THE ICE MAIDEN.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1035, 16 May 1883, Page 4

THE ICE MAIDEN.

LITERATURE.

( Continued.) “ Do yon think so ? Well, I dare say she’ll get over it, like the rest,” and Captain Ferguson lighted a cigar, and began to puff vigorously. “You don’t mean Ran, my boy, that yon are going to jilt her ?” “ Jilt! that’s a nasty word, Fox ; I am not regularly engaged to Miss Sinclair, so how can I jilt her?” “ Not engaged ? No, yon haven’t asked Sinclair’s consent, bnt you have got the girl’s and you are as much pledged to her in honour as if your engagement had been publicly announced “ Humph ! you are always so devilish fastidious over a little love making. I don’t say I am not going to marry little Aggie. . I only say that nothing absolutely binding has passed between us.” “ I wonder how many girls could have you,up for breach of promise, it they were not proud.” “ Never commit anything to paper, my boy, and you are quite free from that fear.” “ Break hearts ; not written promises; is that what yon mean ?” “ Offensive ; that is what I call that kind of remark,” answered Fergusson. “ By-the-wny, I wonder if the heiress has a heart. She looks a veritable Ice Maiden.” “ So much the better for her if she is.” - And then they were silent for awhile, nor during the rest of the drive, resumed any talk about these girls, the heiress’s lace coming back, however, very forcibly to Mr Fox’s mind whenever he saw Randolph Ferguson walking or dancing with Agnes Sinclair, as he did frequently during the next few days; at the end of which time he went away on leave, and a sort of feeble report go about that he had gone to Broadlands, no one, however, knowing for a certain where he had gone. The point on which people seemed agreed was that Agnes Sinclair was pining. She was very brave and courageous during the first week after Randolph’s departure, then she grew daily more silent, the bright colour faded from her cheeks, the light from her lustrous eyes. She evidently was not going to get over Randolph Ferguson’s defalcation as he himself had expected, if defalcation it were; and Mr Fox sadly feared that it was one, and sighed when he looked into the girl’s eyes, almost wishing she would console her. But Agnes would have le n no true woman if she had allowed any one to fill Randolph’s place. Randolph, for whom, if she had had ten thousand lives, she would have given them all. Nor was Randolph Ferguson as indifferent to Agnes Sinclair’s beauty and sweet ways as Mr Fox was induced to believe. He loved her more than any of the women about whom in his butterfly career he had flitted—loved her so ranch that he could not forget her when she was not by, and the mention of her name on strangers’ lips irritated him, and yet he went to Broadlands, to shoot, at Squire Clavering’s invitation, and he told no one save the servant who had to forward his letters where he was going, nor had ever mentioned the knowledge he possessed about the Sinclairs and the Ciaverings being related ; still, among his intimates no one wonld have spoken of Randolph Ferguson as a secretive man. Of coarse, Joyce’s first question when she managed to speak to him for five ininntes alone, was of Agnes. ‘ Had he seen her lately ? Had he told her bow Joyce longed to renew their old intimacy ?” Randolph shook his head. “ He had never been encouraged to talk of Broadlands to the Sinclairs,” he said ; “it was difficult for an outsider to middle in family matters. Miss Clavering must excuse him.” Joyce felt herself to be snubbed, and resolved not to talk of Agnes any more, only she wondered if Randolph Ferguson had not come to Broadlands to talk about Agnes Sinclair, what had come there for! A very few days, nay, hours, answered that question. The fascinating captain laid his heart at Joyce’s feet, as he had laid it at the feet of many another girl before ; with, however, this difference—that in this instance he was in earnest, as from the point where he lounged in the conservatoty, talking to her, he .could see a vast extent of Broadlands property stretching away, left and right. That Joyce was touched there was little doubt, but, whatever her inmost feelings were, her manner did not altogether obliterate from his mind the soubriquet he had once given her of the Ice Maiden. She might consent to marry him, he thought, but that she Would ever consent to be thoroughly thawed and acknowledge that he had over her, that he almost feared. Ah ! concealed under her seeming coldness, how little did he guess what a heart of fire burnt in Joyce’s snowy bosom, only waiting for more positive assurance on Randolph’s part to allow itself to be revealed. She had never been initiated in the art of flirtation, as many girls with manoeuvring mothers are initiated, but maidenly coyness taught her that she must be thoroughly wooed if she would be thoroughly won, and Joyce had no intention of meeting Randolph Ferguson half way. Still it. did not make him give up all intention of winning the heiress; on the contrary, his vanity was aroused, and he was determined to lay selge to her with redoubled vigor, ami to make her love him without considering perhaps how much or bow little of her love he had any intention to return. In her usual unselfish way, putting his feelings before her own, she began to feel that this fiery, impetuous man wonld never be happy with her, that her humdrum monotonous home life would bore him, and that she would either see him very happy, or perhaps have to undergo the torture of seeing him seek his happiness elsewhere. When she met Randolph, she did not encourage him, even as much as she had done at first, hut looked colder and more sedate, though really

loving him each day more and more. It seemed like a terrible trial, through which she was making the young man pass, and it drove him very nearly mad with annoyance; still he was determined he would not give up; though that Joyce should one day be made to suffer severely for her coldness —of that he was fully resolved. After a three weeks’ visit to Broadlands, Captain Ferguson was however compelled to return to his regiment. Nor, when he reached his quarters, did he receive any very inspiriting intelligence. Agnes Sinclair had gone to London. It was an unfortunate coincidence , one of her sweet smiles would have gladdened Randolph Ferguson’s, heart, and probably have won him back to his allegiance, and made him give up all idea ot the heiress. He was longing to see Agnes again—Agnes, who had been sent away to consult a London doctor, for a disease every doctor as yet has failed to cure. Meanwhile to Captain Ferguson the town looked very desolate, without the chance of meeting her; and be began to think he would apply for two or three days more leave, and go back to Broadlands. He was just considering on what plea he could do this, when his servant brought him a letter. It was from Mrs (flavoring, written in a shaky, almost illegible hand, “ The squire was very ill ; had had a paralytic seizure ; and would like to see Randolph Ferguson at once.” No further excuse was then wanting. Captain Ferguson got some leave, and with all convenient speed started for Broadlands. The butler, with a sad grave expression on his face ns he opened the door, informed him that he was too lafe, the squire had been dead about half an hour. Perhaps the man regarded Randolph Ferguson as his future master, for he would not let him go away, but begged him to come in, assuring him that ho had been most anxiously'expected. He did not attempt to announce him, bnt let Randolph find his own way to the pretty room which was usually regarded as Joyce’s own. It was very dimly lighted now ; it had become dark before Randolph reached Broadlands—and in the corner of the sofa, near the fireplace, Joyce sat very still, her face buried among the cushions. She held out her hand to Randolph, but she did not look up, till he almost forced her to do so by putting his arm around her. Now 'or never was the time for a coup de main. . “ Joyce, my darling Joyce,” he said, “do not be so unhappy—ranch as yon have loved and been devoted to your dear father, believe there are bright days yet in store for you—my Joyce.” (To he continued.)