CHAPTER I.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7802, 5 September 1903, Page 2

CHAPTER I.

Widow Knight's cottage had'-aj double tharsfe j it guarded the bridgp ou, its left,, •while its two front lattioes, blinking below tho tjhatched eaves, watched on thla right the opening of a steeply mooting ' ■ lane that lea to aridi from tlho haj&b' moad; : iiere the tree branches overhead! m*^ in » such, .intricate tracery tttmt uhey diafldd both' rain and stmshin*. except) wk«ne hxtm «nd there a bough (had perished. Rain and sunshine- had, however, worked their wHl.on the old woooea i hridfcpe, till ihey had sripenad ihe structure to an eatgnisite 'harmony of tilnts. The lattice, that looted on 1 the bridgia was ■■:. set very low under the eaves; above it, ia the broad gable facing the river Stour,. , projected a subsidiary portJion- <of thatch, which roofed «n odditionjal chamber, buiß •ut on this side. Since the widow's accitfent she chiefly occupied this added room. In her long tours of forced! inactioni she -.''■• Jov«<3 tk gase out on the livery where 1 the green sedges look down aad mingle wifchi V the willows, mirrored till they seem to teach tie middle* of the 1 stream, shimmering '"!' io. sunshine. Three ducks taktnig <Jheir a morning bathi cjre snow-white, till, raising tihejr wdngs, aaid preening out the feathers below, tfliey iwveal th«3e sun-fcisited a. golden ( cream, bejewelled with, diamond-like waterdrops. Someone tmlatched th<& outer door and came quickly in. across the room that lay ' foetweten the entrance and 1 the widow's parV lour. A tall, dork-browed' fellow, brojkd end awkward at shouldtera, straight limbed and a-ctive looking. There was aotting . woitih noting in Alick Knight's face, ex- " cept his big: bright eyes, which now rested^ tall ott tenderness, on his mother. She smiled at Mm. "Back again lad? What's up With you?" He stood still a minute, he htadi run •cross the meadows: tihen he bont over and! ..... kissed her soi rehememttly titat lie hurt tihe "■'' thin cheek. Si** understood!; ha. toad come back tot tell her good news. Her eyes reflected 1 tihe brightness in bis, Wiey were of th.c saane dleep brown as Alick's, but locked narrower from' 'the fceavy droop of the lids. "Tell tihe' news, dear lad." "I'm raised seven shillings a weekj Tm foreman of my room, mother." Sh© rose and put both her arms round! - her boy. She could not speak juit th«n, but Alick knew her meaning without words. , " Tasked leave to run and teW. you; but, i»oth«r, you forget, you mayn't stand yet •while." "He bent diown and carefully put ; the slender woman back on, tihe .sofa; "I'm pff again now," he said. "Where's Tilly ? She ought to be told." ; Alick turned away;, and said gruffly? pver Jiia shoulder: — "It's nothing to Tilly; eae's—she's taE> ' lag to Leonard Wace." ".. He had reaohed the parlour door. "Where 5s she, Alick?" "On the tow-path." He went tout. \ ") His motlher sigihieicEj shfi had, jxtoi! as fehe was, atlopted tihda god-chftd, when Tilly MaVor. was left, at thirteen, an lorpkui. Some, time ago, Mrs Knight had/ . fallen in tihe stony road, she ihadi b&qai oj> „ tiered to keep still for a,whilo. "Tilly does came for AlidV shia Ibought, though'she lets him tMnik slei ... flpn't, she only amuses herself witlh thetl young Wace." .; The widow looked out across t^he river* lowards Kshagn. A ahafrp cry of aJatam . iirok© from her; so. pdercingj a souxud that) / Tilly 'fceardi It. "I must go," the girl called outbto the ; angler in the boat, " there must Se some* (thing the matter. My! sea how the mist's rising." ■' •Small and plump, slightly freckled, tenHrils of lovely auburn hair biding her white forehead, till they almost strayed into her . blue eyes, Tilly Mayor hastened t^ tie cottage with a look of concern, that told ehe was not wholly absorbed by Leonard : [Wace. ,: She hurried! across the (bridge, wihlch, fexcept for it's uprights, looked so like a , collection of old grey hurdles, that one .' : less used to its. frail aspect might have hesitated to cross it. At the cottage door , Tilly cried out "My!" with the shock of 3:«r alarm; Mrs Knight stood there, ,prop-. '. ped against the door-post. "Why? whatever—" the girl began. , "Bun, Tilly, run. Alices just started for Esham, and I never bid him mind 'tis the high tide this evening, see the mist rising fast; run, girl, 'bid' lim come (home by the road to-night." < . ,_ "But how came you here, godmother? ,. ■■ \ taust help you back." ;;, '„.' "Leb me be, child, only runj" wa* the ■ ; V>reathless answer. ' Tilly Mayor ran. till she reached the middle of the bridge; she stopped' there, '"end 1 looked to the right, across the meadow behind the tow-patk. Alick was ever so 'far awaji striding at double speed over tihe 1:f; grass. " ■ "I suppose if I run and /cry out I may ' make him hear, but it's ridiculous, and—" »he gave a rapid glance to the left, Leonard Wace had turned his head, and was watching her; he now rowed languidly to the bridge. j , Tilly's cheeks flushed, her eyes -shone " with tiiiiamph ; just now Mr Wace's indifferent manner had been-mortifying j now, , he was evidently seeking her. "I can't run after Alick, 'twould look as if I cared for him." Once more she looked .across the meadows, then, as' Leonard Wace shot his boat under the bridge, she ran across to the gate leading to the tow-path. "Come back, Alick, come back," she tried, "your' mothe» wants you. :i ;,. Her words seemed blown baok to her by 1 )bhe wind thatNxustled among the willows, ten<j brought into view tha silver linings of ..,.<■ their leaves. Aliek had reached the bend \pt the river, and was out of sight. Tilly shrugged her shoulders. "He's safe to remember 'tis high tide, Knd he can'fc help seeing the misfc; Alick's liob so stupid as all that. 1 i*ally couldn't snake an exhibition of myself before people," • " What was the row about with Mrs Knight, Miss Mayor?" -«■ Leonard Wace tad come out on the right tide of the bridge. He had a_jcl«ar, good; - tempered voice, "though the ''drawl" in it, a. slighb broadening of vowels, suggested an imitation of -his superiors in station.; he wore smartly-cut clothes, and •-was .generally "up-to-date-ness" in his talk, buS ihe was son to the miller of Roundv.ford, and lived 1 in the picturesque old house pn the mill dam close by. A. "Mrs Knight wanted me tc- warn her '«on j 'tis high tide this evening, and she's ftfraidi for him 1 in the mist, ii he comes . back by the meadows and the tow-path." : "What rot! Catch my another squalling after met She knows better than that." Warm colour showed on Tilly's cheeks. Mr Leonard, noddoubtt t was a fine gentleman, but her spirit rose # at his slighting tone. " 'Tis best to keep to what one's cure cf,"—her. uplifted nose was eloquent—"l fancy you -don't know Mrs Knight's equal, ■: Mr Wace." There was a sorb of defiance in her tone J .Bhe turned towards the cottage. Leonard Wace had been badly snubbed to-day. As ono of his father's best customers got into his trap to drive ewa-y^ She Jjad called out« "I say, Wace, why don't you get your lad employment? 'I'nere ain't loom for two -v this mill. An active young fellow 6ho;:lun't loaf all day." The- miller's son was close by and 'heard!; te felt *ore all over. He now saw & chance pf amusement, and' resolved to tales it. "I say, Miss Mayor, would you like ft lew perch for Mrs Knight's supper!" Tilly looked over iher shoulder. "Have you caught any?" " Not yet, but I'm going' to the creek. You'll come, won't you?" Then, seeing that she beois&tcs£ -'jump onto the boat,

there's plenty of perch in the deep water." While 'he spoke n« was 'baoking towards the bank. Tilly knew she ought to help Mrs Knight on to her sofa, but this was the first., time Mr Wace had asked her into his boat, it was a great advance. She was bright and happy-tempered, but of late a vague disquiet had altered the girl ; at times shift was full of sunshine* but hours of shadow came^between ; she wanted something, she did not know what it was. Lately, she had developed little irritable outbursts, especially towards Alick Knight. Leonard Wace, like most spoiled people, determined to have his own way. "Aren't you coming, Miss Tilly?" Tilly was half unwilling ; nevertheless, the stepped into the boat, when its owner repeated his question. ' He hardly gave har time to neat herself, but rowed back in silence past the bridge. At the point where the river forks into a double stream he rapidly crossed the millpool, into the narrow, shaded creek which led to the main stream. "How lovely it is," the girl said in a low voioe. " Ah !" ihe yawned, " you can speak as loud as you please here, you'll not scare the fish." Tilly felt mischievous j it was plain that hex companion was not impressed by the beauty nround them. "My! how grand it must be to fish here every day. I 'support you can't bfcause of your work?" He raised his e3obrows in amused won* der : " No one can fish just here, except me, it belongs to the mill : fishing's my work, and it's hard enough, too ; I had to serve a long apprenticeship to it before I could catch 'em as Ido now." He shrugged his shoulders, and looked contemptuous, he wondered whether that fellow, who termed it loafing, had ever hooked a fish. x Leonard Wace stood up »nd deftly fastened the boat by a rope to some rushes, took up the rod afc his feet, saw to the bait, and skilfully swirled his lines over the river. It seemed as if the perch had been waiting for him ; hardly t«n minutes had passed before he raised the lino out qttfhe water, and Tilly, who had watched bisT>roc«ediiigs with deep interest, etw quivering in the^air a lonely green and silver, scarlet-finntd fish, so full "of life and movement that the angler had to end his capers by a blow 1 on the head. \ " There's number one," he laughed. " How clever of you ! May I really hay« it for godmother?" "Wait a biV you'll have some morep bless you, I pull 'em out by the score." "I wish Alick had time to fish." "You can't expect a fellow like hint to be able to do it." He flung his lin* again over the water ; Tilly smiled; it did nofc displease her to hear Alick disparaged. She could not give a reason for her wish, but lately sh^liad often wished he would, as she expressed it, " care for her" ; Alick, meanwhile, had become colder and colder, he liad given up all the brotherly little ways which were so dear to her. v . As Tilly now| sat watching the float that lay still on the water, she remembered that Alick's. coldness had increased since she had been on speaking terms with'L*o,- j nard Wace. That showed Alick was in- j different to her, or he would txy to keep her for himself; npt onoo had he said a word of blame in regard to the miller's son., yet Leonard Wace was always, h*nng a fling at Alick. Her face flushed as she sat, her blue eyes fixed on the water ; with feminine logic she argued, that Mr Wace really c^red for her, and was, therefore, jealous. " I know jealousy's a sign of love." She told herself that Mr Wace's languid indifference was as attractive as his handsome face. She, a brisk little creature of eighteen, full of vivacious life, with hidden grit in. her enough fox two women, was, for the time, subjugated and fascnf&ted 'by the careless, ■easy manner, which it pleased her to imagine concealed strength and manliness. She sat musing. If anything were -to happen to her dear, kind godmother, she was sure Alick would mot trouble as to j what became of her ; if she encouraged Mr j Wace, and surely if she- tried, she might j like him as a husband, she would be provided for. Besides- she bridled, the dimple in her cheek deepened, she would also become a fine lady, be able to dress like Miss. Wace. , . , And 1 thten, for Tilly's early life hadf grown up in the poverty o£ a ruimedi towne, she wondered whether her' fine gen*lema,ni was able to keep a "wife, off wheiibfcr, if be married) her, she would be expected to. do t3xe work of the Mill-house, and filava for him and his proud sister. The float bobed, disappeared, end the line ran out with a whirr. "Halloo!" Wace cried, "*'» t!h«t? my word ! Eow he pulls !" he was cautious? Iv winding in the line. Another roslhi of the fish, out went the line again, itiod then, aiffcer four or five minutes spent* ill letting out the line., and win|ding it in, Tilly sajw< a long, silver, fierce-looking fish ! beta ( @ drawn to the side of the boat. "Will you gaff him, Miss Tilly?" Then, as she shook her head, hie said, "Pleasei, hand me tie gafif — quickly, or he'll be off again!" "So!" he pulled the sharp faatrb of the gaff rapidly across thie fish's 'batek, and 1 landed in "the boat a handsome^ savagejawed jack. * "'Twas a chance I had the gaff td-'day ; that fish weighs nigh upon five pound if he weighs an ounce," he said, with a l'oolkl of tr.iiA.ph. " OhV please kill tL* posr iilcs aod 1 put it, out of its misery." Tilly's eyes were Ml of tender pity, he thought she looked charming, but wislhied l she were more- useful. She .JjUT!a.sd away her head, and: he finished 1 ok tihe jack,, then, placing it itu the basket in which, het had put the perch, he said he would* eendi both fisJi to the cottage. "Thajnk you, but please only the perch, .fhe jack's too big. for us; I must be going home ;" she ,stood up in tlba boat. " Hang it, that's too bad', you giefc all you want and leave me to amuse myself as best I can/* •'I haven't beeni amusing you," she laughed; "I've hardly He book heir hand to help her oat of the) boat and held it tight in his own; "Speaking dbii't count for mudh," be) looked at her With mild admiration, "ypiu're: so doooed nice to look at." Ha bent forward, but Tilly jumped) ion. to the bank. "Good' day, Mr Wace, and thank yo;u| kindly," she held' oufc her hajid 'iVxr fchci basket with the pe'reh. "No, I'll send another or two." Sbls) nodded and tjripped off. " Little wJifch," he thought, " I'di no no-i tion she was so pretty t she shall come fishy ing agaan with, mo."