Chapter I.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 234, 24 December 1887, Page 1

Chapter I.

HRISTMAS Eve ! What tender memories are awakened bytherecurrence of the festive season ! How the heart warms towards all humanity when brought into such close fellowship and sympathy with the Christ child, the Son of God manifest in the flesh. Surely, in New Zealand, surrounded by Nature's fairest scenes, caressed by the warm sunshine and soft zephyrs of an incomparable climate, living among a people who are ao essentially free from the conventionalities of caste or station ; surely if 'tis possible to find happiness and content in this world of toil and care, we can find it here in this favoured island, and realise the truth of the assertion, " All men are brethren." These were some of the thoughts that passed through Mrs Bernard's mind as she sat in her comfortable parlour, resting quietly after her long evening's ramble with the little ones, in quest of certain Christmas treasures that may be found in Gioodeon's Arcade. "Yes, New Zealand is a beautiful country, and I certainly think Ralph will find himself mistaken in leaving it ; I'm sure the climate in Victoria will not suit his fi agile young wife, and whatever will he do if anything happens to her ? " paid the good lady as she crammed the last "goodie" into Bobbie's stocking, and tied it up with a longcoveted whipcord that should delight his young eyes the next morning. The blinds were not closely drawn, and a weary woman passing by, happened to glance in at the pleasantly furnished room. iShe stopped a moment and noted the expression of content on Mrs Bernard's face as she completed her motherly preparations for Christmae joy. "Surely she has no care;" sighed the poor creature, ' ' her lot is cast in pleasant places. I wonder whether I shall ever be happy again ? " Was it a sudden faintness that seized her ? or was it only the thought of her own life's barreness of all Christmas joy, that caused her to reel suddenly against the verandah railing, and fall upon the very threshold of Mrs Bernard's home 1 "Dear me! what is the matter?" cried that lady, hastily opening the door as she heard the fall — ** Why, surely the woman's 111, or intoxicated ! I wonder, now, if she is respectable 1 " Poor Mabel Davison opened her large dark eyes, at the sound of the lady's voice, and feebly answered, "Yes, ma'am, but misfortune has overtaken me, and I am very weary to-night." " Poor thing," cried Mrs Bernard, " she seems very unhappy j wbo would have thought it? Dear me !in this beautiful country where no one ought to want for anything." Tenderly she raised her and assisted her into the house, where she soon prepared her some refreshment, and then bade her sit and rest awhile. Bye-and-bye, when she was refreshed and rested, Mabel told her story to her kind hostess : — " Mrs Bernard," she said, " you have befriended me to-night ; just when I had given up all hope, and the world seemed so Hark and gloomy that my spirit fainted beneath its heavy burden, and longed for death. Seven years ago I was a happy girl, loving and beloved. The youngest of a family of seven, I was the darling of our home, and surrounded by every comfort, that loving care could supply. My mother died when I was seven, years old, and this waaray first sorrow. Eleie, my eldest sister, became our father's housekeeper, and excellently she managed all the various duties devolving upon her. We were all educated at home *xeer. f my brother, Harold, who was sent to Eton, and afterwards entered a military college. My father was a prosperous merchant, and our home at Walthamstow was the abode of every luxury? while the poor who sometimes-applied to him fop help never met with repulse or denial. When I was seventeen, Harold came home on leave of absence from Gibraltar, and brought with him a friend whom he had met during a brief visit to Florence. How shall I describe Gabriel Sevigney? To say that he was handsome, noble, and talented, seems such a poor description of one who seemed to have been favoured by nature to become a very 'king among men.' Soon my youthful affections were won, soon he led me to Sty father, and honourably asked my hand in marriage. Then began my troubles. 'Kiel was poor, though gifted : an unkown artist, whose name the world knew not; whose works were barely noticed at the Academy. I was very beautiful, they said, and the hope of my family was that I should contract a wealthy alliance, and perhaps, elevate the social standing of the Davidsons, who, as yet, could scarcely rank among the high families of England's aristocracy, f .might be presented, they said, bye-and-bye, and it was known that young Lord Landlove (whoso chief wealth consisted in his title, the family e&ates being heavily mortgaged to produce a, precarious income) had enquired once, as he passed our brougham, * who that lovely, girl, cotild be?' JVIy father would not listen. 'Kiel's pleading, my tearful entreaties, .were all in, vain ; money and beauty must wed something higher than mere nobility of, character, or possible fame If 'Kiel had nothing but these to offer, well, it was not desirable to prolong the interview ; marriage was out of the question ! ' Oh ! that I were poor, ugly, .and friendless, if I might then be 'Kiefs

bride,' was the cry of my sorrowful heart that night, a 9 I paced my elegant apartment, and viewed my own face in the mirror that reflected such a pitiful countenance ; as surely could not belong to Mabel Davison, the belle oi the ball. The next morning 'Kiel went away, and Harold stormed at the indignity put upon his favourite companion. Weeping, I watched ! my chance, and when I met him alone a moment, slipped a tiny missive into his hand, knowing that he would not fail to forward it to poor 'Riel. Three months later I stole from my home, one fair summer's morning, and being met by Harold in a quiet lane, i was taken to the station in a covered fly, and soon clasped in my lover's arms. We were married in a little village church, my brother giving me away, and then 'Riel took me away to Florence, 'neath the sunny skies of Italy, where we lived as happily as mortals could for one brief year. My father's anger was unbounded when he found that I had become the wife of a penniless artist ; and I do not believe he ever really forgave poor Harold for his share in the business. My husband worked hard, and nis hopes ran high for the success of a picture he was painting in competition for a prize offered by a noted artist, whose works were invariably admired, and whom to emulate was the desire of 'Kiel's heart. I sat as his model for this picture, and many happy

hours were thus spent in contemplation of his genius, as he patiently laboured for sweet love's sake. For, if lie succeeded, fame would surely follow ; and then, surely my father would relent, and all would be well. I shall never forget the day on which his picture was finished ; my poor darling ! I was afraid he would be ill from feverish excitement and the strain upon his nerves during those days, while he waited the decision of the judges. Was it the hand of an enemy to our beautiful art? or, was it the first link in a chain of untoward accidents, that was destined to sever two loving hearts ? Do you believe in the theory of chance, dear lady? How was ib? or, why was it ?#? # that on the very nighb before the day appointed for the decision of the competition the building, in which the pictures were hung, was burnt to the ground. Ah ! those were dark days that followed. Gabriel was nearly frantic with grief, and I was })roptrate. During the ensuing week our ittle child was born, a beautiful babe, with eyes like her father, and lovely features that reminded one of Raphael's child angels. I hoped this new treasure would comfort him for his loss ; but a settled melancholy grew upon him daily, and he seemed no longer able to interest himself in anything. Wo were very poor. I had scarcely means to procure necessary comfort and attendance during Nature's trying hour. My babe was not enwrapped in costly garments, and I knew net any moment but we might be compelled to leave our little home, as we were unable to meet the rent. I ventured once to write to my father, but received such a cutting reply that I would suffer any privation rather than apply to him for assistance. o mo morning I rose rather late, on account oi bo lily weakness, and was surprised to hear from our landlady that my husband had gone away, apparently prepared for an artistic tour. Ho had told the woman to provide me with such things as I needed, given her sufficient money to cover the rent for one month, and left a note for me. With trembling hands I opened the wrapper, and read :—: — 'My Daumng Wife,— l can no longer bear to see you suffer privation for my sake. I love you and your child, but am povrerlo&by a cruel fate to provide for you. So I go to seek bet'«r fortune, and hope to return ere long with golden.trlbuto. Dear Mabel, return to your father's home while you have means left: he will receive you if you do not speak of toe, -Rest awhile, dear love, in patience and hope, and byo-and-bye-, in a few short years, the world may, deal more kindly with your poor 'Riel, when he will come withjoy to claim his davling3. • Believe mo, that Ido this for love's sake, my dear wife, and pardon even as you love, your unhappy husband, 'G-ABHIEL SEVIGJJEY.'

" I do not know how I lived through the succeeding days. To go home to my father was impossible. My child would be an unwelcomed guest, I knew, and my proud spirit could not brook insult to my beloved husband. Where was 'Kiel ? Why had he not allowed me to accompany him? For dry bread with him, was sweeter than the most luxurious fare without his loved presence. Would he go to Rome ? Would the home of the immortal Michael inspire him with new energy, and perhaps dispel his melancholy ? I would go' thither and eeek him. With ray little one' in my arms and only a few coins in my puree I journeyed to the great city j but could find no traces of him! sought, and soon exhausted nature forbade any further exertions, and I was agam prostrate. ¥ov several weeks I lay ill, kindly tended byan English lady who had met me during my' wanderings, and often admired tlfo beautiful child I clasped -so /closely- Uo. my* lonely heart. Seeing my friendless condition, she begged of m,e to allow ..her to'adopfc tHe little one, as she was a widow and' childless, wealthy and lonely. During my illness she became much attached to the darling, ; and when I could sit up and speak of 'Kiel slie begged me to commit little "Silver " to her care while I continued my searoh for, my beloved husband.* Torn with'conflidting'.emofcion*,

for I dearly loved my baby, I at length consented, and being constrained to accept sufficient funds from my kind friend, I pursued my journey to London, thinking it likely that 'Riel might have g^one thither to study. I took a small room in St. John's Wood, and from thence daily walked out on my weary, speodless errand, receiving no information, obtaining no clue, till my heart sank within me, and I would sit for hours at my window watching the passers by lest by any chance he might cross my vision. One day I happened to take up a paper, in which I read of the increased emigration to New Zealand ; of its lovely scenery, its matchless climate, its many facilities for wealth, and its abundant industries. A wild thought seized me. Would it be possible that my poor darling might have been allured by such a description of this earthly Paradise and have gone to seek there the competence he was here denied? I could not sleep, I could not work ; I made enquiries of seveial people and was assured that yearly hundreds of persons who were hopeless and fortuneless went out to this beautiful land of promise and found wealth and happiness. I wrote to Mr 9 Livingstone, begging her to be a mother to my little "Silver," and then took my passage in the next outward-bound vessel for Auckland. I arrived here three months ago, Mrs Bernard, and have found no reason to hope that Gabriel is here. I

have worked for a fancy repository, I have worked in a factory, I have applied for a situation up-country as governess, but I have scarce been able to earn food, clothing, and rent. I had spent my last shilling today for food, and was just despairing and worn out, body and spirit, when I was led to your door. That is all I have to tell. If I cannot find 'Kiel I will go back to Florence, and live there as a widow till he comes back, or kind death releases me. So I must find work, and try to save up my passage money, that I may at least see my little child, and tell her the story of her mother's sorrow." some tableaux, and it would bs delightful to have something quite fresh." Accordingly, when the dancers paused in "Poor thing," paid Mrs Bernard, as she held the thin white hand in her own, and let her tears fall in dewy sympathy ; " you have had trials, but you know our Father still regardeth the life of His children. He will restore you to both your dear ones in His own good time, and in His own way. You must stay here quietly till you get stronger ; then perhaps we shall be shown the next step of the way. Now, dear, just try to trust and wait, and the same God who has brought you here to share our Christmas blessing will surely provide for the New Year." With a grateful look, Mabel pressed Mrs Bernard's hand as she bade her "good night," and soon she slept among the snowy pillows as peacefully as a little child — slept for very weariness, — and the angel who leaned over her bed that night whispered to her of sweet hopes, and brighter* joys, as that poor, weary Mabel smiled in her sleep, and was comforted.