CHAPTER XXXIX. NEIGHBOURS.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 249, 24 March 1888, Page 10

CHAPTER XXXIX. NEIGHBOURS.

Aktkh that day ho sat resolutely to woik; i\i)d very cold work it was. But ho had long been used to out-of-door exposure ; he liad a viiile physique ; and then somo unknown friend — whose motive for withholding his in? me was beyond conjecture — had j>ent a kid-leather coat such a 1 * i*. worn in eaily spring by salmon-fishers in Norway, and there wa-< much warmth and satisfaction in all this garment. Nor was ho Miihout occasional company. The two daughh '.* of Sir Tyrrell Drake had a couple of young lady fiiends staying 1 with them at Bea\er Court; and the whole four of these oirls were, or professed to be, more or le»s of amateur artists, and keenly interested in painting. It was remarkable how oUk n the) had occasion to drive round by Burtoid-Bridgc : and if Mr Lindsay was .-unuheie visible, they would give the reins to the gioom, and would come and form a semi-tiiclo round the artist and his easel, devoting them»ehes chiefly to compliment, but sometimes ventuiing to ask how thit or that was done. Lindsay was in no wi.io disconcerted by tho presence of these friendly critic* — he was too well used to the bovine gn/-o of gaping rustics ; but ho had co intoim them that nib studies were mostly rciomoiainla for his own subsequent use, md not at all fitted to be set up as exemplars tor innocent and aspiring minds. Fur the lest, he might have dined every night, in the week at Beaver Court ; and once or tv ice lie did go over, begging to be excused for his morning dress ; but for thenvM part he liked to be alone with his sketches m the c\enings, for there was a food deal of consideration to be done in doors. However, a landscape-painter, no matter how biuy he may be, has alwa}& plenty of time for thinking o\er things; and Lindsay, fitting at hn ea«el on those chill January mornings, began to wonder whether he had e\er really understood Sabina. I'erhaps tho glamour af her appearance, her actual physical beauty, had blinded him ? If he had been asked to name what he considered her most marked characteristic he would have said an extiaordinary irank and icady generosity of disposition. But tli is Sabina was cold, roticent, distrustful, embarrassed, and at times betraying more than a trace of nervous anxiety. Was it, then, that all women were a mystery — inconsistent, perverse, whimsical, unstable as water ? The second time that lie went over to Beaver Court, he went with a definite purpose. "I am going to try to find out what -women realy are," ho said to himself. But those four lightbeaited, merry, whole?ome-cheoked English girls did nob appear to invite psychological study. Probably they would have called it " stuff." They were very kind to him ; they played and sang to him ; he played and sang for them ; and with the assistance of two brothers home from school they had a little romp of "Sir Roger de Coverlcy. ' One of tho girls, indeed, was a tiny and winsome wench of seventeen or eighteen, with soft, kittenish wa)-s, and large, appealing eyes. Ho suspected that those ejes knew a trifle more than they jti etended to know ; and that the owner of them, in a quiet corner, might reveal a far fiom slight acquaintance with the line art of flirtation. But what of that? They wore all a.- school-children to him. They did not interest him. They were merry, and very trood-natured and fiank ; and they pbigued his life out to come to some approaching ball ; and they trooped down into the study, and remained there talking, and laughing, and teasing, while he had a iv.ial cigar with Sir Tyrrell. Indeed, they were in every way mo^t kind and friendly toward- him. But they could not tell him .•»ny thin" about Sobina, who seemed to belong ro a different world. On his i<ire \i=it? to I ondon he was in the habit of making Witstead his station, just in ca'-e he might casually meet her in going or coming. And at last what hap* poncd. He had spent the night in town, and wa*. 1 eturning to his work on the following meaning. He had passed through the little \ilkige without seeing any signs of hoi : and ua* walking briskly on, trying to forget tho renewed disappointment, when, a I fcome considerable distance ahead of him, ho suddenly caught sight of her. He recognised tho tall a"d graceful figure at a glance ; all the more that her arm was uplifted 'md her head thrown back, for apparently she was gathering something from a high hedge that ended a coppice coming right up to the road. On the pathway was •> perambulator ; bub the small Harry was by bei 'side, kneeling at the hedge roots, (jnd no doubt imitating his mother's occupation. Ab he d.rew nearer, l\e heard that .-she wa'. hinging to the child ; nearer {-till, ivy,{ he could make out the old familiar ;*!!• : but it was very li»hbly and cheerfully tint f-he made her complaint — "The wild -wind is ravin, Thy mimiie's heart's sair, Tho wild wind is ravin', i And ye dinnu care," -if thab was whnb she was saying to him. When Lindsay had got quite close to her, she did nob turn to see who this was ; »li 4 iiarelv ceased her pinging until the ■sliang'jr s-honld goby; and then she continued Lei 1 efforts to get at certain feathery :-) ray & ->f the wild clematis that were just beyond hei reach. " Let me get them for you," he said. She turned quickly ; was it ever to be hi J fate to startle her on their meeting V " Oh, how do you do, Mr Lindsay V No ; thank you. I think I can manage." Of eoui!*e he saw that she could nob manage ; and without further parleying he pulled down the slender branches for her, and she took what she wanted. Then they spoke a hfctle about the weather, and the hardships of the ooor. Then she asked lit m how he was getting along ab Burford Budge, "Isn't it rather unusual for an artist to be p iniAng out-of-doors in weather like this ?" " Thab makes ib all bhe bebter worth doing.'' ♦• Don'b your fingers get benumbed ?*' " Sometimes I have to give up, and sl»mp about. Bub I can bear cold prebby well." 41 Are you going to take tho drawings to A men" en. when you have finished them all ?" "No ; 1 think I shall exhibit them in London." " I was told you made a great repubation in America." " Thoy were very kind to me over there. And of course an artist's work has to bo shown before they can know anything aboub him. One copy of a book is just as good as

another ; but tho pain tor has to show his own original work." 41 And you arenobgoing back to America?" she pan], rather absently. "No, I think not — not at present— l have not oven thought of it." By this time sho had put tho bits of holly, and tho rod berries, and tho sprays of old-man's-bcard into the porambulator. " Como along", Harry," bl>o &aid, "You will luivo to walk all tho way back, you see. C'ood morning, Mr Lindsay." So she lett him ; mid he walked on, leadon-hcarted enough. Ho wished ho had not seen her. Perhaps he ought to try to see her no more. Surely it would bo bottor for him to light his pipo in front of the lire of an evening, and conjure up the beautiful, bland-eyed Sabina that, he used to know, who was so frankly generous in her friendliness towards himself, vho was tho bepctted and be-praised and beloved of all who knew her. This. coldly rotieont woman hero bore herself with an absolutely defiant ostentation ot indillerence. She teemed to wonder that he did not return to Amorica. Wa* sho anxious that he should return? No ; she was too indifferent to be anxious. But as he walked up and down the room that night, or stood before tho lire and roused the Maying roots with his heel, he fell to having juster and gentler thoughts ot Sabiim. " There is something that I don't understand," he *>aid to himself. "There must be .^ome explanation of such an extraordinary change of manner ; and until 1 discover what it. is, I am not going to quarrel with her. Nor will I allow her to quarrel with me. I have given nor no cause of ofl'eneo that I can think of. \\ hatcver comes of it, I must see her, and insist on her speaking out, clear and plain. Sho used to bo able to do that, in those former days, without any pleading at all."' i He thought over tho matter for two or three days; and thon ono mottling, when he rose to find a chill east wind (that pest of the landscapo painter) tilling hea\ on and earth with a barely perceptible but perfectly hopeless mist, he thought he might as well walk over to Witstead and ha\o this mattor out with Sabina. He arrived thore about eleven o'clock. The small maid-ser\ant who opened tho door looked frightened. " Ye», sir, mhsi.s is at home ; but you can't see her. There's illness in the house." " Who is ill ?" he asked, quickly. "The little boy, sir. And it's fever— •scarlet fever." She made bold to appeal to him about her own trouble. "And I'm sure I don't want to leave, sir," the girl said, looking up to him with timid eye». " Why should you leave?" " Mother wants me to. Mother's afraid." "Why, you are not going to play the ' coward at such a time ?" j " I'm sure I don't want to go — missis has been ».o good to me. This is my fourth place ; but I've neve. 1 had a missis like her before." " Well, I am going upstairs to see her " "Oh, if you please not, sir — it's dreadfully infectious—l was not to allow anyone to go up," the little maid protested. "Oh, nonsense," he said, quite gently, to her. "i>on't you be so frightened as that. lam going up to tell your mistress that you couldn't think of leaving." He went upstair?. The carpel* had been stripped from the landing ; his footfall bounded sharp, From the top of one of the doors there were suspended heavy folds of calico soaked in carbolic acid ; he guessed that that was the room ; and, removing the curtain an inch or two, lie knocked lightly. In a minute or so Sabina appeared. She did not seem so agitated as he had expected ; perhaps it was tho sense of danger that had strung her nerves. Nor did she seem surprised at finding him i.hero ; while he on his part did not stay to make any apology for his inttu?ion. " This is a very bad business," he ©aid. " I hope it will turn out to be a mild form of the fever." " The doctor seems to think that likely," she said, with apparent calmness. " Thcie have been two or three cases in the neighbourhood ; and none ot them of tho most serious kind." "Oh, then you may fairly hope for the best," lie said. "But it will be a terrible imprisonment for you." " I t«hall not grudge it. M 3' boy will have a faithful nurse, I think. And very glad I am now that I served six months in the Hospital ; I should be terrified if I did not know exactly what to do ; I should be afraid of making somo terrible mistake." " I wish you would suggest some way in which I could be of assistance to you," he said. " Would you mind sending a note to Janie, and explaining to her why I cannot write to her ?" '* Oh, yes," ho said very eagerly— and very much rejoiced to have Sabina talking to him in this simple, frank, direct way. " J will do so at once. But I mean that you must consider mo entirely at your service — at any hour — for any longth of time " " Thank you, I think we shall do very well," Sabina said ; but then she added : " Unless the little girl Elizabeth were to leave. Then — I— should bo rather helpless." Even in the dusk behind those heavy folds he could see the quick ner\ous tremour that passed across her lips. " Oh, that's all right," he said, cheerfully. "That's all light. You needn't bother about that. The little girl isn't going to leave ; but if she wishes to leave theie'sno harm done. You nee, I am on my way to London just now ; and in the after noon lam going to bring my housekeeper down. She will be no inconvenience to you ; she will get a bed over the way at the Checkeis. Thon in the daytime sho will come over here and look after things ; or if the girl chooses to go, then &he will step into bcr place. It is the simplest matter in the worlj." " You are very kind," Sabina said, in rather a low voice. "Then as to yourself. Of course you cannot be the sole nurse — unless you want to knock yourself up at the very outset. As soon as I get up to London I will go to one of those institutions and send down n trained nurse. I daresay the might bo down to-night." "Oh, no, pray don't!" she said. "Indeed, I can do the nursing myself — " "Day and night? — why, it is impossible !" he exclaimed. " I have a great deal of endurance. And then the expense of having ono of those trained nurses, perhaps for a long time, would be so great — really I can get on by myself." He had foreseen this question of cxpendituie. " As to the cost of having a trained nurse down, or any other cost that may be neees.sary, you w ill have nothing to do with that. That is my affair — — " "Mr Lindsay " she was going to protest ; bufc he stopped her, with a gentleness that was firm as well. " Do you think you are right to utter a word of objection? You have no right. lho care you havo for your child must keep you silent. Besides, I claim the privilege from our old-standing friendship. You have nob been so friendly with mo of late—