THE ELOPEMENT.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XXXXII, Issue 100, 1 June 1900, Page 4

THE ELOPEMENT.

"No!" roared Squire Benner; "I tel. you, no, no, no!" Now, Squire Benner was a Dig man, with a big voice, and a very emphatic way ol using it, and it was no wonder that Maggie, his blue-eyed little daughter, shrank away from the awful sounds of the quadrupled negative! She had conned a small speech, explanatory of the various qualifies of Carl Fairlie and an expression of her own unalterable devotion to him; but she could no more have spoken it, in the echoing reverberations of those awful monosyllables, than she conldhr.ve recited the Gregk alphabet. So she turned red and white like a daisy, and fled away from the sounds of her father's wrath. 4j " Dear me," said Mrs. Benner, looking over the top of her gold spectacles, " what is the matter ?" i -j. " Oh, mother," sobbed Maggie, " I am very miserable, and poor Carl will feel so bad ! Oh, why is father so prejudiced ?" Mrs. Benner laid down the steel thimble and the big shears and took Maggie's little golden head into her motherly lap., > "My dear," said Mrs. Benner, "you'r father's a man ! >, •», rg " He's a man," saig the plump matron, "and Carl Fairlie is>p<jor,'and somebody else we know of is rich. Just wait, daughter and have patience; it will come all right in time."

" Oh, no, mother, it never will," said Maggie, looking faintly up. "If you cqvW only have heard him!" "Then, my dear," said Mrs. Benner, after a moment's grave deliberation, "we must just take the matter into our owr hands." For there was a vein of romance still in Mrs. Benner : s sunshiny heart, and she sympathised in the untoward loves of her daughter and Carl Fairlie. A sharp knock at the front door made them both start like guilty creatures. Mrs. Benner was the first to recover her presence of mind. She rose, and went to the door. . A tall female dressed »n black and closely veiled, was there. " Is Squire Benner at home ?" " Well, yes; I bejieve he's in the little office. Do you want to see him ?" "Yes." " Who shall I say wants to see him ?" "No name. I will go directly to his office."

" It's very strange," said she. " I wpndcr who she can possibly be I" At the expiration of two mortal hours, Squire Benner came out of his office alone, gloved and hatted! "Why, what has become of that woman ?" asked his wife, dropping her wax and needlecase in her surprise. " She has gone." I did not see her go !" " Who was sje ? and what did she want ?" " She came on strictly private business," said the squire, dryly, sirs. Benner colored and bit her lip—this at;;:espliere of mystery did not please her! " I am glad Carl Fairlio is not a lawyer," she thought, mentally rejoicing that she too had her little bit of secrecy, that the squire would have been raving only to suspect. Mrs. Eenner dreamed of her husband's mysterious client that night, and mixing her oddly up with the contemplated elopement, fancied she rushed in just in time to see the fat squire standing before the altai rails with the tall, veiled woman. She woke with a scream and found herselt clutching her husband's arm with both hands. " Well, of all restless creatures, I do think you're the most restless. There, there, don't pinch so," said the squire, soothingly, " I knew you'd have the nightmare if you ate that lobster for supper. It always raises Ned with your digestion." Mrs. Benner groaned slightly. It wasn't the lobster; it was the tall woman with the black veil, and the serge-likc^arments. " Mother, what's on the mantel ?" said Maggie, the next afternoon. " A letter ? is it for me ?" " It's for your father, and it's directed in a woman's handwriting," said Mrs. Benner, Compressing her lips firmly. " But father has no lady correspondents, mother ?" " He never has had any, but matters seem to be different now. I shall ask no more questions," said Mrs. Benner, rigidly. But. Maggie felt herself under no such restraint, and so, when she called to her father in his office, she asked boldly: " Who is it from, father?" The squire broke the seal, glanced over the contents, aud locked the letter up in his private drawer, before he answered: " From a client I" ' . ,

And Maggie departed, pouting i " It's from the woman with the veil, you may depend, my dear," said Mrs. Benner. " I wish she were in Jericho." • " The mother of mischief is no larger than a man's wing," says the old proverb, and so it proved in Mrs. Benner's case. Now the veiled woman had expanded into a vast cloud which shut out all the sunshine of her life. \y Maggie was sitting -in the twilight, that very evening, with clasped hands and downcast eyes, thinking, when her mother came in from the garden. .. " Why, mother, how flushed you look! What is the matter?" " Matter! He's down there at the foot of the garden now—that's the matter !" " Who, mother ? Carl ?" exclaimed Maggie, starting to her feet. ;, " Carl!" ejaculated Mrs. Benner, in great indignation. " Bless the child, Ido believe she thinks there's nobody but Carl Fairlie in all the world ! No, it's not Carl; it's your father!" Maggie stood abashed, feeling that her mother was very cross and unjust, and venturing to inquire no further. " Yes, it's the squire, and talking to that —that creature in the black dress and veil, for all the world like a galvanized nun." And Mrs. Benner began to cry hysterically —the idea of the squire's running off with another woman at his mature age, was alto gether too much for her equanimity. In vain Maggie endeavoured to soothe her mother; Mrs. Benner retired to her apartment in 6uch low spirits that she had not even couragffi to tell her that she and Carl had settled the very next evening for their elopement, and that Carl was to have a carriage in the lane at the foot of the earden at 9 o ciock precisely, ir-oor Maggie i it was hard not to have one single confidante! The squire slept like a top that night—if tops do sleep soundly, which is the general fallacy—and Mrs. Benner lay awake and listened to his stertorous breathing. Maggie was unusually nervous the next day ; she turned pale if one did but look at her, and there were unshed tears perpetually making her blue eyes more luminous, as she moved softly about her household duties, Mrs. Benner sat in a corner, with her lips screwed together, as she grimly stitched the button-holes in her husband's new shirts. Ihe squire thought his womankind unusually queer, bpt alter one or two efforts at sociability had been repelled, he took the newspaper and retreated philosophically into his office.'

"Tantrums," said the squire laconically to himself. " They'll come round when they get ready."

There was no moon that night, only a wilderness of stars, that glowed like dots al gold in the put pling sky, when Maggie Bennei stole at half-past g o'clock, down to the lilac hedge, where the little wicket gate ad. mitted you in the lane outside. \yas Gail as punctual as she ? Yes, the carriage was there, darkly outlined against the side of the hedge, th? driver halt asleep on his box and the horses impatiently pawing up the green turf, lilently the door swung open—silently Mag. gie stepped in, and away they rolled, the wheels muffled in the velvet softness of the tuif. ;

But Maggie, sitting there on the front seat with beating heart, and eyes that could see nothing, in the thick darkness of the close carriage, thought it very strange that Carl did not receive her with something like a lover's welcome. " I suppose he dares not until we are safe out of call and hearing," she thought, and nestled back on the seat, shyer than ever, "lhe wheels of this equipage had scarcely vanished down the turnpike road, when another close carriage drove slowly and softly into the lane, close *mder the bows ol the nodding lilac hedge, and Mr. Carl Fairlie sprang out, and noiselessly opened tliQ wicket gate. In the gloom of the shrubberies he could just discern a figure wrapped la a black cloak waititw,close by thft sat#,. -

) initaot io lose." « ■• ?*(&<!■ Cupid de'eiu! i.:! ..':u a creaking the sl::j made th:; mantled figure entered it! Truly, Vanity :..i ;ht be light, thought the astounded Carl, but Love was ndi 1 ~-j . t-

" Drive on, coachman," said he, in a low voice, and once more the soft grass buried all the obnoxious sound as the coachman whipped up his horses. No* sooner were they well out of the lane into the highroad, than Mr. Carl, abandoning the solitude of the back seat, promptly changed to the other side. -i-> t • To his surprise he found considerable difficulty, as his companion occupied full two-thirds of the seat, and showed no intention of making way. He gently put out his hand and secured the palm of his companion- . By all the probabilities I if that was Maggie's hand, it had swelled fearfully oi late. Ife dropped it again with a bewildered feeling., as if he were under the spell of some' malicious enchanter's wand. * " Maggie," he said, in a low, tremulous voice, " Maggie, my love." ws, "What the mischief are yon talking about ?" growled a hoarse voice—the awful voice of Squire Benner's self. " There's no Maggie here I Who are you ? and what do you mean by making sucha fool of yourself?" The truth flashed in unwelcome distinctness on Carl's mind; he had taken in tha wrong paissengerl He pulled the strap vehemently. "Driver!" roared Squire Benner, "go straight on to ' The Oaks,' on the Hartford road, or I'll break every bone in your body!" The driver obeyed the bigger voice of the two, and made straight for the delapitated old country place Squire Benner had mentioned, which lay a mile or two farther on, " So you thought I was Maggie, eh ?" said the squire, shaking with suppressed laughter.; "and I thought you were Betsy Higgins, old Martin's skin-and-bone house keeper. Well, it would appear like a mic/understanding all around." I Carl did not answer; his vexation and j mortification were too acute to admit of any | escapement through speech. To be thwarted, and now I And so they drove on in silence. " See here, young man," said the squire, rousing up as they approached the dimlylighted windows of ■' The Oaks." "[ am going to confide in you. My errand here is Dneof the strictest secrecy. Did thenephe.vs and nieces of old Martin knew that he intended, on his dying bed, to alter his will, they would be down on him like a brood of harpies. His housekeeper has been twice to see me about the appointment for to-night, and I believe no one suspects her errand or even whom she was. Can I trust you ?" ' " You can," said Carl, sullenly. What was old Martin or his will to the disappointed lover who had been cheated out of Maggie ? On the door-step of " The Oaks" stood the tall, spectral housekeeper, awaiting the lawyer. She turned and went in with him at once. Carl alighted also and began to pace up and do\vn in front of the wide open door, mentally gnashing his teeth and wondering how he could ever have mistaken Squire Benner's moth-eaten old cloak for Maggie's fair draperies. Suddenly a shadow obscured the doorway. A light hand fell on his arm. in,"Oh, Carl! Carl!"

"Maggie, how came you here ?" I got into the wrong carriage, Carl—one sent, by Mr. Martin for my father—and I n|ver discovered my mistake until I was almost at the door; and—and the horrid cross old woman would not let'me go until toy father came for me, and—" Maggie," said Carl, "it's not too late, even now. Jump into the carriage; we'll be married yet!" He half led, half lifted her into the carriage, whispered a few directions to the bewildered driver, and the next moment there was only one equipage standing in front of "The Oaks" instead of two.

When the squire came home, not far from midnight, he found Mrs. Benner in hysterics and nothing short of the whole story, including a not verv comnllmentarv Hri. t-npuon oi tne f.crsoiwue o: tne old nousekeeper, would console her wounded feelings. And then the squire told her of the contretemps that had occurred to Maggie and Carl, with many a burst of laughter. " But they proved too much for me, after all, the sly young kittens," he concluded, " for they're off and away—married by this time, I'll bet a cooltey!" > , . "And you won't be hard upon them, father ?" said Mrs. Benner, coaxingly, stealing her arm through his. » Remember, we were ycu=s once ourselves."

. "No, I'fl not- De nard on them," said the squire, good-humouredly, " Little Mae is all I've got." •; ,•* . And Maggie never had any cause tore, gret her elopement. ■ • 1