UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 41, 11 October 1890, Page 16

UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE.

BV

LIZZIE M. MULHERN.

,« dt*%TAXDING in the shadow of the linden-trees, her soft, brown hair blown into closer rings by the cool, damn sea air, a faint Hush staining *‘ er I,,un '* e< ' cneeks—a faint Hush, that had JgSjgSg faded to a deathly pallor when Dane Standish had told her the story of his love tor another. As l‘ e saw * ,er t l ,en > 80 I*ane Standish saw ,ier * n tl,e fitter after til,ie > "’hen he realised what he had thrown away, in the madness of > a moment. <• He had l>een this brown-haired girl’s lover,

from the time she hail passed from her sunny childhood into pure, sweet womanhood, though there had been no formal engagement between them ; but to Edna Layton there were but two places on earth—where Dane Standish was, and where he was not. Sometimes Dane Standish wondered vaguely was this love—this mad, overmastering passion that filled his soul for Helen St. Clair.

Ah I he was not well enough versed in the world’s ways to know the power of a coquette's beauty. And Helen St. Clair was beautiful—a blonde of the purest type, with wavy hair like yellow floss, and eyes the colour of bluebells. She had come down to rusticate in the old farmhouse below the hill, ami •down on the shingly beach of Malvern Bay she had met Dane Standish. And that was the beginning of the end, for she tangled his heart in a mesh of her golden hair. It was so maddening, so perilously sweet to be near her, to listen to the soft, caressing voice, and drink in the beauty of her lovely face. To give him justice, he did not realise to where he was drifting, till his bark was wrecked on the sea of passion. It bail come so sudden. They had been together in the glen, the bluebell eyes had looked into his, the waving yellow hair had touched his cheek, while her little white hand had lain in his. It seemed to him he was drunk as if with wine, his pulses leaped, his passionate young heart throbbed, ami fair, pure Edna Layton was forgotten. ‘ Darling,’ he whispered passionately, and then he drew her within his arms and pressed a warm, throbbing kiss on her lovely mouth. She was a belle and a beauty, this Helen St. Clair, but she realised that even though Dane Standish was countrified, he was wealthy, having fallen heir to the vast estate of an uncle who died intestate. She might never do better, and so when his lips sought hers, she let her yellow head rest on his breast for a moment, and then she released herself and drew’ back from his embrace. ‘ Do you not forget yourself, Dane?’ she said, her lovely eyes on his face. * Forget myself? Yes, forget everything on earth but my love for you. Oh, my darling! my darling! my beautiful one, it cannot be my love is vain ?’ The blue eyes drooped, the faint Hush deepened on her delicate cheeks, the goldcrowned head sunk low, ami then she held out her hands with a little sob. ‘ln vain? Ah, no ! ah no !’ she said ; * but Dane, answer me truly—were you free to win my heart, free to tell me that you loved me?’ ‘ Free ?’ For a moment a pure, pale face, with tender eyes of softest brown, and framed in chestnut hair, rose before him and then :

‘ Yes, I am free, sweetheart, perfectly free to win ami woo where I please—free to woo ami win you, my darling, if fate is only kind.’ That evening he met Edna Layton under the linden-trees, and told her all, .all -the mad, overwhelming passion that had mastered him. ‘You will wish me happiness, Edna?’ he said. ‘You an<l I have been friends so long.’ She laughed softly and low. ‘ Friends, so long !’ she said. ‘ Well, I wish you happiness. Yes, yes ; anything else, Dane?’ She felt she was giving way, and she was proud in her way, ami she only clasped her hands tighter and listened bravely on, only—Alas ! what was left for her in the blank and hopeless future ? It was not a pleasant task for Dane Standish ; and for the moment, away from the conquering power of Helen’s beauty, he seemed to realize what he was doing. He knew, even then, as well as in the days that followed, that the purest, truest part of his nature had gone out to Edna Layton. ‘ But. oh. the power of yellow hair. And eyes of bluebell blue; For golden hair means golden heart. And blue eyes loyal and true And true. Blue eyes loyal and true.’ An hour later, however, all was forgotten as he held Helen St. <’lair close in his arm, kissing her beautiful lips ami her golden hair, and calling her his own, his promised wife. Like many another man, in the intoxication of the moment he mistook passion for love, and never woke to the difference till drinking the dregs it had turned to bitter lees.

The awakening was bitter enough, God knows, for the morning that he awoke to the knowledge that he was not the heir to Iris uncle’s wealth, he awoke also to the knowledge that he was not quite the same man to Helen St. Clair. He went to her that evening and told her the story in a few simple words. ‘ I am not exactly a poor man, Helen,’ he said, ‘ but the wealth I believed mine is claimed by another, who I believe has every legal, as well moral, right to it, so I have yielded it up.’ While he lived he never forgot the expression of her face, the look that crept into the bluebell eyes, the scorn that curved the red lips. * Not a poor man ! Why, Dane, you are a very poor man, at least what I call poor. Oh, it is terrible to think of—l can hardly realise it !’ What else she said he could never remember, only he knew that when the pale stars shone overhead he stood beneath their twinkling light, with the ring he had placed on Helen St. Clair’s finger in his possession again. Even then he wondered vaguely why he did not suffer more.

One thought seemed uppermost in his mind ; to go away, far away to some other land and try to forget the past and Helen St. Clair. In that moment he realised the bitter sweet truth—that he loved Edna Layton with the one pure, true love of his life ; that the passion that enthralled him had dropped away like the dream of a lotus-eater, and he felt a still, strange peace in the knowledge of his freedom. Three days later he hade farewell to the home where his life had been spent. ‘ I am going to find my fortune,’ he said to Edna Layton —‘ to see what the world holds for me and where my place is in it.’ She laid her hand lightly in his. She loved him, and he was going away, perhaps for ever —she loved, but he had left her, and so she gave no sign of the agony at her heart. Only when he was gone she sunk upon her knees and held out her hands in passionate appeal. ‘Good-bye, my love, my love !’ she said ; ‘ you will never know how dear you were to me.’ After many years. Well, five years is not so very long, except when counted by weeks and months of pain or waiting, and it seemed to Dane Standish as if scarcely a day had passed from his

leaving his old home till his return to it—his home now beyond a doubt, for the heir who had deposed him slept the la“t long sleep, and made Dane his heir when dying. He was older looking and graver—grave beyond his years, people said. Years oi study and travel had given him a courtly manner and a polish not his in the years gone by. Little seemed changed to him ; even Helen St. Clair—and she was Helen St. Clair still—was visiting once more at the old farmhouse below the hill, and one evening in the gloaming he met her. She was little changed ; if any, for the better. She had been- a beautiful girl then ; sire was a royally beautiful woman now. She held out her hands to him. ‘ You are welcome back,’ she said, her blue eyes on his face, with the old, alluring glance he remembered so well. How beautiful she was, with her flawless face and roseleaf complexion, her glittering hair, and wondrous eyes ! and yet not one heart-throb, not one thrill of passion came to Dane Standish, to remind him of his madness in the past. To do Helen St. Clair justice, even when she gave Dane Standish up, she loved him with all the love she was capable of giving.

To say she suffered nothing in the parting would be to wrong her, and now, standing in his presence again, the memory of the past conquered her. Dane Standish would have saved her the humiliation had he dreamed for a moment how strong the old spell was upon her. He scarcely knew how it happened, only her hands were clasping his, her low, sweet voice falling on his ears. ‘ The time has been so long—so long,’ she said. ‘Oh, Dane, I had given up hope of ever seeing you again—ever hearing you say you forgive me for the words that parted us !’ He looked at her a moment gravely, steadfastly, before he spoke, and then : ‘ I have forgiven you long ago, Helen,’ he said. It was a wonder she was not warned by the calmness of his manner, the coldness of his words, but there is none so blind as those who do not want to see, or else Helen St. Clair would not have lowered the dignity of womanhood as she did.

‘Forgive me and love me still,’ she said, ‘ for I, Dane, have never ceased to love you.’ He looked at her a moment in scornful contempt, and hope died within her heart. ‘ I wonder did I ever love you ?’ he said, slowly ; ‘ If I did it died long ago.’ Without another word he turned and left her standing there. If he wanted revenge he had had it most completely. Edna Layton had heard of Dane’s return, and a strange restlessness took possession of her. She had changed more than any other in the five long years—long, weary years to her. She was thinner, paler than of yore, and the soft, dark eyes held a look of quiet pain. — Yet there was almost a smile on her face as, unable to remain in doors, she put on her dainty hat of dark blue silk crepe with a ribbon of pale blue silk laid upon it all round, trimmed with a bunch of narcissus, and taking her jacket, of white cloth with chestnut stripes, over her arm, her sunshade in the other hand, she sauntered»down to the favourite linden-tree. Her dress was a lovely combination of sky blue surah and dark blue cloth, embroidered with white and blue designs, and like her jacket, bordered with grey fur. Under the tree she stood, and—there Dane Standish found her. He stood and watched her for a moment, noting the tired, listless droop of the slender form, the delicacy of her fair, sweet face, and realised, as he had realised in his years of wandering, that this pale girl was the one woman in all the world for him. ‘Edna,’ he said, ‘I have come back. Will you welcome me ?’ She raised her eyes calmly to his face, and his heart died within him. Ah, heavens ! had she ceased to love him when he realised her love was more than life to him ?

‘ Edna,’ lie said, holding her hand in his, ‘do you know why I am here ?’ And then he told her all and waited for her answer, but she was silent. ‘ Sweet, can you trust me with the love I forfeited in a moment’s madness! Edna, will you give me your love again ?’ Still no answer, and he turned to go, and then her hands were clasping his arm, her brown eyes raised to his, and he would have been blind had he not read the truth in their depths. ‘ You will give me your love and faith again ?’ he said. ‘ Again '. 1 never took them from you, Dane,’ she whispered low. And bending his head he kissed her sweet, shy lips, knowing this was love, pure ami true, and his darling was his own then and for evermore.