CHAPTER XLVI

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 255, 14 April 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XLVI

A KI.U'SAKr. i PrvcTCALLV at noon Fred Foster arrived I and was shown through the houec and thiough the garden to the studio. Lindsay was standing with hi-^ back to the fire, smoking his pipe. When he heard the footsteps outside he said to himself, ' Now, can 1 keep my hands off the scoundrel? Can I leave England without telling him what a coward and sneak he is ? Is it to be I kicking 1 Or breaking a stick across his back ?' But the instant the door opened all that vanished from his mind. Contempt., pure and simple, took its place. He regarded thin miserable creature with loathing, not with anger ; briefly bade him goodmorning ; and then turned to stir the fire <*o as to n\oid the necessity of shaking hands. ' Snug quarters on a cold morning like this,' said Mr Foster, in a friendly and familiar way. ' You arc lucky fellows who can live in a dreamland of your own, instead of being buffeted about the world—' ' I have the money ready for you,' Lindsay said, curtly, and he walked across the room to his writing-desk. ' Of course you understand I don't take it as a loan,' Foster remarked., with some little assumption of dignity. ' I take it on commission. If it was a loan, J would'give you my I 0 U for it " ' I will not trouble you,' said Lindsay, with marked coldness. Foster glanced at him with a twinkle of anger in his eyes. ' Supercilious beast !' was doubtless in his mind, but there was a vision of a pale blue cheque before him ; and that kept him respectful. All he said was :—: — 'Of course you won't, for I don't mean to. I take the money on commisdion, as I say ; and I explained to you the other night that, if the horwe wins, you mustn't expect to be paid the odds that are now quoted in the market. You will get a percentage on the money— thab is all ; but I dare say ifc will bo handsome enough to satisfy you, if wo pull the thing off.' Lindsay handed him the cheque without a word : it was a heavy price to pay — but by this time Sabina would be on hor way down into Buckinghamshire.

' With anything like luck,' Foster said, as ho folded up bho cheque and put it in his pocket, ' I ought to bo able to return you a little slip of paper with considerably bigger figuros on it. And 1 think wo arc protty safo this journey. It's about time something was coming my way — I'vo had such a cursed run of luck as nevei' was heard of in tho world before. And if wo do pull it oil this time, it will bo to a protty tune, I promiso you : it's going to be a big thing, one way or the oLhor : just you wait to i-'ce what tho 17th of March will bring forth.' 'In tho meantime,' said Lindsay, ' when arc you going down to Witstcad? 1 Foster (stared, uhmuch as to say, ' What's that to you V • Because,' Lindsay continued, ' 1 should like you to mako arrangements to let my housekeeper come back home again as soon as possible" ' Your housekeeper '! What is she doing there. ' ' If you had been in > our own hou&c while your child was ill, you would know,' was the answer. ' The little girl was aft aid of tho fever — or her peopl<> were -and she left. It was necessary to have some one at once ; and I sent my housekeeper down. It is time she was home attain.' ' Well, why doesn't my wife let her go ?' said ho. 'As I understand i(, Mrs Fostei was going down to your father' ; and my housekoepei ay as to remain in chaige of tho place I until you showed up — that was the airangemenl, 1 believe.' ' My wile uoing down to Buckinghamshire '!' he exclaimed. ' Who told you that '!' ' ilanie. ' 'Oh, but .she shan't! I'll slop that. We'll soon put. an end to that nmnu'uwo '.' Lindsay looked at him curiously, and with patience. Indeed, thcio was no cause for an^ disquietude now. She would be on herwaj to Wjeombe by this time: in an hour or two she w ould be safe in her new home, And so this poor weakling of a cieatuie- will) tho shaky (ingeis, and da/cd eyes, and half-bemused btain — imagined tfiat he had still a hold ovei Sabina, when he could no longer teuify her with tlneats of taking a\\a\ her child v It was amusing, in a way. ihd he think it was his fotce ol ehaiaetei .' Or the majesty of the law behind him ' Well, undoubtedly the majesty of the law was behind him; but his own pecuniary inteiests weie of inoie immediate im])oitance to him ; and Lindsay did not antici])ate that the old fcntlemau in Missenden would hnd much dithcuh,y in inducing his worthy son to leave Sabina in peace ' Well, 1 m oil,' said t ho gentleman with the < heque in his poclur. ' Much obliged foi ) our confidence. Hope jou won't Hnd it misplaced This time it was the opening of the studio-door thab relie\ed Lindsay of the necessity of shaking hand". •(lood morning — I you w ill be able to find jour way out '" 'Oh, yes' don't tiouble. (iood moinin<_:. Jt was the last time these two cut saw each other And then Lindsay be^an his prepaiation foi uoing aw ay somewlieie; for he had LTiown tiied of England; and wished fora change. He was fond of tia\el and fn>h «cenos ; and he could find occupation for himself w heie\ei he went. So first of all he leUuned to Bm ford Bridge, and linished up \\\-^ woik theie ; then he made a |oume> noithward to his nathe Kingdom of ("iallowa), and saw that hir* small belongings in that famous county were being propei h looked if tor ; and finally he engaged a berth in a White .Star liner. New York was to be his first objective point. And yet he did not like the idea of leaving England without saying good-bye to Sabina- -any moie than he liketl the idea of pi eventing himself before her a solitary and unsummoncd •wsitor. He went to Janie about it. ' I know quite well,' he said, * thai I of some little sen ice to her down theie in Surrey. But she may think lam pressing too much of a claim on the strength of that ' 'Then itV little jou understand Sabie, 1 ' •Jame answered, promptly. ' And what is moi c - if you ha\ c any tegard for her at all, you won't lenrve the country without uoing to bee her She will ncvei believe that she is fully reinstated in youi pood opinion unless, you do that. Of couisel told her all )im said— and very glad and acij grateful she was — but assurances of that kind coming fiomathiid pcr-on aie never quite satisfactory. Mr Lindsay, you will go and see Sable V ' She might think it strange, my going there,' he said, doubtfully. 1 Will you go it &he asks you ':' ' Most certainly !' 1 Then wait till the day after to-morrow." On the morning indicated by Janie there came to him a very friendly — if rather timid — little note from Sabina, saying she had heatd from Janio that he was lea\ing England for some time, and intimating that if it was not altogether too incom cnicnt for him, she would like to have the opportunity of bidding him good-bye. He nought out a time-table ; there was a train at eleven o'clock. And so, in due course, he found himself on his way to Prince's Tlisboivwgh ; for he thought he would like to have a walk across the Chiltern Hills, to have a last look at an English landscape ; besides, that would time his anivalat (Jrcat Missenden for about live o'clock, wheh he could not incommode the unknown household in any ' wa Y- . i Tho journey down was uninteresting, for a cold grey mist lobbed the landscape of any colour it might otherwise have had. But perhaps his eyes were busy with other things than those visible through tllO 1 carriage- window. It seemed to him as if he was bent on a double leave-taking— tin-, was a last look at England, and a last good-bye to Sabina too. Arrived at Prince'e Risborough station, he asked for some scrap of lunch at the refreshment -100 m there, but they could give him nothing. They suggested that if he went on to the village, he might fare better at the (ieorge. 'If it's only biead and cheese,' he said to himself, as he set out again, ' I must I have something.' For he was nob going to have Sabina inconvenienced by tho ap1 pearance of a hungry visitor. Great, however, and unexpected was his fortune at the Cieorge— a small inn in the main thoroughfare of this dead-alive and melancholy village. He .suddenly found himself in the land of Canaan : for there Avas a market -ordinary going on in the principal room ; and they got a place for him with great politeness ; and made him very welcome at the bountiful feast. Indeed, this was not the first time by many that he had noticed the good fellowship and friendliness and courtesy shown by a number of strangers thrown together in an English inn ; a courtesy of which ho had novev seen the like in any other country he had visited— and he had been a considerable traveller. So far from each man attending solely to his own wants, and gulping his food as if ho was running to catch a train, there was a general helpfulness that was almost obtrusive ; and there was an air of leisurely comfort about the proceedings, as if each man know that his dog-carb was outside, awaiting his good pleasure. And he liked the wholesome and healthy and sturdy look of

those elderly fanrers — with their silvergrey whiskers, and ruddy complexion, thcii clear blue eyes, and their deliberate, strongly - accentuated, masculine speech. Thoir humour was not voty subtle, perhiips ; their political views were robust and deliuito, ratlior than learned ; and plain common t-enso and attention to the substantial facts of life were doubtless more in their way than a gay faeetiousness ; nevertheless, judging by a tolerably wide experience, this type of character was very grateful to Walter Lindsay, who had long ago arrived at tho conviction that the clever, shallow, conceited, ignorant, belioving-in-nothing London cockney is the most degiadcd and conptomptiblc of all God's creatures — if such ho may piopeily be called. Then ho set out to climb the Chilteinp, keeping to the right of the great white cio.is which, cut on tho chalk slope, in visible all tho way from Oxford. The conditions wore not tavourablo for his last look round. A pale mist hung along the hills ; tho wintry Avoods and hedges were eolour-ic-s, but ior hero and there a bit of green holly or insect beach; the sky Avas monotonously giey. And yet Avhcn ho reached the top, and tinned to legaul the groat plain sti etched out beneath him— Avitli its larmhoust's, and fields, and copies, and ' loads all phantom-like in the pic\ailing iia/o — ifc Mas with not a little legiot thai he knew this was a lea\etaking. 110 had a great atlcction for Kngland, it lie was born a Scotchman. It was in England he had lived the most of his hlo and done the best of his Avork. And Avho moio faithfully than himself had studied her moods and ways and communed with her in secret- places— and got to know her elusive charm? For the beamy ot English landscape has subtleties that none but the painter know* ; and it ih onls aftei patient habitude that these arc ir\ealed o\< n to him ; often enough, moreo\i'i, when he hi- caught and tiansferrcd to paper 01 cam as something of tin- coy giaeiou-ni -s, the tesult i- quite disappointing to the oidmary spectator, accustomed to tho ol)\ious characteristics of Italian lake-, Sui-s mountains, Highland glens, and tho like Tho chiomo-lithographer is not at. home m the Engli-h counties -oi, at l»est,hogocs up to We-tmoieland, A\heu; ho can get a nice, handy, jmii table edition of lake and mountain -cenci v, all within ea.s} compass, and all of guaranteed piettine.sh. Up heie, on the sumnn't ot the hill, the u/,uU huk tilled with snow and half-melted ice, which made it dithcuU walking; so, \sln-ic it A\a- piaotieable, he made a path *oi hinw>lt thiough the leaUc— luaehwood-. It, was strangely still in these solitude- , tin re seemed to be no a\ oik iroing on at an\ ot the fauns ; the rcmote-t sounds weie j)hun!y audible in the hushed air. His own tootsteps, too, weie noi-eless on tho yielding carpet of A\itheied lea\cs : theic was not a -iun ot lite <m\ where except when .i jay tied -hiie-king thiough the branches, or a long-tailed magpie Happed its silent way acro-s the fields. Ho could not ha\e been moic alone m the lorc-ts ot t'ham plain. He had caietullj made out hi- loute on the Oidnance Sur\ey map before -taitinsr ; and when, at length, he came in of a spacious mansion, standing at the -ummit, of a noble a\enue that sloped away down into a \ alley, he knew that this wa.s 1 1 am pden House, and that here h.id Ined the trio.it Englishman whose reiu-al to pi\ Charles s ship-money had rung thiough the land a- a summons to England to stand by her ancient rights and liberties And he wondeied whether they had brought his body, after the fray at (Jhalgiove, to be buried heic ; and whether they had borne it, with solemn ,-t.ite, up this great and silent ii\enue. And ho wondered, too—as a landscape painter -where, except in England, one could find such an a\enue ; some thieo hundred yaids he guessed its width, and o\eraimlo in length, ot velvet turt, Avhere the snow allowed that to be a i.-ible, and planted on each side by magnificent beeches and Spanish chestnut-. Dow n this a\enuo he made hi.s Avay to the -Misbenden road — Ftaitling a lab'bit now and again from among the withered blacken and the snow He knew that close by Avas the piccj of land on Inch the ship-money A\as levied : had anyone thought of electing souk; kind of memoiial to mark so inteieating a spot ? ilowc\cr, it was neither .lohn Hampdon, noi the ship-money, nor the fatal Chalgro\e tiekl that- A\as in his mine. Avhcn he dreAv near the \illago of Missenden. The old-fa-hioncd house, with its redbrick wall, and tall elm-trees, and laurestinus- bushes, was pointed out to him by a passer-by ; he King the bell, and Avas admitted by an elderly A\oman, who begged him to go into the drawing loom — Mis Foster Avould be with him presently. So theie he waited; glancing at the portwiits and sketches on the walls; lather struck by the oldwoild look ot tho furnitme and the quaint decorations; and wondering whether KiihitKi had as yet had time to grow quite accustomed to the quietude of her neAV home. The door opened ; he turned instantly — and caught sight of a pair of eyes, timid, and yet shining and placid and grateful. And this was not at all the pale Sabina he had expected to sec; thoic was a (lush of rosc-ied on her face— the Hush of a girl of seventeen ; and she came to him quickly, with extended hand, as if her gladness at the sight of him had o\creome her embarwissment. ' It i- very kind of you,' she said, simply. ' Junie gaAC me all tho messages >ou sent - and -and that was only more of your good-nc-s to me ; but when [ heard you wero ically going away, well, I— wanted to see yourself, to make sure that you really forgive me — — ' 'Yes, but- we are not going to .speak of that any moic," said he, giavely. s That is all o\cr and gone. Janie must have told you that I understood the whole situation perfectly. ' j ' And lam not even to thank you for | being so kind V 1 There is no kindness in the matter ; there may be a "little common sense. Noav, tell me— are you quite comfortable here? Do you like the place ?' ' Yes, indeed,' she answered. ' They do everything they can think of for me, and one day is just like another ; it is a peaceful life ; and 1 wish for nothing better. Only,' she added with downcast eyes, ' it is— very — for away — from Witstead. ' He knew what she meant ; bub he understood that Janie had undertaken to tend the little gvave there. ' And you,' she said, ' why are you going aAvay from England, after being home so short a time ?' Well, he began and gave her his reasons, or excuses, for going ; and told her of all hisplansand projects ; and made thomatteras , cheerful as it might bo. Then she asked him to go into the dining-room, where old Mr Foster, Avhose rheumatism Avas protty ' bad, Avas seated ; and they had tea there, and further talk. It Avas pleasant to hear Sabina's voice. And sometimes there was a smile in her eyes. He began to think that in this quiet heaven she might attain some forgetf ulne&s of the too ungenerous past ; and that tho years might bring to her at least a placid content. The garden visible through the window looked somoAvhat dismal at presonb ; but Spring Avas coming ; ho could sco Sabina among the young blossoms— in a light print dress— a pair of

gardener's shears in her hand— perhaps a touch of peach-colour in her cheek— and the bright sunlight on her golden-brown hair. The grey of the atternoon deepened ; the elderly woman brought in the lamps ; and then he rose. ' I have to walk to Wyeombo,' he said, < and lam not quite sure ot the way— so 1 had better be going.' ' But you mufct not get astray in the dark,' Sabina said, anxiously. 4lf you will wait a few minutes I will send o**er to the inn and get a conveyance for you— indeed, you must do that.' ' If you are not too proud to go in a pony-chaise,' old Mr Foster baid, with a laugh, ' our lad can drive you across : I'm sure the cob doesn't get half enough exercise in this weather.' ' Oh, thank you, I could not think of troubling you ; but L think what Miss Zo— Mrs Foster says is quite right— l t-houldn'fc like to mi>s my way— so I'U go into the inn in parsing and tret a trap to take me over. L may catch an eailier train too at Wycombe.' He spoke rapidly and confusedly ; he hoped neither of them had noticed the half stumble. Bui indeed she had been looking so young, and speaking in :i pleased way, as in the olden days —and also, perhaps he was a little bewildered by the knowledge thai, now he w;h about to bid her farewell, probably for many year.-. lie was a little bieathle»s when he found that .she came out after him into the hall. 'Mr Lindsay,' she said- and ohe stood facing him in the lamplight, but with her eyes downcast— 'good-bye is easily said: but \\ you arc going away - perhaps for some year-3 — well, I should like you to think sometimes that I don't forget, that I ne\er, never can forget, what your friendship has been to me. Would you take a little koep-ako from me— just to lemind you 't It waft my giandtathef — -my mother gave it to me.' She tiiiiidh otleied him the liinket. [t was an old-fashioned nng — icd gold and gamet 1 -. He held her hand in his ; and for a second he could not thutih. her «it all. 'It will be a it-minder, will it not,' i-he said, 'that I \u\\a not erased to be gratoiul to you for all your kindne.-s to me V 4 And if you only knew how [ \alue it — and how 1 shall value it many thousands, of Tiiile-b away' He did not ti list himself to say mote. 'dooil \>ye, and (!od bless you !' She opened the door loi him ; he looked once at the tendei eye*, and tlien was gone. ( To be continual, )