CHAPTER IV.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 121, 26 September 1885, Page 6

CHAPTER IV.

" MY LOVB IS LIKE THE BED, RED ROSE I" Poor Candicb, creeping softly through the tangled grasses, tares and brushwood, thought bitterly of the scene she had left, and of her young husband talking soft, flattering nonsense to their beautiful young guest. She knew he would, for it was as natural for Mark Maynard to admire beautiful women and tell them of *his admiration as it was to livej Alda Lome was as beautiful as some fabled houri ; she was a betwitching, bewildering brunette, with large, languishing dark eyes, and hair of midnight darkness, but about her great spirituelle eyes was an expression as it happiness did not always dwell in her young heart ; her face when in repose was unutterably sad ; fair, dainty Alda, although so young, had yet the insidious germ of a fatal disease lurking in her system ! Her mother, a delicate Southern girl, had fallen a prey to deadly consumption, and Alda knew that in a few years she also was doomed to an early grave 1 Already sho had a dry, hacking cough, and more than once her handkerchief had been stained crimson by slight hemorrhages. She had not informed her guardian of this, knowing it would grieve him greatly, for he loved his fair young ward, an orphan left to his care when she was quite an infant. Her father had taken his fair youthful wife to India, thinking the change would be beneficial to her, but not so, and when he was stricken down in the full strength of his manhood with a fatal fever, his wife lived only a few weeks longer ; they were buried side by side in the far away land Samuel Desbro had been a friend of the family, and the little Alda was entrusted to his care. Wealth illimitable was hers, but that could not prolong her life or take the lurking shadows from about her young heart. She knew she had her mother's disease, but made no lament ; night after night she lay with wide open, tearless eyes wooing sleep in vain, or a storm of pas sionate sobs would shake her slender frame and her pillow would be drenched with tears. Poor Alda ! Candice in her gentle heart would have pitied her if she had known, but she did not, and sitting in her little room, with the la3t fading: rays of the sun bathing her face., she watched from her window the vyoung folks returned to the house. She envied .the tall young girl walking so proudly by Mark's side, and felt a sharp, pang of jealousy for the beautiful stranger- so warmly welcomed among them : . • , f Days came and -went, and still the guests lingered, Candice bravely doing her best with the work. Katie, after her neuralgii had disappeared, seemed -ashamed of her bad temper, and once more took the burden from the young girl's shoulders. All passed quietly until one day Candice went to her room on some trifling errand. What was her surprise to find it already occupied ; the bed was taken down and a small easel stood at the window ; on ifc was an unfinished sketch. Candice gazed about her in dismay. What did it all mean ? Must even her little room be invaded, given over to the pnemy ?. Was there no spot on earth she could call her own ? Her errand was forgotten, and hurrying down to Katie, she ; said, bitterly : '• 1 guess aunt expects me to hang upon a nail, nights, Katie !" "Why, Miss Candice?" " She has taken possession of my room ; the bed i 3 disposed of, and an easel stands at the window !" " Faith, Miss Candice, and is that what it is ? Shure I toted the thing up meself. Your aunt saya to me ; ' Katie, take this and carry ifc up to Candice's room.' Shure I thought it was a. clothes-rack or something of the kinfi for your own special use, and I thought tha_mi3tress was getting a kind sp9ll on for a change, bad 'ce?s to her ! What's the thing for, 'Miss Candice. that you've turned out for it ? Shure there's space for both the aisil and you, or must it be a hermit and have the room by itself!" 11 Katie, you do not understand," Candice said, half laughing at her droll remarks. "They have turned my poor little room into a studio " " A what ?" Katie asked, innocently "A studio to paint in," Candice said, smiling at Kate's look of perplexity. " Shure, and is that the raisin they have turned you out of your room? Couldn't they paint in their own loom i'ust as well ?" "Oh ! Katie," and Candice laughed merrily, " don't you understand yet?" " Indade I don't !" and Katie shook her brick- coloured hair in a negative fashion. "Faith, and me blunderiog Irish tongue is always getting things wrong !" "Katie, Miss Lome, I understand, is quite an artist and paints lovely pictures, and I heard them remarking at the table yesterday something about the girls taking lessons, Oh !if I could only paint and be loved and courted like Miss Lome, courted, feted, and caressed !" and the girl's voice died to almost a wail " Don't, Mise Candice 1 Shure, Katie will stick to you. I'm only a poor Irish gurl, put I don't forget kindness when I meet it, Shure you can slape in me bed ; 'tis nate and clane." ** But where will you sleep, Katie ?" 11 Shure there's lots of blankets and quilts in me room. I can make me a bed on the floor." "No, you wiill not," Candice said, decidedly. "'You kind, good -hearted girl, do you think I would not sleep with you ? If aunt does not furnish me with another bed, I will shaie yours with you." But Candice went around the rest of the day with a heavy heart. She expected her aunt would seek her out and make some arrangements for her; she did not, however, but seemed to shun that part of the house. Candice felt hurt, more than she cared to admit. "If she had only spoken to me about it," Candice thought, sadly, "before they took possession, I would not Have minded it quite so much, but to ignore my very existence, that's where the sting is." Candice wailed for her aunt's appearance in vain, and, too proud to even mention the occurrence to any member of the family, she sought her little room, gathered up her few belongings and transferred them to ' Katie's chamber over the kitchen. Mrs Maynard saw her flitting through the hall, well satisfied that she had submitted so easily, for the haughty woman dreaded a scene, and even she felt uncomfortable over the injußtice she had done her half-sister's child. Candice cried herself to sleep that night. A horrible certainty was taking possession of her mind, an unutterable dread of the future and what it would bring to her— shame and disgrace unless Mark acknowledged her as his wife* and that possibility seemed further off than ever." She arose in the morning, heavy-eyed and unrofreshed. Kind-hearted Katie tried to ipduee her to keep her room for awhile, but she would not, and with this fresh burden laid upon her young life she aro?e wearily enough, but with one thought burning and searing her brain. She would seek Mark and tell him all ; then; if he did not acknowledge her, she would go away and die ! Better to go out of this lif« entirely than live on like this !

She watched and waited for him, but jao chance came until just before dinner, when she caught a glimpse of him sauntering down the garden walk. Throwingpradence to the winds, with no thought of anything but her own pitiable plignt, Bhe hurried after him. Hark ! he was not alone j he had stopped under the old arbour of grape vines, and vaa speaking in the low melodious tones she loved 80 well. Peering through the friendly shelter of a bunch of lilac shrubs, she saw her young husband with a beautiful red rose in his hand, and before him, with a faint flush on her delicate face, was Alda Lome. ""Tis the Last Rose of Summer!'" Mark said, laughingly. *' Will you accept 1 it, Miss Alda ?" As the girl's white fingers closed about the green stem, Mark said, softly, teasingly : "< My Love is Like the Red, Red Rose ! ' " and gazed with evident admiration at the fair girl's blushing face, and then raised the little, trembling fingers to his moustached lips. Candice waited to hear no more; she turned and fled wildly, blindly, toward the house. She could not ask him now ; he loved fair Alda Lome ! Between the fair young heiress and Candice, the working girl, there was nothing in common ! And Mark, in the old garden, had no thought of. disloyalty to his youthful wife, but her claims on him had been so slight he had not felt their pressure heretofore. He admired Alda and had kissed her hand ; that was all, but to Candice it was everything I