[COPYRIGHT STORY.] THE LEGEND

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 22, 27 May 1908, Page 49

[COPYRIGHT STORY.] THE LEGEND

By

THOMAS COBB.

(Author of “Mrs. Erricker’s Reputation,” "The Amateur Emigrants,” etc.)

1 THINK,” said Lady Bertrand, on the point of rising from the din-er-table, “the best plan will be to put it to the vote!” “Electric light versus moonlight, don’t you know,” exclaimed Freddy Carthew.

“The drawing-room or the terrace,” said Lady Bertrand. “All those who are In favour of the terrace will please to signify the same in the usual manner,” cried Guy, the son of the house, and amidst an outbreak of laughter a dozen hands went up. “Carried unanimously,” said Gertrude Sinclair, at Freddy’s right hand, and then Lady Bertrand, rising from her chair, led those guests of her .own sex out of the room.

Lord Bertrand set a good example by lighting a cigar, the decanters were passed round and ten minutes later, Guy opened one of the long windows and the men trooped forth to the terrace. There Guy, without a moment’s hesitation, made his way towards Gertrude, who was talking to her sister Risaline, over whose chair he bent. “The moon is almost at its zenith,” he whispered, as if the circumstances were fraught with the most pregnant meaning.

“It seems to lend a consecration to the ruins,” she answered.

“Anyhow.,” said Guy, “distance will lend enchantment to the view.”

“I think it is quite perfect from here,” she insisted. “Distance from the—-the crowd, I meant,” whispered Guy with an expression of entreaty. Rosaline arose, drawing the edges of her long white cloak more closely over her low frock, and together they.walked down the broad stone steps to the park, turning to their right in the direction of the ivy-covered ruined castle, within a stone’s throw of which Lord Bertrand’s present sea had been built. “Don’t you think,” murmured Rosaline “that the spirit of romance must be abroad this glorious night?” “A rather intoxicating spirit,” suggested Guy. “On the contrary,” she retorted, “it seems everything that is soothing and reposeful! ” “The sort of night when ghosts do walk ”

“If they have anything resembling good taste,” cried Rosaline, with a laugh. It was her first visit to the neighbourhood “Of course,” she added, “the place has its legend?” “Oh, dear, yes,” said Guy. “Are you going to tell it?” “I inveigled you here for the express purpose of telling you ” “Is it about the founder of your house?” she asked hastily. “A namesake of my own,” he answered. “But he lived—it must be 300 years ago. You can see his portrait in the gallery, so that the story must be true. I want to keep to truth to—night, you understand. He fell in love——” “I suppose,” said Rosaline, “that goes without saying.” “They were to have been married within a week; then she disappeared." “Where did she go?” ' “The legend sayeth not. Guy was in no—no end of a bad way; he shut himself up in what was then the castle; refused to see anybody; became something resembling an ascetic, and took his walks abroad at midnight.”

They had reached the entrance to the ruin, and now strolled slowly along the well-trimmed lawn which was enclosed by the roofless, ivy-covered walls.

,“You already make me feel a little creepy,” said Rosaline. - - —

“Will you take my arm?” suggested Guy, and after a moment’s hesitation, she placed her fingers upon his sleeve. “One night, several months afterwards,” he continued, “my predecessor saw someone who at first he thought must be the woman he had lost; she was dressed in white, bareheaded, entirely alone!” “Her ghost, of course,” said Rosaline,

with a rather nervous laugh. “He approached and spoke; she seemed to smile upon him, and seeing she was unattended, he offered his escort. This she declined, nor would she tell him where she came from or anything about herself.”

“I think,” suggested Rosaline, “if you don’t much mind we will walk towards the terrace again.” “Night after night,” continued Guy, leading Rosaline towards the entrance, “they met in the same place, and presently his melancholy forsook him; he made inquiries in the neighbourhood, but could hear of no one who answered her description.” “Why,” demanded Rosaline, as they came to the park again, “didn’t he appeal to the fountain head?” “He did, but she refused to gratify him. He told her of his loss, and she approved of his,, constancy—” “That ought tb have enlightened him surely!”

“You must, understand,” said Guy, “that he was on the' horns of a dilemma; because while she reminded him of her who was lost, he could not believe she was the identical being. He could not make up. his. mind whether she was the woman he had loved, who had' come back to him, or whether she was merely a beautiful phantasm sent to prove his constancy.” “Poor young man!” murmured Rosaline. “He had never been able to put a hand upon her, although he longed to take her in his arms—” “Whether she was his first love or not!” suggested Rosaline. “Until at last,” said Guy, “curiosity seemed to overwhelm every other feeling!” “What was the result?” she asked.

“Well, that is wrapped in mystery.”

“Oh, but what a dreadful anti climax,” answered Rosaline. They were by this time well into the park which surrounded the house, and one or two of the other guests might have been seen strolling amongst the trees. But Guy, with Rosaline fingers still on his arm, led her towards the lake which shone like silver in the moonlight. “One night,” he continued, “my namesake determined to put an end to the doubts which seemed to be driving him mad. He began an eager petition for information—who was her father, who was her mother? had she a sister, had she a brother?—when in the midst of things she looked so entrancing that he fell on his knees and poured out his tale

of love instead.” “Was lie rewarded?” asked Rosaline, as she was led slowly towards the lake.

“With a condition, [f my predecessor could be content to take her on trust,

just as she was, without knowing anything further about her, she promised by and by to be his.” “Did he agree to that?”

“Oh, well. I suppose the poor chap was in a mood to consent to anything.” “Then the old order has changed.” she suggested, tqrning to look into Guy’s face.

“You know,” he returned, “we are a conservative race. Anyhow, he consented eagerly enough, and they continued to meet night after night at the same hour. borne limes people saw them —it

is said people see them still, you must understand, walking arm in arm—” “Where?” asked Rosaline, tightening hei' fingers on Guy’s arm. “Usually to and fro in this avenue —” “I fancy I can make out Gertrude and Freddy Carthew,” exclaimed Rosaline. “But,” continued Guy, “one night ” “They seem to be coming towards us,” said Rosaline. “I daresay Freddy is bringing your sister to the copse where the nightingales sing,” answered Guy. “One night,” he added, “the couple separated close to the castle which is now a ruin; he held her in his arms and kissed her and she tripped off, refusing as usual to let him accompany her. But his curiosity had broken bounds. He had made up his mind to disregard her conditions; to play the spy upon her- ”

“Then he followed her?” said Rosaline. “I wish,” she added, “you would be quick and tell me before those others get here!” “It was a pitch dark night,” Guy explained ; “I daresay he had selected it purposely. He waited until she had run a few yards, then treading lightly, followed in her footsteps. They must havs come along this avenue ”

“Towards the lake?” asked Rosaline, and again Guy felt her fingers tighten on his arm.

“Perhaps,” he said, “the keenness of the ,e.has& prevented him from realising his direction. You must imagine her flitting, white figure, her light steps .over the grass, the black night, and Guy following fascinated in her wake.” “But where did she lead him?”

"That is the whole of the legend,’’ returned Guy. “He disappeared precisely as his earlier love had done. Whether his fascinator was a being not of this earth, whether the fate to which she seems to have lured him, was miserable or blissful beyond compare or merely nirvana—all that must be left to one’s imagination.”

“Well,” said Rosaline, “whether she was natural or supernatural, I think she was extremely foolish!” “Why?” asked Guy, as they stood by the lake.

"lhe suggestion is that she lured him to his death in the water, whereas she might have lived happily ever after inside the far more comfortable castle. I should have preferred that.” Guy turned abruptly and one of her hands being already on his arm, he grasped the other: “Should you?” he whispered.

“Oh, well,” she answered promptly, “that would be nicer than the bottom of the lake amongst the eels.” "Will you?” asked Guy. “You forget that I—l am not a ghost,” cried Rosaline, and immediately a laugh rang out from the edge of the copse a few feet away. “Upon my word. I’m most awfully glad to hear that, don’t you know,” exclaimed Freddy. Flushing quite painfully in the moonlight. Rosaline tried vainly to withdraw her hand.

"Is it really and truly only you, Rosaline?” cried Gertrude. “You see,” explained Freddy, coming to the fore, "Lady Bertrand has been telling us the legend of the castle.” "So —so Freddy suggested we should go and look for the ghosts,” said Gertrude. “By JoVe, we thought wc had come across them,” exclaimed Freddy, with another laugh. “We saw two shadowy forms in the avenue,” persisted Gertrude, “exactly where Lady Bertrand declared they walked. And she was dressed in white and he was bending over her “Upon my word,” said Freddy, "it was enough to give one a shock. Seriously, I begin to think we had dropped upon Guy and his betrothed, don’t you know.” “Well, so you had,” answered Guy, and as Rosaline raised her eyes in mute expostulation, he stooped, kissing her lips.