DARKEY BILL'S GIRL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11282, 9 January 1915, Page 3

DARKEY BILL'S GIRL.

(By COUNTRY GIRL.) [All Rights Reserved. 1 All clown the long stretch of beach the .sea moaned and sobbed, as ii hi sympathy with the little, grief-strick-en 'Maori girl Miranda. She sat un the stump of a blighted bluegum tree and wept as though her heart would break, for she had lost Darkey Bill. He had cone off and enlisted—first leaving a little scrap of paper on his whare tabic to tali her. and aft because- she had not told him when he ask"ed whv she had been to J J'Sweeney's hut those last few days. Oh, why had her voting mistress told her never to tell anyone. She liad wrecked her iit'o. Darfcev Bill would never forgive her, his s:iri. whom he had so lovetf and worked for. And «ow lie had gene, gone out into the big world to fight', and hi* heart was broken. She tore at her mop of dusky, curly hair, and moaned aloud. Then for about the twentieth time .sire scanned' the grimy bit of paper again. Why hadn't he trusted her love? M'Sweoney! She hated bim, and had cried when Mis* Mary had made her take notes to his hut and wait for answers. She was always afraid Darkev Rill would find out, but she dared "not tell him. Miss Mary had threatened such terrible things if she ■ told a soul about it. Now Bill had found out. He had' watched from the shelter of the manuka scrub, and when. he questioned her she had not been able to answer, and she had broken his heart. Here it was in the letter:--- •'•' Dear Mirandy,—Seems like you lore M'Sweeney better'n me. So 1 am go in' to enlist. Girls is a.ll alike. I find ; hut 1. did think you was different. I love you bo true, I carit't stay a.nd see yon marry that hulk of white flesh. T. would rather shoot German* for the e,;rea.i white King. My heart is broke. •''DARKEY BILL." '■' God ! God!'' she cried atond. to an accompaniment of the sad Ken. i- !.et me get to him before he finds the pafvcba ehief and enlists. '"'<■- m;i«t know flint his girl is tare to him. that it's all Missus's fault for sending me with letter?. Show me the lr-iy orir. dear Lord," she wailed. " and don't let Miss .Mary be too hard on a. poor broTn girl." She gazed ouv. at the sullen sea. so gray, grim a.n-d mournful to-day. Somebow it liad lost all its blnenes*. smd wparkle to Mirandy. -Just as the sunshine had gnno out of her heart, s<> it lia.d gone from the sea.

Her thoughts travelled back to the day when klip had first come to the MaxweU's hovoe-st--:id - a niece of tenyea i--old Maori fie-sb. with, the carriage of a, conqueror and the brown of the onrth in her supple skin. Her mother had' nook on the. station for five years, and when she, died kind Mrs MaWelj' had kept Mirandy. and taught bpr to be generally useful. And then Darkey Bill had come into Tier life. lie had been engaged as head ploughman on Flan mere, and lived by himself in the wbaro down by the shingly br-yioh. "No one quite knew hrtw it xvas ho came to be known a« Darkey Bill, but there it was. He on me to tho phec bearing the name, nnd if .'inyo:!e wondered about it, no one the reason of it. Such a tine strapping pic-e of Maori manhood, litho a."d strong ho was. and' fmm the first took Mirandy as his special pro--petty. Indeed, they '.vo"e to have boor, married as soon a - - Miranda was eighteen. M.i 7-„ Ma:rwe!l would not hear of it before. And now had come aJI this trouble. Miranda knew that he had always had a. hankering to go to the war, he had talked of it" of ton, but could never bring himself to learo her. and she had been selfish and kept him. Although she knew it was his duty to go, slio never dreamV that he-would go pi as

he did. bu!, his hot Maori pnssinns Imd Vif-on too strong for him. hi vain she bad implored him to trust her. but he would not. His face, blazed wrath mid mad jealousy. She, bid ber tear-stained face in her hand*'.. r,s thoughts csme tumbling into bethe ad. Was it only two hours »siwo «he had gone to the whan? to seek him and toll him ail. only to find the pb<'" empty, .md tltf. bit of jrrini v paper tolling her b.« had l«ftP "Mirandy, ray heart is broke!' seemed stamped In letters of flame- before hei eyes. Slowly she turned back to the homestead, all the life go no out of bor. Slio crept about her work in the groat house, her eyes lik«> big pools of sorrow. Mirmida tbo laugh-ier-loving bad fled, and in bor place bad risen another, grim, grief-s'oncken and silent. God bad taken bor man away because site bad done ber duty Truiy. tbo God of the pakohn was not tbo God of tiro brown people, who must, wift'or for tbem.

"If J could only see him once again 1" ehe thought. "'Sew him once again!" Something awakened in her. Why shouldn't she see him again ? She could walk, and the town was only 40 miles away. She would steal away that very night, and before anyone missed her' she would bo miles away.

If Darkey Bill wanted to serve his country he' must first know that bis girl would wait for him; that she was true as steel to him. If be wanted to serve his country? She knew he did, only she had kept him in her selfish love, but now he must know that she loved him. He would ficht all the bettor, and oh, bow proud slio would be when he came back laden with medals 1 He was so big and strong, he must win through, and they would be married and live in the little out-back whare, oh, so happily! Yes, she would walk to the city, and change the words "Mirandy, my heart is broke" into "Mirandy. I am happy" before he sailed. She would leave a note for Mrs Maxwell and one for Miss Mary, telling them where she bad gone, and she would also tell Miss Mary what Darkey Bill thought. The moonlight shone clear as sunlight when Miranda stole forth that same night. Every ridge and tussock hollow, every dried crctik and stately cabbage tree", stood out in finest detail, but Mirandy knew every step of the way, and even the screech of a night bird did not frighten her. Over knife laid ridges, through patches of rustling bracken, down into a stony creek, across a shallow flax swamp'and dried roupo bed she sped, till, exhausted at last, she sank beneath the crushed green-grey of manuka and slept. Three' nights s' slept in wild fern gullies, where g- •'■•-worms climbed in gleams to meet the stars. And on the fourth day she came in sight of the city. Her feet were cracked and blistered, her eves wild and' strained, but somehow .she'felt happier. It seemed as if God would answer her prayer, and let her see Darkey Bill just once more. Hark! Surely that was the sound of a band playing. She quickened her lagging footstVos, a faint fear entering her heart. Presently the faint sound of cheering floated on the soft breeze to her. Louder and louder it grew, and then she could distinguish the familiar lilt:— " It's a long, lonjr -w?.y to Tipperary, "But my heart's right theie." She wondered vaguely if Darkey Bill's heart was " right there,'' or with his girl on' the bu&h-clad ridges of Flaxmere Station. Somehow, she fancied his thoughts would be in the latter place. She pushed on down the street, eagerlv praying to see him just once more. Everywhere were people, waving flags and cheering, as the stalwart line of khaki-clad figures passed them—but Mirandy was too exhausted to walk faster. A sudden f'aintness overtaking her, she leaned up against an iron railing, and shut her eyes. '"'What's the matter, missy? You seem to be taking things somewhat hard." Swiftly she unclosed her great brown eye», and scanned the kindly face of the old man who had spoken. _ " Are—are the troops sailing today?" she faltered, "because. I—l want to'see one just for a minute. Indeed, 1 must see him, sir. He is all 1 have, and he must know something I have to toll him."

"No, missy, don't yon worry, they are only marching back to the camp. You will be able to see him. My own two lads are ctoing to the war, too." The old voice faltered., and though a tear glistened in his eye, he straightened his back and exclaimed, "And f am glad for them to go when the Empire calls. God bless them all. I wish i were young enough myself. But. surely, you are not alone in the world, niv dear? You look worn out. Can't you let me help you? The least that wo old folks can do is to help the girl that Tommv's leaving behind him." Gradually Miranda told him all her little story, finishing up with, " I simplv must see him and tell him all. He'll fight ever so much better if he knows." J; '•So he will, my dear, so he will, cried the old man. " You come .straight home with me now. My wife it a Tittle cut up herself at.losing Ted and Jack. We have no other children, so von can comfort each other. I have taken a fancy to your bonny brown face, mv dear." Old Mrs Gray apparently took ft fancy to Miranda too. for she petted and made much of her. Tnilv the world is lull of Good Samaritan';, only some of us can nevpr lind them when" we want them most, as Miranda did.

Next, morning she awakened refreshed and strengthened by her good night's rest, and on going downstairs found the old couple at breakfast, and quite ready to take her into the camp as soon a* slio had partaken of hers. Oh. tin* excitement of that journey through the city to the camp. People evorvivhore—many hound lor tho samo destination as herself. At last they came to the great gate.-;. Rows of tents on all sides, officers looking busy and important, everywhere men in khaki, hut, the figure that Miranda wanted was not to tie seen. Supposing ho was not there, nlVr all! A vague fear gripped her heart. "God!" she, breathed, ''don't he to hard on a poor brown girl; she has heart and feoliuss same, as ihe pakoiia, if her skin is " •■ Mirandy, darling, it i* really yon!"'

'A well-known voice- svxike- in her ear. With a glad cr" she fell into Darkoy Bill's arms. Truly, God had answered h'-'i- prayers to tho hill. "'Oh. Bill, beloved, tell me quickly your heart is not broko, for I love you, oh, so truly. M'Swoeney is Miss Mary's man, but her father don't knoxv yet, so ! had to take mess " The, words were, never finished, for big Bill just drow the soft bundle or Maori flesh into his svrong arms and kissed thorn all away, declaring thatho wok the one in fault for not trusting his girl. "But. oh. I am happy now, darling." Presently Miranda fur-v-d to look for her kind old friends, but found that they were busily eugaged talking to their own son*, who came up presently To where Miranda and Bill wore. Catcbimz hold of her hands, they mad.* hoi- promi:'•■•• to look al'ier the old couple for them while awnv. which site did.

When tho troops sailed a. fortnight later, in all the vast crowd who wished them God speed there was no prouder maid than Miranda., who marched along bolide- T)arkey Bill to the wharf, smiling biavely through the tears that, a*'she cried V-fclei. *■&„" r: ~' - : '~' '