the schoolroom window, I very often see you when you are out shooting." So saying Fan calmly took the little spaniel from Mr Lancaster, but glancing into his face she cried out: " Oh, how tired you look; let me bathe her foot while you go in to luncheon." Mr Lancaster looked at the eager, animated face, and smiled.

"No, no, Fan, we will attend to Snap first, and then go into lunch together." "You see how fond Herbert is of her," said old Mrs Lancaster complacently.

" Yes ; and I fancy I see something else," said Mrs Charles Lancaster to herself.

CHAPTER n.

fan's adventure.

• About a fortnight later, Fan Walters might (have been seen wandering alone, over the dreamy Mitcham Downs, towards/ the edge ofilpe twilight, when the first faint stars were trembling in the sky. She had slipped away, unobserved from home, and ■ now was far away from any human habitation. * . ,

Fan wag rather a coward, but she loved Mr Herbert Lancaster, and ; he, as a keen botanist, had described a plant he was anxious to obtain. Fan in her secret heart thought sh& had seen this plant on Mitcham Downs ; hence her lonely , walk. After a prolonged search, to the girl's great delignt she found the plant. , What mattered now her timid fears, and the .growing! twilight — she had found the plan! Fan knew her way perfectly, and comforted (herself with the thought that she would soon have passed these wide and lonely downs. She hurrieid on, but darker the evening shadows fell, and with these shadows fell poor Fan's heart. '

How vast and lonely the downs looked! Were they really Mitcham Downs? Yes; for there were the dreadful barrows, scattered over th© billowy surface. '

Strange tales were told of these barrows —weird forms coming out and having shadowy fights by moonlight under the quiet stars. Fan disbelieved these tales, but she 'remembered; them, and in passing looked fearfully back over her shoulder. Presently she passed a fir plantation which looked gloomy, even by daylight. The pines in their purple gloom seemed whispering together as if to warn her. Of what did they warn her? Fan shuddered; and at that moment she heard the crash of heavy footsteps in the plantation, and rough voices, and laughter. She stood still, as if petrified, and* then heard a coarse voice say : "Yes, yes; we'll settle Mr Lancaster's fine place for him, he shan't brag about that any more, I owe him one ever since last Bench day, Yes, yes, my lad; you come .here and I'll tell you what we had; best do."

"Do!" said Far. to herself, with a beati ing heart, " and a plot against Herbert Lancaster." That was the horror.

All fears for herself were swallowed Tip in the- deadly terror which took possession of her heart. Falling on her knees, she crawled stealthily to the fence by the plantation, and there heard a plot disclosed which made 'her heart almost stand still with fear.

" I must warn !him," she said to herself, " at all risks I must warn him."

Slowly, and noiselessly, therefore, she arose, but alas, before she could start, three men came out of the pines a little way behind her. She heard, as in a dream, a brutal voice saying with an oath, "that wench has been listening ; but she shan't have a chance of telling tales," and then through the isoft air came the report of firearms, a girl's wild scream, and the hasty scuttling away of heavy feet. After that," perfect. silence, and the moon coming out of a cloud, bathed the down in silvery light.

There on the heathery turf with her pale face turned up to the skyj lay poor Fan, white and motionless. Surely the wretches themselves might have pitied her.

One ruffian, indeed, crept back for a moment, to make sure she was quite dead. He looked for a moment at the white young face which seemed stiffening before his eyes, then with a brutal kick, he called out:

"Dead enough ; and she is the parson's daughter."

"Hush! Hush!" came back in anxious tones; and then voices and footsteps died away, and there was nothing to be heard

but the sighing of the wind through, the ,ioomy pines. The girl's white face looked like marble in the monlight. But presently there came :i change, could it be the wavering shadow of the pines over her still, white face? No; she moves — she lives. Fan's eyes unclose —she has all this time been shamming.

The girl sat up wdthi a gasp and. a shudder. What the self-restraint !had> cost her, she could never tell — she had turned into an unconscious little heroine. Her only thought was, " I must save Mr Herbert at all risks."

But there was no "time to spare. Looking anxiously around to be sure, she was quite alone, Fan brushed back her wavy, hair, pressed her hat firmly on her brows, and throwing her skirt over her arm, she fled like a deer, hoping to find the short cut over the downs. She rushed madly on, but, alas, the path was not easy to find. Once, she stopped in her headlong course, and turned her face up to the moonlit sky.

Fan lived in an atmosphere of church-go-ing and prayer, yet in all her short and happy life, she tad never jeally prayed hut ,once, and" that was when, it was thought her favourite brother Jack was going to die. She prayed then, and she prayed now from her very heart.

But she only stopped for an, instant. She went up hill and down dale, through hedges, and clumps of bracken, past the ghos% barrows, along the remains of a Roman road, grass-grown, and desolate, down a sheer precipice — allmost like the sides of a house, slipping, tumbling, catching hold of the stunted juniper and low brushwood to keep her steady. It was a race against time—^but Fan won.

On reaching <he Grange she slipped in by a side entrance and went straight to Herbert Lancaster's study.

He was resting before dinner as she expected. He had been out shooting, had made a. poor bag that day, and was inclined to be cross. He looked down ruefully at his gaiters, and thought what a bother it was to dress for dinner ; he wished little Fan was there, and at that very moment the miserable little figure of Fan appeared.

With a beating heart, with every -limb shaking from exhaustion and nervous terror, with a hat, battered 1 out of all shape, with scratched face and bleeding hands, a/nd a dress torn to tatters, our poor littleheroine appeared before her hero.

" Oh, my God !" shouted Herbert, starting up. " Fan, what is it?"

He made a step forward and caught her in his arms, just as the place was going round and round with poor Fan-. His' anxious frightened face, the sure haven of his room, went to her heart with inexpressible comfort. But, sho must tell him, /' Oh ; don't, don't let me faint," she cried \piteously. "I must tell you somebhaW." lylit the look on her poor little scratched face was too much for Mr Lancaster. With trembling hands he put her into an easy chair, and rang the bell furiously. Mrs Wilson, the housekeeper, appeared.

"I came instead of one of the servants, Mr Herbert," she said, "because you rang your bell in such an extraordinary manner ; and my mistress objects to bells being rung furiously." "Furious ringing indeed, vVilson. Don't talk such rot, just look here !" shouted Mr Lancaster, wrathfully..

The housekeeper looked shocked as she stepped forward into the room, and saw the battered little figure in the cnaar. She saw the girl's quivering lips, the struggle for breath and speech, and knew a collapse was ' at hand. Picking her up tenderly, she placed her full length on a couch, and told Mr Lancaster to give her some water from a carafe which was standing on the table.

"Quick, sir, for your very life!" she said.

With a shaking hand and troubled face, Mr- Lancaster brought the water.

"Ah! that i? better," said poor Fan, with a gasp, and pulling herself upright on the couch, she cried, "you mu-sn't let me faint, Mrs Wilson, I have something awful to tell."

" Yes, yes, dear Miss Fan, but you must pest first, you must indeed."

"Rest — I can never rest until I have told Mr Herbert everything." Then, with quivering lips and rapid, breathless utterance, she told her tale, her own most unconscious heroism coming out naturally in the recital. "God bless you, Fan," exclaimed Mr Lancaster, in a deeply-moved and agitated voice, " God bless you. But for you " — his heart was too full to finish his speech — divided between, admiration and pity for bis little Fan and horror at the thought of

his beautiful old horne — the home of his fathers — being burnt to the ground !

"Take good care of her," he said' in a husky voice. " I musb go now to be even with those wretches."

And as the door softly closed behind 'him, Fan Walters for the first time in her life quietly fainted away. This was the beginning of an illness which lasted for some weeks, during which time she remained at the Grange by the doctor's orders.

CHAPTER 111.

PAN HERSELF AGAIJT.

In little anore than a month after Fan's adventure oa Mitcham Down she was pronounced convalescent and was to return to her home in, the course of another week.

When Fan first heard this, in her secret heart she deeply mourned. At the Grange she had been nursed, and petted, and waited upon as a queen and a heroine.

Her own people had come over constantly to visit her, and the little ones were quite awestruck when they saw their own mischievous, delightful Fan, who was always getting into hot water at home, posing as a grand. young lady at the Grange. It was the first night, of Fan's coming down to dinner. She was seated in the beautiful old drawing-room with Herbert, waiting for Mrs Lancaster and for dinner to be announced.

Fan was reclining on a couch near a glowing fire, and twilight was just beginning to fall. The girl's cheeks were pink once more, and she wore a lovely dinner-dress — a present from Mrs Charles Lancaster.

Fan had never before worn so charming a dress, and she could scarcely refrain from jumping up to look at herself in one of the quaint mirrors in the long room. Fan hoped earnestly that Mr Herbert admired her dress, whereas he admired her, but had no idea what dress she was wearing.

He Shad, been telling her. of the capture of the miscreants and that their revenge had been baffled through her— and then silence had fallen. Presently ' a deep sigh from Mrs Lancaster brought Fan back from the contemplation of her lovely dress. "I am so sorry I am going away," said this outspoken young woman. "Of course I love my own people dearly, but the recj tory is not so nice as the Grange. I love being here. I hope you will miss me, Mr Herbert." A dark flush crossed' his face. "More than you will miss me, Fan." "Oh, that is impossible!" she cried. But looking straight at him after this bold avowal, the girl blushed at the look in his eyes, and this blush was the very first dawn of womanhood in Fanny Angelina Walters. A thrill of pleasure came to Herbert Lancaster on hearing these words, bui he noticed her blush, and in order to put her once more at her ease remarked :

" 1 always think yours is a delightful family, and almost an ideal home. You know I am quiet, and reserved, but I enjoy going to the rectory." "In one sense yes j but, we are so many and so noisy. You can't even have a head or toothache, but Lots or Flo or (Molly must be ill too,, to say nothing of the babies. And yet they are dear, and sweet" — her look melting " and our mother has endless patience with them," As 'she spoke a vision came before her of the pale sweet face of the mother whom she so dearly loved. Straightway Fan fell into a reverie, and the firelight flashed over the girl's slight figure, and downcast, serious face, as she made up her mind to be a pattern daughter- for the future. There was no sound to be heard 1 in the long room but the sighing of the fire, the wind moaning round the hduse, and the tapping of the rose 'branches against the windows. Suddenly, from out the gloom, a deep and tender voice said: " Fan, I cannot bear, to part with you, and yet I dare not ask you to stay." In an instant, away went Fan's notions of reform.

"Stay?" she cried. "What do you mean? .Indeed I would stay if I had only the chance."

An uneasy blush coloured his brow. "Fan, you are a child to me, it seems cruel to .speak, and yet, there is only one way, dear." ' Then Fan, glancing -up in her wondering simplicity, met the look in his eyes, and understood. She blushed a rosy red, cast down her eyes and silence again fell. "Fan, look up and say you forgive me for any presumption," said the deep and tender voice once more.

Thus adjured Fan timidly raised her eyes, and met so painful and, sorrowful a look that she suddenly sat upright, and said clearly and slowly : "I have nothing to forgive, only to be proud of, and for my own'parfc I care for you so very much that I would leave, at need, every friend I have, and follow you right through the world. Is this love, Mr Herbert," she timidly added, "because if so I love you?" What words could have been sweeter to a lover's ear? And when Mrs Lancaster came in soon after and rejoiced with them, and tookl?an to her heart with deep-thank-fulness, there was really no cloud on that evening's pure happiness. But the next morning the parson loomed big on the horizon.

" There is your father* to be reckoned with, Fan," said Mr Lancaster, uneasily. "What will, he say?"

" Oh, never mind," replied Fan, airily. "Of course he will be delighted— but if he should prove too much for you, just "turn him over to me."

However, to bring the parson round was a harder task than Fanny Angelina) had reckoned upon. In the first place Herbert Lancaster's offer came as a great surprise to the rector — indeed- he was thunder struck. And then, underlying all, the .thought would come of what a help Mr Lancaster's great wealth and influence would have been in starting the boys in life — "But Fan sfhall not be sacrificed," he told himself sternly. . Altogether the two men had a very unsatisfactory interview at the Grange 'the next day, and as Mr Lancaster accompanied the parson to the hail door, he felt a thoroughly miserable man. Just then a door opened and a fresh young voice cried : "Do come nere, father dear, I want to see you." And as the rector went into the library and emit the door, Mr Lancaster's brow cleared. "Ah! little Fan will bring it all right," he said to himself.

"Well, father,' said Fan, colouring, "what have you said to Mr Herbert?"

"What do you suppose I have said?" re-

plied the rector sharply. "When a man older than myself coolly asks me for my daughter what dn the name of common' sense did you expect me to say?" " Older than you, indeed 1 !" cried this unfilial child, with sparkling eyes. "You can't compare yourself with him, he is a king amongst men!" " Spare your impertinence," said Mr Walters, coldly. " He, except dn the matter of age, is all a mam should be, while you," — Then catching sight of Fan's kindling eyes and glowing cheeks, he thought to himself, " how pretty the child is growing ! And what a baby she is 1 for her to think of marrying indeed!."

"Come along, Fan," he said kindly, "put all these thoughts out of your head, ten years hence will be quite time enough to think of "marrying ; and a child like you can know nothing of love."

, Fan grew pale, and sitting very upright in -her chair she asked severely. " Did! my mother love you?" . The poor rector groaned. This was going too far. «

" For heaven's sake child, don't dare to put yourself on a level with your mother." "I don't mean to put myself on a level with her," retorted Fan, sulkily. " I only meant to remark, that I suppose she loved you, just as I love Herbert Lancaster." "You love — a childi like you — Bah! Your mother loves with a deep, tender unselfishness. Such a love, Fanny Walters, of which you can have no conception." White grew the girl to the very, lips, and slowly rose. , . "I know now, all about it," she said. "I know what it is to love, amd I tell you, I would leave every friend I have and would follow him, like a dog, right through the world. Yes, I would, I would." . /- .

She waved her hand and was so terribly in earnest, that her tragio action lost its ludicrous appearance.

"Yes," she went on, "I would leave father, mother, sisters, brothers, all I have known amd loved, if I could be with him for ever."

Here the grand 1 heroics came to an end, Fan sank down upon her chair, and sobbed like an overgrown baby. The poor rector was first startled by this fine burst of «floquence, and then angry. Her being so willing to leave them rankled dn the father's heart.

And what had come over' her? All at once, she seemed to have 'burst the bands of girlhood, and attained, as it were, the full stature of woman.

The rector groanedi in spirit. All this was iieyond his comprehension, and outside his patience, and he was sore at heart.

"Well, Fan/he coldly said, "if all this be true and you are so anxious to leave us, you can marry Mr Lancaster, and begin wandering through the world with him, just as soon as ever you like."

At this Fan sobbed the louder. She detected the sarcasm in her father's words, but did not understand the sore feeling underlying them.

Without another -word, the rector left the library and Fan heard the front door close behind him. Then all at once her sobs ceased — she sat up, pushed back her wavy hair, aoid saying to herself* " Oh ! what will he tell •her!" she flew, out into the hall, csfught up her hat, and taking a short cut to her home, was soon. dn> her mother's little morning room, and had poured out the tale of her joy and' sorrows to the sweet, patient motner, who never yet had failed her. '■■•■'.' . ■!

A few minutes after, the rector hinlfeelf walked in, and at first, not catching sight of Fan, he said:

. "Well, little mother, here is a catastrophe. We are not the good parents -we thought we were. Fan, at least, is anxious to cast us off, and I don't think she would much care if she never saw us again." Then, his voice changing from a hard satirical tone to one husky -with emotion, •he added, "W.ill it be so with all the children, .Kitty ?'.

Afc that instant there cam© a flying figure across the room, andi Fan, threw herself into her father's arms.

" Oh, father dear, forgive me !" she cried. "I am a bad girl, no wonder you said that, but aiow my mother knows, everytihimg .i* sure to come right."

The rector kissed his daughter fondly, but unwonted tears came -into his eyes, as he realised how dear his wife was to 'him, dearer far than when 'he brought . her home, so many years ago, a beautiful bride to that very house. And. Fan, with a very loving and penitent heart, made her peace, a-nd got her own way at the same time. The whole neighbourhood were startled on hearing that Mr Lancaster was engaged to Fan Walters, and very few outsiders were pleased. "To think," said one young girl to a married 1 sister. "To think of that little insignificant Walters girl — only a clergyman's daughter — carrying off one of our. county people. Oh, if I had only known." Herbert Lancaster could marry!. I never even dreamed of such a possibility. I thought he was kind of an old fossil — I did indeed — or Fan Walters should never have married him." • . < .

"Ah, my dear, you don't know much about men^" said the six-months old? wife in her superior wisdom. Meanwhile the event to Mrs Lancaster became the source of pure pleasure and delight. The old lady's one -care was set at rest for ever, and she petted Fan. to her heart's content.

She had, however, something io say to the girl about her future, and one stormy evening, as the two were sitting alone by the drawing-room fire, she said : "My darling, you will have heavy responsibilities, almost too heavy^ perhaps, for your young shoulders, but then you love him, Fan, and love lightens heavy burdens."

" Indeed I do love him'!" exclaimed 1 the girl with wide-open, wondering eyes. " Yes, but I want -to tell you, dear, that all. the Mrs Lancasters of this old house have always been pure, good women, upon whose fair fame the world has never dared to breathe. You have to take up this mantle, Fan, for his sake and mine. You must care for the poor, too, and God will help you." Fan sat very still for a moment, her •beautiful eyes "fixed on the sparkling fire ; then she turned, and laying her little hand in Mrs Lancaster's, she replied tenderly and solemnly : "The name of Lancaster will be safe with me, dear, and I will do Herbert good and nob evil all the days of Ms life." And Fan kept her word. From the time she entered the Grange as a bride, until the. day, long years after, when she hung in speechless agony over !her< beloved one, she had' indeed "done him good and not evil."

"Fan, my little Fan," said the tender voice, so dear \o her, "we shall not long be parted." And they were not. After her husband's death she drooped and faded, and soon the tall sons had sorrowfully to lay their little mother by the eide of him ■whom she had loved so well.