SHORT STORY

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 388, 15 October 1903, Page 7

SHORT STORY

(Continued from last week ) 'My dear Mrs. Lee,' cried the good lidi63 .in choros, 'don't you know Joyce Melbuißh's father was Lis lordship's ccu3in ? That makes the gill a near kins woman to the whole family—to Viscount Marshlands and the Honourable Anthony, and to Lady Jinet and Lidy Clara-' ' Good gracious I? wied Mrs Lee, duly impressed; ' and how came Dr. Hepburn's daughter to marry the Earl's ccunn?' • Well, 111 tell you,' said the elder Misa Stow, 'though it seems strange ycu've never heard, for there was an awful fuss over the affair, J >yce Melhuish'a mother, Sybil Hepburn, was considered the beauty of the place. People ust dto eay that her father and brothers wanted her to marry Gabriel Lang, who had just passed splendid examinations and bought a partnership with Dr. Hepburn—l believe myself he waa very much in iove with her—but she wouldn't hear of him, for behead waa turned with all the flattery enmtot Then tin Colonel Stuait Melhuish lime to stay at the Towers. He was a micMleaged man, wonderfully handsome, lut with the look about him of having baei a dreadful rake, which, indeed, he had been. However, he was eupposei to have turned over a new leaf, for he was lately engaged to marry her ladyship's sister —who "was no beauiy, but had a fine fortune. I don't think it ever came cnt how Sybil Hep.born and he Ecraped acqiuntance, nor where they met; but anyhow, in a fortnight's time they ran away together—Bhe from her father's house and he from the Xowers. Dr. Hepburn followed them to Paris and saw them married properly; and then he washed his hands of her. Colonel Melhuish had to eell out and disappear. I've heard he treated his wife very badly—but that's just what you might expect. It was a great disgrace to the whole town. And then fancy that foolish old man bringing the girl to live in his house—zight under her ladyship's very nose!'

The spring sun was shining cheerily down into the placid streets of Fen borough. The fresh, bright green of the elms and limes in Lord Fenborough's £ park made a tender, youthful setting to the time-worn, grave houses in Park Boad and the lilacs and laburnumß lifted clusters of gay blossom above the dull garden walls. Mrs." Hepbnrn stood at the dining-room window, looking into the street and waifr-

ing; bfae waa too excited to sit down. She wra, thinking of Joyce^mother,—Shebad not ventured to go to the station to meet the grand-daughter whom she mast welcome with each mixed feelings, She had, however, insisted that the doctor should go; moreover, she had hurried him off far too early for the train, and he had had twenty insufferable minutes to spend on the platform, whither, by some curious coincidence, the Misses Stow and Mrs Wyeth had bent their steps that afternoon. They stood at the bookstall, engaged in an apparently interminable argument over library books. They were obviously waiting for the London train, too. * Inquisitive old catß!' was the doctor's inward comment. He always maintained afterwards that Joyce's reputation would have had a better shance in Fenborcugh if those good ladies had not been eyewitnesses of her arrival. £ It waa easy to single her out at once among the half dozen or so of passengers who alighted ; a tall, shapely girl, dressed in deep mourning. First she looked up and down the platform with an air of self-possession, then she turned quickly to the door of the compartment from which she had alighted. ' My umbrellas, Marshlands,' she cried in a clear voice; 'they are up in the rack.' Then there appeared a young man, laden a rug-case, a fur cloak, a travelling-bag, and a roll of umbrellas. He was a email, rather plain young man, with light hair, and a pink complexion, and he looked rather awkward as he emerged with his load. The Misses Stow and Mrs. Wyeth exchanged scandalised glances. A. porter h ° llie< | ¥k ||flK*e4, hj« hat humbly, and relieved fate#£ the packages, i 'I suppose "there will be seme one to meet me?' went on Miss Melhuish. ' Just see, will feu, Marshlands V •Thank ycu, my lord,' said Dr. Hepburn, hurrying up and taking Joyce's travelling bag from the young man. 'How do, Hepburn?* said the heir to the Fenborough title, in a voice almost as condescending as that in which Joyce had been ordering him about ' You see, I've had the pleasure of escorting Miss Melhuieh. Tt-ta, Joyce, I leave you in proper hands.* 'An revoir,' is Joyce's answer. ' Come and see me soon.' 'My dear,' said Dr. Hepburn, as aeon as he had disposed of the necessary enquiries after Joyce's journey, * I had na idea you knew any of the Fenborough family.' Jojce didn't reply at once; she leapt back in the brougham and began to laugh, x can't help it,' she said; ' you called him 'my lord' so respectfully; and he looked eo important; and it seemed to me so absurd.' •My dear,' said Be. Hepburn reprovingly, 'there is nothing absurd about it. Every one here treats tfco Viscount with respect. He will be Earl of Fenborough some day.' But Jcyce did not stand reproved; her eyes shone with the laugh she repressed. ' Yes,' the said, * that alone is enough to make a prig of him. He is a prig, isn't he ?' tSk' No, my dear; certainly not.' „* Ah,' she replied, ' you don't know him as well as I do.' Dr. Hepburn stared in astonishment. • How is it you know the Viscount so wtU?* 'Because I've had exceptional opportunities for studying him. We ran up agaimt him at Homburg three years ago, and sicca then we bs,e run up agaiiicc him everywhere. He Beemed delighted every time, and I wasn't altogether sorry —I got such a lot of fun out of him.' ,My dear,' said the doctor, in a tone

Joyce Melhuish's Misdoings

that was meant to be really serious, ' you will have to give up getting fun out of Lord Marshlands here.' ' "Why ?' asked Joyce, turning a pair of liquid brown eyes on the c 11 man, •Btemse—because,' he began hesitatingly. ' now that you have come to Fenborough your lot is cast with your mother's people, and his lordship dosß not belong fro our circle —though he is your cousin.'

For all arswer Joyce laughed again. Then the carriage drew up at Dr. H*p. burn's door, and M.g Hepburn cimo out to welcome her grand-daughter, Bafore bedtime that night 6very one in Fecborough knew that Joyce Melhuish had travelled a!l the way from Paris with Lord Marshlands, and had ordered him about at Fenborough station as though she were quite used to having an earl's heir apparent to fetch and carry for her, which showed great depravity on her part. Brill, that was more easy to condone than the misdoing which was laid at her door before the lilac and laburnum flowers had sobered down it to clusters of seed-pods. Dr Lang's appearances in the Bmall srcial world of Fenborough were few and far between, hi 3 plea being that he was the wo; king partner of the firm of Hepburn and Lang, and that his time and energy w6io completely absrrbed by the lion's share of their large and important practice. But to Fenborough society D.\ Lang was eometbing abovo and beyond an ur questionably capable medicine man, and among the few marriageable meH of the qiiet, jog-trot town, not one conld Bhow tush credentials as his in good looks, good means', and good manners, S), despite his distaste for tea parties, music il evenings, little dinners and daacss, invitations were showered regularly upon him, and the good reasons he gave for refusing them were accepted without ill-will, because he had always treated every one alike, and because no scheming matron or susceptible maiden could insinuate tha* she had been dietinguished by his special attention.

But with Joyce Melhuish's advent this was altered, and Fenborough exchanged significant glances with itseif when it was reported that Dr. Lang had beeH playing teams nearly every evening for a whole fortnight on Dr. Hepburn's lawn, with Dr. Hepburn's grand-daughter. It might be, some one suggested charitably, that the public health was unusually good, and that the busy doctor had more leisure. On this presumption Mrs. Wyeth invited him to tea—without result, and hiß conduct was freely discussed in his absence.

• Otherwise engaged,' said; Miss Stow, with a sniff. 'Of course he is; we've just see him go into Dr. Hepburn's.' 'Ah, well,' rejoined the hostess, with asperity, 'if he's gone there, he's gone with his eyes open, I took my opportunity yesterday, when I met him in the street, and told him what every one but himself knows.'

«You mean about ,' and Misb Stow supplied the hiatus with a significant wave of her hand in the direction of Fenborough Park gates; 'and what did he say ?' 'He said he made it a point not to believe gossip.' 'Goßaip, indeed!' cried Miss Stow. ' Gossip! Why, our housemaid saw them with her own eyes yesterday evening. The Viscount was riding and she afoot in Lady Anne's Walk, and she was saying .- 'Marshlands, you're a noodle; you'll be late for dinner.'

'She's a terrible old woman, isn't she ? Now, come, Dr. Lang, I know I often talk nonsense, but you'll allow I'm uttering words of wisdom when I say that Lady Fenborough is a terrible old woman.' * She isn't old/ said Dr. Lang, smiling ; she's barely forty-six. Shall you call yourself old at that age ?' • You're begging the question,' replies Joyce severely; *it doesn't matter what people call themselves—they are what other people call them. Besides, I'm really angry with Lidy Fenborough. It appears that she has the impertinence to resant my- existence—that she has hinted to my grandfather that I must.be careful not to come between the wind and hex nobility.' Dr. Lang made no reply; he had come to Dr. Hepburn's that afternoon with the quixotic intention of warning Joyce that the tongue of. gossip was busy, with what was no doubt an accidental meeting between herself and her cousin. He had adroitly led the conversation towards the subject, and the result of his diplomacy was this philippic, 'She may be a countess,' continued Joyce vehemently, ■ that doesn't prevent her being a snob. I saw her take my measure the first Sunday in church. Oh, how she surveyed ma from the lofty height of the Fenborough pew! If she were as clever as you all think her, she would act differently towards me. Do you know she has forbidden Marshlands to keep up the we made abroad ?' 'ls Lord Marshlands such a very dear friend, then ?' he asked, which was not at all what he had meant to say. ' Good gracious, no!' was the answer; 'but why should she keep him away? Put yourself in my place. What would you say if you were I ?' 'l* would Bay nothing,' replied Lang warily. ' 1 would be as prudent as possible.'

' Of ; course you would/ cried Joyce; 'it seems to me that Fenborough folks wished it. But I thought you were a little more independent.' 'One.is all the more independent for being; * little ►prudent/ he rejoined significantly. • Ah! I know what you are driving at,' sbe said, laughing; 'gome of those old puisieß have Been me talking to Marshlands ia the park. If I had been piudent they couldn't have seen me. And you,' she continued, raising her brown eyes frankly to hie, 'are you tbinking all sorts of horrid things of me ? Are you going to orderme never to speak to Marshlands again?' He felt a strange thrill run through him from her liquid eyes. ' I shonldn't presume to give you orders of any sort,' lie esid; ' but I should like to give you a little advice. I am much older than you, you know, and I take a great interest in you for the sake of old times, and for—' He paused, stumbling over words that seemed to come unbidden.' ' You are very kind,' she said, and he thought he caught a sound of mockery in her voic9; ' well, I shall value your advice, so pray let me have it.' For answer he held out hig hands, and

i taking both hers, stood for a moment wondering what had happenod.to him. 'J>yce,' cajie Mrs. Hapburn's voice from tke window, « here is tea. Dr. Ling, will yon come and have a cup ?' ' Thank you, Mrs. Hepburn,* was the startled answer. , I fear I mustn't; I've got such a heap of work »aiting*at§homa. - 'Joyce,' said Mrs. Hepbnrn severely, "When they ware alone, ' what have you been sajing to C\ L\ng? He looks so serious.'

*He always looks serious,' said Joyce. 'Moreover, he had been doing all saying.' Whatever work Dr. Lang had hurried home to do that evening he neglected shamefully. When he went to bed at midnight the result of hi i labours was contained in a short letter to a London friend who wanted a change oE air. The next morning he told Dt. Hepburn that he was going to exchauge practices for a month with a doctor at S termey. • It's Mowbray,' he conclud „, - jou remember Mowbray ?' Yea, D;, Hepburn rcmemberod him—it was all right. He made no objection, so Gabriel Lang beat a retreat with flying colours. The East End of London is not a charming place to work in in the summer, especially when a man is too busy to go westward for a breath of fresh air. Dr. Lang, however, was glad to be busy. He had come away from Fenborough determined to work so hird, that he should quite forget how nearly he had all/wed niroself to drift along the current of what he had taken to b3 old mamories into a flood of new passion. But among the many strange thing 3 he came across in Stepney he found no river of Lathe, and the further he removed hfnnelf from Joyce's neighbourhced the more vividly her presence was with him. In fact, it is quite possible that Gabriel Lang would never have known how deeply he was in love if he had remained face to face with the danger of losing his heart. Daring the first week he thought no more of Joyce than he could help. Daring the Becond he found that the rustle of her soft dress came to him on the stifling London breezs, the echo of her v;ica in the clatter of tho L ndon streets, the light of her eyes in thaginmer of the hazy London stars. During the laat fortnight he counted the days, then the hours, until he should be back ht Fenborough. For a new rfEolva had ousted his old one. ' I will have it out with her,' he sail to himsalf. * She can but say no. Anything is better than this 3tate of indecision.' Ha reached Fenborough by the afternoon traiD, and an hour later he bad walked up Park Road and was er quiring at Dr. Hepburn s door first for the doctor, then for Mrs Hepburn, lastly for Mhs Melhuish. * The doctor and Mrs Hepburn are out driving,' was the answer, ' and Miss Joyce—3b 6's gone ftr a walk in the park.* Then Miss Stow, from her old post of vintage, saw Dr. Lang take the little passage beside Dr Hepburn's garden wall which led into Fenborough Park. He wouli not look for Joyce, ho told himself, as he sat diwn on a bench among the trees, but if she came home that way he would take it as an omaa. The air was heavy *i.h the sceßt of the limes and busy with the hum of c untless insects. The sinking sunlight dancud in quaint arabesques on the gras3. He drew in a long breath—all the old things seemed so new—and there was an oppression at his heart which was neither joy nor pain. What could he say to her? No wojds would formulate themselves in bis mind. He could scarcely think. Presently among the trees he heard a murmur of voices coming nearer—a murmur too low to be distinguishable, He got up restlessly. He had not thought that others might be coming by before Joyce came. Then he stood suddenly still. He had come in sight of the speakers, but they had not seen him. They stood hand-in-hand taking a lover-like leave of one another, and the shifting light fell on the faca which had been his dream all these foolish nights and days, and then he saw Lord Marshlands draw Joyce Melhuish—who made but a faint resistance—to his breast and kiss her, not once nor twice, on her forehead, her cheeks, her [lips. Suddenly Bhe lifted her head, and seeing that they were not alone shook herself free, and flew, rather than ran, past him, while Lord Marshlands walked slowly towards the invader of his paradise. ' Congratulate me, Lang,' he said, holdj ing out his hand with rather a forced laugh. 'We've just settled it all, and now I've only got to talk to the governor and the mater.' » Bather a big 'only,' isn't it ?' said Lang grimly. * Oh, there'll be a bit of a tussle, no doubt,' said his lordship,' but I shall hold my own. She's worth it, you know.' The next morning, before ten o'clock, Park Boad was astonished by seeing the Fenborough carriage stop at Dr. Hepburn's, and the doctor himself was more than a little flurried when his study door opened and Lady Fenborough, her cheeks unusually pale and her lips contracted, entered the room. * I have come for a few minutes's priv-. ate conversation, Hepburn,' she said in a hard, dry voice, without "any preliminary greeting. 'I knew I should find you at this hour.'. ' I trust your ladyship was not feeling indisposed?' said the doctor nervously, trying to repress a vague misgiving. ' I am feeling far mare than indisposed,' replied the great lady. feeling seriously annoyed—seriously angry.' ' I am Eorry to hear it, but if I can be of any use I shall be most delighted.' ' I don't think you will be delighted,' went on her bdyship, with increased acerbity. *I am come to insist that you send Miss Melhuish away from here this very day.' ' Send Joyce away at a moment's notice? But why, Lady Fenborough ? Nay, .it would be—' •But you must,' interrupted her ladyship, 'unlessl am to understand that you are conniving at this disgraceful affair, and that you aid and abet her in this entrapping of Lord Marshlands.' * Disgraceful affair—Lord Marshlands —connivance V repeated the old man, bewildered. 'I fail to see what your ladyship means, (To be concluded next week.)

The printer and the advertiser Bhare the blame for tbe following advertisement: '"Wanted, a youth to attend to poultry of a religious turn of mind.' One wants a little preparation for such an announcement as this: ' For Sale.—A grand piano by a lady with superbly carved legs who is leaving England I %he addition of a mark of punctuation will often cause as much amusement as the Qmiseion. A New York society journal a short time ago had a strange story of a ball at the White House. The reporter was describing the dresses, and, it would appear, was rather hurt that a certain kdy, who usually supplied special copy by her originality in gowns, did not on this occasion come out in anything new Her fall from her usual standard of originality and excellence was evidently to be dismissed in the few words: ' Mrs Nestor wore nothing in the nature of a dress that was remarkable/ but the demon of the printing-house was loose that Eight, and next morning New York was horrified to see: ' Mrs Nestor wore nothing in the nature of a dress. That was remaikablo.'