Complete Story. The Major's Choice.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXII, Issue I, 2 January 1904, Page 49

Complete Story. The Major's Choice.

It was quickly admitted in Wythani that the new owner of Shrublands, Major Edmunds (retired) was a great addition to the society of the place. Old Mrs Cullen thanked Providence openly that he was a man and a whist player, stating, with her usual frankness, that Wythani was overrun with women. There was certainly a large preponderance of them, the case in most country villages, and a good many were, to use the stately language of Spanish heraldry, “ladies of the halfblank shield”—that is to say, unmarried .

The four Miss Daltons headed the list, all with districts and a passion for early services; then there were the three Miss Ealkners; the twin Miss McDougalls; Miss Alfreds Gregory, the curate’s sister; Miss Harris, who acted as Mrs Cullen’s companion; Miss Garnet, a bluestocking; and Miss lx*roy. None of these ladies was particularly juvenile; Miss Leroy had a niece, Cecily, who was young, and a beauty; and there were the two Randal girls, but the latter were on the outer edge, so to say, of Wytham Society, and only got spoken to at working parties and school treats. Cecily Leroy was away visiting a good deal, for she found Wytham lather dull, and there could naturally be no dances where there were so few men.

The winter after Major Edmunds took Shrublands—a ridiculous name he promptly changed to Clovelly—was the liveliest season in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. There were teaparties and supper-parties and mild festivities all up and down the village. The Major was felt to be delightfully unencumbered. He was a big. cheery man, comfortably off, with a cookhousekeeper, a son not often at home,

and a married daughter living in thc North; the Sort of person to make a second wife of a suitable age very happy.

He became enormously popular; for besides whist, he played ping-pong, croquet, chess, cribbage, the piano—in a cheerful unemotional manner — and round games of any and every description. He helped with the church decorations, was the guiding spirit of the school-children’s Christmas treat, and even recited a comic poem at the Penny Reading; asking the third Miss Falkner to sit in the front row with the book and prompt him. In fact, the new arrival bowled the curate, who was short and stubby, so completely over that the latter’s winter cough whs ignored by everyone except the faithful Miss Daltons. One lady gave no parties, nor was the Major invited to call upon her, although it was known that the two had been acquainted in their early days. But this did not surprise people much, for Miss Leroy, whose father had been a Colonel, was of so retiring a disposition, that, in the absence of her niece, she seldom went anywhere or did anything. She was nominally Cecily’s guardian, but that young lady had managed her aunt very successfully ever since she had been left, a child of ten, in her charge. Miss Leroy was still nice-looking; her complexion was delicate, her figure slim, and her soft hair hardly tinged with grey. People wondered that she bad never married, and perhaps the busybodies of Wytham might have scented a romance had they seen Miss Leroy’s vivid blush the first time she caught sight of “Ciovellv” in fresh wiiite paint upon the Major’s front gate. • Major Edmund's wife had been dead

about four years, but he did not convey the impression of being a confirmed widower. Clovelly was a substantial house, much too large for a single man, it was thought, and several hearts began to cherish vague and secret hopes as the winter wore away. The youngest Miss Dalton. affectionately called “Baby” by her sisters, took up singing again—she had given it up a matter of eight years or so —the McDougall twins blossomed out into floral toques of a giddy description; while the third Miss Falkner—Bessie—went up to town for the special purpose of getting a “really first-rate coat and skirt.” What she gave for her costume she would never tell her sisters, but the Major gallantly complimented her upon its perfect fit, so that Miss Bessie might be said to have her reward. For the matter of that, the good man was “gallant” and complimentary* all round; a way, no doubt, they had in the Army. He went to Mrs Cullen’s Fridays, and the Daltons’ Tuesdays, to Mrs McDougall’s second Wednesdays, and Miss Alfreda Gregory’s first and third Thursdays. Such was his apparent fondness for afternoon tea-fights that he was even overheard asking Miss Leroy, in a pleading tone, whether she did not indulged her friends with an At Home day. Whereupon Miss Leroy, in her nervousness, dropped her teaspoonand a slice of home-made sponge cake, and somehow the Major's question did not get answered. The latter’s son eame down for a week, and everybody said what a pity it was that Cecily Leroy was still in the South of France; they would have made such a handsome couple. But when Miss Cecily at length arrived, after stoppin;- in Paris to buy two delectable hats and a dream of a frock, some ex the Wythani spinsters would have subscribed handsomely to send her back again. For. alas ami alack, the Major —their Major—with th* weakness for a pretty face that characterised his sex. became Cecily’s slave from the moment of their introduction to each other. For, oh, she was “sweet and twenty.” dowered with a peach-bloom complexion, the figure of a sylph, and the most distract-

ing smile that ever turned a masculine brain.

Adorably young, she made other women look faded or dowdy beside her. Then Miss Cecily was a coquette, whose winter in gay San Remo had taught her the value of her own charms; she liked the incense of admiration to be burned at her shrine, and. in fact, expected it. There were sore hearts in Wytham before she had been at home a week, although feminine lips tried to smile as before. Three ladies at any rate felt that Fate had been unkind to them—t’\ rt Major was “coming on” so nicely, and then pretty Cecily e.ould marry anybody—was indeed certain to marry. And Jack Edmunds’, for example. would be a much more suitable match for her than his father! But it was of little use to talk, or rather to think. Cecily was beautiful, and beauty always has the whiphand. She invited the Major to lunch, and he went like a lamb. She monopolised him at the bazaar in aid of 4ho coal fund, and she made him come in after dinner and tench her and her aunt poker. “1 think it is disgraceful of Cecily Leroy to flirt as she does with a. man old enough to be her grandfather.” said the eldest Miss Dalton, who felt sore on account of “Baby.” Mrs Cullen chuckled; she was rather amused by thc little comedy. “Oh. no; say her father.” she answer cd. indulgently. “Major Edmunds cannot be more than fifty-five or six. Cecily is a very pretty girl, anti you know what men arc. my dear Miss Dalton.” Miss Dalton had never had much opportunity of knowing. so contented herself with shaking her head disapprovingly. “Miss Leroy lets her do exactly as she likes. Such a pity!” she con--1 inued. And again Mrs Cullen’s eyes twinkled, for she knew exactly where the shoe pinched. “Well. I must say,” observed the old lady, “‘hat Miss Leroy has looked wonderfully well since that little puss, Cecily. eame back. She is positively getting younger instead of older, like most of us, I regret to say. Miss Dalton. I met her the other dav. and really she

fuke surprised me. Perhaps it was because she had a new and becoming dress on.” “Miss Leroy has taken to arrange her hair in a different manner,” said her visitor, with some asperity—“the latest atyle in Paris, I presume.” “Well, I don’t object to Cecily trying to bring her aunt up-to-date,” rqpiarked Mrs Cullen, with a smile. “Who is that going past? My eyes are not what they used to be.” Miss Dalton's thin lips set into a line indicating severe disapproval. “Major Edmunds and Cecily Leroy,” she answered stiffly. If a look could have killed, the couple strolling along chatting so merrily would have been in a bad plight. Yet Miss Selina Dalton was a good woman, and her principles were high. She did not want the Major for herself, but he had seemed to enjoy poor “Baby’s” society, and her rather feeble rendering of old English ballads; and it would have been so nice to have had her married and settled near them. The four Bisters had never been separated in their lives for more than a few weeks at a time. Cecily looked radiant; she was wearing one of her Paris frocks, the cunning simplicity of which was very different from the rural simplicity of the Wytham gowns. It fitted her lithe young figure like a glove, and she held the long skirt up with one hand, allowing a glimpse of a lace-trimmed petticoat to appear. The Major beamed upon her from his superior height, and Miss Dalton felt with a pang that poor dear “Baby” had not the ghost of a chance. Time went on, but the expected engagjement was not Jack Edmunds came down again, and it was known in the village that the two Miss Leroys had dined at Clovelly. There was likewise a rumour that Cecily had chosen new wall-papers for some of the rooms. What the supposed fiances were waiting for nobody knew, unless it was the return from America of Cecily’s only brother, Gordon. More thajj one lady had tried to question Miss Leroy delicately upon the subject, but the latter seemed fluttered by such attempts, and edged away from her interlocutor as quickly as possible. Cecily was usually at hand, too, to protect her aunt; and did it with a roguish look in her sparkling eyes. Wytham had become fairly resigned to the idea that the girl was to marry the Major, when the latter, without a single adieu, departed from the village; nor could his housekeeper say for certain when he was likely to return. To add to this, the younger Miss Leroy had been seen walking in the lanes with a well-dressed man, a stranger, whom she appeared to know very well indeed. This was somewhat staggering, and those interested in the matter began to wonder whether naughty Cecily had merely flirted with her elderly admirer pour passer le temps, and then heartlessly refused him when he came to the point. It was, of course, horrible of her, if this were the truth, but the thought had its consolations. Very little was seen of the Misses Leroy — aunt and niece—in those days, and presently they went away to pay a round of visits. One sunshiny afternoon the church bells rang out a merry peal, and continued to ring, while folks asked each

other continually what the meaning of it might be—a question which nobody secincd to be iu a position to answer. The ringers themselves professed not to know what happy event they were celebrating. “’Tis the Duke ‘of Wellington s birthday,” said one wag. “Get along, it’s for the downfall of hold Boneyparte!” suggested a second. While the bells were still clanging, the down train steamed into the station, and Cecily Leroy descended from a firstclass compartment, beautifully dressed as usual, and looking very smiling and happy. She was alone, and, giving her luggage into the charge of an out-porter, the young lady started to walk home through the village. The first person she came across was. old Mrs Cullen in her wheeled ehair. _ “Dear me, I thought the bells were ringing for .your wedding. Miss Cecily!” the. old dame called out briskly. <? Oh, no, Mrs Cullen, they are ringing for Aunt Evelyn’s,” answered the girl, her eyes dancing with merriment. “What in the world do vou mean, child?” “I only mean 'what I say. The bells are ringing because Aunt Evelyn and Major Edmunds were married this morning in London. Won't you congratulate me, please Mrs. Cullen? It was ( who made the match and ordered the bells to be rung.” The speaker’s voice was very demure. “Well, I never!” Mrs. Cullen dropped into old-fashioned ejaculations when anything took her by surprise. “You have been very sly about it, Miss Cecily. Why was it kept such a profound secret, pray?” The girl laughed gaily. “Oh, auntie Wlas so desperately shy about it,” she cried. “If it hadn't been for me I believe Major Edmunds would never have set foot in our house. You see he and Aunt Evelyn fell in love with each other at Clovelly, when they were young, but grandpapa made them separate—the old tartar! The Major had next to no money in those days, I suppose. However, he got auntie to promise to run away’ with him. but when it came to the point—he was actually waiting for her at the station with the tickets taken, poor dear man!—she hadn’t the courage to do it. and left her lover in the lurch. She never forgave herself for being such a broken reed, and when Major Edmunds came to live here —though it was years afterwards—she could hardly bear to meet him.” “Quite a romance!” said Mrs. CuiJen. “I am glad it has ended so happily. You acted as go-between, then, Miss Cecily ?” “Oh, I saw something was the matter directly I came back,” was the cheerful reply, "and it’s easy to put two and two together, you know. Aunt Evelyn told me long ago why she had never cared to marry, though she did not tell me her lover’s name. Then the Major made a clean breast of it, and asked me to help him, and so, well”— here the speaker gave a little laugh—• “I took up the trade of matchmaker. Dear Aunt Evelyn, I assure you, didn’t look more than eight-and-twenty when she walked down the aisle this morning. They are gone to Paris for their honeymoon.” “You have taken us all in finely, Miss Cecily,” remarked the old lady, “and tricked us out of a wedding. But there

is one Miss Leroy left, and remember, we shall expect her to be married wt Wytham. 'What do you say to that?” The girl blushed prettily. “Very well. Mrs. Culieu; but you must wait until the autumn, please.” “I knew there was somebody,” said the other, smiling. “Well, yes,” confessed Cecily, “and he is coming to stay at Clovelly as soon as Major and Mrs. Edmunds are back from Paris.”