BEYOND THE CITY

Te Aroha News, Volume XI, Issue 1723, 20 March 1895, Page 4

BEYOND THE CITY

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sir ACbWAhI Rorks

QQFYRIQHT, t«M, »V AUTHORS* ALUAMOB. AU RIGHTS -•* RKSKRVSO. *— %J * W * WI ’fCpNTINUED.j —«Tin was i mcrsdM in your joint futures?” “I hope all our friends were included.” “Don’t go in,” said he as she "began to move slowly toward the house. “I want to have a word. Let ns stroll up and down the lawn. Perhaps you are cold. If you are, I could bring you out ’ a shawl.” “Oh, no. lam not cold.” “I was speaking to your sister Ida last night.” She noticed that there was a - slight quiver in his voice, and glancing up at his dark, clear cut face she saw that he was very grave. She felt that it was settled—that he had come to ask her for her sister’s hand. - . “She is a charming girl,” said he after - ’© pause. “Indeed she is,” cried Clara warmly. "And,no one who has not lived with her and known her intimately can tell how charming and good she is. She is like a 6unbeamihthehou.se.” “No one who was hot good could bo absolutely happy, as ehe seems to be. Heaven’s last gift, I think, is a mind so pure and a spirit so high that it is unv able even to see what is impure and evil in the world around us. For as long as, ■/ we can see it, how can we bo truly hapP 7?” “She has a deeper side also. She does cot turn it to the world, and it is not natural that- she should, for she is very young. But she thinks and has aspirations o? her own.” - , “You cannot admire her more than I - do. Indeed, Miss Walker, I only ask to be brought into near relationship with her and to feel that there ip a permanent bond between, us.” . ' > It had come at last. I?or a moment her. heart was numbed within her, and then a flood of sisterly love carried all ' before it. Down with tkatdark thought, which would still try to raise its unhalheadt . She turned to Harold with sparkling eyes and words of pleasure upon her lips.. “I should wish to be near and dear to both of yon,” said he as he took her hand. “I should wish Ida to he my sister and vou mv wife.” _ - She said nothing. She only stood looking at him withiparted lips and great, dark, questioning eyes. The lawn had vanished away, the sloping gardens, the brick villas, the darkening sky, with half a pale moon beginning to show over the chimney pots. All was gone, and she was only conscious of a‘dark earnest pleading face, and of a voice far away, disconnected from herself, the voice of a man telling a woman how he loved her. He was unhappyj said the voice, his life was a void; there was hut’ one thing that could save him; he had come to the parting of the ways; here lay happiness and honor and all that was High and noble; there lay the soul killings round, the lonely life, the base pursuit of money, the sordid, selfish aims. He needed but the hand of the woman that he loved to jead him into the better hath. , And how he loved her his life would . show. He loved her for her sweetness, \ for her Womanliness, for her strength, Ho had need of her. Would she not cW.e to him? And then of a sudden as shortened if came home to her that the man Harold Denver, and that ehe thewqinan, and that all God’s work was very N *eautiful—the greensward beneath her iget, the rustling leaves, the long orange suchAs in the western sky. She spoke, knew what ths broken Words wei®, but she saw the light of joy shine otf on ki3 face, and her hand waa still h his as they wandered amid the twilight. They said no . more now, bnt only wandered and felt .oabk other’s presence. \ll was fresh around them, familiar md yet. neW, 'tinged with the beauty of th«y own new found happiness, ■ “Did you not, know it before?” he i>skad. x “I.did not dare to think ft,” •j‘Whafc a mask of ice I must we?x! . How could a man feel ac I have den? Without showing it? Your sister at leas* knew.” v “IdaP f . “It was last eight. She began to praise you, I what I felt, and then iu an instant it was all out.” “But what could you—what could you see in me?- Oh, I do pray that you may not repent "it!”' The gentle heart was ruffled amid its Joy by the thought ' of its own unworthiness. “Repeat, it. I feel that lam a saved '- man. Yon do not know how degrading ■this city life is, how debasing, and yet \ how absorbing. Money forever clinks s%iAymjr ear. You can think" of nothing else. Front -the bottom of my heart I hate it, and yet how can I draw -back without ;hringing grief to iny dear old father? There was but 0119 way in which I could defy the taint, and that was" by Having*a borne influence so pure and .sc high that it may brace me up against all that draws me down. I have felt that influence already. I know when I y i;.m talking to you lam a better man. It is you who must go with me through j •life, or I must walk forevW alone.” , I “Oh, Harold, I am soihfippy!” Still: they wandered amid shadf j ows, while one by one fee stars peeped • out in tho-blue-black sky above them. | At last a chill night wind blew up from i the east and brought them back Jo the L . wealitiesnf life. ' / •• yon must go in. /Youf will be cold.” “My father will wonder where I am. Shall 1 say any thing to him?” ! “If you like, my darling. Or l will in the morning. I must tell my mother to- j . night. I know how delighted siiewiil ! . be.” • - , -.A. ‘ . V 1. “Ido hopo so.” p I “Let me lake you up the garden fatlj, !; It is so dark. our lamp is not lit ijr, There is the window, 'iill tomoriw, then, dearest.” ■ : t c , \

“Till tomorrow, Harold^’ “My own darling!” He stooped, and their lips met for the first time. Then as she pushed open the folding windows she heard liis quick firm step as it passed down the graveled path. A lamp was lit as she entered the tooie, end theta was Ida, dancing) about like a mischievous little fairy, in front of her. “And have yon anything to tell me?” she asked, with a solemn face. Then suddenly throwing her arms round her sister’s neck: “Oh, you dear, dear old Clara! I am so pleased. I are. so pleased.” . CHAPTER m “■TENIT.TANDEM FELXCTTAS.” "It was-just three days after the doctor and the - admiral, had congratulated each other upon the closer tie which was to unite their two families, and to turn their friendship into something even dealer rnpre intimate,, that Miss Ida Walker received a' letter whioh caused her aomo surprise and considerable amusement.; Itf was dated .from next door and wa3 handed in by the redheaded page after Dreamiest. . “Dear Miss Ida,” began this curious document and then relapsed suddenly into the third person. “Mr. Charles We3tmacott hopes that he may have the extreme pleasure of ft ride with Miss Ida. Walker upon his tandem. tricycle. Mr. Charles W.estmacott will bring' it round in half an hour. You in front. Yours very truly, Charles Wesimjacott.” The whole was written in a. large, loose jointed, echoolboyish hand, very thin on the up strokes and thick on down, as though care arid pains had gqne to the fashioning of It. Strange as was the form the meaning was clear enough, ?o;Ida hasteried to her room and had.hardly slipped ori her light gray cyclirig dress when she saw the tandem with its large occupant at the door. He handed her up to her saddle with a more solemn and thoughtful face than was usual with him,and a few moments later they were flying along the beautiful smooth suburban roads in the direction of v Forest hill,, The great limbs of the athlete made the heavy machine spring and quiver with every stroke, while the mignon gray figure, with the laughing face and the golden curls blowing fi-om tinder the little pink handed etraw hat, simply held firmly to her perch and let the treadles whirl round beneath her feet. -Mile after mile they flew, the wind beating in her face, the trees dancing past ip two long ranks on either side, until they had passed round Croydon and were approaching Norwood once more from the farther side. “Aren’t you she asked, glancing over her shoulder and turning toward, him a little pink ear, fluffy golden curl, arid one blue eye twinkling from the very comer of its lid. “Not a bit. I am just getting my swing.” .• -I' :.... “Isn’t it wonderful to be so strong? You always remind me of a steam engine.” * , v “Why a steam engine?’ “Well, because it is so powerful and reliable and unreasoning. Well, I didn’t mean that last, you know, but—but—you know what I mean.. What is the matter with you?” r- / “Why?” ” ' “Because yon have something on your mind. "Yon have not laughed once.” He broke into a grewsome laugh. “I am quite jolly,” said he. “Oh, no, you are not. And why did you write me such a dreadfully stiff letter?”..:'.' ; - . ' “There, now,” he cried, “1 was sure it was stiff. I said it was absurdly stiff.” “Then why write it?” \ “It wasn’t my own composition.” Whose then!. Yoxir aunt’s?” “Oh, no. .tt was a person of the name of Slattery.” “(Goodness! Who is he?” “I knew it. would come out. I felt that it webid. You’ve heard of Slattery, the author?’ “Neyer.” \ : “He is wonderful at expressing himBelf. He wrote a book called ‘The Secret Solved; or, Better Writing Made Easy.’ It gives yoe. models of all sorts of letters;", ■ v • r - Ida hurst out laughing, “So you actually copied one.” “It was to invite a young lady to a i picnic, but I set to work arid soon got it j changed so that it would do very well. ! Slattery seems never to have asked any • one to ride a tandem. But when I had written it, it seemed so dreadfully stiff that I had to put a little beginning and end of my own, which seemed to brighten it up a good deal.” “I thought there was something fanny about the beginning and end.”. « “Did you? Fancy your noticing the lifference in style. Hqw quick you arel [ am very slov/ at things like that. I >r.ght to hgvo been a woodman or gamekeeper or something I was made on hose lines, but I have found-something .... • c- “What is that, then?” “Ranching. I have a chum in Texas, tnd he says it is a rare life. I am to buy ► share ( in his business. It is all in the j •pen air—shooting and riding and sport. Yould it—would it inconvenience you auch, Ida, to come out there with me?” Ida nearly fell off her perch in her niazement. The only words of which he could think were, “My goodness me!” . o she said them. “If it would not upset your' plana or <

change your arrangements in any way." He had slowed down and let go of the steering handle, so that the great machine crawled aimlessly about from one Side of the road to the other. “I know very well that I am not clever or anything of that sort, but still I would do all I can to make you very happy. Don’t you think that in time you might come to like me a little bitK’

Ida gave a cry of fright. “I won’t like you if you run me against a "brick wall,” said she as the machine rasped up against the curb. “Do attend to the steering. 1 * “Yes, I will. But tell me, Ida, whether you will come with me.” “Oh, I don’t know. It’s too absurd! How can. we talk about such things when I cannot see you? You speak to the nape of my neck, and then I have to twist my head round to answer.” “I know. That was why I put ‘You in front’ upon my letter. I thought that it would snake it easier. But if you would prefer it I will stop the machine, and then you can sit round and talk about it.” <

■“Good gracious!” cried Ida. “Fancy onr sitting face to face on a motionless tricycle in the middle of the road and all the people looking out of their windows at us."

“It would look rather funny, wouldn’t it? Well, then suppose that we both get off and push the tandem along in front of us.” * .

“Oh, no; this is better than that.” “Or I could carry the tiling.” Ida burst out laughing/ “That would be more, absurd still.”

“Then we will go quietly, and I will look out for the steering. I won’t talk about it at all if you would rather not. But I really do love you very much, and you. would make me happy if you came to Texas with me, and I think that perhaps after a time I could make you happy ioo."

“But your aunt?” “Ob, she would like it very much. I can understand that.your father might not like to loso you. Fin sure I wouldn’t either if I wer6 he. But, after all, America is not very far off nowadays, and it is not so very wild. We would take a grand piano, and—and—a copy of Browning. And Denver and his wife would come oyer to see us. We should be quite a family party.; It would be jolly.”

“May I have it.” said he. “for lifef" Ida sat listening to the stumbling words and awkward phrases which were whispered from the back of her, but there was something in Charles Wsstmacott’s clumsiness of speech which was. more moving than the words of the most eloquent of pleaders. He paused, he stammered, he caught his breath between the words, a-nd he blurted out in little blunt phrases all the hopes of his there was' at least pity and sympathy, which are nearly akin to it. "Wonder there was also that one so weak and foaii as she, should shako this strong man so, should hyye the whole course of his life waiting for her decision. Her left hand was on the cushion at her side. He leaned forward and took it gently in his own. She did not try 'to draw it hack from him. “May I have it,” said he, “for life?’ “Oh, do attend to your steering,” said ahe, smiling around at him, “and don’t aay any more about this today. Please don’tl” ■ -' ' “When shall I‘know, then?” “Oh, tonight, tomorrow—l don’t know. I must ask Clara. Talk about something else.” And they did talk about something else, but her left hand was still inclosed in hia, and he knew, without asking again, that all was well. CHAPTER Vm. SHADOWS BEFORE. Mrs. Westmacott’s great meeting for the enfranchisement of woman had passed oyer, and it had been a triumphant success. All the maids and matrons of tlie southern suburbs had rallied at her summons; there was an influential platform, with Dr. Balthazar Walker in the chair, and Admiral Hay Denver among, his more prominent supporters. One benighted male had come in from the outside darkness and - had jeered from the farther end of the hall, but he had been called to order by tlia chair, petrified by indignant glances from the unenfranchised around him and finally escorted to the door by Charles We3tmacott. Fiery resolutions were passed, to be forwarded to a large number of leading statesmen, and the meeting broke up with the conviction that a shrewd blow had been struck for the cause of weman. vTo ue continued., the TR AROHA AiNO OHINEMCJRI . ■ N!i ; WS. Published eveiy V’KDNESDAY AND SATURDAY, Terms SuutcsikrioN : ,J per annum, delivered in and around Te Aioha, or through District Agents £1 5s per annum, posted to any portion of New Zealand, 10s peramu.ni, posted to United King' doin, America, Australia, etc. (5s cisco lint in either case if paid yearly in advance). . '