ROSE’S REVENGE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XX, Issue XIV, 2 April 1898, Page 424

ROSE’S REVENGE.

(By

AMELIA E. BARR.)

Quiet as a grate in the moonlight was the Aslin mansion in the sultry summer afternoon. The siesta then absolved every one from the present, and, in the land of dreams, mistress and slaves found a temporary equality. In her own vast, dusky room, closely jalousied from every sunbeam, madam was fast asleep. She was at all times a beautiful woman, but more so now in her snowy deshabille, calm and still behind rose-tinted mosquito screens. I have said all were asleep and dreaming, but I must make one exception. Frank Aslin, aged twenty, was dreaming without sleeping. He had in his pocket a letter which was quite sufficient to banish sleep from such an enthusiastic, romantic nature; and yet the letter was only from his father, the gravest gentleman you would meet in a year’s journeying. It was short and simple enough, as all Judge Aslin’s letter were, and merely said: ‘Dear Boy, — I shall be home on Wednesday night. Come to meet me at Neale’s Station and bring the carriage, as there will be a young lady with me. Give Queen orders to make all arrangements for her comfort. If your mother feels able to give any directions I shall feel obliged to her.’ But Mrs Aslin had not felt able. She heard the news just as she was preparing for her siesta and was satisfied to delegate full power to the negress Queen. Who the young lady was she did not know—and she really had little care. The house was large enough to give a room to a good client of the judge’s without causing her any annoyance, and she was quite sure that Judge Aslin would not offer his hospitalities to anyone who was not likely, in some way or other, to be an equivalent. Felippa and Joanna Aslin, being themselves young ladies, speculated a little about the stranger, but with no lively interest. They had seen several of their father’s lady clients, and they had generally been women of a sorrowful spirit, struggling through the intricacies of Spanish land-titles and government claims. The word ‘young’ lady was, indeed, the promise of something different; but they inherited, with the Mexican beauty of their mother, her lazy, inert disposition, and they knew no medium between indifference and enthusiasm. Frank, on the contrary, with the Scotch physiognomy of his father, bad also inherited his speculative, energetic temperament. ‘None are so pretty as my little mamma,’ said Frank, stooping to kiss the lovely face lifting itself out of floating lace and gleaming gems. Then he drove rapidly to Neale’s Station, and was just in time to see his father lift a young girl out of the stage— a girl quite unlike any he had ever seen, a fair, rosy, golden-haired divinity, who lifted eyes, blue and clear as heaven, to meet him. The judge said her father had been his earliest friend, and that Rose and her fortune were left to his care. He demanded for her the coolest rooms, the best maid, the most scrupulous attentions. Her dresses were rich, her allowance ample, and there seemed no earthly reason for madam to interfere with Frank’s worship of his new divinity. So the sweet old drama was lived over again; it was delicious enough to live it over in that dreamy, passionate clime, where no rude element jarred its perfect beauty. But though Judge Aslin seemed well content that Frank and Rose should love each other, he persistently opposed all talk of marriage. By and by this opposition. where opposition seemed so unnecessary, roused all the dormant curiosity and jealousy of madam’s Southern nature. She began to question Rose carefully about her former life; but the child had nothing to conceal, and told all with a frankness which madam considered of itself proof positive of a preconcerted tale. Her mother she denied all knowledge of; her father she described as a sad, lonely gentleman. writing much, and seeing very few strangers. When madam asked about the ‘establishment,’ Rose described a little cottage standing in a cocoa and tamarind grove, and an old negro woman, who she said was still living in Key West—all of which in-

creased suspicion against her, as Mr Aslin had told a very different story. He had spoken of great obligations to this evidently poor, uninfluential gentleman, ‘who wrote much and saw few strangers,’ and had intimated that Rose was connected with a wealthy and powerful family and was heiress to large estates. With all her inexperience and simplicity of character, Rose was at length sensible of being watched and not pleasantly commented on. Her rambles with Frank became matters of espionage, and every kind word and action from her guardian raised an angry frown on all the ladies’ brows. Then Frank was suddenly, and with scarcely any preparation, sent to Europe, and her life settled down into a dull, unhappy monotony, which was now unbroken by any efforts on the part of madam or the young ladies to lighten. They received and paid visits, and went occasionally to New Orleans for a week’s holiday,but never on any occasion requested her society. Rose could not be ignorant that this change had not been accomplished without much angry disputing in the house, but there are situations in which a man is powerless to defend a woman, however anxious he may be to do so, and Mr Aslin felt this fact painfully. Just what were his wife’s suspicions, she never told any one. It is likely she bad not even decided on them in her own heart, but they had a very decided effect. Miss Rose Van Ransaleur's name began to be pmitted from all invitations and calls of ceremony, and the very servants dropped the element of respect out of their attentions, unless Mr Aslin was present. Poor little Rose! This was not her only trouble. Frank never wrote to her. His mother indeed read some pleasant message or apology in the first letters, with always a promise of a long letter for herself, but it never came; and gradually even the message grew colder, until it, too, was forgotten. i - Nothing can change the nature of a woman like the indulgence of one overmastering passion. In her insane jealousy, madam forgot her inherentlaziness. She learned to follow Rose into the loneliest and most distant parts of the plantation, and to watch her at hours once absolutely devoted to slumber and privacy. From this terrible persecution Rose began slowly to perceive she must fly somewhere. One day, when the madam and heipretty, ungenerous daughters had gone for a holiday to New Orleans, Rose, defying her negro guards, went boldly to Mr Aslin’s office and poured forth, with passionate tears and complaints, all her wrongs, entreating that her real position might be explained to her. Mr Aslin seemed to suffer in her recital more keenly than Rose herself. A spasm of intense agony contracted his face, but he would not suffer her to move. ‘lt will be over soon, child,’ he said, ‘and it is well that you have brought me to this point. You shall know all that I can tell you. Rose, your father and I were sworn friends even in early boyhood. We were both at the same school. I was strong and he was sickly and weak. I fought his battles and talked to him through many a night when he was suffering too much to sleep. ‘Then, dear, we both went to Europe, and I, while he was studying hard, gave myself up to every species of sin and dissipation. Yet his love never grew cold; his patience never wearied. At last, Rose, I committed a crime which would have sent me to prison for the best years of my life, had not your father, by absolutely impoverishing himself, placed me in safety. He did this without a word of reproach. He clasped my stained hand and wept as bitterly at parting with me as if 1 had been worthy of his love. ‘I buried myself in this wilderness, then a Mexican town, and commenced the practice of law. After some years, 1 married, and wealth and honours followed me; but I never had another friend. I kept my own counsel even from my wife. About five years after my settlement here, your father wrote and told me that a lovely girl whom he had married in defiance of his father and friends’ wish was apparently dying. He had hopes of delaying death, however, in a southern climate if I could find a nice home for him. Just nt that time a little Florida place was lying in my hands for exchange for Texas sugar lands, and I bought it and went myself to meet my friend to see

him comfortably accommodated to circumstances. ‘Your mother lingered about a year, and after her death his Florida home became very dear to your father. The climate suited his health. It was far removed from all his estranged family. He could live economically there. And as I was now able to pay back gradually my debt there was no need for any exertion on his part. He devoted himself to literature and became a noted writer on the subjects he investigated. ‘But the quarrel with his family was never healed. He was, in general, forgiving and forbearing to a fault; but the opposition and cruelty which his young wife had met with he considered unpardonable. When he found himself dying he sent for me and committed you and your interests to my care. Knowing that you must (however poor you are now) eventually inherit your grandfather’s immense wealth, how could I let you, in the foolish tenderness of a first passion, marry Frank? My duty to you demands that you must see more of the world before deciding so important a matter. ‘lt is time you went now to those more able to protect you than I am. For your welfare I would lay my life down against anything I could fight; but women have a subtle method of annoyance before which I am powerless. This is the more necessary as my own life is very uncertain and I may die in any such attack as you have witnessed. Besides, in my opinion, there is going to be a long and bitter war, and, before it is over, God only knows how I shall be situated, even if alive. Will you go North at once ot will you wait until I communicate with your grandfather?’ ‘I will go at once.’ ‘To-morrow, then, we start. Tonight I will put in order all your father’s letters and papers ; they will go jyith us, and I will at the same time make all necessary explanations.’ ‘But madam? She will be so angry at you.’ ‘I can brave madam’s anger for the child of one who braved infamy and poverty for me. Make as few preparations as possible; we will take the house by surprise in spite of their vigilance.’ Next morning the judge made no secret of his intentions. He left slander nothing to speculate about. The Senor Gonzales, madam’s brother, was perfectly satisfied and agreeable, and no one in the village ever cared to dissent from a gentleman at once so ready to take offence and to exact apologies as the Mexican don was. The journey, begun without a single ‘God-speed,’ nevertheless prospered. In about eight days Rose found herself within the shadow of a splendid old brick mansion, the petted and beloved child of a doting old man. Mr Aslin lingered a few days. He set the memory of his dead friend in noblest sentences before the regretful father; he saw Rose fully acknowledged in all her rights, and bright and happy in recovered love and confidence. With a noble self-denial he never named Frank, but at the last hour Rose’s own heart spoke for both. ‘Before you say good-bye,’ she whispered, ‘tell me truly: ‘Do you think Frank has forgotten me?’ T am sure he has not, Rose. You will find out one day that his truth and honour are unstained. But never forget, child, one thing: Have no engagement without your grandfather’s knowledge. I never knew a blessing on a sinful, wilful marriage. The blessing of friends asks God’s blessing, too, my child.’ The war prophesied came with the rapidity of a thunder-storm. Hardly had Mr Aslin got home when the country was sealed to social intercourse, and local information became very uncertain and infrequent. In the earliest phase of the excitement Mr Aslin died of heart-disease, and Senor Gonzales went with a troop of lawless men to the Mexican frontier. Frank was in Constantinople, and how the reckless, improvident family, with a troop- of lazy, unmanageable servants, was to live without the judge's income and the senor’s overseeing seemed a doubtful problem. But time to Rose flew in those days of excitement. One great event trod on the heels of another. About three years after Rose had ‘come to her own’ and been received by them had passed away: and Rose was still Rose Van Ransaleur. There had been no lack of lovers, but none of them suited Rose for a husband, and the old gentleman

smiled grimly as one after another stopped visiting at the old Brick Mansion. Getting toward Christmas in the fourth year of the War Rose went one morning with her grandfather to call on a friend staying in one of the fashionable hotels. The clerk who answered her grandfather’s inquiries was Frank Aslin. Rose looked gladly, steadily at him; there was no doubt of his identity. In eager, tearful tones she drew her grandfather aside and told him all the truth. It was rather a bitter pill for the old gentleman to swallow, but he did not hesitate before so manifest a courtesy and duty. Still he could not quite control himself. ‘These Aslins seem our evil genius, Rose,’ he said; ‘their friendship in one generation is enough.’ ‘Nay, grandfather, this generation reaps what the last one sowed.’ He shook his head doubtingly, but after putting her in the carriage went frankly up to the young man and said : ‘Mr Frank Aslin?’ For one moment Frank hesitated, and then answered : *1 know no reason for denying my name. Necessity has no law, sir.’ ‘I am an old friend of your dead father, and I purpose in the present unpleasant circumstances to take his place toward you. Will you dine with me to-night at seven o’clock ?’ The offer so frankly made was as frankly accepted, and the meeting between guest and granddaughter was such as to render all explanations unnecessary. Frank’s story was a very common one: He had found his money barely sufficient to bring him back to New York, and had arrived too late to return home with safety. His efforts to obtain employment had been limited by the fact that he had been brought up‘ to do nothing;’ and, without a trade or profession, he had been than 1 :, ful enough to drift into a hotel clerkship until the evil days were over. I do not pretend that he was a hero, but Rose glorified him in her imagination into one. It is a way women have; and without it I am afraid the world would not get carried on at all. When the War closed at last, the Aslin mansion and estate were advertised for sale at a mere nominal value. Old Mr Van Ransaleur bought it quietly and gave it to Rose for her wedding present. Frank soon after carried the title - deeds down South, and a proud, dark woman took them with tears of passionate joy out of his hands. That was Rose’s revenge. It might have been coals of fire to some people, but it was not to madam. She had still the idea that in some unexplained way she was the injured party. However, as the years rolled on and the beautiful Southern sisters got a habit of coming every summer to Frank and Rose, a more generous feeling grew up in hearts little used to acknowledge the rights of others. Rose one morning came radiant into her husband’s room, saying: ‘Frank! Frank! Guess whom my letter is from!’ ‘lt looks like my mother’s writing.’ ‘lt is. She says she has quite forgiven us, and is coming to be godmother to the new baby. We must certainly call it Papeta, after her.’