CHAPTER L.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 192, 19 February 1887, Page 6

CHAPTER L.

" A ROSE, SHE LIVED AS ROSES LITE." The sun that shines on, over ail human joy and pain, had reached and passed mid' heaven. The insects whirred tirelessly on the grasees, but the birds bad stolen to the leafy shades, and the flowere drooped in the heat, while Violet still lay unfriended in her covert. She tossed and moaned, then began to babble in a fevered dream. Out upon the j frtill air went the words of her complaining : "Why does no one care for me? Why do they all deceive me? Ob, I am so alone, so alone ! lam lost and afraid. Why don't 1 die ?" These moaningß reached, at last, a human cur. A woman, old and plain, but singularly large-framed, erect, and vigorous, a cottago woman, in a white cap, a check linaoy gown, and a great white apron, was passing by. She stopped at the unexpected pounds, then followed whence they came, and finally parted the green branches, and looked in on Violet in her ferny nest. Strange picture, indeed, it was that met her eye — a daintily-dressed girl, the dis ordered eilken, robe, the work of London'B most fashionable mantua-maker, the little boots, the hat with its grey ribbons and email marabout blume elegant in its simplicity, had come from Paris. The hat had fallen off, and Violet's diahevelled rings of dark, shining hair framed a face where fever had returned to the round I their wonted roses, and the red glow of the lips— those &weet lips, parted in wild moaning—showed the white rows of beautiful little teeth, and Violet's great brown eyes fixed on the etranger without fleeing her, welled over with tears. "Goodness save us!" cried the dame, " who are you, my little pretty, and ' wherever did yon come from ?" " Konneth ! Kenneth ! Have you forgotten me ?" cried Violet. The old woman bent down and moved Violet gently That showed her the plush bag, embroidered with pansies, and a monogram and a coat of arms — these last ornaments appearing to the dame as " mere embroidered quirliques." But the bag was a rich one, and evidently this stricken damsel waa the nursling of wealth and refinement. " Whoever you are, my dear," said the old woman, "you need to be taken care of quick and well, or into your grave you will go." She had gathered Violet up in her strong arms, as if the girl had been a mere child, and she did not neglect to slip the handle of the bag over her wrist, and take the silk umbrella in her hand. Not vainly had Mistress Magery Rogers been called "the strongest woman in all

Derbyshire.'' She* carried her own, sixty years, and the slender figure of the Countess of Leigh, as if both were trifles, and with long, 1 firm steps, * she passed the hazel bushes, and turned into' a narrow bath, and 'so t6 a small thatched cottage, with diamorid-paned windows, ' glittering like best plate, and nasturtium yinotl growing ' over the low paling fence, until it'aooniod to set the house in a flame- coloured bordor. Here she entered. A great dog,' atoy and heavy' with age, met hor, and aIHO Otttno & big tortoiee-cat, Thoae woro hor only retainers. A bed, with a whito fringed counterpane, etood in ono corner, and on I this ehe laid Violet, and began at once to undress her. As she took off ono artiolo after another of the dainty clothing, sho exclaimed : ' "Why; this must be a princeaa at least ! Did one ever see the like ? Sure, this petticoat is like a wedding-gown, and here's one might be good enough for a christening robe." She had hung up Violet's bag and seemed to have no thought of looking into it, but when she wanted a nightdress, went to a chest oi drawers that stood in a corner, and tyjok from it a gown carefully laid up in lavender. No nurse could be more skilful and gentle than this etrong cottage dame, and under her ministrations, Violet cooled, soothed, calmed, fell asleep. ' The dame looked at her in her deep slumber -^bo fair, so helpless, so like a little child— and shaking her head, said : "Here's a mystery. Howsoevo^, she must be well cared'for; and as'l need things from the 'pothecary and the shop, I'll go out again. I wonder if I ehali meet any more lost princess ? Its like the fairy tales I used to tell the children. Heaven send her sound sleep till I get back !" So, shading the windows, the dame wtnt out, gently closing the door. Quiet, quiet, was the warm May day, a true forerunner of the summer. Violet had passed into the second hour of her slumber, when a stealthy step came around the cottage ; the door was softly pushed open, and a queer figure entered the still room— a short, spare man, in a flannel dressinggown, carpet slippers, and with a velvet cap pulled forward to his bushy eyebrows - giving his face a singular, sinister appearance His beard was long and ragged, as if never visited by razor or scissors ; hia eye had the wild look of insanity. He went straight to the dame's workbasket : and not finding what he wished, jerked open the table-drawer. The noise woke Violet, whose slumbers had from childhood been carefully guarded. She lifted herself on one elbow — her beautiful hair dishevelled over her shoulders — and seeing the strange, humble cottage room, the coarso if clean bed, and the grotesque man, she gave a acream. The man whirled about, and stood looking at her, as if highly delighted " Who are you ?" shrieked poor Violet. 11 The wolf, my angol, the wolf ! and you are dear little Red Riding, asleep in her grandmother's bed ! Your grandmother is out, isn't she ? Hope she'll never come back. Meanwhile I can eat you." He showed j& doable row of great white teeth, gleaming from under his moustache. Violet had never seen anything so hideous. She was so frozen with horror that she could neither move nor speak, " See my head ! Handsome, ain't it !" cried the man, and snatching off his cap, he showed a shaven portion of scalp with a great red scar across it. " Looks as if an Indian had got after me, don't it ? Where does your fool grandmother keep her knive9 ! Here's one ! Shall it do for you, or for me, or for both of us !" Violet gave an agoniisng shriek. A loud and clear voice from without answered her : "Coming !" The man dropped the knife and crept under the table. "How did you get here?" cried Dame Magery, dashing in and dragging him forth. " This was a time for you to break out ! You're trickier than Satan, indeed you are." She marched him off— he making no resistance. Presently she returned to the trembling Violet. "He'Bsafe,my dearie. He'll trouble you no more." "Oh, who is he? Who is the fearful creature ?" "Just a crazy man I'm in charge of. And he is well shut in now. Fear him no more. There, he is sent off. " " But who are you!" asked Violet, cling, ing to the strong brown hand. '• I'm Dame Magery Rogers. I found you fallen in the field, and a bit feverish and lightheaded. Come now— drink what is in this cup, and lie down to sleep. I'll not leave you. There, my dear, you are as safe as a May. Lie there, and I'll sing to you." She put Violet back on her pillow, and began the ballad of Montr ose. "Come hither, Evan Cameron, Come, stand be ide my knee, I hear the river roaring down Toward the wiutry seu. I hear the pibroch wailinj? Amidst the din of fight, And my dim spirit wakes again Upon the verge of night. ' And as the verses crooned on, Violet fell asleep. She slept most of the time until next morning. When she awoke the episode with the crazy man seemed to her a dream of her fevered sleep. The dame waited on her with motherly care, and after she had eaten her breakfast, Violet lay back on her pillow, with a great sense of rest and Comfort. Only there was that dream — or wad it a reality ? She spoke, " Will you please tell me if there is a horrible crazy man, or did I dream it ?" " You've had many ill dreams," said the dame, evasively. ''There's no one here to harm you, my pretty ; you are safe." *' How kind and strong you look !" said Violet ; " but I seem to know your face — it looks familiar." "I used to be a nurge. My family are dead, and now I live alone"I should like to stay here— for a long, long while," said Violet. "Would you let mo stay with you ? I will make you no trouble. I shall be quite well by tomorrow, and I know well how to wait on myself." " Where is your mother, child ?" demanded the old woman " Dead long ago, or I should have gone to her. 1 would not have needed to go away at all, if I had a mother or father or anyone to love me cr take care of me. "No one to love you, my little dear. Sure there is some one who ought to love you well." *'Yes, but he doesn't; no one does. I don't know what it is in me, that no one can love, or be true to me." "But you should make people do their duty by you, my poor little dear.'' "I can't — I've tried— it's no use. H> made me so desperate, that I felt as if I must run away from them all. I like it here, it is so quiet, and you look so kind and so true. Won't you let me stay 1 I'll pay you. I have some money. There are a hundred pounds in that bag hanging on the back of your ohair." "A hundred pounds ! Save us! I never saw bo much money in my life at once !" cried the old dame, jumping up and eying the bag in awe. " Oh, that is not much— but — it will take care of me for a month or so, won't it ? Till I get strong, and earn more,"

"A month or two 1 However have you* been living, child T" "Why* like i the i rest of people around; me, I suppose. I never learned much, nor did much but amuse myself, and go. about, and enjoy music, and flowers, and pictures, and fine things. I suppose it is as tho French say. " I have been a roae,and^> lived OB roses live, but I can do differently." • '