Our Novelettes.

Western Star, Issue 910, 3 January 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

Our Novelettes.

MAT HILYARD’S LOSS. Charter ll. — Continued. Blanche did the moat of the talking ; she seemed to have great conversational powers, and, without any effort apparently, was a very pleasant companion. By-and-by she had a summons fiom the drawing-room, May and I were left alone, and there fell on us ft silence which neither seemed inclined to break. At last I began. ‘I have a confession to make. Miss Hilyard. I was in the wood this morning when you and your sister came up to the arbour, and, without intending it, I heard all that passed.’ I waited for a moment, but she did not speak, and I went on in a voice I tiied to make natural and unconstrained. * I hoard you lamenting for “ Charley.” * * What were you doing there P’ she asked, in: a tone that piqued me by its indifference. *1 thought you arrived only in the afternoon.’ ‘ I was walking through the wood,* I answered, ‘in preference -to the road, and I had stopped there to rest; I remained where I was for some time after you had gone.’ Blanche hero came out again. *lt is you they want, May, though they called my name. Mr. Lawrence is teasing so for that everlasting “ Won’t you tell me why, Blobm P’ and somebody thought it was I who sang, it; I was obliged to say I would call you.* . • Was your sister so very fond of *' Charley P* I inquired,' as > soon as she had disappeared, amazed at my own audacity in asking what must seem to be a very impertinent question. ‘Oh, has she been telling you about him P’ 'said Blanche. * Yes, she thought an immense deal about him. He certainly was a very handsome fellow, with his great earnest eyes and silky black hair; he was one of her earliest playfellows, too, and the one I think she liked the best j at least, she would bear more tumbling about from him than from mb. / He was lalway getting her into scrapes, too j one of the first was rolling her and himself. over and over down the bank there, after a wet bight. I don’t think nursq over quite forgave him for that. His home was .the Rectory that joins our garden, you know; but he used to be more here than there in the day-time, When he heard our voices,he used to jump over the low part of the wall that divides the grounds, and May and he used to run and race and tumble about till nurse used to declare that she would bo getting her bones; broken. When Mr Cox went abroad and papa offered to take ; tum ia:here, Mrs. Cox gladly accepted, and hero he has been ever sinpe—-at least until the other day, when he went off of his own accord. Papa of course iwas dreadfully concerned, as he felt in a sort of way responsible for him. Ho. set the police to work, but cannot find but what has become of him. He was seen about a week ago by somebody that knew him, at a station a good many miles away, and that is the last we have heardof him. We cannot make out’ his freak of going, for he seemed so attached to Mayr—would hardly bear her out of bis 'sight if he had the chance of being near her. Of course he may come back, and I sincerely hope he will. * Did May tell you about the lock of hair ?’

* No, she was not likely, to/ I replied, somewhat savagely. ~, : • ‘ * Well, you must hot tell, her I told you, as I think she is ashamed of it now. One day, after a game of play, as usual, she said, ‘ Charley, I want a piece of your hair ’—Mr Cox was going to take him the next day to Scotland—“ stand still, sir, while 1 out it off.” Then she snipped a curl from behind his ear, and she asked papa to buy her a locket to put it in.’ With a heart growing heavier at each word, I listened to Blanche’s revelations | bat pride forbade my showing anything of my feelings, and we stayed out on the terrace till all trace of day' had disappeared, and the moon was shedding her sweet seductive light on stately tree and sweeping lawn. Blanche Hilyard was one of those pleasant companions that do not require one’s constant fixed attention. If one is absent they never find it out, but the musical flow of their conversation goes on just the same whether one makes brilliant;replies or remains mufco. X believe Blanche was at this timegiving mu some account of the former Sector, bat, my thoughts were far away, amongst, bright sunny fields, and green shady lanes, whew I had wandered With a small, slight figure at. my side, looking into deep, clear eyes, and cherishing the‘ dear, delicious fancy that in those same beautiful ejtes I could- discover the sweetest secret 1 man can learn. More from a'feeling that I ought to say something than because, I.wished to know, I said—- * Mr Cox, your present Sector, is away, you fifty p * -j[g g j he went abroad for his health, and I am afraid' will not be ooming baok for a long time—he is so delicate.’ ‘ Has he more than one son r > • *Noi’ answered Blanche, with "a blush that I could not aoeount forj and just then the kind, pleasant voice of Mrs Bayard at the window reminded ns it Wat time to borne in. Sdinwewent. <?«■ ’ •

-'Thefe was music from both the girls and from several of the guesta, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. ; .I sat by myself#at aside table shd turned the hooks over. One waa a collection of foreign stamps, which I contemptuously threw aside l another was stamped in -gold letters, - ‘ Cyphers ” —that shared the same treatment--“and a third had a more; irritating oflfeet still on my already ruffled nerves, for it bore on the fly-leaf this inscription in. a fine, manly D “!“* ffilyard* with the love of 0. 0.*;! Flinging that down after the others, I got up. and strode across , the room> making my way ip wounded, angry silence to, the front door, and out again into the cool night air, fully determined to leave’the ■ House as soon as ever courtesy would permit, and, in the meantime, intrude myself on May as little aspossible. : Chcsxbb 111. ■ The next morning at breakfast the Squire proposed a fishing-party to a river some six or seven miles off. You and I*. Captain Graham, will go in the dog-oart, and look up Philip Chester and his friend* young Bycombe, on the way. If-we start at once we shall catch then! before they are off anywhere else—and they are both very fond of this sort of thing* ’ The ladies can drive over in the middle of the day with a hamper, and we will make an impromptu pic-nio.’ ■And,’ added Mrs. Hilyard, 'you might leate word for Lucy and Isabel Chester to be at the turn-pike at one o’clock, when we could take them up, It woulu be only a short way for them across the fields, but a long Way for us to go rolmd by the road.’ < Mamma, I don’t like that Lucy Chester,’ said the dissenting voice of Blanche} * and I don’t see why we should crowd the carriage this hot day with each a disagreeable thing as sheds.* ’ ’ • My dear said her mother; * the carriage is large enough j and besides, you could not possibly ask one sister without the other. At all events, you'could not give the prefer* enoe to the younger one.’ 4 1 don’t sec that, mamma. If anybody liked May belter than me, 1 should nob be offended,’ she continued* with what 1 thought awquetwsi\ look at met * Besides yo»

don’t know how sarcastic and horrid she can be when she chooses, if everything is not quite to her mind, and she is not receiving as much attention as she thinks her due.’ * Well, my dear, it would not really do. We must take both or none; and I think,’ added Mrs. Hilyard, with a smile, * that for the sake of Mr. Dycombe, we must put up with her, and let them be of the party. What do you say, May ?’ . ‘Yes, mamma, I thh k they would like it/ said the sweet voice that had not yet spoken during the conversation, and which then relapsed into silence. Truly a cloud had come over this once merry girl. * Very well, then,* said Mrs. Hilyard, we will consider it settled. And the sooner you gentlemen are off the better, for the Oakenden people are not as late at we are; and you may find them gone on their own account if you delay much longer.* Under the circumstances, it was impossible for me to talk of leaving yet; besides, with the morning sun had come a feeling of defiant independence, or rather such a feeling as, I fancy, must have actuated the writer of the old lines—

Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman’s, fair P Shall my cheeks grow pale with care . Because another’s rosy are P If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair she be P Oft-quoted lines they are, and not boasting of great poetical merit ; but I fancy most men, at some period of their lives, have adopted them in spirit—or have thought they did, atany rate. ... : , Mr. Hilyard was an exceedingly pleasant, well-informed companion, very youthful in mind, manners, and appearance; and, as we bowled along in his light, elegant dog-cart, I for a time almost forgot the cruel disappointment I had undergone, and gave myself up to the enjoyment of the hour. * I will not think of her,’ I said to myself. Philip Chester and Vivian Dycombe were both uncommonly good fellows, capital hands at throwing, a fly, and real lovers of the art j the fish appeared huirigry and ‘took” well, and it seemed as if we had only been at work an hour when the sound of girlish Voices and glimpses of light dresses among the trees be--hind us told of the arrival of the ladies, u

‘So we have found you at last,’ began Blanche, who with pretty Isabel Chester /headed, the party and came up to me. ‘I think you might have put yourselves in some less secluded place if you had meant us to find you before night. Here have we had to step amongst, nettles and push through brambles in a manner truly heroic, not to say objectionable, beside fruitlessly searching up and down before we. found you. It' wou& have served you right ifwe bad gone bao and left you to lunch on the fish you, had caught. How would you have liked that — eh r rU; I n /.na t---*.i _

• I certainly should hot have liked you to go; back,,, Miss Hilyard,’ said; Iji-- looking admiringly at‘the bright many girl before me; * the lunch’l should, not. have,, cared about.* T ' v ‘‘ ' m* As If a man aver yet contentedly missed his luncheon 1’ laughed Blanche. ‘ But let me introduce you,.to my friend Captain •Graham, Miss Isabel, Chester. Now I must gb back and’ help Waters to find you. He Carried or dragged the hamper after us till he was ready to drop, poor man j so but of pity I told him to wait, and I would go back when we had found you—if ever wo did succeed in so doing, which, at one time I almost despaired of.’ The footman soon appeared, staggering under the weight of a large hamper, which we at once proceeded to unpack; and certainly the contents spoke well tor the housekeeping at Davenham Hall. Though the notice had been so * short, there seemed to be nothing wanting; and as bottle after bottle appeared, and, lastly, from its bed of sawdust, an enormous (block of ice, we, who had been exposed to the heat of the sun for several hours, one aud all felt our mouths water, aud our spirits rise. I need not; say we did full justice to the good things; provided for us.. 1 was seated between.Blanohe and Mr Hilyard, a little way off were Philip Chester and. May, on the ether side Isabel Oheater and 'Vfvian. jDycombo, and, opposite Mr Hilyard had taken the unpopular Buoy under his especial bare. K, \ A merrier party, to all appearances, had seldom met there Or anywhere else, Vivian Dycombe being the life and soul of it. His droll remarks and way of putting things could not fail of its effect, and his hearty ringing laugh seemed infectious to a degree, so that those amongst us who were conscious of an inward olouu did their best, X believe, to cast it aside for the time. i ;

OnO thing only, tended to make the task; difficult for me* and that was hearing .a short conversation between Lucy Onester and Mr 1 Hilyard before we had quite settled in our places and lunoheon had begun, The hamper was by them, and I was searching amongst thO hay for a missing salt-spoon. I '6 Mr Hilyard,’ she began, * what do you think I heard the other day P’ *1 cannot tell, indeed); £ should be glad to know, if it was anything, interesting.’; 4 Yes, it wi#»’ very'interesting.’ Theqjin.a loWes* and more confidential - tone, Lucy Chester continued, ‘ I hoard that young Mr Cox had been long least, that there was an understanding as good as an engagement* 1 will not mention names, as X see by your face you understand me,and that lam right—is it hot ko' P' , 1 4 Since you ask me the question pointblank, 1 have no choice but to auswer in the affirmative. But will you oblige me by not mentioning the subject w any one.’ . ... 4 1 promise you i, will not, The only wonder is it did not happen long before, as they have been so much together from childhood. Just tell me this-»where is he now P' 4 I do not know*’, . .. ; ; . .... •- 'I a 4 lndeed.P'Howie thatP' -r,-. 4 He has not written since he went. ... Having by this time found the salt-spoon, I took it to its right place on our side of the —table 1 was going to say) I mean-stable-doth spread on the ground. ‘Mustthis be forced upon mo even hero*’ I thought, 4 when I hod made up my mind to forget it P Yet what ban it matter? If she is hot mine; why should I cate to hear of her. engagement?’ "■ ' ■ ■ ' 7 ; After dinner was over we broke up into twos and throes, I keeping by the side of Blanche and getting to like her better and better the more I knew ol her. She spoke of her sister, and said what a warm-hearted, sensitive, affectionate little thing she was, and how she hoped she would fall into the hands of one who would appreciate her as she, deserved. • I made no attempt to quit Blanche s company, nor dii she seem to try to get rid of me. We talked on* passing from one subject to another, now sitting down, now strolling about, till the lengthening shadows and the hush of the birds’ song tolJ us that the bright summer day was drawing to a close. Then by degrees the whole party collected, and we walked leisurely to the little country inn, where the horses and carriages had been put up.

It had been agreed that we ehould drive drive taok as we had come, the men bj them* selves in the dog-cart and the ladies alone in the' carriage. Mrs. Hilyard offered me a seat

thought May was going in the carriage, and I did not want to be seated beside her and feel that another had more right there than I. Besides, it seemed as if there was some strange barrier between us that prevented our being commonly sociable. Evidently, 1 thought, she guesses something of my feelings, and feels guilty for the way in which she kept her engagement secret, or at ail events allowed me to suppose her entirely free. I did not know, when I declined Mrs. Hilyard’s offer of a seat in the carriage, that May had asked Dycombe to take her place, as she preferred going in the dog-cart, making it appear a favour to herself, when she only wanted to place him beside Isabel Chester; so it happened that, as I took my place with Philip Chester at the back of the dog-cart, May was being helped up to the front. The drive home was very cool and refreshing in the pleasant evening air j we had got to the turnpike gate, and Chester alighted, saying he would wait for the girls, and wishing me good-night. During our few parting words, the door of the cottage closed with a loud bang, and our Spirited ' Brown Beauty ” started and shied. 1 was thrown out, though nob with much ; force, certainly; the unexpected movement threw mo off my balance, and, by quickly catching hold of the side of the dog-cart and using all the strength of my arms, I escaped with only what must have appeared a very ungraceful, undignified tumble. Mr fiilyard kept his seat like a rock, having both feet firmly planted against the splash-board. May was jolted and thrown forward ; and when her father asked her if she was. hurt, complained only of a little pain in her foot. On helping her down when we arrived at the house, she uttered a dry ofpaiu,andfouhd she had twisted her ankle. Oh, how I longed even then, after all my indifference and resolutions, to take her up tenderly, cherish her fondly, and Jdo ; everything for her that affection could devise! But it was not to be ; she was another’s and I must sit coldly by, while her father took her up in his arms, carried her to her room, laid her on a soft, and then sent the housekeeper to her with the usual remedies!

By this time the other carriage had arrived with Mrs. Hilyard and' Blanche, and intensely relieved they were to find our accidents had been so slight. The man at the turnpike had stopped them to toll them we had been upset, that somebody—he did not know who—had been thrown out and badly hurt, and that the horse had afterwards started off as if it were running away. Such was the pleasant informatiou old Jonas Simmons bad waylaid them to impart,, aad Philip Chester, who could have given them an authentic account, was. not * there to do ‘so, as, having exhausted his small 'stock of pafiebce,' and knowing the girls had an escort in Vivian Dycombe, he had crossed the stile and marched off home. .. . ‘ What a ..wonderfully good temper Lucy Chester wos iu to-day 1’ remarked Blanche to her father, as she was bidding us goodnight before 'going up to see May. '■'* You must have made yourself very agreeable, papa.’ ‘A certain old gentlemen is not so black aa he is painted, my dear. 1 think you are rather hard en Miss Chester.’ ': * Well, p apa, “ take people as you find them,’ *is my ' maxim ; if you fodhd her pleasant and amiable, by all means think her so jj but, if 1 never do, why the satne can’t be expected, of me.. How l am off to see poor May. Good night.’

* Chafpbb IV. ■ - : ’ For the next few days May was not able to leave her room. Blanche and 1 were, therefore, thrown a’ great deal together, us Mrs. Hilyard was often engaged, and the Squire spent a great deal, of time about the farmyard and fields. We usually rode in the morning and spent the sultry hours of the afternoon in some parts of the grounds reading poetry; or otherwise indolently employing ourselves.; ; ; • . > ‘ One day, when Mpy was well enough to be brought down to a sola in the drawing-room, Blanche proposed that we should spend the afternoon there for her benefit, and that I should read to them. .1 was struck to the heart when May was carried in j she looked so pule, care-woru, aud ill, that years might have passed over her head! “i could do nothing but make some commonplace speech about glad to'the her; down again, and took the book Blanche had provideu. ■ ■- j ;•■ I, So I, began reading, sitting by an open window, Blanche making paper flowers, at a small ”table in the centre of the room, and May lying listless and languid on ,a sofa hear ..her. ■ ; ■y-1 had just got to ah interesting pointin'the poem, when Blanche suddenly started up with a cry ofjoy—*‘o, May, id ay 1 Here is Charley back again, safe and sound .and as wild* as ever. O you dear, , handsome, naughty fellow,, to play us such a trick 1 .'And your little mistress thought you were lost! Come in, you «truant I Where ‘ have you been?’. •; 1 " i

Before , she had finished speaking there bounded into the room, through the t open window by which I was sitting, partly with my back to it, a splendid black Newfoundland dog. barking and jumping from one sister to the other with the wildest demonstrations ol glee.",.:-, ,i;.. • ■■ •' ■; For a second I sat bewildered:; then; letting the book,fall from my hand, X inwardly exclaimed,' / What a perfect fool £ have been making of taj seif, to be sure 1’ Yes it was plain—my precious May was my own true May ;still., And how £ must have been wounding her ail this time by my coldness 1 This handsome brute, then, was the ‘ Charley ’ of her youthful frolics, and the faithful attendant of later years; and I had mistaken the girlish tears in the arbour for'grief at a lover’s absence. . ■ - i ■ :

While I eat thus,- digesting my own folly and. absurdity, the two girls continued to rejoioe over tueir returned wanderer) May’a delight seemed to be of a rather tempered nature* which I flattered myself I could account for j and 1 longed for'an opportunity to make matters straight. ' Now* Captain Graham, you must acknowI did not praise him too muuh,' said Blanche/ ‘Call him to you, and you will see the earnest look in his eyes that 1 told you about) 1 never saw it so strongly in any dog before. He is a dear, noble, handsome, naughty dog I Yes, you are, sirl -Did you know that your little mistress actually cried; one day when she thought you would never come back? Oh, fie, fie I’, , She made a very pretty picture kneeling on the floor with the spiend.d animal in from oi her, holding him by the ears j but I was all impatience for a word with May, and did not know how, to obtain it. Presently, however, to my great relief, Waters came to. ; the dOM. ( . ‘ If you please. Miss Hilyard, the,gardener is come from dir Geoffrey Banbury’s with the stones for your rookery, and Hunter says could you please come, and show them how you wish it done.’ ‘ Certainly, I will be there in a few minutes, tell them.’ Then ‘Come away, Charley—there Will not be a piece of lurniture left, upright if you are allowed to stay. Come, Charley t’ Hut, Charley, being a dog of taste, preferred to stay with his own special young mistreA.

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