THE LOVERS OF TANGLE ISLAND.

Dunstan Times, Issue 617, 13 February 1874, Page 3

THE LOVERS OF TANGLE ISLAND.

BV ALBANY DE FONBLANQCE. ( From the Belgravia Annual.) “ You ean if yon like. Our’* is the last cottage on the London road, just before you come to the turn-pike." “ You have not told me your name." ‘•Waterton." “ Your godfather# and godmother# gave you another.” “ For the use of my family and intimates only,” said Mary, rather stiffly. “ Good. Now I must introduce myself. 1 am John Titsley, of the Grange, Harden, the man who prosecutes trespassers, and gets bullied in the newspaper# for wanting to enjoy bis own,” “ Now may we take your boat "’ asked Mary.

“ There is no necessity. Do you think 1 would have allowed you to carry out that mad idea? Your friend was in sight when I s-emed to agree. You will find him on the other side. ”

And sure enough at that moment wo heard Sam shouting for ns, ami both started np to join him. Aud so we left him. We found Sam very hot and tired, “ I’ve rowed like biases,” he said ; ‘-for they told me at. the mill that this island belongs to old Tilsley, and he’d have prosecuted you like a shot if he had caught you. ”

I don’t know why we did not admit that he had caught us; but m ilher of us did. Early the next week—l thick it was on Tues’ay—Mrs Brownlow |(of the library) dropped in to tea, as she often did. and brought us good news. All Mary’s draw - ing’s depositeilfwilh her for sale had been disposed of Hitherto we had cm sidered the sale of one in a fortnight as highly satisfactory, and here wore five bought an I paid fir in one dc i .htful s woof. When wo bc.au to talk about things in general, and 1 ft-ked her if tha knew Mr. Tilsley, of Mardcu.

’* Know him !” she said. “ Lord bless you, my dear, we’ve played together a< children times and often-. .My mother was housekeepsrj'at the Grange ; and no on--knows more about John Tilslcy than I do. He was only a second son then, and grew up wild, they said. Leastwise there Was trouble between him and the squire when ho came hack from Oxford, about money matters and that. Then he wouldn’t go into the Church, as his father wanted him; and ho made had worse by falling iu love with Mi a Allen, daughter of the Vicar of King’s Upton-him as was before Mr. Starcross. “Are you not content wih having beggared yourself, you fool!” the iiquiro roared, when Mr. Allen came over told him about it “ but you must try an I drag this girl into the gutter with you ?’ The next morning Master John was gone ; but before ho went (as we found out afterwards) he made his brother swear that lie would help him with Fanny Allen—receive letters for her, keep ap her heart about him,>nd all that. Master Will was very fond of Lis brother ; stood up for him to their father many a time, and got him out of lots of scrapes. Will swore he would do all he asked, and off went John to Australia, trusting him. Well, if you’ll believe me, that s.ieak of a Will went and made hue to Fanny on his own account, and married her. And there was John working away, and making a fortune, and writing her long letters every month (which were never delivered), telling her how he was getting on, and that he would sunn ho hack to make her his wife. My dears, wh'-n those two brothers met again, it was awful-awful, 'j hey well-nigh killed each other. Indeed, people did say that Master W r ill—he was the Squire then, for the old man died soin after John went away—never did quite get over it. Ho died too within the year, and lo John got the property. But, Lord ! it's no use to him : he’s regularly broken down ami soured. There wasn’t a merrier, more open-handed lad iu the country than John Tilslcy ; and when I hear people talking about his stinginess and prosecutions for tre.spas, ami that, I says, ’You go through what lie has, and sic if jou like it. 1 ” “ Badly as his brother had behaved, it must be an awful reflection for him that he Wss the cause of his death, ’ sa.d Mary, with a shudder.

“ nothing to do wilh his doaththat was ah gossip, Williiiid of rheumatic fever. John has no call to icpruach himself for w hat he's done."

1 asked her if Mr. Tililey was married. ‘ Gracious no ! VV by he hates the veiy sight of a woman, poor fellow.” Mr. Tilslcy came on Saturday for his picture of Tangle Island, and, to make my siory short, Mary agreed to paint him the companion pictuie of die other side, and he oil led i-o many limes while it was in pio gross that good Mrs. ]Jn widow took mu aside and warned me that people weie talking about us. So when the picture was done, I gave him ahj nt th. t he wasnot to call again. I appealed to him as a gentleman so fai removed flora our humble s plue r.s to be inadmissablcas an ordinary visitor, not to compromise my sister ; and when he hesitated, 1 told him romudy thar I would not let him do so. He made no reply : he only uttered a horrid curse, and strode away. The next thing we heard of him was'hat he had shut up the Grange and gone abroad. Two years passed. V e were prosperous and happy. We had a boat of our own now. and a man to row it, vice poor Sain Payn.', to whom my sister had felt heri-olf obliged to say *• Mo,” Mr. Tilsley had left word with bis Steward that, we were to go Tangle Island as much as we pleased. Uftsn we wont, and often talked of the “Bear;” but Mary would not make any more drawings of the place. Ouce,"whenl proposed we should take a cold dinner there and spend the day, she replied, quite sharply, that L ought to t« ashamedqfjtnyaelf fof nqt respecting hij <A www,

denunciation of. picnickers. T could not quite understand this, as Mary was hard upon huu in many respects, when we were speculating what had become of him. We were sitting on the same bank where we were lint caught trespassing, and again I began to wonder about Bruin. *• What it possibly matters to u», dear,” she said,” where he is sulking?” “ Don't call if sulking, Mary," I replied; think of all be has been made to sulfur.” “ That’s no reason why he should curse an I -<wear at people,, and bo disagreeable and uweentlemaply.” { ’ “ Upon my wor'V’ I said, “I think it is a pity you weie not the man of the family, you are so unromantio—out of your pictures.” f “ Don’t be so sure of that,” she answered; “I romance a good deal about poor Bruin. H i ha* been badly treated, and there must be much that is good in him. He would not have given up the whole tenor of his life, ond gone out to Australia without a sixpence, and made a fortune for the girl he loved, fif there were rot. Do you remember w hat he said about his mind hav inc run rank and, tended like this ia’and ? That idea, and Ids love for the solitude i f I he spot, shows'that bis sotnws have i ot brutalised 1 m » tone thing ; Put have given his nature a tkist which mi lit yet be undone. I c liifftsa I shoul 1 ratber'env y the woman who could unt ngle his thoughts and let the sun hine i i upon th< m -not for bis sake, yon 1 now,” she added quickly ; “ don’t, fancy lhat, 1 should <nvy her for curing him < f a mental diseaae, just aa 1 sb nil envy another who ha! nursed a poor chil 1 through a fever, - hat's all. And now, having relieved our minds on this subject, let ns forget Bruin, as he has for gotten ua.” “ Agreed ” said a voice behind us. We looked n uod, i.n l the ehe stood—in hio brown shooting jacket and straw hat just as we hj d at first seen him, but with a very different ixp-itsior. « n bis face “ Agiei d !” In fil’d; “You shall forget I uiii lu slubWi he old j sin less oi me evei him ai hesioke the woid) as he las forgotten yon.. Have tie good folks of llil Ifoid done talk! g yet” 1 “ 'they have had no cause lately,” I answered “They shall have plenty som, 1 am going to be married ” “ Married we both exclaimed. “¥■ s, married Why not. ? To ere is a hand which, with a few magic touches has taken all the tangle out of my mind. Do you (this to Mary) envy its owner*” “You have been list ening ? 0, how unfair !’’ Mary cried. “Why not si.y in gen'l man'y.” “I: was ttiq.entlemaily." “Gianted. But. you have not answered my question ” “ And I don’t intend to answer it." “1 made a bug struggle against those magic touches;" he went on ; felt my powers of resistance growing weaker and weaker* an 1 hated myself for it ; but somehow, when I had quite given way, 1 was contented. Don’t you think that the w. man who has done this—for a women it is—ought to be just a little proud of her wolk ! Don't you th nk flic has incurred a very serious i esp< liability ?” “ I don’t tte that,’ - aid Mary. “No? What won’l you think of any ore who pick'd a half-drowned cur mil of a pond, le toned it to life, and then flu g it luck to perish?” “It is gettim; late, and wo must go,” said Mary, ns she rose, “ If it were midnight, you should not go till you have answered my questions ” “ Mr. Tilsley, this is—this is”—

“ U.igon’leni 'nily T Perhaps it is; but when i nn is so lamest as I am, one cannot stop to he roli'e. Do you envy 'he woman who 'ct su shine into my min- 1 ?’’ “ You overheard me say'so," she replied, half crying with vexation. “ Why make me i c. eat a foolish thing 0. it was foolish, eh ?" “Very foolish.” “It Was n t." *-e raid, in a deep low voice, which trembled with em itioa. " I'm and what <lf.e you said of me, ]n vj thu of all he n eti ai d win exi 1 have known t.iuce 1 was made into a wild leant, y u alone understood me. Mary h'aerion,you:* was the 'ouch which has untanglemy m> d; your's the hand hat has let sunshine inlo my life. You have li saved me from the hit's.’, ' itte a i i which all that was c ood in mo was drowning. Hav> you the hcait to throw mo back, i> aty 1 It is not what I hoard to-dav that makts me syak thus : I came ha- k to do so. Hut what i have limitd gilts me unrcLijt than I Lad dared to'" entertain for two lou; miserable years. Here, on Tan.n fsla id I In’; know what more he said. 1 hj i.i - i t it high time for me to execute a strategic uov« neut, which I di 1 in goal >:■ ior. I 1 1 i’g thi ik eitu cof ihmn missed me. I staved away for full half an hour .i-j.’suli; vutai mimes) T Wi.s noeven ci lot hack til a ; hut really it was get lie quite kirk ; so f r -joined them, and 0. I v ill, -hi. ii/sUtj.’ was Queen of 1. n. e Island.

I a few months she bee imo mistress of the Grange, which soon won the reputation of being one of t e pleiaantest botiSiS in dnglan 1.. Its master started a pack of fox-hounds, and was captain of the enmity eleven Th re wasn’t a more popular jolly leiloiv al out il on J. hn Tilslcy. Then w a no cLri ; e it my Mmy—there could no be —lor the better; Pool, fir rich, the was the same in sheeted, strai. ht-mindcd. lion *th,ailed woman. When the clildic-n are >ory good ih- y are ak nto play mi Tangle I and, about which 1 !a e y o orheard the fohowi g conversation : . John—Pooh. fp mb, my dear ! Let them picnic there if they please, V by should..’t tho ]ioor people enjoy themsclvor T Nary They may tnj y then-seine whwover e'J,’ rtiVy I>. B.it th-y t-hit l not uid. OS* 4 y -t« twr

bottles on Tangle Island Dear John, that little isle is holy ground to me. It brought me the great happiness of my life, It is but a wee, wee spot. Do let us keep it saered fur ourselves and our children. And she had her way.