CHAPTER XXI.—(Continued.)

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIII, Issue 20, 11 September 1885, Page 5

CHAPTER XXl.— (Continued.)

May perceived this yielding of her a iat with dismay and resentment, and the ceremony of the talking over produced no satisfactory results. Miss Martha, on this occasion, found her sitting in ihe farthest corner of her room, under the elopiug wall, with her bands locked in her lap, and her mouth tightened up into a straight line of determination. " 1 know what you are coming to say, Aunt Martha," she said, drawing still farther back into her corner, but speaking lorn] and plain : " I never expected that you would go over to the enemy." "The enemy, my darling I Indeed, there is no enemy. I am just going to a9k you to thiuk seriously of the thing. The young man is good and amiable, and will make an excellent husband. My Maj would be a lady, and could go and come when and where she liked." " I don't want to go, nor to come," said May, " only to stay where I am " ; and she locked her feet together, as if, in that identical corner, she had resolved to live and die. " I should no longer have any anxiety about providing for your future." " Never mind that, aunty ; I can turn milk-maid any day," " You shall not need ; but what I mean to say is, that a good husband is a treasure not to be met with every week." " Rut I don't want a good husband every week, nor any week, nor a bad one either. How nicely you have done without oue yourself, Aunt Martha ! " " Oh I of course, if you desire to be an old maid "—said Mis 9 Martha. "I do not desire it ; I desire nothing of the kind ; but I had rather put np with it, as you have done, aunty, than sell myself, for even twenty thousand a year." "My dear, you never spoke to me in that way before. Nobody ever said yet that I ' put up with it.' I have always "—" — "Now, now, aunty," said May, springing from her corner at last, and putting her arms around the old lady's neck, " you know very well that you put up with it because you could not marry the person you like ; and I love you for doing it. and I mean to do the tame." "Do the same ! " echoed Miss Martha, in astonishment ; and then she saw that May's eyes were wet with tears. " The very same ! " said May, laughing. "And you must promise to say nothiDg more about this matter ; but try to get Mrs. Lee to take her poor son away. It is quite time that we two old maids had this house to ourselves again." Ou Friday morning, as May walked down the garden path, a gentleman met her coming towards the house. He was dressed like a cleigyman, but earned a gun. He took off his hat, and introduced himself as a friend of Mrs. Lee, who had come by appointment to see that lady. May bade him welcome, and accompanied him to the house, knowing very well that here was the parson come to marry her. She conducted him to the parlour where Christopher was sitting, and did not think it advisable to awake Mis. Lee, who had slept longer than usual, in consequence of much trouble and excitement, and many wakeful nights. What passed between Christopher and the parson has never been recorded. After they had been for some time shut up together, May saw, from an upper window, the two meu walking side by side down the path to the gate. Christopher was leaning on his htick and walked slowly, and locked downcast but dignified. The parson was noading his bead, and talking briskly ; and as he went away shook hands a second time with Christopher over the gate ; then Mr. Lee returned slowly to the house. Soon afterwards Mrs. Lee came to light, and held private converse with her son for half an hour. There were sounds of weeping from the parlour during this time ; and at last Christopher led back his mother to the door ot her own room, where she returned to bed, and would take comfort from no one. Miss Martha sat with Christopher the rest of the day, while May kept aloof, feeling like a culprit. In spite of all she knew to the contrary, it seemed as if she mutt be to blame for Christopher's mishap. Towards evening she ventuied to bhow her face in the parlour. Aunt Martha had lett Mr. Lee to take a nap in his chair, but the young man was wide awake when May came stealing in. She brought him a vase of the latest flowere, including the very last rose of summer, as a needless peace-offering, and a vain little temptation to make him glad. Ohiistopher was not at war with her, but he could not be glad. He smiled over the flowers, and thanked her for her trouble ; and then he had a little more to say. " I am sorry and astamed for all the trouble you have had with us," he said. "Ii was a mons,tious thing to torment you as my mother and I have done. I beg of you to forgive and forget what has paBS d. We, shall leave you to-morrow, full of giatitu le for a 1 the kindness you have shown to a sick man ; and by and by I shall set to work and be a new creature. Will you give me your hand in token thai we are friends 7 " " Kight willingly," said May, giving her hand, and feeling sorely distressed. Christopher s eyes rilled witu tears, and he laised her finders to his lips. While she thus stood beside him, and he kissed her hand, there was a witness of this scene of forgiveness and farewi-il. The leaves fluttered at the window as the shadow came among ihem, and then disappeared. Christopher saw nothing, for his face was turned trom the window ; but May had glanced up quickly and seeo — Paul. She snatched her hand from Christopher with a little cry. " What is it 1 " he said, fearing he had offended her ; but she said : "Oh nothing I " and muttered something about the window, so that

he thought she had seen a strolling beggar ; but May was gone from the room before he could make up his mind. She had nearly run. down Bridget, who was bringing in the tea-tray and candles, and then stopped in the hall, and assured herself that she ought to go to her own room. Wnat, hide in her own room when Paul was outside, hurrying away, never to come back any more ! He had come at an unlucky moment, and had seen what might make him think that he need not come again. She wrung her hands in an agony of indecision, and finally flew down the passage to her own room. But at the tnd of the pa-sage, there was an open door, through which the moon was shining, and just hard by there lay on a bench a white apron belonging to Bridget, and a large woolen shawl of vivid colours, which the handmaid was wont to wrap round her bead and shoulders. May seeing these, a merry idea sparkled up through all the troubles in her mischievous head. She tied on the apron, and threw the shall over her head, wrapping it well about her face. She turned up her long dress, and made the apron very conspicuous. Then she went out of the door, and set off running across the fields. Paul, meanwhile, walking along the meadow-path, stopped at the stile to take a last look at the moonlit ruins and the cottage with the red lights in the windows, and thus caught sight of (apparently) Bridget coming running to overtake him, with her white apron flying, and her head and shoulders swathed up in the identical shawl, which he, in his character as peddler, had bestowed on her. May was at that moment thinking also of the peddler, and thinking delightedly that she was going to trick Paul as cleverly as Paul had once tricked her. " Oh, musha, sir 1" she said, as she stopped, panting beside him, and mimicking Bridget's voice, but ye do step out fast an' strong I long life to your honor ! Sure the breath is gone from me wid the runnin.' An' the naisthress wan in' the tay on yer honor ; an' begs wid her compliments, that ye will come back at wanst, sir, and not go ' way in such a hurry." '• I am much obliged to your mistress," be said, " but I could not think of intruding myself on the family at such a time." " Thin sich a what time, yer honor?" " Wny, at a time when you are preparing for a wedding," said Paul. " You will please take back my good wishes and farewell." " Oh, but please ypr honor, the misthress'l not be satisfied wid that for an answer. An' the weddiu's not to be till— to-morrow,'" said May, with a mischievous delight in tormenting him a little longer. " An' wj're not so busy as ye thiuk. She wants to see yersel'. >he'B despert^anxious to see you," emphasizing Bridget's favorite word. "So the wedding is to be to-morrow, is it ? Well, tell your mistress I congratulate the bride, and I certainly shall write to Miss Mourne— the elder lady, I mean— before I sail from the country." '• An' ye won't come back, sir?" said May, feeling blankly that she had gone too far in humoring his fancy about the wedding. •■ No, my good girl ; I am sorry for giving you so much trouble. You will please take this little present from me to buy a new dress." May whs dazed with her utter failure. She had just enough presence of mind to know that she ougnt to keep up the character she had assumed ; she must accept the money, and Bridget should be the richer for it. But May quite forgot that though she had borrowed Bridget's shawl, Bridget's hands weie at home ; and she held out a hand which was surely her own, and which Paul knew as well as he knew her face. How could brown, buxom Bridget give forth such a bit of s iow into the moonl'gbt 1 •' What is this ? May 1" cried Paul, looking down at the little hand as if it had been a thing not of flesh and blood. " It means that Bridget wanted to thank the peddler for her shawl." said May, dropping a courtesy. " That is all it means. An' now, plaze, sir, shall Bridget take bick your message to her misthress ?" "I feel that I ought to be highly flattered by this mark of attention from Mr. Lee's bride," said Paul with some scorn in his face, as he drew back a little, as if in disgust, from the very lovely figure which the moonlight shone upon. " Don't call hard names if y>u please," said May. (> lam not accustomed to it. I never was called a bride before in my life." "1 his is strange conduct," said Paul, sternly, •' fora lady who is going to be married to-morrow." " It would be a little odd m that ease," said May. '• Would be? Why, do you forget that you have just told me that the wedding is to he to-morrow ?" " So it is, ' said May, plucking the thistledown that grew by the Btyle. "Bnuey Fegan and Judy Lynch are to be married in the morning, ienants of Aunt Martha's. Bridget is to be the bridesmaid. " Pshaw 1" said Paul, impatiently, with a stamp of his foot. " Have I not spoken with the parhon who was brought here especially from Dublin to perform a marriage at Monasterlea?" " Have you ?" taid May. " How simple you are, both you and he. It is only in romances that one hears of a wedding witnout the consent of the bride." '• Then you are only trifling with this poor man and his wonderful fortune — just as you are trying to make a fool of me 1" The moonhgnt gleamed vividly a moment ou a li;tle white wrist and baud, as Muy tossed up her handful of thisile-d'-wn into the air ; and then she turned suddenly round upon Paul. For one moment she looked the image < f womanly indigna ion, and op.ned her lips to t-peak htr mind in good earnest ; but huddenly tier m..od changed. Without ba> ing a word hhe threw Bridget's snawl once more uver her head, dropped a prim couite^y to her unmanageable lover, and t-et off walkiug as fait as bhe could towards the house. Upon ibis Paul regained his seusea immediately, and found tt.at he was not at all prepared to turn about and coutinue his way towards Australia, without further explanation of the state of affairs at Mouasteilea. His pain had made him rude, and at least he could not go without offering an apology. He started off to follow May, and, with a few swift strides, came to bur side.

11 May !" he cried, fervently, at her ear. But May tripped on, and did not appear to have heard any one speaking just at her back.

" May !" he cried again. " Speak to me 1 You must not leave me in this way. You must give me some explanation of the things I have seen and tne stories I have heard."

" She was spakin' to yer honor long enough," said May, talking over her shoulder as she still sped along. "As for me, I'm only Bridget, an' I'm going home wid my messaee."

" For Heaven's sake stop a moment — Bridget /" cried Paul.

" What have ye got to say to Bridget?" she said, slackening her pace a little. " I want you to tell me something about your young mistress. Will you swear that she is not engaged to marry Mr. Chris'opher Lee ?"

" By my feth I will !" " That she never was engaged to him ?" " By my troth I will 1" " That she does not care about him, except as a friend ?" " I never swore so much in all my life before ; but I'll swear that, too. Is there any more ?" " That he did not ask her to marry him ?" " I couldn't swear that." " Well, then, will you swear that she refused him ?" •'Ay, will I!" " And why was ths parson brought from Dublin to marry them 1 " Och ! sure that was but the crazy fancy of a px>r mother in throuble." " One word more, Bridget. Why did your mistress refuse to marry this rich man?" '• Thin, that's a saycret of her own. If ye want to know that ye must ax taersel.' " " For Heaven s sake, stop, and speak to me in earnest for a moment. Is this all true that Biidget has been swearing?" " I would not keep a servant that would swear against the truth, Mr. Finiston." " Will you answer me one more question, as May, not as Bridget? Why have you refused to marry Mr. L'e?"

•' For a great many reasons. A great many more than I have time to tell you now. The tea will be waiting, and I must give an account of myself."

"The tea waiting! I declare it shall wait until 1 hear my sentence from your lips, May ! Do you rememb-r all I said that last evening four weeks ago ?" ''Yes, I rememb r it. You were very uncivil. ' "I was mad. I am an unhappy pers in to have anything to do with. lamof a dangerous nature, unc rtain and moody."

"Do you thiuk I am so stupid as not to have found out all that ong ago ?' •' And in spite of all that, May, will you marry me ?" " I will, Paul. That is, if you would like it very much." '•Like it 1 Ob, my darling !' "But the tea, Paul! The tea will Vie cold. An 1 the whole house will be turning out with lanterns to look f >r m '.'' Nevertheless, the tea went on cooling for at least ten minutes longer ; and, when May slipped in at last, to take her seat behind the teapot, she was rebuked as she deserved by her Aunt Martha. " I met a friend, aunty," she s. id ;•' and he is coming in to see you." '" A friend '" said Miss Martha ; and then Paul appeared. (To be continued.)