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The Glass and the Girl . . .

THE invalid lay in a steamer chair on the. verandahs and was happy with a pipe, a book, and an excuse for being idle. " This," said he, " is Eden, with no Eve to make a fuss " (for he affected cynicism towards women); and so it might have been, but that to the other blessings was added a telescope. From where he lay he could look across the broad arm of a lake. The land beyond rose steep and shaggy, hill piled on hill, till it culminated in a frowning ridge. Below, all v/as a tangle of woods, dense grown to the eye, but to the telescope disclosing innumerable things. There were pleasant hollows, tempting with cool moss ; great rocks, crowned with fern ; sunlit spaces, where the shadows of the boughs waved across the open ; pools that gleamed through the foliage; fantastic shapes of rock and tree ; woodland witchery changing with light and shade, and all seen as if but a few yards away. Once he saw a deer upon the ridge so plainly that he forgot distance and remained breathlessly silent, lest he should frighten it away. The glass hung on a low stand convenient to his eye, and turned in any direction, so he could lie at ease and explore the surface of the mountain. One day, all unexpectedly, he chanced upon the cottage. It was invisible to the naked eye, for it was as green as the leaves about it, and roof and corners were hidden by the trees. There were inhabitants, no doubt, for chairs were on the verandah, and a huge St. Bernard dog lay there asleep. There was also a telescope like his own, and a flight of granite steps, rough hewn, led down into the woods below. While he looked a girl came out of the door all in white, with a belt as of gold about her waist, and such hair as he had never seen before. It was red— glowing, burning red, like copper polished to the utmost and spun fine ; it looked as heavy as the metal itself, and hung in gleaming masses over her shoulders and below her knees. She waked the dog, and they went together down the stone steps into the woods, the dog sedately holding the end of a splendid tress. "Eve," said the Invalid, "has come into Eden." He gave up exploration then and substituted the study of humanity. The cottage held several specimens. There was a little, slight old man, with a shiny bald head, heavy gray eyebrows, and a snow white tuft of hair above each ear. There was a little, plump old lady, whose hair was also white, and who wore gold bowed spectacles, and was generally knitting when seen, while the man read. Now and then they would look up and nod to each other. There was also a pompous, objectionable man, who came up on Saturday evening and stayed over Sunday. It is enough to say of him that he wore a top hat in the woods. Then, there was the girl with the hair. Her face was pink and white, and her nose just— tip tilted. She had laughter loving lips with an upward turn at the corners. The Invalid gave up the more general study of humanity, and specialised. He saw a great deal of the girl in this way, and learned to miss her sadly on foggy and rainy days. Sometimes she looked through her telescope, and then he would glare through his with all his might, trying helplessly to catch her eye. Once he was sure she saw him, and waved his handkerchief. She turned away from the glass, and afterwards he fancied she sometimes looked furtively in his direction, but he never caught her at the telescope again. The obnoxious man annoyed him greatly by being very attentive to the girl. It was impossible to tell whether she liked the attentions or not. She seemed to receive them calmly as her due ; nevertheless, it vexed the Invalid that she should receive them at all. He always rejoiced at the departure of the obnoxious man on Monday morning, and hoped that he would never come back. There came a time when he not only returned but stayed the week. On Wednesday morning the air was unusually clear. The Invalid looked over at the cottage, and was rewarded by the appearance of the obnoxious man. He was tremendously dressed, his moustache was turned up as if he had been about to deliver a cornet solo, and he wore a look of absolute self satisfaction. Then came the girl from within, radiant in white, followed by the great, tawny dog, who loved her. She greeted the obnoxious man, who bowed lower than

his wont and placed a chair for her with • demonstrative deference. She accepted it, and the dog lay at her feet with his head upon his paws. The man came round in front of her and stood rubbing his hands and looking down upon her with his odious head on one side. Only the distance kept the invalid from kicking him heartily. The obnoxious man got a chair for himself, drew it up in front of the girl, and apparently said something that surprised her, for she started and tossed her splendid head a little. The obnoxious man leaned forward talking quite earnestly. She looked annoyed. He leaned over and took her hand — further yet. Good heavens t He was going to kiss her. The Invalid writhed in agony. She tried to withdraw her hand and flung her head aside. Then suddenly a great, tawny mass rose between them with a gleam of great teeth. The obnoxious man -was hurled- backward to the 'floor, and the St. Bernard stood over him with a huge paw on his hitherto immaculate necktie. The girl called the dog, who came slowly to her, stopping once to look round ' at' the -man. She boxed the dog's ears, whereupon he wagged his heavy tail gratefully and put his head in her lap. The obnoxious man went into the house. The girl laid her hand on the dog's head and laughed. Then suddenly she gave a frightened glance in the direction of the Invalid, jumped up, and sprang to her telescope. The invalid sat there staring stupidly. She turned her back in an unmistakeable manner and walked slowly into the house. A three days' storm came on and the Invalid stayed indoors and suffered for what he had done. It had never occurred to him before that people at that distance were not fair game with a telescope. He now realized that he might as well have been peeping in at a window. He felt that he should never dare look at the cottage again. When the storm was over he ventured a farewell glance at the cottage. Over the front of one side of the verandah was a matting shutting it from view. The Invalid felt rebuked and mortified. He would not look again. He would have liked to apologise. But how? Should he put up a sign in black and white saying " I am sorry ? " No ; that would be attempting to open a correspondence by telescopic means, already distinctly forbidden by the girl's manner and the silent severity of the awning. He would write — a humble, simple, straightforward note. But to whom ? When the doctor came he asked him who lived in the cottage. The doctor did not know. Would the doctor find out ? The doctor was in a hurry to be off, gave no distinct answer, and immediately forgot all about it. Next day the man with supplies came up on his weekly visit. He did not know who the people in the cottage were. There was no road from the foot of the mountain on this side. After trying in vain to find out, the Invalid gave it up. He himself was forbidden to go beyond the verandah, for fear of a relapse. He took up exploration again. One morning he was scanning the ridge, when he saw against a rock a ruddy gleam in the sunlight — the girl's hair — then something white and blue, all in a heap. It was the girl lying there. She rose up and sank down again. She was evidently hurt. He turned the glass on the cottage. The obnoxious man was sitting in a chair on the verandah, evidently in a state of terror. The dog was barking at him. Now he would stand in front of the man, now he would go and pull at his sleeve, walk towards the steps, and then come back. The man was a fool. Why couldn't the dog make him understand ? The dog scratched at the door, but the man was too much afraid of him to get up, even if he had had the sense and inclination to let him in. Finally the dog dashed down the steps. The Invalid looked for the girl. She still lay under the cliff. He raved and walked up and down his verandah, stoping to look from time to time. He called his man. The latter was dull and slow, but finally understood that he was to go to the next neighbour, half a mile away, and send help to the girl. When he was gone the Invalid was in torment. Suppose the neighbour should be away from home ? Suppose the messenger should be unable to explain to him where the girl lay ? The Invalid knew how cold the September air was on the granite hills at night. The day of the man who brought supplies had come again ; there was a sound

of wheels. The worthy tradesman could not understand why the Invalid, whom he had always considered an inoffensive person, too weak to be about, seized him by the arm when he alighted and shouted something about a lady who would die, and begged him to drive with him to the mountain. He~shrank"back. frightened, and the Invalid, evidently mad. swore, jumped into the express waggon, and drove off as hard as he could go. The Invalid forgot that he was ill. Already the sun was climbing the middle slopes ; there was not time to drive round the mountain ; the only way was to go as near as the road would take him, climb to the ridge, and then make his way along till he came to a clump of pines and a great cliff, that he knew well by sight. Under the cliff was the girl. He reached the lower slope, and the road turned. He got out, turned the horse's head homeward, and dismissed him with a cut of a switch. He went at the slope like a wild thing, up and up. If he only kept on going up he must reach the ridge, and then if there was light he would know what to do. But when he reached the top it was . dark, and he did not know on which side of him the cliff was. He called and called but got no answer. Suddenly out of the darkness near him, came a deep, low, angry sound that made his skin creep. There was a crackling of brush close by, and then something came and sniffed at his legs ; then followed a loud, deep-mouthed honest bark. " That you, boy ? " the Invalid asked. " Where's your mistress ? We must find her. Find her, old fellow ! " A series of tugs at his coat answered him. The dog caught his sleeve, and he supported himself with one hand on the brute's shaggy mane. Presently a plaintiff voice came up from below. "Is that you, Biorn ? " The dog barked encouragingly. " Are you badly hurt ? " the Invalid called. "Not very; just my knee and my ankle." " I thought so," said the Invalid. " You — thought so ? " said the voice, in wonder. " How on earth could you have thought so ? Who are you, please ?" " The dog told me," said the Invalid, and gave his name. " Then, no doubt the dog told you my name," said the girl. "It was good of you to come — only I don't understand how you knew." By this time he had reached her side, and they were trying to see each other in the dark. " Is there a path down to your cottage ?" he asked. " Yes, a good, broad path ; but we can't see — and I can't walk." " I could carry you," said he, " if I might. I think it's the only way." It was a long way to the cottage, but somehow he managed to carry her, and he did not dislike it. When she was safe, however, he remembered that he was weak and had his relapse, greatly to the disgust of the obnoxious man, who had the only spare room, and was obliged to go away. The Invalid soon recovered enough to sit on the verandah on a sunny afternoon. The girl sat near him, and the old couple, her uncle and aunt, were in the house by the fire. The Invalid looked at the girl, and sometimes the girl looked at him, and they both thought of the telescope. Then said he, " Is the dog here ? " " Yes," she said ; " Biorn is behind my chair." " Would you mind sending him away ?" " Why.? " " I have something to say to you, and he might object." She looked steadily into his eyes with puzzled expression, then smiled, and a delicate flush came over her face. She looked down awhile, then she stole another glance at him, and said softly, " Biorn knows how to make distinctions. He won't object — this time ; and there's no one watching with a telescope."

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZFL19001013.2.16

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 15, 13 October 1900, Page 14

Word count
Tapeke kupu
2,287

The Glass and the Girl. . . Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 15, 13 October 1900, Page 14

The Glass and the Girl. . . Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 15, 13 October 1900, Page 14

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