MR. JEFFEY'S LOVE AFFAIR.

Auckland Star, Volume II, Issue 471, 14 July 1871, Page 2

MR. JEFFEY'S LOVE AFFAIR.

IAPTEB I. "Nonsense, Clk! how can you be so ! absurd?" 1 " It is all verjwell, Edith, to say • nonsense,' but I hre eyes and I can use them; and if evr there was a case of—' Here the fairqpeaker was interrupted once more by hertsister, Miss WinAhrop, for sisters they itere. When one 'fyng lady informs anoter young lady, tlu vkhe is talking nonsenp, and enters a vT Hat against her absuijity, it may be take^vor granted that thepubjeot of conversation . is matrimony; prdimato or remote, in the j background;" and that the impeachment "reßuttea"with so petty* a show of indigna- '.. J tion is what sone people are fond of ' describing as thej" gentle passion." " On my wordiEditb, the match would be a highly eligible one,"" remarked Miss Clarajf ;witkj inlefatigable pertinacity. "The table of prohibited affinities will not, it-is true^albw a young-lady to elope with her grap.i: ajher; but it, says nothing about the impropriety of being led to the altar by a gentleman old enough to be one's grandfather. Goodness gracious!" spasmodically ejaculated the volubta and versatile young lady, starting np % the 7 window; "there's Strephon himself in the person;.of our most respectable and elderly benefactor, coming up to the door. I shall be ojff,' Edith." ,; t«: "Cjlara, A ; .wonder how, you; can—" But beforeithe remonstrance wasrspokto farther, Miss Clara!Winthrpp hadnashed from ths room. •<. GS.I .. It was a3pretty httle house, Lily Lodge, Hampsteadr,A.and the Miss JWinthrops were two pretty girls—one fair, thoughtful, with deep blue eyes that were all gentleness^ who .never sppkeaf word of reo£le,ss,. merriment,, never tittered ... % syllabiejwhicH could wound the feelings of others';'. Clara, the. younger, a dark merry brunette, with laughing eyes and laughing teeth.all joy and thoughtlessness. Never were siatefcsr inipre unlike, and yet- ' & Though both upijke, they still are like in this— t_\vsy both ifa'roses. "'' ■' ' ~ . j " The two roses," was indeed a name which the pair had obtained amongst their friends. ..Two years ago. the Miss Winthrbfra 1 occupied ! 6hV oi the* largest houses in Hyde Park Gardens, and Clara . Winthrop was anticipating with eager joy '•_ the delights and;.', dissipations', of her first season.out. But*the nhan'ciial basis; upon which the Hyde Park mansion ', of i.thk, Wiiithrop, family xested.was in the city, and inanunluckyjnomentMr. Winthrop's city speculations;failed;/.and the Hyde : P,aj:k m^usipn. ~&Q,, far.»as». cpaceras. the ; family in whom we are how interested, fell to tho,ground*- Mr. Wintbropi ;him- ; self, did, not long survive 'his-'misfortune. iLong-protracted,anxiety had told severely .upon his system/and when he was broken '.financially, he discovered that he was [shattered physically. }• On Mr. Winthrop's death there, was ■scarcely'any protfision^left for- his .widow Lnd his two daughters, Edith and Clara, tally/ wftre casting ab|)iit in»Bctfe fpeW IpleXity What to do, when "Mr." Jeffery—a jgentleman some.what Tnare thai mi^dle£,ged^ wholowed muoh*;df his present goid tfortune to ALt. Winthrop's -seasonable help and- influence in days gone by—came to Mrs. Winthrop, and claiming the privilege of an old friend of her husband, and one-wh'6 owed more to her husband" than he could ever repay, begged to be allowed to be of what service he could. . Mr. Jeffery had; he said, just the house for Mrs. Winthrop und her daughters, his own; but it was now without a tenant; and' 7till: Mrs; tWinthrop l saw." anything which suiled her better, he must request. her to occupy it. The house in question was Lily Lodge, Hampstead. And there Mrs. Winthrop and her two daughters, with a nephew, a sailor who had just returned from a fiveyears',scrttise',";aigreat favourite with the family, were staying. i Miss Clara Winthrop was qtiite correct in giving her sister to^ understand . that Mr. Jeffery was approaching; .'ln a few ipinutes he was announccs,;>»nd as Edith rose to receive him, a blush came across that fair face, and there was a slight teemor inhervoiceas she said, . T? |."lam so sorry, Mr. JMFery, mamma is not feelingarery well to-day ; but I will so and telFher are here.' -A~--- -■■'- 1 .And Edith Winthrop was on the point of leaving the room. ""' ' * 7' ;'\ - j i *' My dear," was - the reply,," do not trouble yourself. Gladys lal^Sys am to see'-yoiirmamtnajT ca'me^htete to-day''fW 4* tjaye a few words with you alone. May $ have them, Edith ?"* f"/'? «° fl •"•.;," Jfl 1 Miss' Winthrop' tiiew Wfe'll'^hki.w'as |j cbming. It was not the first time, if the y truth is to be told, that Mr. Jeffery had - come £ jto_________Ml>k ftlonev >jQlara,- as, i^Q happened.'was quit3rJ^ghti. T there was a great deal more itj her lthtfe&chmentthan her sister had chosen orhad seemed to allow. She;had known it for a long time ; and Mr. Jeffery Ijad fora long time top 4 tal^e^L, po pains toponceal^whathisfeelyigl \ werej, towards the- daughter 3: of his old - friend. In all his life, till now, he had .-. never known what it "was to love. His •years had been spent in work, work, work. He had made for himself no home; he had , no family. ■• And now that he could allow himself some pause, he had suddenly discovered a-well-spring-of new feelings in his bre^st t -T-feelings of whose existence he had never even dreamt, >j Jt,,i« not true 1 ithat sentiments which are long repressed muft cease-eventually to exist/- On the \ c6ntri'lfy,;'it fe this }flier 6! fiict'Of regression '-*, which often causes them t6'AVs«»irt them- :! selves, though late, as.gjrongly as they do. Mr. Jeffery was what 3.ome.persons might an old man ; yet no youth—not that lKd df fiVe-and-twenty, who had just come , from, i se», .could have been more heart' * "ankl'soubwrapped'Jiih in Edith Winthrop. *\ Gradually^'slio' liad beobtoe' part.'arid "'** \ paa'o'6l tiMiis "Yf'ry^lxiisfence^-the sunshine '*" and'^latahlssjof bi^li/e; " When; 1 he" left IL4 ho'r^h^fell a'blaiifi In'his existence, and ! />£ tliaC^la^'k'w^B nb\f filled .tip till ho saw * ' bev^SJpii^'^^|^|||h t^j^^ knejY.Bf.tlie old-man'p/ove^kneV.^ob, of . o.he.rji^vevfpr her and herVbve for. some , j one°gyel ; - J>'ot. .tbftt slie ~cL]jl ; npt i^dped- ; ■ \° 4s*)x>V »v Jeffery i 1 1.'' jl?o.r' it let matter,- of 1. . S that,'' Edith h^d said,-oftqi-. enough \So*a ; herself, "so I love mamma * On this Afternpa&~ai briybfeCDeeeraber day—Mr. Jeffery took a chair close to Edjifchu iWdntlrfo'ptsi side.'' I Was, • Tk&S.pABQ T venyid)eftulilhT4«^ old? I maL'seye, thatita^-y>,loritf-*,Biohi/:he liadw''! evdrJbeheldl ' 1J" « ■•> '" «*i uhnu <i;-yi>-^>.^»} sxrtj iidith, my dear; youJkttaf whAVlucPf^ ■•Kali .%fis oi '{l^A—.tfaasltisiO owT '■•*? I .riywriO Dili Urn ««wb;l t j«wJi^fiS "M^'

And Edith Winthrop bowed her head, for she knew full well. "If you wish me not to speak, I promise you I will never speak of it again." But Edith wished him, she said, to speak. " You know," he went on, " how dear, hf w inexpressibly dear you have become Ime. God knows, my darling, if you a ecome my wife, I will do all- that mortal M in for your happiness. When I spoke St you last, you asked me to wait a *ortnight. That fortnight has passed—it is two weeks ago to-day. Am I too punctual, Edith ? Nay, I will wait till you tell me." "■*£' ° ¥" _*"'"?"' " Mr.^Tefferyi" was the iteply in fa low voice, g* nothing I cA do |caf; eter sufficiently thjink yoti foi—can eve* show how grateful "I am— for all your more than kindness. We owe to you that we' still have a mother living. The shock which came upon her at poor-papa's misfortune first, and then his death, would have utterly overcome her, had it not been for what you have done. You ask me, Do I love you? You know we all lpve you very, very much indeed. But— And here JKdith^was silent. What was she to say P How was she to proceed P She had said she loved Mr. Jeftery, and ■he had spoken the strict truth ; but was it the love which a wife should bear towards her husband? And vet could husband ever be found more noble, more «elf-denyiDg ? And as she thought of the burden of the old song, "An old man's darling," came .into her, mind..,— „,.. «_ "Then, Edith, will you be my wife? This is the question which I came to ask you to-day ; will you answer it now ?" Then came the answqf in W^knf2" tone:} -" It is not m6ch W v r-ettirfa i but skeM as I can give you, Ido give you.", . "Thank; you, my* darling^' wasJthe answer. And. the .old man kissed the forehead of his young loVei" Do not talk about a return; you [ have given me more than I can ever deserve. You"have made me, Edith, happief than I ever was before in my life/ , i-^.'.-.vfft

CHAPTER 11.

It was all settled between Mx^- Jeffery and Edith—had, indeed, been understood from the very first—tljero was. to, be no break-up in the family circte at Lily Lodge. | The hodge .they were, indeed,,tq leave ;' but they were all going' to be together at Mr v JefferyiS new house. in the. country,, about twenty'miles from tioiidori. The young sailor, cousin, Edward-Ger-vayse— Ned as he was always called— had been called suddenly awaytroin . Hampstead the very day after the events just mentioned'had-: occured-t-before Edith, had had time, or perhaps inclination, to proclaim the new.relations wbiph she and Mr. Jeffery mutually occupied. Red Gervayse was oiioel '' inore at Lily Lodge to spend his Christinas. Since.he had been away: he' Bad feoirie iii^for-a- slfee'bf luck, to use his own expression. The commandership of a coast-guard.station had fallen vacant, ai.id tin? .post had been offered to him. ..... Mf. Edward, .Gervayse^arrived at Inly Lodge in the Vefy highest spirits. lie Was a young gentleman of impulsive temperament, and he determined that, on the strength of his promo'ion, he wouldmake a certain declaration, in terms as explicit asthe English' language perinittedj to a certain young lady. Practically he considered that declaration had been already made. Edward Gervayse had never told his cousin Edith Wintnvop that he loved her ; he hod deemed such an expression oi sentiment to be superfluous'; but Edith, he felt convinced, was perfectly well aware of the real state of tEe case. It was on the day .befpre Chriatinas-eve, and they wdr'e busy J decking the* small rooms at JUly Lodge with holy andmistle-; toe. Kdward'Gervayse had only just arrived; ; Cl«ra jy.as o.utjb.ut Edith was .await-" iug him upstairs. There was a little struggle carried on.-underneath a. .piece of tho shrub which the ancient Druids used to— as the mod?ruho]usemaid>does; TT-.wor.ship. • But Edward at once saw, from the seriou$ f, look abeut,hb epusin'a face, Hmtr-.ahe' was. in a serious humour. " Edward; idear/* she said, •' I am so glad I have been the first to see you; for I should not like you Jtohnve>heard what ; I have to tell you from any other lips than mine." - " Stay," said Ned Gervayse ; " letuie^ tell you first 'what I have to say." f And Ned attempted "to repeat the cou sinlp salute; but his. lips paused'in Sad Mr. He was fcbrely^zzled at Edith's strdhge, absent, tearful look .; but hfe. went on,' told her everything ;-told her of the l^ck which had befallen him, and why lie esteemed it lack—told her how often he longed Elainly to ask her, as he did now, to be is wife, h\ip how,till now,he.had.delayed, because he5 felt it1 Vbulds be Wrong—told her — mJAi* i '■ iu*id ■'A i^H But Edith Winthrop burst into tears. ",Ned, deattat,"' She said," it > carmoti be " '• ■. ■ '•- And then EdilhWiritfirOplold Edward Gervayse everything. J- ->\ ■- ' . Ned. said few words in reply. At first, it is true; he'laughed tlie-notion to scorri. Edith was simply iasport—she could not mean ii. But when he fonnd that she not only could, hut did,,.lSdward,.Gervayse was Oil the point of giving utterance to some words of bitter anger; but he checked bimseifwheH he looked down and saw Edith's tearful,"aad|.yet: heavenly _____» «*:• ' X-\f r' SI^TT" ' ' «• Well," he says breakinga long-silence, " I shall go to the Cape." ; 1 He bent down, kissed herifo^eh^ad, and ltfl me room. ; * .„_ . * ; . C And Kdith—what of Edith P She sat as one stunned*. Till now she had. never realised in its faUiforce the promise she, had given—the deed she had done, rfhi tit on the low little.chair close to thehre, Sad she laid her facebnherhands Upon the _Me, and wept aud imoaned to •1% Ned lO u^ l<Jve/;pirlove} ' Lhat was all- Butiil'thkt-was everything- - She heard a voice call'- " Edith.. P|»e looked up—itwas.Mr, J'effery/ ':' . .., « That you' Mr. 'tfeflWy." &ey never told me you were here." ...... .;.;,-.■,-■■ ■■'■■ She noticed that^ Mr. jeffery ,<hd not I on this occasiondo iwha|i .hp tad so often done befqi#,, when, failed to address her. i^BiattMd.b^haaj^-by^is-UiwJstian. name, ask her "why she would ribf call him UtAOfffMtlSoS^JF°oi illTOha.« Uil "Yek, my dear. I Ji%iße.in!Si^me fd*r minutes since; out! di&not interruptyau; »nd indeed hMf_k_m X9*tm xt *hwe ia the twilight tffll thought I hkud jou

speak. I met your cousin Edward Gervayse on the stairs. It is well, I thmk, that he has returned. I came to tell you that I bave taken the box at the theatre for to-morrow night, ant I hope you and Clara and Edward Gervayse will come. And now, my dear, as I hare, an Wg*ment at six, I shall leave^ou, Gpd .bless you, Edifch." And Mfc<^eflfery I Was gone. Yes, he had only been in the room a few minutes ; but those few minutes, how much they had taught him ! He saw it all now. Fool, bliid that he was, only now to know what he should have known so long before —only now to have perceived that whett Edith Winthrop hadiprpmised to btfcoine'hik wife, it was Srafjtuflej not love, which had shaded ber.answer. ■ " O Ned! Oimy love^my lovfje! ;■? Yes, he had heard-tltose words utte/ed,-sind- be knew all their meaning; . Mr. Jeffery had Uttered a very venial kind of falsehood when he mentioned an engagement at six. He walked slowly and sadly home to his lonely chambers ; and he spent a sad evening in meditating With himself. He knew now the happiness which love might bring with it—happiness greater and better than happiness of any other kind; but it was too late^-But there was other happiness of anotherkdhd.. It was not too late for that.

CHAPTER 111

Mr. Jeffery had sent his carriage for the party from Lily Lodge, with a message that he would meet them in the box. They were all to come; indeed they all had dcfflg—ike twb Miss Wiiithrops and Edward Gervayse. But when they reached the box, No. 17, first tier, at the Theseum Theatre, Mr. Jeffery was not waiting to receive them. A note, howeTer, in Mr. Jeffery's handwriting was placed in Miss Winthrop's hand as she entered the box. She opened it; it was short, and ran thus :—

"My deab Edith—l know? now that I was mistaken from the first. * God forgive me, and you forgive me too. I had hoped, my darling—l must still cal' you that— and thought that you might have been my wife, and that your blessed bright face might ha? 6 j chdeifed >my fast dairkening and closing days. But it was not to be. J was wrong in thinking that it ever could be. I love you, too well, my darling, to stand between you and your happiness. I was blind. I only knew yesterday that you loved your cousin Edward Gervayse. To your cousin I give you; you will bave from me everything that you,would have had of worldly wealth bad you been my wife. May-God bless you, and have lor y|ou and your husband many happy days in store!

" Jame-s Jepfeky. "P. S.—l shall join you later at the theatre-to-night.".

\ That was all. The words were not many, b.ut the characters were traced in the blood of that true man's heart. And Edith WelTkn'ew the "struggle nay, the agony, which it must have cost him; and knowing this, knew also bow to estimate the nobility of the sacrifice. She handed th* niote to Edward Gravayse, and its purpose was communicated to Clara.

I " I always thought he would cry off," remarked that light-hearted young lady: l'- All men are jilts." JNot long alterwards, Mr. Jeffory cnme into the box. He shook Edward Gervayse warmly by tbe hand, and seemed to be in exci-llent spirits. But he soon ex cnsed himself, as before, on the ground of an engagement. As may be conjectured, Miss Winthrop is now Mrs. Gervayse; Mr. Jeffery still lives on' at his chambers ;'-and this is a true account of the only lovo affair which he ever had — English Society.