LITERATURE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7746, 23 February 1905, Page 4

LITERATURE.

§r;~ THE BELFRY GHOST. f. "Mr Harford's ipan has left this, I miss." >•' Tho smart ma hi lays the florist's W box on the dressing table and silentIj- withdraws. i ■j^v ; " Jack Harford again ! Always . !***'': Jack Harford ! In other words, al- ' ■ ways the wrong man. What a top- . sy-turvy world it is!" And she - sighs, impatiently. "I shall not r wear them ; I shall not even open »i the box. It shall go back just as ; p it is, and then he will knaw that ii is all no uso. If I thought that it would make the right man But, **' thero ! lam afraid a parson is iiu- i pervious to the green-eyed monster. I _ I wonder if he will be there to- - 5 night 7 He Is not exactly a dancing man ; still " " The master is ready, miss, and -• the carriage is waiting." • ••••• The Loamshiro Hunt Ball is usually a brilliant affair, and this year proves no exception to the rule. The High street of the little country sown is literally throngvd wfth carriages. A long string is drawn up > in single file before the entrance of the Town Hall, which is ablaze with i lights and decorations and almost beyond recognition in its gala attiro. The Rev. Edward Tudor, vicar of llereton, has arrived late, and danc- :!_■■■ i"K & in full swing as he stands a little apart and watches the couples ' whirling past. It is a gay and animated scene, the pink coats of the tfen making vivid spots of colour among the fairylikc attire of the I women.; He is a tall, distinguished-lookißg ' man, and what is termed a confirm- ' erf bachelor. Just now there is an I / almost boyish eagerness on the clean draven face, and tho keen blue eyes " sweep over the crowd with a restless searching glance. I The vicar is in his forty-fifth year, and he is in lover-and for the first time, be it said. And Sheila Car- j

■ rington is two and twenty, and the prettiest girl in his parish. 'Suddenly the blue eyes light up with a flash of interest, and a dark flush momentarily dyes" the usual pallor of his face. And as Sbeil& Carrington floats past hint in hei partner's arms, she catches his glance, and nods and smiles over her pretty shoulder. His gaze fol- . lows her progress. round the room. " How lovely she is ! Strange that a face should dominate one's -.. thoughts to the utter exclusion of Everything else!" And the vicar • sighs. He waits until the dance ends, and then threads his way to where Sheila is seated chatting with a brace of . matrons in full war paint. "Have you a dance left for me. Miss Carrington ? Or am I too late?" " I—l am not sure. You had better see for yourself," she replies, knowing full well that she has care- - (ally left the supper dance an open . - question in case he should arrive. " The fates have indeed been kind," 1 be says, gravely,, as ho returns her card.

- And.; she smiles up at him that k slow enigmatical sinile of hers, which might mean little, or nothing, or C-, much. pv ••*••• jkf , It is short interval before the supper dance. Sheila is seated with Jack Harford beneath the shade of r a sheltering palm, absently furling and unfurling her dainty little fan L'j, of peacocks' feathers. The gailyf 1 coloured lantern swinging above " ■ thein throws glints of light on to - the dead gold of her hair and into K the luminous dark eyes raised rneditatively to her companion's face. ;> She is wondering how long it will be ?, before the " Beverend Tfcddy aa V ' she calls him to herself—will find out T " where she js. " You did- not wear my roses, Sheila ?" said Harford, in a hurt, , questioning tone. " I thought you f'"\ were so fond of red roses?" |> " But what V ? - " Shall we return now ?" Sheila prepared to rise, and tried to ignore % • the white, half-angry, half-passionate 51: face bending towards her. pte "No! We will not!" he return-

L-.'. Ed in a hoarse whisper. " You shall not .go until you have answered me ! V- You hare put me off long enough ! r . ; lam tired of your shilly-shally !" t ': : . And he snatches her little gloved bands in a tight grasp. y '''Jack, how daro you ! Let go my hands this instant ! You have been drinking more champagne than is good for you. You are not your- : self t" And she struggled angrily to f' - free herself. . Then she oeases to struggle and r gazes horrified, fascinated at the S*purpose she reads in his eyes as he pnfcwly stoops his head and kisses her full on her upturned mouth ! fi-". • • • • • • The vicar, having exhausted' every - corner of the ball-rooms, wends his " way through the corridors. He finds himseM longing for this danoa, and *"' especially for this particular supper with a most umnascufine longing, entirely apart from the supper Itself, lie turns the comer of A dense bank ol pink azaleas jusit in time to st» Jack Harford bend his Hps to SheMa's, and confronts them. For an. instant all .three of tWem

are petrified from different -emotions. Hen the vioar goes forward with lha only remark he can think of, 'and, in anicy voice, says. "My 'dance, I believe ? " Sheila rises hurriedly, a victim of surging anger, hot shame, and bitter mortification, and, without a word, takes Us proffered arm. in dead silence they reach the ballroom, in dead silence they take Utoir pfafefl in the set dance then forming.

She gives one frightened glance at the cold sternness of the face beside her. Not once will he look at her or meet her eyes. "Oh, what must he think ot me!" - aba says miserably to herself, struggling hard with a childish inclination to cry.

The supper Is one long penance for then both. H a chilly civility cuts her to the quick. At their tablo the mirth waxes fast and furious. Amid the jAeosant buzz of vhatter and

laughter and popping of champagne ■f corks he. maintains* a- somewhat gloomy silenoe. lie feels rather than , f ■ sees the haunting vision of Sheila beside him, and her pretty laugh floating above the chatter and nonsense Jnaddens him. "He is growing to detest it,"- tnrl?!ts himself. How the incessant bubble of merriment around him is begtraing to pall ! " Was no one ever serinus? Awt. did everyone always talk nonsesiso ? he asks himself, glancing round the table with an expression of weariness and disgust. ••••••

There Is a cheery fire stai burning in his sanctum when the Rev. Edward Tudof reaches homo. He sits smoking and meditating far into tho night. " If 1 had not been as blind as any mole I might have scon it lonic ago.-'- f> j And then has face softens and' relaxes somewhat as his thoughts re-vert-to the past. Notktag like her had ever entered ■ sphere, and her presence had thrown a glamour over everything ever since two years ago her father had settled in the parish. With her advent Mereton had become Paradise ; everything die bad taEetf part !a tjcc&me couleur de ro*se. + Presently he rises, and going to-.wtu-ds an escritoire he unlocks a smaM drawer and takes from it a - dearf white rose What a host of memones ii recalls ! IT O sees again the .. old garden bathed in the mellow , glow of that September sunset - she ia strolling beside hirro. and he reniembere her pausing to gather this . '"to <otossom, blooming soli'iary on • its stem.

' as ' rose summer left . alone, she had laughingly quoted, , and haif shyly, half saucily, had placed it in his coat, and he hart .. fancied that the little lingers had „ tremblod slightly. And the fancy had set Ms pulses bounding, and had sent lrim home to his lonely old vio - orag\? to dream Heaven knows what # exquisite nonsense. He comes tmck to the Ore, and %t «H>P" ™e withered flower into its p- growing', ruddy keart. fuS , ," e watches i* shrivel up and curl &f" I ' ,io nothingness. •' Thus ends my «r«am,'' he murmurs, while a half-now-whimsical smile hovers month corners of his sensitive, * It ' Xtvcr n ' U bespeak ac ~ Harford again this side the P° Ilas s P° iH hw lif e- Ami t . f* »™» dismal reflection she proXLf 7 hcrsclf to slw l'- ''kc the "»by that she sometimes is S„ ••••.. ?,■' Co be continued.)