Chapter XXII.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXV, Issue 4253, 29 June 1895, Page 1 (Supplement)

Chapter XXII.

None without hope e'er lored the briguteßt.fair, But lote can hope where reason would despair. — Mookb, Farewell ! For in that word, that fatal word, howe'er We promise, hope, beliere, there breathes despair. — Bye oh. « WOW, Kitty," said Dr. Grey, J \ gravely, " I hope you understand that in having Miss Vere hei*e you have incurred a heavy responsibility." "Have I, Tom?'* replied Kitty. «J thought you took that part." " Never made such a mistake in your life," replied Tom, solemn y. " Mis 3 Elsie is your guest, and I expect you to look after her. The mother of three children is surely equal to that." "I think I am," answered his wife, modestly. "You tell me what to do, Tom, aud I'll write it down, and try to remember." "Try to remember, yes; but don't write it down. You would lose the paper in less than five minutes." " Well, perhaps I should," said Kitty, equably. "Now, then, give your orders, doctor ; what am Itodo ? " "I'll tell you first what not to do. You must not let her tire herself with those kittens of yours, aud you must not mention either Sam Dodd or Frank Arinitage." " Oh, Tom, that is hard ! " cried the disappointed little matchmaker. "Why, I'm just dying to hear about them both." " Can't help that — you'll have to die," answered the hard-hearted Tom; "she has come here to have her mind diverted from ' all that nonsense. I'm thinking of making up to that prig of a curate, and trying the effect of a counter-irritant." ' Counter fiddle3ticksl " cried Mrs. Grey, indignantly. " I won't be civil to him if he comes. Tom, I'm surprised at you ! " j This conversation took place an hour , after Elsie's arrival. Mrs. Grey had not I seen much of her guest yet; for the doctor had carried her to her bedroom j at once, and insisted upon her going to | bed— an order she was very willing to obey. She had borne the long drive very well; bnt the fatigue and excitement had been great, and she was thankful to rest in the pretty, bright room which had been prepared for her. ,Once fairly established at Beecharn Lodge, Elsie's recovery was rapid. If ' change of scene was Dr. Grey's object in inviting her, he certainly attained his end; for never in all her life had Elsie seen so curious and interesting a household as that of which her doctor was the somewhat distracted lord and master. " A warm affection sprang up between Mrs. Grey and her guest, and very soon ill formality was dropped, and they became "Kitty" and "Elsie" to each other. The doctor was delighted, and indulged a hope thatuKitty might imbibe a few of those orderly ways he had observed and admired at the Vicarage. I At first Elsie had been only amused at the chaotic style of Kitty's housebeeping ; but after a time she began to Eeel sorry for the much-tried doctor ; and in a quiet, unobtrusive way did 1 much to make things more comfortable, which well-meant offices her kindly host saw and appreciated. I In one respect only was Mrs. Grey disappointed in her visitor. She hoped to have been the confidant of an interesting love story; but none was forth1 coming, and it was mortifying to have so mnch sympathy unappropriated. She could not understand it, for Elsie was urireserved upon other subjects. Kitty j knew all about Betty's temper, the i difficulty of sending Bertie to school, and the failure of the govei*ness plan; but on the subject of her lovers Elsie was mute. This silence was partially broken one day, when Elsie had been more than a fortnight at Beecham Lodge. She was standing at the window with the baby in her arms, when Mrs. '< Grey noticed her start siiddenly. " Oh, Kitty ! " she cried, faintly, "do take baby ; I'm so giddy." Kitty would have been either more or less than a woman if she had not glanced out of the window as she flew to relieve Elsie of the child, and support her into ' a cbah\ She was in time to see a young gentleman ride past the house, but he was a stranger to her, so she was none the wiser for that. Thei^e is a limit to female endurance, and even to wifely obedience; Kitty had reached this i limit, and felt she must speak or die. ' Elsie," she said, eagerly, "d-o tell me ; was that Mr. Arniitage ? " i " No, indeed," answered Elsie, with very unnecessary indignation. " How | could you think so? It" would not frighten me to see Mr. Armitage." " Then it was Mr. Dodd. Oh, Elsie, are you really so afraid of him P , What a wretch he must be ! " Aftarwards Elsie wondered now it came to pass that Kitty knew anything about either Frank Armitage or Sam Dodd; but in the agitation of the moment she realised nothing but the comfort of pouring out the history of her short troublous engagement into the attentive ears of the motherly little creatui*e who knelt at her feet," caressing her and sympathising in all her difficulties and mistakes. j "It was dreadful for you, darling." said the artful Kitty ; " now if you had really loved some one else, some one wise and good, all would have been quite easy. You would have known then that such an engagement was wrong." Elsie did not rise to this fly. "I do not see that," she replied*. "1 should still have been afraid of considering my own happiness, iastead of what was best for the others." "Oh ! but you would havo thought i first of his happiness," ventured Kitty; " yon could not sacrifice yourself without sacrificing him, too." " True," murmured Elsie, thoughtfully, her colour deepening, and her eyes growing soft and dream}'. Suddenly she became aware that Kitty's blue orbs wei\e watching her mischievously. "How ridioulous you are, Kitty!" she exclaimed, laughing and blushing; "you are imagining all sorts of absurd and untrue things ; do be sensible." Kitty's reply wasp relented by the entrance of the houseuiaid ; as usual, minus cap and apron. "Please, ma'am, cook says there cannot be any pudding f<>r dinner to-day, because you forgot to giro her the things • out." "So I did," answered Mrs. Grey easily, not feeling the least interest in , puddings ; "it is too late now. Tell cook it doesn't matter." The housemaid hesitated. "There isn't very much for dinner, m<Vam ; cook', says pussy took the fish this morning, and the cold fowl has gone bad, and " " Oh ! don't tease so, Susan ; tell cook to do the best she can," and Mrs. Grey calmly settled herself for further gossip, only remarking, as Susan retired, that . " servants were great plagues." Elsie was used to her friend's easy ways. Dinner was, as she had told Mollie in one of her home letters, always more or less ot a conundrum. Even if you had heard the .orders gii en, it was entirely a matter of guess-work

ame; and, guess as wildly as you night, the result was generally unex>ected. j "Really, Kitty," she remonstrated,: 1 isn't that rather dreadful P What will| loor Dr. Grey say if he has not enough oeat?" \ " Oh, he'll worry a bit, I daresay ; hut! Ie is very good, he never is truly; tngry." ; Elsie thought this putting on good lature. ' "Come, Kitty," she said, ooaxingly, r let us go and see what we can do.; foil said I was not to consider myself a: isitor, and you »cc I take you at your] rord. You don't know what a cook 1 m." ; "There, isn't time, I know," redied lazy Kitty ; but all the same she] ielded to Elsie's persuasions, and the eault was an impromptu little dinner,| rhich delighted the much-enduring, loctor. "Very good," he said, satisfacion. " You are improving, Kitty." " Not I, indeed," laughed Kitty ; " you ont-t thank Elsie. How she managed I lout know." " Capital," said the doctor, smiling misshievou ly. " What a wife you'll make iome day, Miss Elsie ! only don't throw I'ourself away upon a rich man; such alents ought not to be wasted." Elsie was angry with herself for blush - ng, and angry with Kitty for laughing. :t was very odd and very annoying that JYank Armitage would come into her nind just at the wrong time ; but they sould not know that, so she did not see vhat they were laughing at. Elsie would not have acknowledged for he world, even to herself, that she was. n love with Frank. She often reflected hat she had not the slightest reason to iuppose that he cared for her ; how could ie, indeed, when she had been so recently sngaged to some one else. He must know hat she had been willing to enter into a oveless marriage for the sake of money, tnd as he could not guess her motive, he nust, of course, despise- her. It was rery hard to be so misunderstood by one ihe valued as a friend — only as a friend ; >nt she could do nothing to right herself in his esteem. He would go away, md never know she had not been really so mercenary as he supposed. Perhaps ie would forget her — that was harder still; and, though she cared for him >nly as a friend, Elsie's eyes filled, and ler heart grew sad. Some such thoughts were passing through her mind one day, when she was slowly walking down a narrow ane near the house. She was ostensibly jut in search of a winter bouquet for the Irawing-robin, but she had gathered aothing more than a long trail of ivy, which hung over her arm. Her dread jf meeting Sam led her to choose this lane, which had no connection with the bigh road. Suddenly she started at the sound of quick footsteps approaching. Could it be Sam ? She turned in terror md confronted Frank Armitage. " I have frightened you, Miss Elsie," be exclaimed; "I am grieved " " Oh, no ! " she said, shyly ; " I—lI — I am glad " "I, too, am glad; it is more than I dared to hope for," replied Frank, ear-| nestly. " Miss Elsie, I have so longed! to see you once more before I leaveBrojkvale for ever. I dared hope foij no more than a silent farewell — I dies not intend — indeed, I much fear I oughu not to have spoken to you." i " "Why not F " asked Elsie, impulsively) " Why not ? " echoed Frank. " Because! it is not fitting that you, in your white! innocence, should be addressed by an out-j cast. lam a disgraced man, unworthjj of your notice." I " I do not know what you mean," replied Elsie, turning pale, and leaning against a gate for support; "you know I have been ill, and they would not telj me anything." \ " I know you have been ill — you are ill,l cried Frank, much distressed. "Whai! shall I do if I make you worse ? " ; "You will not," returned Elsiej smiling bravely; "I am not the leasi afraid to hear anything you can havtj to tell me, only let me know all." • All ! Ah, would that he could telt her all ! But he was determined nevet to speak of his love till he could say that| his reputation was clear of the foul stain which now rested upon it. " I think," he continued, gently, "that you do know about the forged cheque ? " "Yes," said Elsie, impetuously, "bui that is only a disgrace to the guiltj man, not to you. 1 think you are wrong to call yourself disgraced." Frank looked at her fondly. Was ever man so tempted? If he was no< disgraced, why should he not take hei in his arms and open the flood-gates oJ his pent-up love ? But no ; it would hi dishonourable to take advantage of hei innocence. It was hard enough tc submit himself to the finger of scorn, 1 she should not share that fate. " Miss Elsie," he said, with an effort " I see that you still believe in my innocence. I can never tell you howl have blessed you for your confidence; youi sweet message saved me from despair.' "My message," replied Elsie, sur prised ; " I have sent you no message.' It was now Frank's turn to look palt and disconcerted. " Ah, true," he said, dejectedly. " Yor were very ill at the time, your fathei said, and perhaps — I fear — you did no 4 intend what you said." "My father P " interposed Elsie, looking Btartled and angry. "Is it possible f What did he say?" " He told me that the news of mj trouble had distressed you, and that you wished me to know that you be lieved neither the false charge of forgery nor the eyil reports as to my character Oh, Elsie, do not take back those words You can never know from what blacl depths of despair they raised me. Thai message has been like a ray of ligh< through all the darkness of thes< miserable weeks; do not take it back.' "No, indeed!" cried Elsie, impul 3ively, holding out her hands. " I niear it, every word, even if I did not re member what I had said." Ah, Elsie! that was an inipruden* gesture. It was not in human nature to resist clasping those outstretche< hands. In another moment Frank' resolution would have flo.vn to th winds. Already his eyes had prove( braitors to his will, and the story of hi love and longing was no longer • 3ecret. It was surely an unkind fate whicl Drought Dr. Grey upon the scene at thii u-itical moment. The lovers were toe nuch engrossed with each other to heai ais step upon the crisp, hard road, anc die indignant little doctor -was upoi :hem before they were aware of hi' t Dresence. i . , . '"''CONTINUED ELSEWHERE.]'