CHAPTER V.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 431, 25 December 1889, Page 5

CHAPTER Y.

LOVK AND FATE. Amid the sylvan aolitude Of unshorn grass and waving wood And waters glancing bright and fast, A softened voice was in her ear, Sweet as those lulling sounds and fine Th© hunter lifts his head to hear, N r ow far and faint, now full and near— The murmur of the wood swept pine. A manly form was ever nigh. A bold, free hunter, with an eye Whose dark, keen glance had power to wake Both fear »nd love— to awe and charm. Faded the world that they had known, A poor vain shadow, cold and waste, In the warm prosent bliss alone Seemed they of actual life to taste. WaiTfiEß.

When Herman Brudenell was quite out of hearing, Nora arose and threw herself into her sister's arms, crying : * Oh, Hannah, consent ! consent ! 1 cannot live without him !' The elder sister caressed the younger tenderly ; told her of all the dangers of a secret marriage; of all bhe miseries of an illsorted one ; and implored.her to dismiss her wealthy lover, and struggle with her misplaced love. Nora replied only with tears and sobs, and vain repetitions of the words : * I cannot live without him, Hannah ! I cannot live without him ! Alas, for -weakness, wilfulness and passion ! They, and not wise counsels grained the day. Nora would not give up her lover ; would not struggle with her love ; but would have her own way. At length, in yielding a reluctant acquiescence, Hannah said : ' I would never countenance this — never, Nora ! but for one reason ; ib is that I know, whether I consent or not, you two, weak and wilful and passionate as you are, will rush into this imprudent marriage all the same ! And I think for your sake, it had better take place with my sanction, and in my prssence than otherwise.' Nora clasped her sister's neck, and covered her face with kisses. * He means well by us, dear Hannah — indeed, he does, bless him ! So do not look so grave because we are going to be happy.' Had Herman felt sure of his answer the next day ? It really seemed so ; for when he made his appearance at the cottage in the morning, he brought the marriage license in his pocket, and a peripatetic minister in his company. And before the astonished sisters had time to recover their self-possession, Herman Brudenell's will had carried his purpose, and the marriage ceremony was performed. The minister then wrote out the certificate, which was signed by himself, and 'witnessed by Hannah, and handed it to the bride. 'Now, dearest Nora,' whispered the triamphant bridegroom, ' I am happy, and you are safe !' But — were either of them really safe or happy ? It was in the beautiful month of June they were married ; when the sun shone with his brightest splendour ; when the sky was of the clearest blue ; when the grass was of the freshest green, the woods in their fullest foliage, the flowers in their richest bloom, and all nature in her most luxuriant life ! Yes, June was their [honeymoon ; the forest shades their bridal frails, and birds and flowers and fleav«eand rills their train of attendants. For weeks they lived a kind of fairy life, wandering together through the depths of the valley forest, discovering through the illumination of their love new beauties and glories in the earth and sky ; new sympathies with every form of life. Were ever suns so bright, skies so clear, and woods so green as theirs, in this month of beauty, love and joy ! ' It seems to me that I must have been <le*£ and blind and stupid in the days before I iciieiv you, Herman, for then the sun -seemed only to shine, and now I feel that he smiles a* well as shines ; then the toees only •seemed to bend under a passing breeze, :>mh> I know they stoop to caress umj then the flowers seemed only to foe crowded, now I know they draw together to kiss ; thtn indeed I loved nature, but now I know that she also is alive and loves me J* said Nora, one day, as they sat upon a bank of wild thyme, under the spreading branches of an old oak tree, that stood alone in a little opening of the forest. * You darling of nature ! you might have known that all along !' exclaimed Herman, enthusiastically pressing her to his heart. 'Ob, how good you are to love me so much ; you —so high, so learned, so wealthy ; you who have seen so many fine ladies — to come down to «i«. a poor, ignorant weavergirl !' said Nora, humbly — for trae love in many a woman is ever most humble and moat idolatrous, abasing itself and idolizing its object. ' Come down to you, my angel and my queen 1 to you, whose beauty is so heavenly and so royal that it seems to me every one should worship and adore you ! how could I come down to you \ Ah, Nora, its seems .to me that it is you who have stooped to n*9 ! There are kings on this earth, my .bed, wed, "who might be proud to place such fregaji foeauty on their thrones beside them i jJTor, oh i _you are as beautiful, my Nora, as rfiny won^9# of old, for whom heroes lost ttvoiids ■!' 'Do you tfcfok so ? do you really think so ? Jam so glad for your pake ! I wish I were " ten times as beautiful ! and highborn, and learned, and accomplished, and wealthy, and everything else that is good, for your sake i Herman, I would be willing to pass through a fiery furnace if by doing so, I could come out like refined gold, for your sake !' * Hush, hush, sweet love '. that fiery furnace of which you speak, is the scriptural symbol for fearful trial and intense suffering ! far be it from you, for I would rather my whole body were consumed to ashes than one shining tress of your rayen hawshould be singed !' * But, Herman ! one of the books you iitead to me said : " All that is good must !be toiled for; all thafc is best aausfb he suffered for ;" and lam willing to do or toear scything in the world that would make me more worthy of you !' • 'My^ darling, you are worthy of a monarch, »*»<* much too good for me '.' * How kind you are to say so, but for all that I know I am «nly a poor, humble, ignorant girl, quite uns* to be your wife. And, oh, sometimes it inafce* me very sad to think so !' said Nora, with # deep sigh. •Then do not' think bo, my own i why should you? You are beautiful; ?cu are arood : you are lovely aud beloved, and you i i l- I UU n *»..r I' av/Ouitnorl Hfil'tTian.

* Oh, lam happy ! very happy now ! For whatever ! I do or say, right or wrong, is good in your eyes, and pleases you because you love me so much. God bless you ! God love you ! God save you, whatever becomes of your poor Nora !' she said, with a still heavier sigh. At this moment a soft summer cloud floated between them and the blazing meridian sun, veiling its glory. 4 Why, what is the matter, love ? What has come over you ?' inquired Herman, gently caressing her. ' I do not know ; nothing more than that perhaps,' answered Nora, pointing to the cloud that was now passing over the sun. 1 " Nothing more than that." Well, that has now passed, so smile forth again, my sun V said Herman gayly. 'Ah, dear Herman, if this happy life could only last ! this life in -which we wander or repose in these beautiful summer woods, among rills and flowers and birds ! Oh, it is like the Arcadia of which you read tome in your books, Herman? Ah, if it would only last !' * Why should it not, love ?' ' Because it cannot. Winter will come with its wind, and snow and ice. The woods will be bare, the grass dry, the flowers all withered, the streams frozen and the birds gone away, and we — ' Here her voice sank into silence, but Herman took up the word : • Well, and we, beloved ! we shall pass to something much better ! We are not partridges or squirrels to live in the woods and fields all winter. We shall go to our own luxurious home. You will be my loved and honoured and happy wife ; the mistress of an elegant house, a fine estate and many negroes. You will have superb furniture, beautiful dresses, splendid jewels, servants to attend you, carriages, horses, pleasure boats, and everything else that heart could wish, or money buy, or love tind to make you happy. Think, oh think of all the joys that are in store for you !' ' Not for me ! Oh, not for me those splendours and luxuries and joys thac you speak of ! They are too good for me ; I shall never possess them ; I know it, Herman ; and 1 knew it even in that hour of heavenly bliss when you first told me you loved me ! I knew ib even when we stood before the minister to be married, and I know it still ! This thort summer of love will be all the joy I shall ever have.' ' In the name of Heaven, Nora, what do you mean? Is ib possible that you can imagine I shall ever be false to you ?' passionately demanded the young man, who was deeply impressed ab" last by the sad earnestness of her manner. 'No! no! no! I never imagine anything unworthy of your gentle and noble nature,' aaid Nora with fervent emphasis aa she pressed closer to his side. ' Tnen why, why do you torture yourself and me with these dark previsions V 'I do nob know. Forsive me, Herman,' softly sighed Nora, laying her cheek against his own. He stole his arm around her waist, and as he drew her to his heart, murmured : ' Why should you not enjoy all the wealth, rank and love to which you are entitled as my wife !' 'Ah ! dear Herman, I cannot tell ivhy. I only know that I never shall ! Bear with me, dear Herman, while I say this : After I had learned to love you ; after I had grieved mj'self almost to death for your absence ; when you returned and asked me to be your wife, I seemed suddenly to have passed from darkness into radianb light ! But in the midst of it all I seemed to hear a voice in my heart, saying : " Poor moth ! you are basking in a consuming fire ; you will presently fall to the ground a burnt, blackened, tortured and writhing thing." And, Herman, when I thought of the great difleience between us ; of 3'our old family, hierh rank and A'asb wealth : and of your magnificent house, and your stately lady mother and fine lady sisters, I knew bhat though you had married me, I never could be owned as your wife — ' ' Nora, if ib were possible for me to be angry with you I should be po !' interrupted Herman, vehemently ; * " you never could be owned as my wife !' I tell you that you can be— and that you shall be, and very soon ! It was only to avoid a rupture with my mother that I married you privately at all. Have I not snrrounded you with every legal security ? Have I nob armed you even against myself ? Do you nob know that even if it were possible for me to turn rascal, and become so mean and miserable, and dishonoured as to deI sert you, you could still demand your rights as a wife, and compel me to yield them !' 'Asif I would ! Oh, Herman, as if I would depend upon anything bub your dear love to erive me all I need ! Armed against you, ami? Ido not choose to be so ! Ib is enough for me to know that I am your wite. Ido not care to be able to prove it ; for, Herman, were it possible for you to forsake me, I should nob insisb upon my *' righbs " — I should die. Therefore, why should I be armed with legal proofs againsb you, my Herman, my lite, my soul, my celf? I will not continue so! 1 And wibh a generous abandonment, she drew from her bosom the marriage cerbificabe, bore ib to pieces, and scattered it abroad, saying : ' There now ! I had kept it as a love token, close to my heart, little knowing it was a cold-blooded, cautious, legal proof, else ib should have gone before, where it has gone now, bo bhe winds ! There now, Herman, lam your cvvn wife, your own Nora, quite unarmed and defenceless before you ; trusting only to your faith for my happiness ; knowing that you will never willingly forsake me j but feeling that if you do, I should not pursue you, but die !' ' Dear, trusting girl ! would you indeed deprive yourself of all defence thus ? But, my Nora, did you suppose, when I took you to my bosom, that I had intrusted your peace and safety and honour, only to a scrap of perishable paper? No, Nora, no ! Infidelity to you is forever impossible to me ; but death is always possible to all persons ; and so, though I could never forsake you, I might die and leave you ; and to guard against the consequences of such a contingency, I surrounded you with every legal security. The minisber that married ug resides in this country : the witness that attended ue lives with you. So that if tomorrow I should die, you could claim, as my widow, your half of my personal pro perby, and your life-interest in my estate. And if to-morrow you should become impatient of your condition as a secreted wife, and wish to enter upon all the honours of Brudenell Hall, you have the power to do soi' *Asif I would ! As if it was for thafc I k>v<ed you ! oh, Herman !' ' I know you would not, love ! And J know it was not for tha]b you loved me ! I have perfect confidence in your disinterestedness. And J hope you have as much in twine." • I have, Herman. I frave i' 'Then, to go back to the first cjuestion, why did you wound me by saying, that though I had married you, you knew you never could be owned as my wife ?' •I spoke from a deep conviction! Oh, Herman, 1 know you will never willingly forsake me ; bub 1 Jecl you will never acknowledcre me !'

'Then you musfc think mo a villain ! said Hermun bitterly. • No. no, no ; I think, if you must have my thoughts, you are the gontlest, truest, and noblest among men.' ' You cannot get away from the point ; if you think I could desert you, you mmt think I om a villain !' * Oh, no, no ; besides I did not say you would desert me ! I said you would never own me '' • It if in effect the same thing.' 4 Herman, understand me : when I say from the deep conviction I feel, that you will never own mo, I also say, that you will bo blameless.' 'Those two thing? are incompatible, Nora ! But why do you persist in assorting that you will never be owned f ' Ah, dear me, because it is true !' 1 But why do you think it is true V 1 ♦ Because when I try to imagine our future, I see only my own humble hut, with its spinning-wheel and loom. And I feel I shall never live in Brudeneli Hall !' ' Nora, hear me : this is near the first of July ; in six months, that is before the first of January, whether 1 live or die, as my wife or as my widow, you shall rule at I Brudeneli Hall !' Nora smiled, a strange, sad smilo. •Listen, dearest,' he continued ; 'my mother leaves Brudeneli in December. She thinks tho two young ladies, my sisters, should have more society ; so she has purchased a line house in a fashionable quarter of Washington City. The workmen are now busy decorating and furniehing it. She takes possession of it early in December. Then, my Nora, when my mother and sisters are clear of Brudeneli Hall, and settled in tho town-house, I will bling you home, and write and announce our marriage. Thus there can be no noise. People cannot quarrel very long or fiercely through the post. And finally time and reflection will reconcile my mother to the inevitable, and we shall be all once more united and happy.' ' Herman dear,' said Nora, softly ; ' indeed my heart is towards your mother ; 1 could love and revere and serve her as dutifully as if I were her daughter, if she would only deign to lot me. And, at any rate, whether she will or not, I cannot help loving and honouring her, because she is your mother and loves you. And, oh, Herman, if she could look into my heart,and see how truly 1 love you, her son, how gladly I would putter to make you happy, and how willing I should be to live in utter poverty and obscurity, if it would be for your good, I do think she would love me a little for your sake. 5 ' Heaven grant it, my darling !' 1 But be sure of this, dear Herman. No matter how she may think it good to treat me, I can never bo angry." with her. I must alu-uy, love her and seek her favour, for she is your mother.'