SYNGE S DISAPPOINTMENT.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 45, 8 November 1890, Page 5

SYNGE S DISAPPOINTMENT.

I

A ROMANCE OF THE CATHEOHAL CITY.

T was a perfect day towards the end of November that Armar Synge, only lately arrived from England, found himself, after a day s exploration on some of the environs uf Christchurch, walking along the side of a river. ‘ What a river for twists and turns?’ he remarked to himself, ‘ and how shut in it is. There is no getting any view here. This is a pretty little bit, though,’and he stood to admire it more leisurely. Armar Synge was an artist who had achieved some successes at the Royal Academy and the New Callery, and was consequently looked upon as one of the coming men in his line of art. An enthusiastic account of the manifold beauties of New Zealand, given him by a friend who hail spent some months of the previous year in the Britain of the South, had induced him to journey thither in quest of fresh subjects for his brush. After spending a few weeks in Otago he had come to Christchurch, where he had arrived the previous day. The spot where he now found himself possessed a beauty of its own, though to an eye accustomed to mountainous scenery it might have seemed but tame beauty. On one side rose a bank just high enough to prevent a view of the surrounding country, so that you saw nothing but some weeping willows, poplars, and bluegums which grew on the slope of the bank, and behind which rose the Port Hills. On the other side flowed the river, bordered by high tlax bushes and graceful toi-toi in so close a mass that the water was hidden from view. Another sharp turn of the river, some twenty yards ahead, prevented any further view in that direction. The weeping willows formed an almost im{>enetrable canopy-to the rays of the sun, and the turf >eneath them looked cool and inviting, so that Synge threw himself lazily down in the grateful shade and, closing his eyes, soon was drifting into peaceful slumber, when the sound of a voice broke the spell, and caused him to start up into a sitting posture. He listened, but all seemed quiet, and not a soul was in sight. He stood up and looked around, still no sign of any human being. ‘lt must have been fancy,’ lie. muttered. ‘I shall go to sleep again.’ But even as he spoke he heard the voice again. ‘ Oh, dear, lam so thirsty,’ it said. ‘ I must have a drink.’ The sound appeared to come from the river, and walking to the thicket of flax, Synge cautiously parted the leaves and looked through the opening. Almost at his feet lay a boat, one of those large, Hat-bottomed, family-ark sort of boats. It was heaped with cushions, and in the stern lay the figure of a girl, though you could only guess her sex by her dress, as an umbrella, evidently as much intended to shelter a family as the boat to hold one, hid all of her save her skirt. Leaning over the side, and lazily dipping her fingers in the water, with sleeves turned up to her elbow, her face hidden from the eyes of the unsuspected spectator by a large straw hat, was another girl. In the bows, sitting bolt upright and watching his mistress’s motions in the most intent manner, was the third and last member of the party, an ancient and dignified spaniel. The girl drew in her hand and shook the drops from it, then stooping down produced a bottle, which she held up to look at, and Synge’s eyes eaught the label—Bass’s Pale Ale. His romance received a shock. ‘Ye gods he murmured. ‘ The spirit of the stream indulging in Bass. I wish she would oner me a share. Shall I discover myself and give her a hint to that effect? I feel a thirst as well as this fair damsel.’ He watched her take the coik out, then she paused and looked at the recumbent figure. ‘ Jess,’ she said, softly, ‘Jess !' But the figure stirred not. ‘Well, if she won’t answer me she must take the consequences,’ remarked the girl aloud. ‘ I shall drink every drop of this myself,’ and she raised the bottle to her lips. ‘ It is high time I put in mv claim,’ thought Synge. ‘Here goes !’ and he coughed loudly. The girl started violently and turned round, for she had seated herself with her back to Synge, while the spaniel barked angrily. She caught sight of Synge and rose, standing up facing him, and still holding the bottle in one hand. ‘ Presence of mind !’ thought Synge, approvingly.' ‘She might have dropped it and spilt it.’ ‘Quiet, Wasp! Down, sir!’ said the girl, authoritatively, to the spaniel, who at her voice eeased barking, and resumed his former position, not without protesting against the presence of a stranger by occasional low growls. Synge endeavoured to render himself more visible by pushing through the ilax. ‘ Take care said the girl. ‘lt is swampy just there, a little more to the right. See, where that niggerhead is, it is firmer ground. Have you lost your way? Can I put you right?' ‘Thank you. I have not lost my way, but I was resting on this bank, and hearing your voice, 1 looked through the flax, and seeing you with that bottle in your hand, suddenly realised I was intensely thirsty, and hoped you would forgive my boldness in asking you to kindly grant me what you can spare of your store to quench my thirst, but only if you really have enough.’ The gil l looked gravely at him, then picking up a cup from the bottom of the boat, washed it out carefully, dried it with a napkin, and taking the bottle, poured into it. Then she advanced to the bows which touched the land, and held out the cup to Synge. He leant forward and took it from her with a word of thanks. ‘ Why, it is milk he exclaimed as he took the cup. ‘ Did you think it was beer?' laughed the girl. ‘lain sorry to have caused you a disappointment, but we are out for a day on the river, and this was the only bottle we could find to put our milk in.' ‘ Your friend seems to sleep soundly,’ observed Synge, as he handed back the cup. ‘ Yes, but I must wake her, for it is time we started back again.' She began to unfasten the painter.

* Can I not help you ?' asked Synge, hastening to undo the knot. ‘ Well, I should be obliged if you would kindly give us a shove off,' was the answer. * M e ran the boat into the bank so fast that we are stuck fast. ‘ Perhaps you would allow me to row you up the next quarter of a mile through the shallows, for with the stream against you, and the river in Hood, you will find it hard work by the island,’ said Synge. The girl looked at him curiously, and lightly hesitant for the length of a breath, and then said, ‘ Thant yon, if you will be so kind.’ Synge stepfied into the boat which rocked and swayed, thereby waking her companion, who starter! up exclaiming : ‘ What is the matter !’ ‘Nothing is the matter, dear,’answered her friend serenely, * except that we are starting for home, and this gentleman has been kind enough to lend us his assistance, in rowing through the shallows.’ The quarter of a mile was the longest ever rowed bySynge in the time, but he was not aware of the fact, as his personal impressions were exactly the reverse. Being all eyes and tongue he was otherwise unconsciously propulsive, and experienced quite a feeling of regret when the island fell well astern and courtesy demanded that he should take his leave. He drew up to the shore and, stepping out, stood chatting idly for a few minutes, till the girl expressed a desire to resume her seat at the oars. Having assisted her there, he pushed off the boat. As they steered out she bent her head courteously to Synge, who raised his cap in reply, and stood watching the boat and its occupants. A few steady strokes soon carried it round the next bend of the river and out of sight of the gazer, who, waking from his reverie, pushed his way back to the track, and started afresh on his ramble. A few weeks after his riverside experience Synge found himself once more at the Christchurch Club on his return from a trip to the West Coast. There were several letters waiting for him, and amongst them one from a gentleman, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction, and whom he had met at the Club on his first arrival in Christchurch, asking him to pay a visit to Tenel Station, and to come as soon as he could. Accordingly two days later Synge arrived about midnight at Tenel Station, having been driven up from Christchurch by a young fellow named Clay, who was also invited to the Hayles. An accident to the dogcart had delayed them on the road, so that when they arrived they found only Mr Hayle and his son Dick had waited up for them. Synge was up early next morning, and the bright sunshine and delicious air soon drew him into the open air. He wandered into the garden, and looked round with delight as his artist’s eye noted the beauties of the landscape. Beneath the shade of a cluster of cabbage-trees he sat down to sketch. He was seated on a bank, from whence the ground sloped gradually down to a group of weeping willows, the long tresses of which, being slightly stirred by the soft breeze, disclosed glimpses of water flecked here and there with blue, the reflection of the summer sky. To the right was a small forest of cabbage-trees and flax bushes, the masses of white blossom on the former diffusing a powerful fragrance around them. To the left lay the flower garden, and beyond could be heard the dull roar of the river as it moved swiftly onward between the high cliffs which pent it in on either side. Where Synge sat, however, his ear was more attracted by the loud but soothing murmur of the creek on his right, which made its presence widely heard as it rushed down a gully and precipitated itself in a series of small cataracts and rapids into the river. He put up his sketching materials and followed the sound till he found himself on the bank of the creek. It was all white foam at this spot, bubbling and frothing in its haste to reach its wished-for goal—the river—and the noise it made in its eagerness was so deafening that Synge heard no sound till, feeling by some instinct that he was no longer alone, he raised his eyes, and beheld, on the opposite side of the creek, the fair unknown of his first day in Christchurch. She smiled as she rapidly crossed a plank which spanned the creek, and said something which the noise of the water prevented his hearing. She laughed and shook her head as she saw he did not catch her remark, and rapidly led the way toward the house, he following her till she reached a shady bank, where she seated herself on the ground, and throwing off her hat, remarked half petulantly : ‘ That noisy ereek ! It is impossible to make oneself heard anywhere near it.’ Then, with an amused look, ‘ We have met before, though I believe there was no introduction on that occasion, but “ better late than never.” My name is Meriel Chase, and I know you are Mr Synge. Miss Greswold, the girl you saw that day in the boat, and I are staying here for a month or so, and we have received orders to do our best to entertain yon. The Hayles have no daughters, you know, and Dick Hayle is devoid of artistic tastes, so Jess and I are told off to show you around and point out to you the different points of interest which we desire to see immortalized by your pencil.’ ‘ To do justice to the prettiest point of interest in this place I ought to be a portrait painter,’ replied Synge. The girl looked puzzled. ‘ I am afraid I am very dense,’ she said, apologetically, ‘ but I don’t understand you.’ Synge felt rather foolish at having to explain. ‘ You could only be painted by a portrait painter.’ The girl s face changed ; a frown creased her smooth forehead, she drew herself up and spoke coldly. ‘ I have a contempt for compliments. They are insincere, and, from a stranger, not very respectful, I think. It is time for us to go in to breakfast.’ Before breakfast was over they were all very friendly, for Synge had travelled so much that his conversation could not fail to be entertaining, and Meriel was soon listening to him as intently, and asking him questions as readily, as any of his other auditors. Synge s|>eedi)y became a great favourite at Tenel, and his stay was prolonged from day to day, till one morning he woke with a start to the fact that he was sending the happiest month of his life, and that he was in love with Meriel < 'hase. ‘ And before this day is ended I shall tell her so,’ he said to himself. * I think she likes me, though it is hard to tell sometimes, when she seems so utterly indifferent. But at least I am sure she does not love anyone else ; the coast is clear, and I shall strive my hardest to win her.’ He was strolling in the garden while he thus communed with himself, but though his lover’s thoughts were all with

the lady of hie heart, bis artistic jierceptions were delighting in the perfect beautyof the day. It was a glorious nor’-west day; Behind the house the grand old mountain stood up clear, strong, and calm like a mother protecting the child which nestled at her foot. Over tne mountain, just touching its topmost poults, hung a magnificent diadem of massive clouds; above this the deep blue of the sky shone brilliantly. In the distance appeared the blue tinted back ranges with a crown of glory resting on their summits, so bright that it dazzled mortal eyes to look, and close at hand were the terraces with their yellow tussocks shining in the sunlight as if over each an angel’s hand had cast a golden mantle Synge the Artist might have lingered forever in enjoyment of the scene had not Synge the Lover been recalled to the house by thoughts of his Meriel. As he entered the house be found much bustle and confusion and a babel of tongues, and on inquiry learnt that a picnic had been decided upon, as it was far too lovely a day to spend elsewhere than in the bush, and the party were anxious to get off' as early as possible so as to avoid the heat of the day. All worked hard, and soon the merry party were on their way to a bush some five miles from the house. Synge had not been to this bush before, and, though not seated next Meriel in the buggy, he could not feel unhappy on such a day, and at least Meriel sat in front of him, and frequently turned to exchange a laughing remark, or call his attention to some fresh beauty in the landscape. They drove along the foot of the mountain, the golden level of the plain stretching out to the east, and along the west the range of mountains extending far south, here jutting out into the ocean of plain, there receding and forming bays. In one of the smallest and loveliest of these bays they came to an anchor, and leaving the unharnessing of the horses to Dick Hayle and Synge, Meiiel and Jess looked about for a convenient lunching place, and soon made their choice. ‘ None of the others are in sight yet,’ said Dick, joining the girls. ‘ Suppose we go and explore till they come.’ ‘ We are quite ready,’ exclaimed Jess, springing up from the fern root on which she had been resting. ‘ Let us follow this creek, it is so deliciously cool and inviting bn a day like this.’ It was a beautiful little creek flowing between ferncovered banks,' and shielded from the sun’s lays by the branches which met overhead. Every now and then they came to a miniature cascade, the water seeming to laugn aloud in glee as it bounded from the moss grown bank above to the lichen-covered boulders beneath, pausing to form a pool of white foam, and then darting on again in the rapid, clear current of the stream. They left the creek at length and pushed their way- up into the bush, till at last they reached a spot high up where, standing knee-deep, or rather up to their waists in ferns, they could look out through an opening in the bush, across the plain on to the dark blue line of the ocean. Fem roots afforded comfortable seats for the party, and they readily took advantage of them to rest after their climb. Presently Dick Hayle rose. ‘ I am going to get some of that ribbon-wood for mother,’ he said. ‘ She is so fond of it.’ ‘ I will come too,’ exclaimed Jess. ‘ I want some also.’ ‘ I am too comfortable to move,’ remarked Meriel, ‘ so I shall stay here till you return.’ ‘ And I shall stay to look after you,' said Synge, and they were left alone. How deliciously cool and fresh it was in the lovely bush bower that hot summer day. Enveloped in ferns, they sat with the stately forest trees above them, and the soft murmuring ripple of the creek coming clearly up to them through the silence of the bush. No man could fail to feel moved and softened by the influence of the spot, and Synge turned to Meriel with words of love on hislips. She had thrown her hat off in the shade, a brilliant cluster of rata blossom hung down from the tree above her head, her hands were engaged in weaving a wreath of green fern and white ribbonwood, her eyes were on her work, and a half smile hovered round her mouth. Synge thought he had never seen her look so eharming, and he was just opening his mouth to tell her so and ask her to marry- him when Meriel raised her head, pausing in her work. ‘ Some one is coming,’ she said. ‘ Don’t you hear ?’ Synge listened attentively, and caught the sound of some one forcing his way through the busb. * Dick and Miss Greswold returning from their search, I expect,’ he said. ‘ I don’t think so,’ answered Meriel. ‘ We should be sure to hear them talking.’ They listened again, and almost immediately- a man appeared, at sight of whom Meriel uttered an exclamation of surprise. ‘ You here !’ and then became silent, while a lovely rose colour glowed on her usually- pale cheeks. ‘ Yes,’ replied the new-comer, ‘ it is myself. I came to Yardon last night on a visit, and was riding over to Tenel to-day to see you, and met the party coming here, so I came too, and coming up the creek to see if I could find any traces of you, I met Dick and Jess close by here, and they told me your whereabouts ; and here I am, and you might say you are glad to see me,’ he added, with laughing reproach. ‘ You know I am,’ she answered, softly, looking up at him with an expression which made Synge turn away with a sudden pain at his heart, for he realised that Meriel’s heart was not free to be won. He stood with his back to them, seemingly engaged in examining some moss which he had roughly pulled from its nest in an old trunk, but in reality- absorbed in his own bitter thoughts, for he had made the mistake common to so many men, of imagining that if a woman takes trouble to be sweet and pleasant to a man it is because she wishes to marry him, not giving her credit for the courtesy- and kindness of heart which prompts her to endeavour to render a fellow mortal happy, or perhaps being unable to comprehend that it is possible for a woman to say * No ’ when the lord of creation condescends to say ‘ Will you ?' Synge’s reflections were interrupted by- Meriel. ‘ Mr Synge,’ she said, ‘ please forgive me. I am afraid you must have thought me very- rude for not introducing Mr Greswold to you. Mr Greswold is brother to the Miss Greswoldyou know.’ ‘ I am very happy to meet you, Mr Synge,’said Greswold, cordially holding out his hand. * I have had the pleasure of seeing some of your pictures, and am delighted to make

the acquaintance of the artist to tell him bow. much I enjoyed them. I hope you intend to stay some time in this country ?’ *I am not sure. I think not. ’ answered Svnge, rather disconnectedly. *ln fact, I believe I must leave soon. I have stayed too long at Tenel, and I must get away tomorrow. ’ ‘So soon I’ exclaimed Meriel. ‘ Oh, I am sorry. We had hoped you were going to stay for a long time yet.’ ‘ I have work which calls me back to England,’ replied Synge, ‘and I cannot neglect it.’ * Welt, I hope we shall meet again in England shortly, said Greswold, ‘ for we are going to make that trip before long, are we not, Meriel ?’ But Meriel had already started off downhill, and the question received no reply. ‘ You and Miss Chase are engaged then, I presume?’ inquired Synge in a low tone as they followed Meriel. He was determined to learn the truth, though he felt there was no doubt. ‘ M'e have been engaged for two years, and are to be married in two months, was the answer. * I congratulate you,’ was all Synge could say in reply, and the words seemed to choke him. He dropped behind as Greswold hurried after Meriel, and in the solitude of the bush he fought his battle with himself so well that when he joined the rest he was the life and soul of the party. But he held firmly to his resolution of fleeing the conflict, and next day he was on his way to the North Island. A few months later he was back in England, where he devoted himself heart and soul to his profession. He is so rapidly winning money and fame that many an anxious mother with marriageable daughters has cast anxious eyes upon him, but hitherto he has firmly resisted all their attacks. What may happen in the future I do not know. He is young yet and time works wonders, but for the present the thought of Tenel Station and Meriel Chase has still power to thrill his heart, and his greatest treasure is a picture which he hides from all eyes but his own—a picture representing a girl in a white dress seated on a fern-stump beneath a stately tree, a bunch of bright rata blossom ing above her uncovered dark hair, her hands weaving a wreath of white flowers and ferns, her ey es downcast, and a sweet smile upon her lips.