CARYL’S MISTAKE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 44, 1 November 1890, Page 6

CARYL’S MISTAKE.

T was a deliciously rambling garden _ &IB in Canterbury, full of sweet-smell-i ■ ing Howers and scented shrubs. In IP I one * ts ,nOBt secluded reI / iTtFw 'P- ; ■L ceBses - a girl was seated on the d/i'Vtp w y j-dlP’- gnarled old stump of a fallen bluef. K ••• - gum. A man stood facing her, and ' ’rrMU & murmured soft nothings th lbw, "Bn I■K ; | tender tones. A woman of the /faq Wl” world viewing the group might have jwfpUay — sighed with pity or smiled with ’ scorn as she noted the rapt, happy .— ■- —- face of the girl with her downcast gjw'iyJF* —■ —~ eyes, and, perchance, have whispered ~ — to her not to trust too much. ~=~ - But no warning came to that inexperienced girl, and it was with the most perfect faith that she listened to his fond speeches. She had only known this man a few weeks, but almost from the moment she met him she had felt he was different from al) other men in her eyes. To her he seemed the most unselfish man she had ever known, so kind and thoughtful for others. Then he was such a favoui ite in society, and what girl could fail to be moved by the fact that a man so popular and sought after should single her out for special attention ? He had done this so persistently on every occasion for the last month that people had fully made up their minds as to his intentions, and the only doubt remained in their minds as to what her answer would be to the question they did not doubt he would ask her. And no one was more convinced of the truth of these surmises than Mrs Hildyard herself —Dona’s mother. It was a great surprise, then, to the Hildyards when one day Caryl Ryves rode out to call, and informed, Mrs Hildyard, whom he found alone in the that he intended to start for England next morning. He gave no reason for his abrupt departure, but sat on talking to Mrs Hildyard on various indifferent subjects, and leisurely drinking a cup of tea. Mrs Hildyard was puzzled. * Surely,’ she thought, ‘ he will speak of Dona before he goes ; he is sure to ask to see her.’ But her mother’s pride prevented her putting the thought into words. By and by Ryves rose to go. ‘ls Mias Hildyard out?’ he inquired. ‘Can I not see her to say good-bye ?’ * She went into the garden with a book some time ago,’ answered Mrs Hildyard. ‘I will send for her,’ and she moved towards the bell. ‘ Please don’t ring,’ exclaimed Ryves. ‘ I should like to go and look for her myself, if you will allow me.’ ‘ Certainly,’ replied Mrs Hildyard. ‘ You are sure to find her somewhere about the garden. ’ And he did find her very shortly in her favourite nook. He threw himself down on the grass at her feet, and for some time they spoke on general topics. But at last, reluctantly, he rose. ‘Do you know ?’ he asked, ‘ why I came to see you today ? 1 came to say good-bye.’ ‘ Good-bye !’ echoed Dona. ‘ Are you going away ?’ ‘Yes, lam going to England. I start to-morrow.’ She sat still and silent, then he turned to her suddenly. ‘ My darling, it is very hard to go.’ ‘And hard to stay,’she thought, but she only said gently, ‘ Yes.’

He turned and walked a few paces away while she sat and watched him. Again he came to her side, and, removing his hat, he put his arm round her, and bending over her, kissed the cheek freely yielded to him, for in' this moment Dona Hildyard forgot to be shy and distant. She only remembered her lover, the man whom she loved, was leaving her. ‘ I shall soon return, darling,’ he murmured, fondly. But Dona was unable to anticipate the happiness of reunion in the pang of parting, and Caryl lingered long consoling her before he finally tore himself'away, leaving Dona gazing sadly after him with white cheeks and qtfivering li P K - Long she remained there in silent grief, unheeding the lapse of time, till a sudden shiver recalled to her the fact that it was growing cold, and that it was time she went in, for though it had been a warm day, it was still only early spring, when the evenings in Canterbury are often chilly. She pulled herself together, rubbed her cheeks hard to bring some colour into them, for she felt, though she could not see, their pallor, tried to assume a cheerful mien, and wended her way slowly along the path towards the house. She paused as she came to an open space, from whence she could watch the evening sky with its beautiful sunset colouring. As she gazed at the scene before her, the long line of bluish grey mountains, surmounted by a golden skv flecked with deep mauve clouds lined in rose, she felt the soft peaceful influence of the scene steal insensibly into her mind, and a sense of comfort possessed her. As she still stood watching, the clouds slowly deepened in hue, and their edges grew crimson, a pink shade crept over the mauve ranges, and the golden sky faded to lemon. The cool evening air playing gently round her, softly ruffled the ringlets of her hair, and she felt refreshed and cheered as she continued her way to the house.

Mrs Hildyard looked quickly up at her as she entered, but Dona’s cheerful mien completely satisfied her motherly anxiety, and she promptly concluded in her own mind that whatever Caryl Ryves’ feelings had been, Dona had certainly not reciprocated them, for she showed nothing beyond ordinary regret at the loss of a pleasant acquaintance. And, as her mother judged, so did all her friends and acquaintances, and, as time went on and nothing more was seen or heard of Caryl Ryves by any of his colonial acquaintances, the story of his devotion to Dona Hildyard gradually faded out of recollection.

But, unhappily, Dona herself remembered, and, in secret, closely cherished the memory, for in her perfect faith she doubted not that Caryl would one day come back to claim her.

And so she lived in hope, and one by one the men who loved her and who sought to win her love were gently dismissed, anil consoled themselves, as is the way of mankind, by wedding others who had a more ready appreciation of their many perfections.

And the years went on, and Dona heard no word of her love, till at last it seemed to her he must be dead or he would have come to her ; and from that time she thought of him as in heaven, and dedicated the remainder of her life togood deeds— nursing the sick, visiting the poor, and succouring the unhappy. No doubt of her lover’s faith ever crosses her mind ; he is, and always will be, her ideal man, and she strives to follow his footsteps as she thinks, and devotes herself to all good works, looking forward with faith to the day when she will be je-united with him in the realms above. And in her work she finds happiness, for no truly unselfislr being can fail to-be. happy. JSo innocence' has been protected, aud what might have harmed one has, by Cod’sprovidence and the simple faith of a woman, brought good to many. And Caryl—well, he felt and meant everything he said ashe bade good-bye to Dona in the solitude of the garden. He was under the influence of her presence then, and felt he loved her, and that it was terrible grief to leave her. But was left home to think, and he went off on his travels, and new. scenes came and new interests cropped up, so that by the time he had been a fortnight on the A raw a he found he was quite enjoying his trip, although Dona was not present, and before they reached Rio, he had come to the conclusion, that Miss Baskervyle was a/most agreeable and / AV hen he had. left Lyttelton he had -been quite convinced that in Dona Hildyard he had met the only woman he ever could love, and had .been fully determined to gain his father’sconsent to his marriage and promise of an increased allowance, and then return to claim Doha as his wife. But, alas ! for human intentions and the weakness ot man. when a woman prepares for conquest. Before they sailed Miss Baskervyie had heard glowing accounts of young Ryves* prospects, and had firmly resolved to strive her utmost to capture this desirable prey. She was thoroughly cold-hearted and selfcentred, her tastes were luxurious, and her parents were poor ; therefore she had long ago made up her mind she must make a rich marriage. Year after year had glided past, however; she was no longer in the first freshness of her youth, when at last fate was ’merciful to her, and gave her the chance of captivating Caiyl Ryves, and she speedily availed herself of such a chance. She was handsome, always well-dressed, clever, and amusing. With the knowledge and tact taught by years of experience, she knew exactly how to keep him in constant attendance upon her without seeming in the slightest degree to be anxious for his society. The result of all this was shown the night before the Arawa reached Plymouth, when, coming into her mother’s cabin on her way to bed, Ada Baskervyle announced calmly, ‘Mother, Caryl Ryves asked me to marry him to-night, and I said “yes,” if he could get your consent and his father’s. ’ ‘ My dear Ada !’ exclaimed Mrs Baskervyle, delightedly embracing her daughter. ‘ The veiy husband 1 would have wished for you. lam so glad !’ Don’t be in too great a hurry, mother; we must see what his father says, but 1 don’t think Mr Ryves will object to me,’ she a.dded, drawing herself up. ‘And if he does at first he will soon change his mind, for old men always like me.’

As it happened, old Mr Ryves fell a victim at first sight to the fascinations of his future daughter-in-law, and was so delighted at the idea of his son’s success in winning such a charming creature to be his wife that he made most handsome settlements, and insisted on a speedy marriage. And so Caryl had no time to reflect, and it afterwards seemed to him that he must have been in a dream from the day he landed at Plymouth till the day he found himself irrevocably mairied. Then he awoke—too late. Thus Caryl Ryves marred his own life, but he had enough manliness left to refrain from communicating with Dona, though often it was a sore struggle to resist writing to her, or seeking to see her again. ‘But no, ’ he said to himself, ‘ it is better she should never see or hear of me again. I will pass out of her life completely, and she will forget me and be happy.’ And thus the punishment fell only on the guilty, for it is a terrible punishment to be tied for life to the being he despises, whose selfishness recalls vivid recollections of Dona’s unselfishness, and whose peevish, discontented expression brings clearly up before him the bright, happy look which was one of Dona’s chief charms, and to feel that, but for his own fault, he might have had that sweet face and charming nature beside him to his life’s end. But no cloud has fallen upon her, for, in her happy unconsciousness of the truth, she goes on her seiene way, gathering peace and contentment for herself while doing good to others, and ever gazing upward to the hoped-for goal. v.