Literature.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVI, Issue 138, 15 June 1904, Page 4

Literature.

I£X WARD'S CONQUEST. (Continued.) No more writing for me now. 1 went out on the verandah and sat loVn. So my commands were to be regarded as lightly as air, and she was to go on hearing no master, but following the inclination ol her own sweet will. My musings were interrupted by the appearance ol little Susie Feilding, the daughter of an old shoemaker, who barely did work enough to keep the wolf from the door - ~ ', , "Mr Craig," she said, shyly, is Miss Marsden in ?" "' No, she is not. Anything I can do for you, Susie?" "No, sir, ; she told me to come today and get my books." "What books?"

-"Oh, don't you know? She promised to get me some books and a dress, so I can go to school." "When did she tell you this?" "The last time she came to sing to father." '•'>-ies she sing to your father?" "Oh, yes, since his eyes got so had he cannot read, Miss Marsden sings for him every day I Oh, sir, she is a perfect angel ! We all love her—don't you '?" I ovade.l the eulbarrassing question and asked : '•What else has this angel oi >uiirs been doing ?" "Oh.sir, ulie does everything ! She bought a nice map for the schoolhouse, and a chair for lame Willie Sanson, and she paid Mrs Hammond's doctor's bill, and lots of other things, and everybody loves her. If 1 come to-night, do you suppose she will have my books?" "I daresay." "All right, I will come." Surprise upon surprise, where would it end? And so this mischievous little flirt, whom 1 had termed heartless and cruel, and whom I hated with all my'heart, was really a good fairy, going round and helping the poor oi the place in which I had lived all my life without even once realising theii desolate condition. But why was she so wilful and hnug'hty, always treating me with such supreme contempt? And then the thought arose, if I had been a little more gracious that first , night, perhaps all would' have been different. But her wild trick .of the morning, I could not readily forgive that. What was that coming Slowly up the hill ? Farmer Brown in his waggon, with Black Beauty tied behind. Two steps took me to the gate and as he drew nearer 1 saw Muriel lying on a feather bed in the bottom of the wagjgwn. My heart glave a leap, she looked so white and still. Was she dead ? Just then. Farmer Brown, seeing me, called out : "Mr Craig ! The little one got thrown, and wife said I had better bring her home, as you are nighcr a doctor than wo are." "Where is she hurt ?"

"Spraihed her foot.l think. Now, tf you'll help me, wo'll get her in."

We carried her in and iaid her on the sofa, while I summoned Mehitabla to stay with her, and started for a doctor. Dr. Agnew came, and after cutting off the dainty French boot and examining her foot, pronounced it a severe sprain, one that was liable to keep her in her room for weeks. And so wilful Muriel was punished, and I had no iand in it. . Two weeks had passed and I had not yet seen her, but Jack and MehitaWe brought m» favourable news of too invalid, and I never saw one of the villagers, but what her praises were rung in my ears, until I began to feel heartily ashamed of myself for acting as I had.

One morning I had gone to her door, but MehitaWe Nought me word that Muriel did not want to see me. After that I had not troubled her, until one day the doctor said Jack might carry her downstairs. Mehitable said she was wild with delight at the prospect of once again leaving her room. But, as luck would have it, Jack was called away on business, and, with great misgivings, \ walked up to Muriel's room and knocked at the door. As she said "Come in," I entered. When she saw me, that look of dislike, I knew so , well, crossed her face and she said : 1 "Oh, is it you ?" and wont on with I the book she was reading. I walked Lto the sofa. L "Muriel, why did you not tell me ?" F "Tell you what ?" 1 "Tell .me of the part you were playBig as good fairy to our villagers." I "Why should I tell you anything? PUou took no interest in me or any of my doings." "Muriel, forgive me ! I confess 1 did wrong, but, little ward, I will explain it some time. Let "bygones be bygones ; shake hands and say we ire friends." Her little hand was laid in mine, ind her brown eyes, full of utashed lears, looked 'gratefully at me, as she ixid : "If you wish it." "That will do," said I. tsow we re firm friends." i-She laughed the wicked little laugh fold. ' "You arc strangely forgetting the uty of a friend ; you have not even »ked how I am feeling this bright ormng." 'I know you are feeling well -jugti to go downstairs, and, as ck is not here, I come to take his tee, if you will trust yourself to She looked at me from under her lf-closed lids, saying slyly : 'Cruet guardians sometimes get rid naughty wards by throwing them ■i their castle window when all atfts to marry them off have provBsucccssful."

Blow, Muriel, I thought wo were or get the past." ■o we are, and to show how comI forget it, I will let you carlifted the slender figure and at.her pale face, resting so on my shoulder, an incould not explain my feelings, carefully descended to the sitwhere we surprised Mehitsat by the window sewing. as she saw her look wonderment. look as though the heavabout to fall about ars ' aunt >'- This stupid old of mine has come to his tfK{|kWe have buried the hatchet." 'that Muriel and I were the Sends. Every day I carried Ujjg sofa in the sitting-room, j[day I sat by her side, and while she talked of

her dear papa. And, as time wore on, I grew more ill at case, as I thought that Jack loved her, and she only looked on me as an elder irother. At last I could hoar it no 'onger, and, one morning, as Jack ind I were alone. I said : "Jack, do you lovo Muriel ?" "Well, yes, who could be in the house and not love her ?" "Does she know this?" "Know what ?" "Of your love for her ?" He turned and looked at me, and then said : "Oh, that is what you mean, is it? Well, see here, this is the girl I !ove in that way," and he drew from his pocket the photograph of a dark, gypsy-faced girl. How light my heart felt as I looked at that photograph, and how I blessed that little Jark-haired beauty for stealing his '.leart before he saw Muriel. "But does she not love you ?" "She? No, she knows all about Bessie. Now. you old goose," Jack said, assuming a paternal air, "do vou not suppose I know how matters are going? Go ahead and win, my son, and I will give you my blessing." So that settled it. All day I felt as though treading on air. But T could not make up my mind to see Muriel until next day. As I eiiten.-d the sitting-room, bearing a big bunch of red roses, which I laid on the sofa by her, she said : "Why have you not been io see me before? Ju6t think, Jack had to carry me down stairs this morning, you truant." "We 11,.. I will try) to m/ake myself very entertaining. Now I have ;ome to tell you a story." "To tell me a story ? All right, I am all attention." I sat down by her and commenced: "Once on a time, as the story books have it, thero was a cross old bachelor, who bad travelled a ijreat deal, and seen enough of women to thoroughly disgust him. One day, when he received a letter announcing the death of an old friend, he felt very sorry ; but when he read further, and found that this friend had appointed him. guardian to his daughter, his anger knew no bounds, and, like the unreasonable man he was, he made up his mind to dislike the i>oor little daughter, and made it as unpleasant for her as possible. The evening of her arrival he travelled in the samo train and overheard a conversation between her and another lady that only increased his dislike.

"As time wore on, he felt harder than ever towards her, and, while sitting on the verandah one day, wondering how to punish her, he learnt from a little girl how kind she had l<een to the poor, doing all sorts of good deeds, «nd he saw she had only used that heartless tone und manner as a cloak to cover her good deeds. And as he was thinking of her she was bro jght home, and he found his ward had been injured. Well, they grew firmer friends from day to day, but he wished io be something more thhn a friend io her, so deeply did he love her. He went to her and told her all about it. Can you tell me how she felt ?" I waited a moment for an answer, and then the little hand was slipped in mine, and the happiest moment of my life was when Muriel's brown eyes looked in mine, and her dear voice murmured : "I lovo you. '