BEYOND THE CITY

Te Aroha News, Volume XI, Issue 1722, 16 March 1895, Page 4

BEYOND THE CITY

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COPYRIGHT,•!■•*, pY AUTHORS’ ALLIANCE. ALL RIGHTS \ ■ - 'A ' reserved. 1 [CONTINUED.] “1 wish I could help you,” said Clara. “But I really know very little about such things. However, I could talk to my father,-who knows, a very great deal of the world.” ’ “I wish you would. I should be so glad if you would.” “Then ! certainly will.} And now I must say good night, Mr. Westmacott, for papa will be wondering where I am.” > “Goodnight, Miss Walker.” He pulled off his flannel cap and stalked away through the gathering-darkness.

Clara had imagined that they had been the last/ on the lawn, but looking back from the steps which led up to the .French windows she saw two dark figures moving across toward the house. As they came nearer she could distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister Ida. The murmur of their voices rose up to her ears, and then the musical little childlike laugh which she' knew so well. 1 “Iam ’ so delighted,” she heard her sister say. “So pleased and proud; I had no idea of it, Your words ; were such a surprise and a joy to me. Oh; lam so glad!” .- . j > “is that you, Ida?” h j ' “Oh, there is Clara, I must go in, Mr. • J Denver. Good night I” There were a few whispered words, a laugh from Ida and 'a “Good night, Miss /;’- Walker!.’ out of the, darkness. v Clara /,/ took her sister’s hand, and they passed together through the long, folding window. The doctor had gone into his study, and the. dining room was empty. A single small red lamp upon the sideboard was reflected tenfold by the plate about it and the mahogany beneath it, though its single wick cast but a feeble light into the large, dimly shadowed" room. ' Ida.danced off to the big central lamp,-but Clara put her hand upon her arm. “I rather like this quiet light,” said ; she.- - ‘‘Why should we not have a chat?” She sat in the doctor’s large red plush chair; and her sister cuddled down upon the footstool at her feet; glancing up at ..;..! her elder with a smile upon her lips and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. There /was a - jshade of anxiety in Clara’s face, ; < •: Which cleared away as she gazed into her ' { sister’s frank blue eyes, . . “Have you anything tq toll me, dear?” > ehq asked.

; . ' • i -V.. ; A...U • ! ' "Have yovCanyttyngto tell me , dear?” / - ’ Ifia gave a little pout and shrug to her ehoulders. ; “The! solicitor general then ■' qpened the case" for theprosecution,” said N - .AirLe,; 1 €laja; sb don’t deny it.' I do wish , / you would have that gray satin foulard yrting and a new white vest it would Vq-pldok as good as hew, aud it. is really very Mb were quite late upon the lawn,” Clara. f . / ’ “Yes I was,'rather. /'So - were,you. ’■sMSEave* you’’anything to tell me?” She oke away into her meiiy, musical , waa‘ chatting’ with ‘ Mr.'- Westmar ./'Bythe way, Clara, now tell me truly;- , t]iink of Mr. Denver? Do 7 you like him? . .Honestly nowf’ . ' t *.*x line mm very muen ljmeeca i innaK ‘. ’' l that he is. one of the most gentlemanly, - modest, highly young men that I have ./ ever knqwn. 7So now, dear, have. j T pu nothing to tell me?” Clara-'smoothed' , down her sister’s gold&n : hair with a. motherly gesture and stooped her face to • catch the'expectedconfidehce. Sheeould . -;• wish notlflng betterthan .- : .be t]ie : wife of Haroid Denver, and from the words which she had overheard as /./..-they loft the lawn tharieveniog sho could i r / not«denbt. that there was so'^eunder-; - r ■- standingi between tbem. 7 - J i ‘ p " I: ' Jtjfit /there danie confession iroijl [ / /Ida;, only,/the Barae'jnisqhievQUS smile! ■ , imd amused gleam in her deep blue eyes, i ■i,- , - ’ VTliatVginy began; j /' ~ / “dh, ; you-little teaset> Come now, I! “' .will Wk you what you have just, askec. • l''i me. i Do' you like Harold Denver?” j 7 /“Oh, he’s a darling!” ' - V , ‘ .“Ida!’’ ! .7':."' ;| : i-77 : .“Well; yofl asked me. That’s what 11 %f;i: think of 1 dm. AnJ now, you dear old I inquisitive, you will get nothing more j - out oi' me.-Eo Vou mttst just wait and j . - not be too curious; I'm going off to see j what papa isriomg.”. She sprang to lxer 1 fuet, throw her arms, her sister’s! $$ neck, gave her a final squeeze and was j /' gone, ’ A chorus from '“Olivette,” sung! 'in her clear contr:Jto,.gniW fainter and [ fainter until it ended:, in the slam of a | distant/door. • • ' j. / / ’But 'Clarai Walker still eat in the dim | A jif room witn her chiu/upeii her hand; j g-pd ! her dreamy eye s looking oat into /■fp&e gathering! gloom. It-was t.:e duty' her. h/tAddu 1 ' ' “Mpjart Ha ! •sßlSbthcr—to guh 4 -'Vowh’^6;V''

tier mother died not a thought had been given to herself; all was for her father and her sister.

In her own eyes she was herself very plain, and she knew that her manner was often ungracious when she would most wish to be gracious. She saw her face as the glass reflected it, hut she did not see the changing play of expression which gave it its charm—the infinity pity, the sympathy, the sweet womanliness which drew.';toward her all who were in doubt' and ip trouble, even as poor, slow moving Charles .Westmacott had been drawn ' to her that night. She was herself, she thought, outside the pale of love. But it was very different with Ida, ’merry, little, quick witted, bright faced Ida. She was born for love. It was'her inheritance. But she was young and innocent. She must not he allowed' to venture too far without help in those dangerous waters. . Some understanding therewas between her and Harold Denver. In her heart of hearts Clara, like every good woman, was a matchmaker, and already she had chosen Denver of all. men as the one to' whom she could most safely confide Ida. He had talked to her more than once on the serious topics of life, on his aspirations, on what a man could do to leave the world better for his presence. She knew that he was a man of a noble nature, high' mjnded and earnest. And yet she did not like this secrecy, this disinclination upon the part of one so frank and honest as Ida to tell her what was passing. She would wait, and if she got the opportunity next day she would lead Harold Denver himself on to this topic. It was possible that she might learn from him what her sister had refused to tell her. , . . /..

CHAPTER Y. A naval conquest.

" £fc was the h'abit of the doctor and the admiral to accompany each other upon a morning ramble between breakfast aud lunch. The dwellers in those quiet tree lined roads were accustomed to see the two figures—the long, thin, austere seaman and the short, bustling, tweed clad physician—pass and repass with such regularity that a stopped clock has been reset by them. The admiral took two steps to his companion’s three, but the younger man was the quicker, and both were equal to a good miles an hour. It was a lovely summer day which followed the events which have been described. The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper, note as bee or blue fly shot past with its quivering long drawn hum, like an insect tuning fork. As the friends topped each rise which - leads up to -the Crystal palace they .could see, the dun clouds of London Stretching along the northern sky line, with spire or dome breaking through the low lying haze, The admiral was in high ■.spirits, for the morning post had brought good news of his son. * “It is wonderful, Walker,” he was saying, “positively wonderful, the way that boy of mine has gone ahead during the last three years, . We heard from, Pearson today. /Pearson is the senior partner, you know; and my hoy the junior— Pearson & Denver.the firm. Cunning old dog is Pearson, as cute and as greedy as a Bio. shark. Yet he goes off for a fortnight’s leave and puts my boy in full charge, with all that immense business in his hands, and a free hand to do what he likes with. it. How’s that fori confidence, and he only three years upon ’change?” “Any one would confide in him. His face is a surety,” said the doctor. V “Go on, Walker.” The admiral dug £ois elbow at him, “You know my weak s Me. Still it’s truth all the same. I’ve ... Men blessed with a good wife and a good goti, and maybe I relish them the more f or having been - cut off from them so iongri 1 have much to be thankful for.” “An dgo have 1, The best two girls thatyjeW stepped. There’s Clara, who has leaned as much medicine as would .give. herVhe L. S: that she rnSy sympathize with me fir my-.j work. But;., hullo, what fin this coming j /'along?” -- !/. . 'ri . . : / j “All drawing and the wind astern!” j cried the.admiral-' ■ “Fourteen knots if'! it’s one. Why, \by Gesorge, it is' that; woman!” V A rolling cloud’- of yellow dust had streamed round thA curve of the road, and from the heart V it had emerged a high tandem tricycleV dying along at a, breakneck pace. In fr®nt sat Mrs, West- j macott clad in a pea jacket, j ■a skirt which just passed - 1 " knees and j a pair of thick gaiters d imp ma- i terial. She had a great \ of red ! papers under her arm, \\ t harles, j who sat behind her clad Norfolk \ jacket and knickerbockers, l p a simi- j lar'role protruding from -eith.itpocket. Events they watched; thepairVeaHe'dffp, j the lady sprang off; impaled one of her j bills upon the garden railing of ah empty j house, then 1 jumping on to her seat j again- was.about 1 to hurry onward’when j her nephew called..her. attention to the two gentlemen upon the footpath, “Oh, now, really I didn’t notice yon,” , said she, taking a few turns of tlri treadle and steeriii'g the machine across to them. “Is it npt a beautiful- morning?” “Lovely*” answered the doctor. “You seem to bo .very busy.” i “I am very busy.” .'She pointed to the j colored paper winch still fluttered from j the railing. “We havfe been push 1 ’"' -our. j propaganda, you see.. Charms & •been at it since 7 o’clock. It our meeting. I wish.it to hf cess. See!” She smoot-te' the bills, and the doc,-* ' Paine hi great black’ ' hot-tom. a “We don’t forge see. E verybody is dear little old nr liamses, held op their promise that you wisj “Hum! Iri “You will / . “I’ll be - t that.” “To our “No. mi ner.” , “Oil. y ••’-•if T /

"But hullo, what is this coming along?” when you come home, We have not breakfasted yet. Goodby!” There was a whir of wheels, and the yellow cloud relied away down the road again. By some legerdemain the admiral found that he was clutching in his right hand one of the obnoxious hills. He crumpled it up and threw it into the roadway, “I’ll he hanged if I go, Walker,” said he as he resumed his walk. “I’ve never been hustled into doing a thing yet, whether by woman or man.” “I’m not a betting man,” answered the doctor, “but I rather think that the odds are in favor of your going.” The admiral had hardly got home and had just seated himself in his dining room when the attack upon him was renewed. He was slowly and lovingly unfolding The Times preparatory to the long read which led up to lunoheon, and had even got so far as to fasten his golden pince-nez on to his thin, high bridged nose, when he heard a scrunching of gravel, and looking over the top of Ids paper saw Mrs, Westmacott coming up the garden walk. She was still dressed in the singular costume which offended the sailor’s old fashioned notions of propriety, but he could not deny as he looked at her that she was a very fine woman. In many climes he had looked upon women of all shades and ages, hut never upon a more clear cut, handsome face, nor a more erect, supple and womanly figure. He ceased to glower as he gazed upon her, and the frown was smoothed away from his rugged brow,' “May ! come in?” said she, framing herself in the open window, with a background of greensward and blue sky. “1 feel like an invader deep in an enemy’s country.”

. “It is a very welcome invasion, ma’am,” said he, clearing his throat and pulling at his collar. “Try this garden chair. What •is there that I can do for yon? Shall I ring and let Mrs, Denver know that yon are here?” .

“Pray do nottrouble, admiral. ’I only looked in with reference to our little chat this morning. ; I wish that you would give us your powerful support at our coming meeting for the improvement of the condition of woman,” “No, ma’am, I can’t do that.” He pursed up his lips and'shook his grizzled head. “And why not?” ■ . : •• “Against my principles, ma’am.” “'But why?” “Because woman has her duties, and man has liis. ' I may be old fashioned, but that is my view. Why, what' is the world coming to? I was saying to Dr. Walker only last night that’ we shall have a woman wanting to Command the , Channel,fleet;next.” “That is One of. the few professions, which cannot be improved,” said Mrs. Westmacott,’ with her' sweetest smile* “Poor VT>mhn J must still look to man for protection. ”,ri : ; “I don’f like those new fangled ideas, ma’am. tell you honestly that I don’t. I like discipline, and I think everyone is the better for it. Women have got a j great deal which they had not in the: /days of our fathers. They have univer- j -sities'all for themselves, l ain told, and there are women doctors, I hear. Surely • ; they should rest contented. What more " can they want?”, u ‘ «<y ou are a sailor, and sailors are al-, ways chivalrous. If you could see how things really, are you would change your opinion. What - are the poor things to do? / There are so many of them and so few things to..which:they can turn their hands. Governesses? ; But there are 'hardly any situations. Music and drawing? There i 3 not one in fifty who has any special talent in that direction. Medicine?* It is-still surrounded with difficulties' for women, and it takes many! years and a small fortune to qualify.; Nursing? It is hard work ill paid, and’ none but the strongest can stand it* What would you have them do then, admiral? Sit down and starve?” “Tut, tut! It is not so had as that.”

j -•’The-'pressure : fs terrible. Advertise i tor a, Ltoiy companion at 10 shillings a week, which is,less than,"a cook’s wage, ' and see - -how many answers you get. There is no hope, no outlook, for these struggling thousands, " Life is a dull, sordid struggle; leading down to a cheerless old age. Yet when we try to bring some little-ray of hope, some chance, however distant, of something better 1 we are told by chivalrous gentlemen that | it is.against their principles to help,” | v , The admiral winced, hut shook his l head in dissent, ‘ Ifftere are banking, the law, veterinary <• government offices, the civil V these at least should he thrown ‘ o women if they have brains ete successfully for them, were unsuccessful it fault, and the majorion of this country plain -that they lire from the minority, kwn in, poverty ad to indeto do, ,njustice3 L’or a reiiggingia ,n neither a whisky, ice as. the