SABINA ZEMBRA A, NOVEL.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 238, 21 January 1888, Page 6

SABINA ZEMBRA A, NOVEL.

Author of " Macleodof Dare," " A Princess of Thule,"&c, &c. [The Right ov Translation is Reserved.]

The newly-wedded couple went down b 0 Boscastle, on the Cornish coast, Now, I Boscastle is a picturesque little place, but the occupations it affords are scanty ; and in a very ahort time Mr Fred Foster began to find the afternoon hanging rather heavy on his hands. Ifot that he was at all a dull companion. He had seen a good deal of -life ; was a shrewd judge of character ; and 1 could desoribe people in a semi-facetious ] vein that was at least meant to be amusing. Why, due whole morning -these two walk, ing t.he while along the high Downs overlooking the western sea—he entertained her with an account* of the Various modes of concealing their emotion adopted by certain | noble sportsmen while looking on at a raco in which they were interested : how the Duke of Belvoir invariably found something wrong with the working of his field-glass ; how Lord Cranesfoot seized the moment for selecting a big cigar, proceeding to chew the same without taking the trouble - to light it ; how Mr de Gottheimer (no matter how pale hia feature might be) would affect to care nothing at all about the race; but j rather to be surprised at the excitement of' the roaring crowd around him ; and so j forth. Neverthelesflj these walks alongthe Downs, and along the country lanes, and out by the .little harbour to the hill facing the Atlantic, became a little monotonous ; and Fred Foster wa§ a frank-spoken person. " Dame Djirden," said ne, in nis^playful fashion, "li3ten to me. I suppose itwouldn't be quite according to the ; correct card to ask a young lady on her wedding, trip to visit her mother-in-law, would it? Beginning too soon, eh ! , to face the trials of life?"* "I will go with pleasure," Sabina said, promptly. " You don't mean that ?" - "I do." , "Thon, we'll be off to-morrow morning." This resolve seemed to bring quite a new cheerfulness and liveliness into the atmosphere ; and that evening at dinner he 1 said : — "You know, Sabie, I wouldn't have made the suggestion if the Mater was like anyone else ; .but she's just aa good as gold ; and she'll be awfully proud to see you. Indeed,, there aye several reasons why it will be a very good move. We shall be there by the First ; and I daresay I shall be able to pick up a few, birds. But that's not the chief thing ; the chief thing is this— that I want you to set seriously to work and make a poor thing of my pa." She looked up inquiringly. " Ohi you can do it," he said, with an air of sarcastic approval. "You are a firstclass performer, when you like, for all your innocent eyes—" V But what do you mean?" she said. " Well, I'm talking about the art of making a fool of people," he answered, jolandly ; " and if there's anyone can beat !you at that, I've never met the person. Why, there's not a man nor a woman about this place, nor a boy nor a girl either, who isn't all smile 3 and Bimpers whenever you make your appearance ; and the housekeeper brings flowers for the ' dear, sweet young lady ; * and the slavey washing the steps grins to you as if your going past her was a favour. Oh, yes, you can do it. Why, you left those Wygrams in a perfectly gelatinous condition j I don't suppose Janie Wygram has done crying yet. Now, I want you to try a little of that same business on my pa, and see what you can do with him. He's an uncommon rough subject, I can tell you ; you'll have your work cut out for you ; but if you can manage it it will be a rare good thing for both of. us. You'll have no trouble with the Mater. She's gone ; she collapsed the minute she saw you. But if you mako up your mind to go for the old man— and you can do it if you like— there's no saying what he mayn't do for us. You see, picking ferns along these' Cornish lanes is all very fine ; and so is sitting on the top of a cliff and wonderinghow long It will be to lunch timej but when we get back to London there will have to be some considering of ways arid means. Of course it will be all right ; you needn't be afraid ; but in the meantime you might as well be civil to the old gentle : "6b, yes, I'll be civil to him," said Sabina, ' laughing ; she' did not attribute too serious a motive to these wise counsels! 'And doubtless it was chiefly as a joke that Fred Foster pretended to regard this trip into Buckinghamshire aa the scheme of a couple of adventurers in sore need of money ; and affected to advise Sabina as to how she should play her game, If the game was that of fascination - she had no need of his advice ; it came naturally to her. From the moment that she set foot in the old-fashioridd house 1 just outside Missenden, the tall, pretty, refined-looking old lady who was mistrea3 there became her daughter-in-law's bounden slave. She had come quickly to the door on hearing the waggonette drive upj the broad' (day • light the open highway— she did not heed; though ah© was alUremblin£, and her, eyes, were filled with- tears; the instant that Sabina alighted slid was 'caught "if> this kind old lady's heart, and kissed again and again, without much regard for ' any , passer-by. X My r dear !-my dear IV w;a;s all that was said ;• but she took Sabma'B hand, and held itTfasi as she l«d her into the hall. She had .scarce a word for her" sort. It was ! S&bina v?ho was to 1 be' attended to ; it -was' Sabi'na. that, she* m'tastf heraetf take to her rbom yib yraV SabTna who was helped to remove 1 Jjerthihgs, and pressed to ! have tea 1 or wine or 'riftyibihg she cdoUHaticy: ; and 1 all tlie While tolrer Vat' a,' good deal of p^tting^ndi of hands, with ai^ofecissiional trickling' tear orfcwo. : < '- v ! \'y ' '.\ >' * " She's a gonei 1 ," said' Fred' FoBfcer; ; .lwi haH), " but I'm not so sure about tKe old' man." 5v l( '* JJ ' 1 7 '" '' , * \ ***,' By-and-bye, when the hubbub, of the' arrival -tad' qujeted' do^n, 1 the Jf'otfof .tfce* houie--whO had been ; pretty; muc^ '*$&; looted in the nie&nwhile—managed to get' a foW Words in%rfT4W=wiCT^& \^ £

t " Lookliere, Sabie ; I'm -going along r ,to ! seo 6ld>J"akes~44he f ■ i liv6'toid s .y6u about, don't yoat remember ?-~and most likely I shan'tib^'badk till dinner-time. 'The Mater has her household .dffairs tp look after— she' goes tnfro : ugh sV them u like* clockwork—you won't see' much of her. . But, ithe old manikin tKb greetihbuse— l saw him' ,go in a minute ago— wny 3 don't you go in and tackle him now? .He's only snipping, at his grapes j you've got a splendid cha'riee.' Off you, go, and do, for him.' .' „j s st^ t ■ ; She turned to him .with.a gravely innocent; face ; but there was some laughter in Her" eyes. ■ ■ • ' i "I don't know what you -mean. Whab,. am I to do ?" " Oh, of course, you don't know !" Ke retorfcedi " You don'c know how to do it &tall! It wasn't you who knocked young Lionel out of his senses in about a couple » of minutes in the Pavilion Gardens?" ' She thought for a moment ; and then she laughed. • ; " On, you remember that? Mrs Wygram , was angry with me about that. lam sure ■ I did not know that I had done anything." , " Oh, you can do it very well. , Just you < go and try a little oi the same kind on my respected papa ; but mind, he- isn't two-aud-twenty. " Well, whether from mischief, or idleness, or careless good -nature, Sabina, being thus left to herself, thought she could not do better than go and talk to the .old gentleman—who had but spoken a few wordsof > welcome to her and returned. to his labours. Her reception in the greenhouse, when ,she timidly opened the door, was not of the most cordial kind. 11 Where 'a Fred?" the old gentleman said, . sharply. " He has gone to see the gamekeeper, I think— shall I— shall I be in ycur way,.sir J if I stay here a little while ?" "Left, you alone already, has : he,?' the.*, i old man grumbled ; and seemed disinclined | for further conversation. „ But Sabina had had long experience ,in , I the , humouring of .people. She began to - ask a fevv questions. Soon he was telling s ; her all about his grapes, with a touch of professional pride. She had praises fora country life. She was fond of a garden. What did he consider, now, gave him most satisfaction for all the care he etfpended— what were the flowers he was most 'it*- > I terested in ? The next thing that happened. . I was that the old gentleman found himself walking about in the open with this pretty daughter-in-law of his, showing her all his treasures, chatting to her quite briskly and cheerfully, and apparently vastly pleased with both himself and her. . ' . That, was but the beginningh When dinnertime arrived, Fred" Foster got back rather late, and had' barely a couple, of , ! minutes to rush upstairs and wash his hands | and brush his hair. When he came down ; again, what was his , astonishment to find I old Mr Foster arrayed in an antiquated suit* • | of evening dress, with a stiff white neckcloth, and a waistcoat of black satin. | adorned with flowers in coloured silk. j Such a thing had not happened within the I son's recollection. I " Hallo, father," said he, " this is rather, 'formal, isn't it?" • . ", You may treat your wife as you please : „ I (hope I know how to show respect . for - my daughter-in-law,'' was the chilling rejoinder., " Well, that's rather rough on me," the , son said, good-huraouredly. " I didn't , bring any evening dress. , Why, you have always set your face against it." All during dinner^ too, the old gentleman would have a monopoly ot Sabina's conversation ; and resented any casual intrusion of- his son as if he had no right to^be there at all. As for the gentle-featured mother, she did not say much ; she was content to. sit and look at this new-found beautiful daughter, and to listen to her : and L |here were pride and a great affection very evident ,in the tender grey eyes. She had not been busy with her household matters all the j afternoon ; she had found time to ransack certain sacred repositories, and many were the bits of old-fashioned finely and lace and trinkets that she had resolved to bestow on . Sabina. As she sat and looked at her, she thought it would be very nice to put such or such a thing round Sabie's neck and to fasten it in front with loving care. And there might be a kiss in return?— for she thought the girl was rather affectionate. Mr Fred Foster took his snubbing very patiently ; he spoke a word now and again to his mother; and was well satisfied to see Sabina (as he would have phrased it) rising so rapidly to first favourite. Grown happy with a few glasses* of port, the old man was gallantry itself. Many a rare old story, hidden for years in the dusky recesses of his memory, ' saw the light once more ; he was facetious, patronising, sarcastic by turns ; and generally he meant to convey to her that the young fellows of his days were a dashing set, adepts in all the arts of love and war. And then, when dinner was over, and John the butler (who was also groom, and helped in the garden besides) had put the decanters on /the table, old Mr Foster filled Sabina's glass and his own, and bowed to her graciously. " No speech-making, my dear," said he, "but I hope you see that you are very welcome in this house." " Haven't you got a little bit of a blessing for me, too, father?" Mr Fred ventured to interpose. " For- you ?'•' said the old gentleman, after a moment's hesitation. " Well, I will say this for you, that at last you have done a sensible, thing— the first you ever did in your'life, I think/ 1 But the eliinatf came later. Old Mr Foster had several odd ways and habits, to which he adhered with the rigour begotten of a methodical country life ; and one^ of these was -his- invariable custom of going into the spacious stone-floored kitchen, the last thing at night, to smoke a pipe or two of tobacco in solitary communion with himself. Mrs Fostei- could not bear the odour of tobacco in any of the rooms, not even in the greenhouse ; the household- went early to bed ; the maid, before leaving, had everything trimly swept and tidied up; and there was a small wooden table placed in front of the smouldering fire, with decanters, a jar of tobacco, and two- long churchwardens. The second churchwarden was supposed to be placed there for the , service of Mr Fred ; but as a matter of facfc that young gentleman did not find much , gaiety in sitting and listening to grumblings over his own conduct and > gloomy pro- - • pheoies as to the future of the agricultural interests of the country ; so that the old man ■ generally sat there alone, nor had he eyer been known to ask anyone, to keep him . company. Indeed, he was suppqsedto be busy. This was-the time,for the review of the day's doinga, for plans for the morrow, and »o forth. And this solitary retirement Kw ihe great and gaunt* kitchen (which, ; nevertheless, was clean and warm enough) IrHftjhad practised as a rite, for. over: thirty ■ years. * r . t ' , ■ • ; s'--"s '--" • • '"' Vi'Tfty dear, 1 ' said he.tqSabjna, *'do yoir ! i 'obiecfc£o the smelt of.|obftqcoi" ; o il • i .» i*^'** jtlik' c ii" was the plain answer^ " , • i ' ; ' ' VlYeV: they aty say tha$ — ~r n <^ l ' ; ! "On, but ( l verywrell Idtestr ffor sometimes lget-^gpoddosesof itv'j vl \ .''o r * <{ Then yon 'won't ntii&glvjngjnQ a llttle^u* 'tooureompanyi ! My^moljiing TOamift *« 's . p][aiti;one^tHe. kjtchen— siersB ,'WlW**^ :Mly?u;Bee f andwe don't, <*p/u>y any My.;, Wbei»Vy6wrlvttBb§n4,? \^tift v _?;¥»,^r- ;.** rstnk:he;h^ iil^ to. «ce f |feotttBpme.dpg»."«, k >> .*• .-^w

" Come along, then, my, dear," said he, and when she" promptly 'rose, he took her hand and placed ib within his, arm, ana marched her away. "It isn't, a elided smoking saloon,- but it's snug. <AM I've such a story to tell you about an elopement^ I had a hand in it myself, too, that I had} though it wasn't me the young lady was running away with. Faith, that was an act of friendship, wasn't it? To run away with a young lady on behalf of somebody else, and scarcely a man of the family less than a six footer. But we did ib, we did it, aye, and she got safe away, and ovor the border both of them were before the people chasing them had got to Carlisle. Come along, my dear, and sit down by the fire i it's a Ion? story to toll. But there wag fun in those days." » Fred Foster came in by-and-bye. " Whore's Sabie ?" he asked of his mother, who was quietly knitting in the little draw-ing-room. " She has gone to sit with your f abhor," was the answer, and the old lady smiled a little. 11 What ! You don't) mean in the kitchen ?" he exclaimed, for such a thing had never, been heard of before. "Yes, indeed. He asked her, and she went at once." " Well, upon my soul ! What's the matter with the old gentleman ?" Mrs Foster looked up. " It's very early in your married life to show jealousy, isn't it ? But you'd better take care." And then she added: "Ah, j well, she is a dear. And that is what I i thiuk, Fred, that nothing luckier ever j happened to you than your falling off the bicycle." ■ If thero was anybody jealous, it was not Fred Foster. It was the old man who was determined to monopolise Sabina, and resented the slightest interference on the part of his son. The next morning, when Mr Fred was buttoning on his gaiters in the hall, he called in to the breakfast room : — " Mother, wo shall be shooting over Crookfield to-day: will you bring Sabie along for a while ? Or will you send Tom to show her the road ?" But it was the old man who answered, and that sharply too. "Nothing of the, kind. What! Dawdling along muddy,, hedgerows or crossing wet turnip fields S" Then the voice became less grufl. "No, no, my dear, we've something better for you than that. Just to think that you've never seen Hampden House, and the splendid avenue of Spanish chestnuts, and the relics, and all. Why, I'll show you the very spot where they tried to levy the ship money. Yea, yes, my dear, it's a beautiful country. I'll drive you myself; and then we'll go on to Wendover, and maybe pick up a bit of lace for you — local industries, you know — local industries must be encouraged." And so Mr Fred went away with the keeper and the dogs, while Sabina bye-aud-bye found herself seated next' the old gentleman in front of the waggonette, and leisurely driving along a pleasant highway on this clear and fresh September morning. She was in excellent spirits, and ready to be pleased with everything she saw. She even took good-naturedly the grumblings and growlings that greeted the slightest reference to her husband. " Bub you may be of his way of thinking too," he said, and he glanced sharply at her. "How, sir?" " O, well," he said, softening * little, " it might be more natural in you, yes, yes ; I should not be surprised if you thought our life in this quiet place rather monotonous and dull. You are accustomed to the gay life of a big town— balls and parties." " Indeed no," Sabina said, simply, "that was never my way of living at all." '" But look at him," the old gentleman said, angrily. " Look at him— a Buckinghamshire lad— born and bred in this very valley— but nothing here is good enough for him — he must be off and away, living like a lord, and thinking of nothing but the different ways of spending money! There's Crookßeld— the very place he is off to this morning. MulhVs lease falls in next Michaelmas. The old man's wife died last year ; his sons are doing very well in Texas ; he's going out to them ; and so the farm falls on my hands. There's a fine old farmhouse — one of the prettiest places in the neighbourhood — where any young couple might make themselves comfortable and snug. But would my gentleman look at it ? Oh, no ; spending money, not making it, is his trade ; though goodness knows there's not much money coming nowadays to people who have farms to let — in this part of the world, at all events. There it is, you see — the farm coming on my hands— as fine a farm as any in the country standing empty — and him horseracing, I suppose, and billiard playing, and spending money." " But it is oniy natural for a young man, to ' like amusement," she said gently. " And besides, sir, you should remember he has just turned over a new leaf. He is to be quite a reformed character when he goes back to London !" " Why should he go back to London ?" She did not answer that question. But she understood clearly enough the drift of these remarks ; and that same evening she said to her husband :—: — "I suppose you know, Fred, what the old people would like us to do. They would like us to settle down here — in the farmhouse at Crookfield— so as to be near them." " Yes, I know very well," said he. " It's exceedingly kind of them ; bub I'm not going to bury myself alive just yejb. And you— do' you mean to tell me you could bear with another fortnight— well let's say a month — do you mean to tell me you could stand a month of the kind of life ,they live here?" ' ; ; ' ' ' She lddkcd at him in amazement. . "Why," she said, "I dpuld'live all my life this way, if I thought I had any right to do so. Could anything be more pleasant, and peaceful, and harmless— the garden,' the driving, the seeing to the house ?" "'lt isn't wildly exciting," he' remarked, ' " But y6u dbn't know how lazy I am naturally," she answered. " A fine da^'a seat in the' garden, and a book — what mdre J could anyone' want ? Arid I am sure kinder people never were born ; oh, yes, this kind of life would suit me very ' well. But I know I' haven't earno.d , the right to it. "When we get 1 back to London and wheh you have a little time 'to come along with ( me, I will show you why I cotald not accept this quiet, pleasant life doVn here with anything like a, 'good conscience!" ' ' " l^erhapg some day we' Will do Darby and ' Joan/ youmean f he said, lightly.' " I knofy one' Darby— in ''these' Jiere parts — who 'seems, a good deal fonder of his daughteV-ift-law than' of .'his 'own lawful wife?"'"'.'/- '"*'/•';'."; ' ', r \ ' .; ;" "And' how 1 aivfullyMond:'she is of you, FredV ' * -* °" - :"^ - "' *•" -<-"V*; "Yes," he said, r "bhe.Mater has spoiled zne 1 all t&efrSy through'V ' That's whatfh'as made metheWreclcJam." ' '" " v i <; < v f! ''* ' " The infean'.* ' ""' lU ""■ f . ! ' '' " ItWaJr the toS^JeWd Q&f^msl :l% : l%i < ho i ld^as plea^ng yt ag^h|{ be^and^he,, submMed f& jfa for hri'; ftfid It was during this period, moreover, that

B he saw her husband at hitr.bosfc> -If there was one strong feature in his character, it was his passionate devotion jbo his mother; •and this, thatshehWohly guessed at from j'bis talking, Bhe nowsaw pfit in evidence,' in j a hundred pretty ways,' from* morning 'till I night. Just about a& clearly as ,'most ! people, Sabina perceived her husband's I peculiarities and defects j for she hcid a calm j understanding 1 , and she was not blinded by any wild romanticism. He was frivolous, careless, infirm of purpose ; he was a little cynical, and not a little selfish, But his affection for his mother, his admiration of her, liis praises of her. goodness, his faith in her counsels, hjs. delight in her personal ap-, pearance - all these were beautiful things to lodlc at or to listen to. It old Mr Foster would have Sabina go with him for a stroll along the autumn-tinted highways, the son i was well content to follow; Bohind with the pretty and gentle mother, teasing her sometimes, ,at others petting her, bat ever and always her champipn. ?SI? S I suppose it is rather a stupid thing," he said to Sabina, " for a man to be proud of his own mother ; but then, you see, they don'fc often make them like that."

" She has been very kind to me," Sabina said, rather wistfully ; she had not enjoyed much of a mother' 3 care. On the morning of their - leaving for London, Fred Foster addressed the following remarks to his wife, during the process of heaving hie things into nis portmanteau :—: — 11 Well, now, Sabie, you've done everything I asked of you, and done it thoroughly too. I -thought you - would have had a tougher job with the old man 5 but you've settled him ; you've made a poor, wretched gelatinous thing of him ; he's just as silly about you as the Wygrams used to be. But look here, my dear," he said, regarding her rather ruefully, "I haven't seen any practical outcome of it, Here we are going back ; and not a word has been said about any little friendly assistance to two young people starting life together. "Oh, Fred," she remonstrated, "don't talk about money ! They have been goodness itself to us." " Yes, my dear child, but money insists on being talked about ; it is a way it has got. I don't say we haven't enough .for present necessities j and those rooms in the Strand aie not expensive— considering how handy they are j but still— one would, have liked a trifling augmentation of income, so to speak ; or even supposing that a little friendly cheque had been slipped into ooe's hand, I dare say one might nave pocketed one's dignity. Or perhaps he doesn't believe in tny playing good boy do'vn here ? Want's to see how our small establishment < is going to work? Payment by results, eh?" "Fred, don't talk like that!" she implored. "Surely we have enough, if we are careful and economical.!' "Oh, I assure you lam not frightened about the future," he said, gaily. " The success of your performance down • here has quite reassured me. When you. can do for such a tough old character as my father, you won't have much difficulty in bringing your own father to reason, if once you set your mind to it. We shall be all right, never fear." Old Mrs Foster was crying a little when she embraced her daughter-in-law for the last time at Wycombe station. "Dear child," she s.aid, "I — I. suppose you are doing right in going away from us —but— but remember there is always a 'home waiting for you when you choosej God bless you, my dear f—lf — I shall look for ward to your coming home. I know you will come and comfort the last years of an old woman's life. " , ; Sabina was not a sentimental person ; but this old lady had been very, very kind to' hBr. ( "Good-bye, mother," she saidr-with a half-stifled sob in her throat; and after they had got away from the station, she sat very «ilent in a corner of the carriage, not caring to show that her downcast lashes werewet. ' ,

so I though I tf qiild use ihe day for my , own purposes. „ THajf is, why ,1, wrote toyqn, I 'Jfinitf deaft" I'wanb'jfou to come and help, jnein getting. afew'thirig^'fob the rooms;. [ Comfortable .little rooms, jxvfin'b Jjhey ?' And i one" need never be dull either : , just look at ■ this." ' ' " >J ' "'"' She* took her friend j to the window, and showed her the busy, noisy thoroughfare, with its continual stream of passers-by, its shops and pavements and sandwich-men, its cabs and vans and omnibuses, its ceaseless movement and kaleidoscopic groupings. " When I'm left a poor forlorn grasswidow," Sabina Raid,' " I can always amuse myself ! . there. But -you know, Jante^l shan't have much time for moping. Come, shall ■ we go and begin om' pin-chases at once ? I want to get a few pretty things, and some useful things as' well, just to make the place trim and snug, Fred was no use in the way of advice ? the only thing he could suggest was a cellaret." All this time Janie had been quite silent ; but now she took Sabind/fi hand in hers, and regarded herwith -tender and earnest and wistful eyes, and said :—