The Story Teller.

Wairoa Bell, Volume IV, Issue 160, 26 August 1892, Page 7

The Story Teller.

REJECTED

‘ My dear Estcote, I have to vide over to Burlston Place this morning. Will you accompany me ? Do. ‘ Certainly, Sir Martin, with pleasure,’ replied Charlie Estcote, though mentally he pulled a long face as he glanced at a pretty girl, his host’s daughter, seated behind the urn, dispensing the matutinal tea, ‘ if you will not ask me to go in.! c No,’ laughed Sir Martin Lyndal, ‘ I’ll not ask you in, since you have such an aversion to the Miss Burlstons.’ ‘ Well, a man’s never safe with them. If it were possible they would carry him off, put up the banns, and marry him before he could say Jack Robinson.’ ‘ What, all marry him smiled Bose Lyndal, Sir Martin’s only child and heiress. ‘ Well, no, I suppose not that ; but ’ ‘ But Estcote is in mortal dread of them,’ laughed the baronet, rising, ‘so my dear boy, you can ride on while I call, I shall start about eleven,’ he added, as collecting his letters he left the room. Sir Martin Lyndal was the owner of a pretty little estate, and one of the most charming daughters in all Golden meads. At the present moment he had one guest, the orphan son of an old friend, Charlie Estcote, who drew a good income from the bank in which his father had invested his large capital, having once, before retiring, been a partner; As Bose quitted her sent on Sir Martin’s departure, Charles Estcote said, earnestly : * Why do you not ride with us, Miss Lyndal ? It is such a fine morning,’ ‘Why? Because papa was not gallant enough to ask me,’ she laughed. •' Perhaps he did not think it necessary,’ replied Estcote, following her to the window. ‘ If you would go, you will please both of us.’ ‘Doyou really moan that?’ she remarked, with a coquettish glance. ‘Or are you a flatterer !’ ‘To flatter in the present case would be impossible,’ replied Estcote, his eyes full of earnest love. ‘ When one looks upon truth, one must speak it. Do go for my sake, or I shall die of ennui of my own society while waiting for Sir Martin.’ • Well, I should like a canter this morning,’ answered Boi-e. ‘ and as I must have a cavalier, 111 accept two. So, Mr Estcote, kindly order Fly to be saddled and brought round with papa s horse and yours, while I gather my flowers. Ah ! there ;s one of the gardeners. I’ll overtake him.’ Estcote, with a word of thanks for her consent, and having lifted her hand to his lips, hurried away to the stables, while Bose crossed the lawn. 4 I feel the turning point in my life has come,’ he reflected, 4 the moment whicn is to make or mar me. I’ll ask her while waiting for Sir Martin, if she will be my wife. If she refuses, then —as lam a ruined gamester, my future deprived of all hope. But ’ —and his dark handsome face brightened —‘ she will not refuse. lam certain she loves me,’ Could he have looked into Bose’s little beating heart as she hurried away into the shrubbery, purposely missing the gardener, he would have been very sure of it. Her eyes danced Avith happiness. ‘He loves me,’ she thought, ‘ But that I knew already. His eyes, his tone, have declared that from the first. But feel today will end all doubt ; and to- morrow tomorrow I shall be his engaged wife !’ With a thrill of rapture she paused, pressing her hands to her blushing cheeks. Then she moved them, hearing voices. There were people at the other side of the evergreens. She recognised one as Gresham Bandolph, a friend of Estcote’s, who lived in the neighbourhood, ‘ So you’ve come to London to see Est—cote?’ she heard him say. < Yes, there’s no getting a sight of him now in town,’ answered the strange voice. « You know he’s gone in for the Heiress. Bose started, then colored indignantly. <■ Of course. And what is more, my boy, he’ll win. The game’s his ; and Charlie knows it too. Why, he offered to bet me fifty to one upon his chance.’ Bose drew her breath quickly. A pain shot through her heart. ‘ It’ll be a heavy pull for him if lie’s made a mistake,’ replied the other, *He can stand it. He’s got money.’

1 That’s according to how a fellow lives, No chap cares to lose a pot of tin, if he’s able to gain it,’ 4 And he will gain it with the Heiress,’ \vas the response. '• Why, from her first appearance, he laid bets heavily at the club that he would win.’ The speakers had been moving round the clump of evergreens. So they were out of hearing - , Bose leaned sick and dizzy against a tree. And this was the man she loved so—so deeply ! Who had seemed so honorable, so equally loving ! After all, it was of her being an heiress he alone thought ; those glances had been but acting ! ‘ No, no. It can’t be possible !’ cried Bose. ‘He does love me, Love me?’ now with indignation and scorn. ‘ What is that man’s love worth who car* lav bets in a public club upon his power of winning its object ? As if he had but to hold up his finger for her to come But he is mistaken ; and,’ she laughed bitterly, ‘ lie will lose his bets—also the ‘ pot of tin.’ B.ose’s first thought was to change her mind about the riding. But she had been wrought in a state of indignant rebellion. She wanted Estcote to propose ; she wanted by her manner to let aim believe lie never had had a chance of success. So she dressed and with the red rose nestling at her throat, and the bright flush on her chee ks, looked more than usually charming. At least Charles thought so, and his pulse went several degrees faster when he reflected that he- soon should cali her Lis. But he was mistaken, When Sir Martin had ridden off alone, to Burlston Place, after awhile, as tney proceeded at a slow pace down a sunny lane, he avowed his passion, earnestly, fervently, with so well acted a sincerity that Bose found it difficult not to believe him and to maintain her resolve, ‘ Ah ! bow dearly she loved him !’ But she recalled the conversation she had overheard. The bets that had been made by him who noAV was addressing her with such seeming truth, and she refused the ‘ honor’ he would do her. She spoke very quietly but very firmly. She was sorry if lie had fancied her manner had ever encouraged him to address her as he had, but she had been guiltless of intent. He had been mistaken, Charlie Estcote sat his horse, white to the lips, a startled expression of intense pain in his handsome eyes. He could not believe his ears. She had encouraged him, only as a gentleman he could not tell her so He could not say that she, who to him had appeared so innocent, straight-forward, and true, was a cruel, heartless Hire after all. . ‘ Is this your final answer, Miss Lyndal V 1m asked huskily. ‘lt is, Mr Estcote/ she replied, looking straight between her horse’s ears. ‘ I know it is a lady’s privilege to change her mind, but I am not likely to change mine. ‘ May I ask’—puzzled by her manner, so different from what lie had expected, so unlike herself— 4 If you have any reason ?’ ‘ Is that a necessary question ?’ and, looking at him, she raised her delicate brows slightly. • I feel that Ave should not suit each other, that our marriage would not be a happy one. Ah !’ —--with what intense relief she spoke it !— ‘ here conies papa.’ Bose talked as usual during the ride home ; but on reaching her room she flung herself into a chair, and wept as she had rarely wept before. ‘ To think how 1 loved him !’ she sobbed 4 How I Avould have died for him ! Now to learn ho is unworthy any woman’s love ! It is too—too cruel !’ She managed to recover herself suffi ciently to descend for luncheon, and found Sir Martin alone, iu a state of perfect be—wilderment. * Pet ’ he exclaimed, on her entrance, ‘ what has happened ? What is it all about ? Estcote is off, and leaves no explanation to you. Can you explain ?’ He tossed a letter across the table, and she read as follows Du Ait Slit Martin, —A thousand thanks to you and your many acts of kindness to me ; pray yet further add to them by excusing my abrupt departure, Avithout leave taking. Miss Lyndal! will explain. At present I am too miserable to be quite aware whether I am in my senses or out of them —Yours sincerely, Charles Estcote.” 1 Yes, papa, I can explain, said Bose with a. quivering lip. ‘ Mr Estcote proposed this morning and I refused him/ ‘ ‘ Refused him,' Pet I You? Why I

I have set my heart on this union. I could i have declared yon loved him ; and, by jove ! Estcote thought so too. 1 am sure of it.’ ‘ Oh, yes, papa, and speculated upon it.’ she remarked, with on indignant heightening of colour, ‘ What do you mean, pet ?’ ‘ That AA’e have been grossly deceived in him. That—that my heart is breaking, but I’ll never marry Charles Estcote.’ Weeping, she threw herself into her dear father’s arm and told him all. ‘ The young scoundrel !’ ejaculate! Sir Martin, wrathfully. * And he my dear old friend’s son.’ 4 Papa, say no more. He is gone, and it is over/ said Bose. I He is best forgotten.’ But it was not so easy to forget. His remembrance haunted her. Eagerly in secret, but with outward indifference, she listened to any news of him, or even, when possible, sought for it. She loved him still ; she could not help that. But marry him—no, never ! Days grew into weeks ; and after all, it Avas very small intelligence she got of Charles Estcote- bhe had grown paler, her spirits had gone ; she was vexed it should be so, but she could not prevent it. Sir Martin suggested going abroad for a change. She accepted his proposal gladly, yet kept putting off the going. One night however, vexed at her own weakness, she said : ‘ Papa, dear, if you don’t mind, let us start for Paris next week.-’ 1 Certainly, my love.’ But the following morning there was news—terrible neAvs of Estcote. The bank of such old renown and stability had stopped payment. New partners had been taken in—partners of speculative proclivities, and the result had been smash—failure. ‘ Papa, what does this mean to Mr Est—cote ? ’ asked Rose. ‘Absolute ruin, and he deserves it ! ’ ‘ No, no, not, that. Papa/you must go to him-—help him.’ ‘ Pet, perhaps he will Avrite. We’ll wait a day. Rose consented, but iu Estcote’s ruin she had forgotten all anger. She was miserable for him. ‘ If he had mv money he would not be poor/ she reflected. ‘ Well, I will prove my love. He shall again be rich, for I shall marry him. We will wait today, but to-morrow we \viii go to town to see him.’ That afternoon was Bose’s ‘at home/ and she had to receive. Fortunately, owing to a thunderstorm, but one guest, a gentleman appeared. Naturally the great failure was spoken of—all England;: was speaking of it* ‘ You have heard of course. Miss Lyndal ? said the guest, Major Speldyke, ‘ A bad thing for Estcote—ye3, very, True it is that troubles never come alone. He had another crusher yesterday.’ ‘ Another ? What was that, Major Speldyke ?’ asked Bose breathlessly , ‘ The horse lie had backed very heavily — foolishly—against all the field—only came in a bad second,’ 4 And what does that mean, Major ?' Why, that he has incurred debts of honor which he can’t possibly pay, my dear Miss Lyndal, and that’s a very nasty thing indeed for an honorable man. Nothing could be worse,’ A cold chill crept over Bose ; she sat like a statue at the tea-table, her hands rigidly locked together. ‘ When a man can’t meet iiis debts of honor, Major—excuse my ignorance—Avhat does he do ?’ ‘ A man, my dear Miss Lyndal, generally bolts, and enjoys himself abroad for the rest of his natural life ; a gentleman , when he cannot give money—takes his life.’ • Ah !’ Avith a cry ; ! and Mr Esteote is a gentleman ?’ ‘ Certainly ; poor felloAv ; no one more honorable/ replied the Major, putting down his cup, ‘ ITe Avas —or is—a great friend of yours. I see you are moved. Permit me to retire.’ ‘Thank you; thank you much.’ When alone. Rose wept as if her heart would break. Then starting up, however, she sought Sir Martin. « Papa/ she cried, ‘we must not wait until to-morrow We .must go to Mr Estcote at once-’

And she poured into his ear what she had heard

To her Sir Martin pooh-poohed the idea ; but, secretly alarmed for his old friend's son, Avas as eager to reach town as Rose herself. On reaching Charing Cross, they drov, r at once to Charles Estcote’s chambers. He Avas not at homo ; but, being expected every moment, they said they weuld Avait. It was a handsome suite, with a diningroom and small drawing-rooin adjoining. ‘ Papa,’ said Rose, ‘ may I see Mr Estcote first alone ?’ ‘ Certainly, It’s best. You will manage it better than I, pet.’ So Sir Martin went into the inner room and Rose waited. Not for long. Soon the door opened, and Charlie entered. Oh ! how changed ! how worn ! ‘ Bose—Miss Lyndall !’ he cried, in amazement. 4 Yes/ and she advanced with extended hands, * Charlie, Ave know all—your ruin has taught me something. You know it is a woman’s privilege to change her mind—mine is changed 1’ ‘ Bose, my darling, can it be ?’ and fondly lie clasped her in his arms ; but in a moment released her. ‘ No/ he continued, ‘I am mad. This, Bose, is pity, Dot love, I cannot accept the sacrifice. You did not love me when you refused me !’ 4 I loved you with all my heart!’ she answered. ‘ Then. avliv refuse me ?’ ‘ I will tell you when—when we are married —if you will marry me.’ Blushing, she turned partly from him, looking doAvn ; as she did so her eyes rested upon an open letter lying upon the table, and she read the words : “Dear Estcote, —So the Heiress has only come in a second. Haven’t you lost a pot of tin?’ Seizing it, she held it out towards him. ‘ Who wrote this ?’ she asked, * John Serlc/ he answered in surprise ; 4 he who came to the Lawns to see me the day I left.’ 4 And who is the Heiress ?’ ‘ The horse I so foolishly backed, being so sure to win. Why, I laid 50 to 1 ; but what interest has this ’ He could say no more—Rose had thrown herself in his arms. ‘ Oh, Charlie !’ she exclaimed, half crying, half laughing, ‘the secret is out. It’s all been a mistake. I iioau these two men the —the horse and that you had been betting on your success.’ What could he answer ? What did he ? Whatever it Avas, Bose was content. But Charles Estcote settled his debts with liis own money, for the bank pail 15s in the pound ; Avhile the Heiress, the following year won the Derby.