WARD AND WIFE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VII, Issue 9, 28 February 1891, Page 9

WARD AND WIFE.

It was no use. Chester Grant could not tame this wild little girl, who climbed trees and robbed orchards, and played with the boys of the village. Sarah Langley was his ward, and his mother hoped he would marry her, but he found all his rules set at naught by this little romp, who made fun of him and was always in mischief. True, she had a genuine affection for him, but he saw that he could never train such a wild vine to be a regal rose. So he packed her off to his aunt, Mrs Le Roy, much to the young lady’s discomfiture. It was a year before Chester Grant saw her again, in the crush of a ball-room. * Miss Langley—Sarah !’ Not a bit of colour suffused and made warm her marble cheek ; chill and white as Greenland snows it looked as she extended her hand, and said indifferently : ‘I am happy to see you, Mr Grant. When did you arrive ?’ A few courteous words, a swing or two of the feathery, spice-scented tan in her hand, ana then she took the arm of a distinguished looking man, who led her to the head of a set that was being formed on the floor, and the music crashed out slow ana clear, and marvellously sweet. He turned fiercely to the lady at his side, saying : ‘ What have you done to her, aunt ?’ ‘Your bidding, Chester. Haven’t I succeeded admirably ? Notice how elegantly she moves through the dance. She is the envy of the women, the admiration of the men ! How attentive young Stewart is to her I She refused him last week, but his ardour to win her is in no wise abated.’ Chester growled out an angry expletive. It savoured of an oath to the lady at his side. • He is jealous,’ she whispered to herself ; ‘ and he has no need to be, for the girl loves him.' The music rose and fell in waves of sweetest melody ; the rich costumes of the dancers blended together as harmoniously as the gayly-coloured leaves of autumn. Chester Grant thought the cotillion would never come to an end. When it did Sarah was so besieged by admirers that he had no opportunity of speaking to her alone. She was walled in by a crescent cf the most eminent men in the room ; wit and persiflage circled about her, and, full of bitterness, Chester sought his apartment, realizing his mistake at last in reference to his ward. ‘ Her love for me is dead,’ he sighed; ‘it can never be resuscitated. ’ And he repeated the words again the next morning as he took her for a long drive in the country. A beautiful -day, but Chester did not enjoy it. The statuesque girl at his side, though a brilliant conversationalist, waxed never a bit enthusiastic ; she was no more like the impulsive child of auld lang syne than day is like night. He could not bear it. ‘ Sadie,’ he cried, ‘if I could undo my own and Mrs Le Roy’s work, make you once more the joyous child who pelted me with cherries a year ago, I would willingly relinquish fame and fortune.’ ‘ Then you do not fancy me as I am ? I have been “ toned down ” not a little. Perhaps lam a shade too impetuous still!’ ‘Do not mock me, girl! Too late have I discovered my mistake. You do not love me. You area true disciple of Aunt Mabel— so cold, so cold.’ He relapsed into silence. The girl regarded him earnestly. The face she loved was sad and full of pain. ‘ My guardian !’ The voice was replete with warmth, and a little hand was laid confidingly on his. ‘ What is it, Sadie ?’ ‘ Are you in earnest 1 Do you want me to doff my chill, conventional manners and become once more the wild elf of a year ago ?’ ‘Yes ! oh, yes ! That would suit me precisely. lam tired to death of conventional women. Shall it be thus, Sadie ? Do you love me ?’ ‘ More than words can tell. Oh, my guardian, I have been so miserable, playing a part which I detested. Ido not care to be a statue; I would rather be a living woman. ’ ‘ And so you shall, darling,’ pressing his lips to hers again and again. ‘ You shall romp as much as you please. I will not even forbid you to climb cherry trees. My darling, I thought I had lost you. Henceforth it shall be the chief aim of my life to make you happy.’ As they returned from their drive the two men who had discussed Sarah so freely the evening before stood on the piazza. As Chester tenderly assisted the girl to alight, her face flushed with excitement, the light of love in her beautiful eyes, one muttered, sotto voce : ‘ Galatea has come to life. Pygmalion is a happy man.’