THE AFTERMATH.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10092, 4 March 1911, Page 2

THE AFTERMATH.

(By " MYOSOTIS.") [All Rights Reserved.] July had never been so golden. Newly , aoTO wheat lay rich upon tne uplands, md with cheery words the reapers flrore their strong teams in long straight lines, gathering, the grain. In a cleft between two curving hillsides a spring ' welled forth from the roots of a branch~i ing willow. In it birds splashed and *f; dran.k fearlessly, then perched for an I instant on the bending shoots to dry *• .their ruffled feathers ere they soared s once more into the infinite blue of the heavens* Everything -was very still, and something of the same .-spirit of brooding gentleness seemed to encircle the quiet figure of the young girl who »at on a small hillock looking across the rolling stretch of purpling hills to '' the line of restless sea. k She had the prospect to herself, except for a distinct speck—an advancing <• figure making straight for her. She sat Immovable urtil the approaching man's face became visible. Her own quivered tt the first sight of his—just an instant—and she was herself again. They faced one another questioningly. "Thank you for coming," she said, in a voice that trembled slightly, "I had to write to you—you never come to see us riow—and we are leaving tomorrow." "I am sorry," he began, "I didn't know you missed me: That is- " two large eyes Were looking up in be- '" ivildered reproach and he stopped short. ,1 But she broke in breathlessly, "I flon't understand," tears trembled in the childish ■ tones, " something 'has ■ happened. Oh,' please tell me if I h aveoffended you.". , The man besid9 her roused himself abruptly, and his face became hard and stern. , . -' " No, you have not offended me. but, •: U you musj; know, your mother objects - to our friendship j she thinks it. might be dangerous." , / He threw back his head and laughed bitterly. "She showed me my place _ the other day, and it's not beside you. I told her she had been premature, and T think I convinced her that you were • in no danger' as far as I was concernHis eyes were fixed on the distant vision of moving sea and shimmering J haze, and he could not see the white \ face of the girl who, in those few min- ? utes, was growing into womanhood. . There was, silence for a little, while the .\ mystery of existence floated about th«n, voiced by the sweet-throated birds, mirrored, in the sparkling; spring water. ■" For her the worlds had all grown black aiid void—instinct prompted one thing only—to be brave. A ' slim hand touched his arm, and a. whits face looked up at him courageously and v essayed to smile. "What a foolish mistake," a quiet / voice murmured. "Of course, you were ;. not serious—but perhaps we had better say good-bye now." For an instant their hands met, then with head'held high she turned from him and sought the homeward path. There are days in our lives whose hours pass like the falling petals of a rose. Dick Carruthers v had lived in them as a man,lives who realises that he must soon -die. As he watched the fast-vanishing: figure of the girl he , loved, he knew that the last petal of ._ his roee of joy was falling, slowly fall- . fog"Ah. Nell, Nell," he cried desperately, his arms outstretched, v "come back to me, for all the sunshine of my •■orM is going with you." . ■ But, alas for human happiness, the |gM heard .only the call of "the birds, ' and the soft of the wind as it touched her* face and murmured in her w,

' v The Junft night ■•was •'heavy with 'warmth and perfume. From the gaiv : jd«n below came the languorous scent of : rwe» and honeysuckle,' drenching the air with their poignant sweetness. .Their fragrance was wafted up to the balcony," whore a roan and woman, after a lapse of two years, /once more confronted .each other. r.' " Nell—really and' -veritably , you !" He was ,tite first to speak. She laughed nervously. "Of course \h ia—but how did you know I was here?'? "I didn't,-' he answered quietly. ,*M have been away for two years, and have only just returned to civilisation." " Then you haven't heard—you don't know that I ". She stammered, hesitated, and looked at him with a half-perplexed, half-regretful appeal. "I only know one thine," he replied, taking possession of both, bet hands, " ana that ia that I am here with you again—and that is what I have longed for ever since the day I let you go from me." Something like a stifled sob broke from her, and hastily she withdrew her hands. A ray of blue light shot from the solitaire on the third finger of her left hand. It was only ring she wore. He saw it and his face paled. ! "I am to he married next month," <he said very quietly. , "Then, I am too late," he cried. -" Oh, Nell, surely you' knew I would come .back to you—why didn't you uraitf*'' / ' ■ "Why?" she echoed, "why?—because it was' never quite clear -to me ihat you really wished ma to wait. And you know, what is expected, from me— the looks of the family.' " There was a pause. " Perhaps "—her voice was uneven J mid he felt rather than saw the misery n her face*-" perhaps I might have waited, Dick, if I had had more faith ,Jnjrou and in myself." i To every man his hour I Dick Carruthers sat, silently watching her, Speedily taking in every line of the ini strong figure—the sweet face. Tho .•white skin, wide scarlet mouth, made Wore for kisses. than for speech, and toe glorious eyes; eyes that were neither blaok nor grey, yet both—wayside pools, fringed by thick curling j , gashes, and arched Hoy fine brows. She j fras the one woman in the world for him. and he had lost her. Above them the golden moon seemed j. lamp hung down from heaven, below the garden slept, flooded in soft, silvery brilliance. Far away a clock chimed the hour. She rose wearily, and their •yes met. " Good-night," she faltered, and . holding out her hand, "I cannot say ' 'good-bye,' but we must never see . •ach other again." How it happened they never knew, but in a moment, ho was at hor side. and.all the pain and joy of the world .waa crowded into one instant as they ; stood there locked in each other's arms. "Nell, Nell," he whispered, his : voice vibrating with passionate ap- ; peal," it is not yet too late. We can * be happy, if only you will." For a moment she yielded unresistingly to his embrace j a wave of colour flooded, her cheeks, and like a lightning flash a look that seemed of happiness lit up her face. Then she pulled herself together &nd spoke with appar-. »Nt coldness. ",0f course it is too late. I am to be married next month, and it would be dishonourable to break it off now." His hands closed quickly over hers. ' "Do yon. think it honourable to marry, one man while you love another?" he questioned sternly; "for I know you love me." Infinite love and infinite pain surged together in her heart as she turned toward him, still hesitating. . " Come," he whispered, " youth and love and the wide world are before us. Together we can enjoy them, and. nothing else matters." A long silence followed the passionate words, a silence charged with weaning. Unwillingly the girl met bis

eye—competent, masterful, glad, blue eyes.

" No, nothing else matters, but do you ready think you can take caro of me?" she asked softly. _ "My wife," ail the subtlety, all the simplicity of human love was enfolded in the two short words which opened the gate for two more mortals to pasis into the happy kingdom where tho little blind god holds sway.

It was a mud elopement, and many tongues wagged oyer it, and predicted the proverbial ending of so ha&ty a marriage. Meanwhile they are absurdly happy, and Dick Carruthers is taking care of his wife with every possible success.