THE WAY OF OUR GRAND FATHERS Grace & Whitelaw

New Zealand Graphic, 20 December 1893, Page 4

THE WAY OF OUR GRAND FATHERS Grace & Whitelaw

CHAPTER I. I HAD disposed ot a good dinner, a good cigar, selected from a case cf choice Havanas which I reserve tor mv own special use—l always earn." a stock of quite another sort for my friends—and was settling down to the enjoyment of a good novel. My conscience was clear—had been so for three weeks. I did not owe my tailor more than fifty pounds : my only nephew, and ward, was not to spend his Christmas holidays with me. having opportunely contracted the measles at 'chool : my great-aunt, through a similar lucky coincidence—only. I believe, in aunt's case it was rheumatic gout —had written desiring me to forego the annual happiness of visiting her. sending /?ioo as a consolation. My cup of happiness was full. I satisfied myselt that the immaculate

velvet collar of my evening coat was visible to the public's admiring gaze lat present represented by a fox-terrier), arranged my pansy slippers on a brick-red ottoman, and lay back at peace with the world. Now ■ Scroggins’s Shaving Soap ‘ is an exciting book, as everyone who has read it knows, and those who haven't read it should make haste and do so before the people who discuss ‘ current literature whenever they meet, have cracked their voices in talking about it. I followed the tale with breathless interest up to the point where Lady Sophronia enters Scroggins’s room and espies—Lady Sophronia never ‘sees,’ she invariably ■ espies ' —his shaving soap. ’ The object she has thought of. dreamed of. for many a weary year, is even at this eleventh hour, within her grasp. The ambition of a lifetime is on the eve of fulfilment. With a cry of passionate, intense excitement she extends her lily-white hand to snatch the trophy to her bosom, when—the portal of the apartment is burst asunder, and Scroggins stands before her ’ Stem justice is written in his eye. Retribution portrays itself unflinchingly on his noble, finely-chiselled features. ■ ” Good - morning I” Her pallid lips can barely frame the words. Her slender frame trembles like an aspen leaf. ’ The instinct of a gentleman is still uppermost. even in this last momentous crisis of their lives. In tones ot icy politeness, whose reverberations chill her heart's blood and ring as a death-knell in her ears to her dying day. he responds. ■ ■’ Good-morning. Have you used One thing, and one thing alone out of all the startling events liable to befall the innocent tourist in a hot-bed like Rotorua could have induced me to lay down Scroggins at this juncture. This thing occurred. I heard a girl giggle. Now I have never yet heard a girl giggling without experiencing an unpleasant sensation, accountable only by the thought that she mav be giggling at me. Of course, in the face of reason, the idea is absurd, seeing that there is absolutely nothing, from my well-plastered head, not vet marked with signs of early piety, down to aunt’s pansy slippers, to giggle at. The only other theoretical explanation, therefore, is that girls giggle at absolutely nothing. Shyness is not one of my failings. I turned to survey the newcomers, who pursed their lips and gazed thoughtfully at opposite comers of the drawing-room. My scrutiny lasted until their shoulders began to wriggle in a manner that suggested explosion, when, appreciating the delicacv of the situation. I turned away and renewed ’ Scroggins. ’ Then they began to talk. The conversation consisted of incoherent remarks attended by intervals of silence, in which I could feel their shoulders going. The situation became unendurable. Two goodlooking girls stifling in silent convulsions at one’s

elbow is a distracting enough circumstance in itself, but when you are ignorant of the cause or want of cause of their merriment, when awful suspicions add suspense to vour ignorance and torture to your suspense, the case is desperate. I fidgetted uneasily. Scroggins fell to the floor, and in picking it up my eye rested on Julius Caesar.

His hair stood on end with excitement. A row of purple streamers were dangling from his mouth. The carpet around him was strewn with canvas and wool. I looked at mvfoot and knew all.

Julius Caesar had taken advantage of mv interest in the fate of Lady Sophronia to quietly my right slipper—made too loose, because of Aunt Tabitha’s perversity in believing my teet to be a size larger than is actuallv the case—and reduce it to pulp. I had been made a laughing stock in the eves of two young ladies of neat figure and pink complexion. and that by a wretched fox-terrier. It would have made Job curse. With a view to summary chastisement I was about to plunge at the remaining slipper, but my lucky genius intercepted. If you ran round a drawing-room in your stocking soles after a pup with a chawed-up slipper, who somersaults in every breakable direction, you do it at the risk ot vour dignity. I must first devise a means of introducing myself and dispelling the ludicrous impression I had too evidently made. I could settle Julius Caesar in private afterwards.

There was a wooden planchette Iving on the table, which the girls had brought in with them. Now if Julius Caesar has a hobby, it is to worma piece of wood. I bent towards him. hiding my anger beneath a benevolent smile, for he is a knowing dog. and pointed covertly to the planchette.

• Sool’um Caesar, good old Caesar. ’ I whispered. In appealing to Julius Caesar’s higher instincts, it is necessary- to call him Caesar.’ For any trivial matter, such as running for a bone, you may call him Julius, or Nebuchadnezzar for that

matter, he will go quite as quickly ; but his love, his hatred, his revenge, the primal passions that characterised his Roman namesakes, can only be incited in him by the common name they bore.

A wild spring, shrieks of alarm from two feminine throats, and Julius Caesar trotted calmly from the room, his tail between his legs and the planchette in his mouth. The successful result banished old scores. Two minutes later Julius was eating the reward of merit in a remote corner of the hotel scullery, and I was presenting my profoundest apologies and the planchette to a couple of flushed and excited damsels in the hotel drawing-room. ’ Such reprehensible conduct on the part of mv usually well-behaved dog is a mystery. But let me answer for it that he is at this moment entertaining serious misgivings as to the propriety of annoying ladies, and it only requires a second interview from me with a course of shorter catechism in addition, to bring him in tears and repentance to your feet.’

dieting. I observed that the fems hid the Maoris from my view. ’ ’ Well, you meant it. if you didn't say it. anvhow.' • On the contrary. I said it. but didn t mean it. ’ Why. you said just now you didn't sav it. ‘ “ All men are liars." ’ Then you think I am better-looking than those Maori girls in the canoe ?' ’ No. better to look at.' ‘ I don't see the difference. • Which proves that there is one. ‘ Indeed. What is it?" ‘ If I want to look at the girls in the canoe. I have to raise my head—it is a nuisance. I can look at you witli scurcclv anv effort, vour oreportions reirg so diminutive that one eve. psrtlv opened, takes you in. ’ ‘ Will you give me my hat. please. Mr Asrinall. Mrs Hereford is calling me from the tent.' • You are complimentary to Mrs Hereford. I

-ha.. tell her that you mistook Julius Caesar s bark for her voice.' Mr AspinaU. My name. I believe ’ I have a presentiment that something is going to Happen to-day. ' So have I. ' ' Oh dear me. do you think that dreadful plansentiment a dreadful one ' Rather startling. •Do vou think it will happen Within the -pace of two minute- I should imagine. ■ Gracious 1 Whom does it concern ?’ • You.’ Me? W hat. as I am. sitting here? • No. as vou will be. in this comer beside me.'

But I would not dream of sitting in that corner beside vou. ■Of course not. I only said I had a presentiment you would do s«. and not until after —according to my presentiment—l had — Mr Aspmall. please give me mv hat Certainly, dear. ' Throw it to me.' It would spoil it.’ Well, bring it to me. • May I. Nina?’ ' Don't be silly. Of course you may bring it. only—Oh no. no. never mind, stay where you are I can run to the tent without it—thev will be waiting—oh. oh Later. We will make the planchette true iarlinz—the line f -car’.vt Rings are n t obtainable at a moment - notice in Rotorua. but this wul last ti.. I can write to Auckland. The

songs of ti-tree had fraved the red ribbon in her hat. I drew some of the silk, and twisted it round her finger. CHAPTER 111. Meanwhile. far out n the lake a -ma’.’, boat was rising and falling in the sunshine beneath ward alm st as though he wished tc n eal his face from a pair of ' right '.ack eyes shining H ITT s ti 1 the 1 ner f the e es it last You nee i not be in suth a hurry We have the drops of perspiration on your forehead. I know it is awfully hot Madge, but the Maori

tom:stone is a long way off vet and I shall have Let me take 3ii oar. Present! v. Do you know Harry . I can t help thinking of that horrid planchette. I really think Nina and I ought to have stayed at home It's something new for vou to lx: superstitious Madge. I'm not superstitious. but when you've been informed that a line of scarlet i- interwoven with your fate, and the interesting day a- good as mentioned it isn't easy to sit and count your Calm your feeling- my dear, for if you jerk about so much we shall unset. ■ I’m doing my level best. Why. Harry, where - your sunburn gone to-day - You've got what Mademoiselle. our old French governess-, would cal! 2 ieeley-wbiite complexion. Which, being of the masculine gender. I prefer

not having. I tell you what Ma tge we will advertise in that influential organ the Hot Lakes Chronicle Lost, stolen, or strayed, between Lake House and Mok ia I-land. a Chir.ee-South-Sea-Islander complexion finder returning it to H Treveryan. Esq care of Geyser Hotel, will receive a reward of five pounds - How Your name alone is certain to material'.-, increase the sale ot the Hot Lake- Chronicle.' Of course but you forget that that is a detail M-- M Ig ..- . ighing • « m . h< - eyes were n t the • wh lit his l-.t -an i ent : his oars till the muscles stood out ui knotted cords on his bare arms.

‘ The Maori tombstone is a good long way off. isn't it, Harrv ? Mayn't I have an oar now ?’

For answer, her companion hesitated irresolutely. then shipped the oars and flung hiniselt at her side in the stern, his face working with long-suppressed emotion, his eyes shining. • Madge, what have I done that you should tieat me so ? I have followed you up and down and round New Zealand. 1 have made myseli ridiculous in the eyes of your friends, though God knows I care little enough for that. I have put off my return to England month after month, although there's the estate and my coming of age. and deeds to sign, and a thousand and one things to be seen to —with the result that you are either indifferent to me—l am a nonentity in your eyes —or it pleases you to affect a charitable friendliness that is worse than indifference. And why? I am not ugly that you should scorn me. I have an income that some women would sell their souls for. I belong to a race whose deeds of fame—yes. and whose determination, have been a byword in Cornwall from generation to generation since the time of the Roman Conquest, and last, yet foremost of all. I love you. Oh. Madge, why will you not listen, why will you not give me one single smile that is not wholly indifferent ? You are eager enough to pull with me in the boat here, but you will not hear of us pulling together through life. I have said it a hundred times, darling, but I will say it again. I love you with my whole heart and soul and being, and not all your indifference, and not all the powers in Heaven and earth will keep me from loving you. Yes, you shall hear me, Madge. There is no earthly reason why we two should not marry. Your parents are anxious for it. Nina, who has been your friend and chum since you were babies together, is on my side. I can give you everything that makes life happy. I have your word that there is no one else whom you like better. No, let me see your eyes, Madge. Do not turn away, do not make me desperate, for desperate men are dangerous, and I swear to you before God that I will never give you up. You s/i<i.7, you must hear me. ’

It was a boyish enough outburst, and certainly not new to the young lady addressed. But he was terribly in earnest, his handsome face was livid with suppressed emotion Madge, in spite of her independent nature, was too newly from school not to feel a distinct thrill of pride in the wealth of the passionate boy-love laid at her feet, besides a very perceptible touch of the pity for him which they say is akin to something else, and there is no saying how this story would have ended but for that unfortunate little word with which he thought fit to end his appeal. Not all the united determination of all his ancestors, stretching back in a direct line to Adam, would make Miss Madge Hereford perceive the necessity of a step if informed that she * must.' So it was not a tender, sympathising angel, but a very 'icily regular,' and if the truth must be told, a somewhat cross young lady who made reply. 1 I have told you my decision; Harry, as you say. a hundred times, and I shall not tell it again ' —which of course after folding her red lips for emphasis she proceeded to do. ‘ You are not twenty-one yet. and I am eighteen. We are both too young too marry. I don't dislike you. and as you know. I am not in love with anyone else. But I want to see the world, I want to learn and know : I want to . /:•< before I tie myself up to you or anyone else. No, don't interrupt me. I know what you would say. 1 can do all that and more if I become Mrs Harry Treveryan. There's where man's conceit comes in. With your wonderful aid and superintendence women can accomplish a certain amount, can acquire some fame, can do a little and be a little—without it, they are nothing. Well, I prefer to be nothing and keep my liberty ; whether I ever resign it will depend on a change in my present feelings and—the gentleman.'

She did not mean to add the two last words. Girls do not generally display coquettish heartlessness at eighteen. They are at a believing age. when the world has not yet been anything but kino, and affairs of the heart are too new an experience to be wound up and laid away like a watch every night. But Miss Madge was put out by the suddenness of this last appeal, having only consented to come with Harry because, as she confidentially informed Nina, 'he seemed at last to have decided to be sensible. ’ She was

tired of the same question every time he chose to indulge in these romantic outbursts, and—alas for romance—she was becoming hungry, all of which resulted in this ‘ set down ’ for poor Harry.

He made no answer, merely resuming his oars, and a long silence followed. Mokoia Island became smaller and smaller in the distance. A certain threatening black spot became larger and larger in the sky. Madge got impatient.

• Harry, I think I would rather not see the Maori tombstone to-day, if you don't mind. I had no idea it was so far. We are almost into the Ohan Channel, and see, it is going to rain. You had better give me another pair of oars, Harry, for with both of us pulling, it will take us all our time to get back. ’ No answer.

It was not usual for Harry to sulk and she had never before known him to refuse a request. Madge looked at the boy’s face and observed something there which filled her with apprehension and uneasiness.

‘ Harry, aren't you going to take me back ? We will both be drenched as sure as fate.' She gave a little shiver after uttering the words, for instinctively they recalled to her mind the planchette scene and the warning. Still no answer.

He must be sulking then. The girl turned away in silent contempt and looked over the darkening water. Ten. twenty, thirty minutes passed. They were entering the channel now and would socn be out on Rotoiti : forty minutes, fifty, an hour went by. and still the boy plied his oars and the girl sat motionless in the stern. It was after four when they started and the midsummer evening, darkened by that threatening thunder-cloud was rapidly closing in. Yet not till the storm actually burst over their heads, in a dazzling flash, a peal, and a torrent of rain, and only then because she had a genuine horror of lightning, would Miss Madge's pride allow her to speak a third time.

‘ For Heaven's sake. Harry, tell me what you intend doing ? Are we to contract inflammation of the lungs together, or to be struck by lightning. or capsize, or have you any other charitable design in view ? Please tell me. Anything is better than uncertaintv.’

At the first drop of rain he had divested himself of his coat and thrown it on to her knee.

' Put on my coat. Madge : it will keep you dry for the present.' Her black eyes flashed angrily. ‘ You insult me by ignoring my very natural expressions of anxiety at your strange behaviour, and then expect me to protect myself with the coat from vour back. Likely 1’

‘Just as you please.' He did not offer to resume the despised article, but continued pulling calmlv.

The girl began to get frightened. For the first time a doubt as to his saneness crossed her mind. Where was he taking her to through the storm and darkness, pulling with sure, unwavering oar. stroke after stroke, stroke after stroke, as though their lives depended upon his progress ? Whatever his purpose, she was wholly at his mercy. Madge was a brave girl able to face steadily any real danger, but this mystery was torture to her excitable, imaginative nature. The rain had already soaked through her light cotton blouse, and drenched her to the skin. The gnawing sensation of hunger increased. At intervals for which she could not help watching with feverish dread, ragged streaks of blue lightning would pierce the gloom that was fast closing in about them : at every peal the thunder seemed to burst nearer to their little boat as it rose and fell in the black water. Beginning with the awful indistinct mutterings which in that region suggest worse calamity than a thunder-clap, rising to a rumble, rumbling into a swell, and swelling into a roar, like the sound of two mighty hosts advancing on each other, the storm-clouds collided, emitted their vivid electric flash, and dispersed by separate ways, to echo and re-echo along the shores of the lake till their dying fury mingled with and strengthened the approach of the ensuing peal. Circumstancesconsidered.it was not surprising that the storm and damp and darkness, should have proved the overflowing drop in Madge's cup of woe. Plucky as she was, she could not resist the profound sensation of misery that stole over her. She made several violent efforts that

would have been ludicrous had they not been pathetic, then a big drop splashed over her damp skirt. She wiped it away, but another and another followed, and at last, unable to check the flow, she abandoned herself to silent grief, reflecting that it was too dark for Harry to see. The natural result followed. A pathetic sob presently broke from the stern.

This was too much for the adamantine young man at the oars. Before you could count one he had his arms round a very damp, draggled little figure, and the old, tender-hearted, affectionate Harry was speaking again.

‘ Darling, don't cry. I did not mean to be such a brute. See. Madge. I will tell you what my plan is. I am going to take you to an awfully pretty spot on the far side of Rotoiti. where, when the rain stops, the scenery is lovely, and where nobody will think of looking for us. I have clothes and provisions and tents and everything ready, and we will rest there till morning, and then go on to another place in the interior : tor I want to have you all to myself. Madge, for three or tour weeks, without a single other human creature between us, and when you have nobody else to depend on and look to tor love I will wait upon you hand and mind and foot, unhindered by the wretched rules and etiquette of the society we live in. I will never presume upon our situation, but you shall be my beautiful pHncess Madge, and what a jolly camp life we will lead. dear, with only a Maori girl tocookfor us. I have a lot of books too. so that you shall not weary, and when the tuis and bell-birds are singing in the early mornings, darling, and all the air is fresh and clear and sweet, and the dew is sprinkling every blade of grass and every frond ot tern with diamonds, or in the evening when the golden sunset is interlacing the tops of the tall ratas, leaving its trail on moss and stones and every little wood-violet that likes to lift its head high enough—l will take you wonderful rambles through the bush, dear, and show you sights in nature that you have never dreamed of before. It will be a lovely romance of fairyland, Madge, with just the two of us together to enjoy it. and you will learn to love me a little, darling ? And on the day that you put your hand in mine and say from your soul “ I am not afraid to trust von any longer with my future,’’ why. we will pack up and come straight back to Lake House, and I •will confess all. and we will be married and live happy ever afterwards as the fairy tales sav. Think of it. darling. Oh, Madge. I have tried— God knows I have tried everything in mortal power to win your love and this is a last resource. I do not mean to be cruel, but I can't give you up, dearest, I can't.’

‘ Harry. Harry.’ she cried, with the tears streaming unrestrainedly down her face now. for mad and romantic as his purpose was, every line of the boy's husky accent denoted a strength ami fierceness of passion that frightened, while it amazed her. ‘Harrv-. what is this von are talking of? What would the world say of us ? What would the society that maybe tiresome, but that we have all our lives to live in. sav of us ? Besides I could not love von to order. See, dear. I will kiss you, and you will take me home, and we can make an excuse about the storm having delayed us, and then ' — ‘ And then ?’ he said breathlesslv.

‘ And then we will be good friends as before.' she would have said, but somehow that white face cried down the words. ‘ I cannot promise to be your wife. Harry,' she substituted with a sorrowful shake of the head. *lt would only be raising expectations that I cannot trust myself to fulfil. Besides, it is not fair to run away with a girl in order to extract a promise when she has no one at hand to protect her. I should not have believed it of vou. Harrv.'

• My father, my grandfather, and for aught I know, my great - grandfather, made runaway matches.’ he replied. ‘ln the old days of knight errantry and chivalry and honour, it was a common thing. To this day. with the Maoris and other native races, it is the orthodox custom for the bride to make a show of resistance at her wedding, the husband appearing to carry her off by force, which shows the common belief of even these rude savages, that proximity and absolute dependence are sufficient to engender love. ’ The girl sighed wearily. ‘ You must do what you like with me,’ she said. I cannot argue any longer. Only know this, Mr Harry Treveryan,

that I will never love you now, never ! I know you are doing all this from love of me, but it is a cruel and unmanly means to gain your end, and a scheme which contrives against a defenceless girl can never be successful. ’ ‘ We shall see,’ he said in a low voice.

A sudden gust of wind lifted the girl’s hat from her head. She sprang recklessly forward to seize it: the rapid motion overbalanced their light craft, and although the boy, with an exclamation of dismay, flung his weight against her other side, it was too late. She sank beneath them, and with a rush of water sounding in her ears, Madge knew no more. CHAPTER IV. Julius C.-ESar had congratulated us. Mrs Hereford. who guessed our secret directlv she saw —’ Your face. ’ says a certain young lady looking over my shoulder—had congratulated us and promised a letter enumerating my prospects, and dwelling o i my virtues, to Nina’s parents ; the fifteen other members of our picnic party.

who knew severally and collectively a minute and a-half after Mrs Hereford knew, had congratulated us. Nina blushed and murmured that I had taken her by surprise, as we gathered in the tent at dusk. But for a somewhat nervous agitation that caused me to pack the empty sardine tins into the hampers, and shy the crockery into the water. I stood fire with the courage ot a Spartan. A gay old boy who had been exhibiting the delights of Mokoia and his own wit to a bevy of girls all the afternoon, was winding up with Mrs Hereford and a plate of ‘ matrimony.’ when that lady inquired after Madge and Harry. ‘ They went for a pull on the lake.’ Nina said. ‘ Thev have probably landed somewhere, as Madge had her fern-book. Keep some sandwiches out.’

The packing was completed. The hampers were deposited on the launch. Everyone was ready to start, and they had not arrived. We coo-eed till our throats were hoarse ! All in vain.

* We will skirt the shore,’ laughed the jolly old

skipper, ‘ and spy ’em doing a little bit of billing and cooing on the l>each in the next bay.’ ‘ Indeed, they aren’t so silly ’ —from Nina. ‘Ot course, they would never be so silly ’ — from me.

We went right round the island and not finding them, some of us pulled ashore and coo-eed and searched again. The rain began to comedown in torrents, accompanied by a tempest of thunder and lightning. We took the ladies, all but Mrs Hereford and Nina, who would not leave her. back to Lake House, and in the wildness of the night, steamed slowly round Rotorua, signalling and shouting, shouting and signalling, with no avail. The lights revealed nothing beyond our own drearv reflections.

A ghostly grey dawn was spreading its arms over the lake, as with sickened hearts, we for the last time approached our starting place. The captain, who up till now had turned on any man that dared to breathe a whisper of despair, fairly broke down.

You may thank God. man.' he said, laying a

trembling hand on my shoulder, while his honest old face twitched with grief. ’ you may thank God it isn't t’other little maid went out in the storm vesterday. for I tear me. we’ve seen the last o' the bonnie black-eved lassie and her lover lad.’

I turned away with a bursting heart, thinking of the planchette and what might have been averted if I had not dissuaded the girls from heeding its warning. We were at this time steaming round Rotoiti. An object floating directly beneath the stern arrested my attention. I bent over and clutched hold ot —a hat with red ribbon.

At the same moment one of the men in our party pointed with an exclamation of horror to a black outline, moving further ahead. \\ e made for it hurriedly, and found it to be a capsized boat.

Somebody touched my arm. and I turned to find Nina, bareheaded and dumb with anguish, uplifting a face of piteous entreaty. An impulse born of fierce, fervent thanksgiving caused me to

strain her to my heart and kiss her passionately. It was selfish joy no doubt, but with that cruel grey water yawning before us it was human, and from the way my darling clung to me for a moment I knew my prayer was reciprocated.

‘ How shall we comfort her ; oh, how shall we comfort her ?’ she whispered, struggling with quivering lips against her own grief, while the poor stricken mother swooned and sobbed by turns in the cabin within.

’God only can,’ i replied, turning away my head.

’ Let us ask Him.' she said simply, and hand in hand we knelt on the wet deck, with the morning breeze lifting Nina's hair from her temples as she sent up a broken petition for the dead and the living, while all the time that heart-breaking wail sounded and re-sounded from the cabin.

‘ Madge. Madge, my darling, my only child, come back to me. Oh, God, how shall I tell her father ?’

CHAPTER V. His solar majesty had arisen in might and overthrown the powers of storm and darkness. His rays fell fiercely on a party of five, wending their way through a drearv sterile region relieved by nothing but never-ending fern and scrub. Two Maoris headed it, laden with swags and provisions. Behind them, on a tough little pony rode a young lady with black eyes, who held her head very straight despite its being bare and exposed to the full force of the scorching heat: while a native girl walked at her side. Bringing up the rear of this interesting quintette was a fairhaired boy with set lips, likewise bareheaded, although his own hat and a couple of umbrellas, in either of which Baldwin might have made his famous descent, reposed among the packages on his arm.

The boy looked at the erect, unbending figure in front or him with an indescribable expression, made a step forward, stopped, slackened, looked, slackened again, then hurried to the girl’s side. ‘ Madge, dear, the hot sun is so dangerous. If

you won’t wear my hat, will you not take an umbrella ?’ * No.’

He dropped back in silence more eloquent than a sigh. The Maori girl laid her rough brown hand on the pony’s mane and looked up at the white one. ‘ Why you not take it ?’ she said fiercely. ‘He saved you from death. We wait for you on the shore last night and wait, and no canoe come, and then we see a thing moving in the water an’ it comes nearer and nearer, and we see the young pakeha gentleman swimming, and you asleep so ’ —dropping her head to indicate insensibility—- * in his arms ; him so weak when he get ashore, his legs no stand, but he kneel beside you an’ rub your handsan' kiss you an’call you by name, an' pour waipiro (fire-water) down your mouth till you open your eyes. Then he take you in the tent we put up, an’ tell me to make you nice an’ warm with a fire an’ blanket and come call me to the door every minute through the night, an’ ask me if you are sleeping soundly. He would die

for vou if he could, Missie. Whv vou not take it ?’

The discernment of an ignorant Maori wahine may have its effect sometimes. The black eyes softened a little, and their owner turned in her saddle and beckoned to the dejected boy behind. ‘ 1 will use my handkerchief,’ she said shortly, ‘ and you can give me an umbrella.’ ‘Thank you, dear,’ he replied, as though she had conferred a favour.

On the verge of some bush they paused for rest, and he brought her food and waited upon her while she ate it. The Maori path they followed after this led amidst dense bush, through which her pony had to be guided as there was continual danger of him stumbling. Sometimes there was no track and they had to push their way through the ferns and stones in the direction their guides took. About twenty miles had been accomplished when a camp was finally made for the night. Madge’s brain was a whirl of mingled scn-

sations as she tossed on her blanket that night. To her feverish imagination the wind sighing through the trees outside the tent whispered that they were going to their doom. Every leaf as it rustled in the breeze uttered the planchette’s warning. She held her ears to shut out the dreadful words, but they sounded from every corner and nook and cranny of the great forest, rising in chorus from a whisper to a sob, from a sob to a shriek, from a shriek to a yell. She crouched close to the fire, but awful black shadows began to creep from beneath the far awning of the tent, and twine ghostly arms around her. At one moment she felt herself seized with a strange dizziness ; her head swam ; she was falling, falling off into space it seemed, down, down, through fearful depths of darkness. The next, she was wide awake, her senses alert to the faintest sound that broke the silence of the night,—and through it all a revolving wheel seemed to be spinning round and round inside her head. Her brain was on fire. Faster and faster went the wheel. Where was Nina ? Where

was her mother ? Why had they left her alone to die in a haunted wilderness of spirits, with spirit-voices ringing in her ears? Where was she falling to, down, down, always down, and how was she to get up again in time for tea with the others in the tent ? They had promised to be back in time for tea. ‘ A line of scarlet — dear, dear, what did it mean? Not blood, surely! Oh, no. Harry ! Harry !

Two Maoris were stealing softly away through the bush, leading a pony laden with stores and money ; at a short distance from the tent they halted, and one, tapping the other’s shoulder, pointed his thumb in the direction of it. * Five years is utu (punishment) for this, if we are caught,’ he said in Maori. * What ! so long? surely not ?’ * Five years. It is a long time.' * Alas, yes ! It is a long time. ’ ‘ Dead men cannot speak. They cannot even go for help and set the police on our track. ’

‘Alas.no! They cannot.’ * They are not violent when they sleep the long sleep, and other pakehas do not often search this region. ’ ‘ Alas, no ! It is a deep region. ’ The first villain took a knife from his bundle. ‘ It is enough, I will be brief,’ he said disappearing. In his tent Harry lay asleep. He dreamed a strange dream. An ugly looking snake was gliding towards him in a jungle of tree-fern, and scrub. He could see the creature’s glassy eyes fixed intently on him. It was about to spring when Madge glided in between them and received the bite. He awoke with a start to see—not Madge, but Kaha, the Maori girl, struggling desperately in the darkness with something that held a gleaming knife. In an instant he was upon him. The ruffian made a plunge at the woman who had come between him and his prey, dropped the knife and vanished through the bush. Harry knelt to

examine her wound but she struggled to a sitting posture.

‘ Your money and the food,’ she gasped, ‘ they have taken it all.’ He ground his teeth and made for his revolver. It had gone. Then remembering the more immediate need of the faithful creature who had sav d his life at the risk of her own, he got the small brandy flask, which had luckily been overlooked, and poured some down her mouth. She swallowed it gratefully and he helped her back into the tent. Here poor Kaha, the treachery of his men, their terrible situation, were all forgotten, for Madge was sitting up in her blanket, her black eyes shining wildly, her arms extended as she chattered, laughed, and sobbed in a breath. ‘ Nina, how silly you are. Of course I like him. Oh dear, shall we go or stay ? There is such a fearful storm coming on, Harry dear. Do let us turn back now. The planchette did you say ? but it doesn’t always come true ? not always, surely ?’