THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 109, 5 June 1909, Page 4

THE STORYTELLER.

morocco bobhd. Mustapha All, Kaid or Chief of cie Tribesmen of Ben Hassan-robber and aenitleman sat in liie spacious tent, ESd from .Hw glare of tie sun. slow'lv deciphering a letter that an envoy had just brought him from Rabat. "'Tis well! He consents to pay the iransom for the girl. Two hundred HioniKb/' he said aloud, wncn he had mastered tire contents of the document, "Bring the maiden to tnc, Mulai." The lurhaned Moor, who tad ocen fetanding liie an ebon statue awaiting 'his chief's commands, salaamed iiul 'withdrew, returning in a minute with a pretty, vivacious English girl of eighteen.

The tent was ill-lighted, and, coming from the brilliant sunshine, it was a few seconds before the girl made out the figure of the Moorish clucr'tain seated on some cushions, smiling blandly upon ter. ' '*Oh! you're there, Kaid," she said, Vhen ier eyes had grown accuetonral 'to the gloom. Then, noticing the letter ■he held in his hand: "Ah, I see you've some news for me. You've heard from dad? Has he sent the money for my "ransom!" :' '"No, but it is arranged. TheGovarnor of' Rabat's headßman will SWSTe at sundown'with, it, and then you will he free." ! "What a pity," said the girl, with a Sigh, sinking on to an old but gorgeous 'diran near Muatapho. "You seem in a "terrible hurry to get rid of me." "You prefer bondage?" The Kaid 'smiled. "Bis mill ah! Though an infidel, ■you are truly a woman." ' "Yes, I prefer ttlis bqH&ige—if you '«ui dignify my holiday here with such la. name—.to the real bondage iny father 'wishes to impose on me—marriage. Mi-r-Viage with, a man I've never seen—just "because he's a lord." ' "You are not obedient to yosir 'father!"/ The Haid frowned and shook 'his head. He jot approve of dia'obedience—in women. "If I were your father, I should " "If you weTe, that would put a different complexion on the matter," laughed the girl. "But you're not, Kaid, luckily—iter you. Oh! I say, I suppose 'you thought yourself rather clever in capturing me, didn't you? Well, von •weren't a bit. I got myself captured." The. Ohief of Ben Hassan smiled incredulously and shook his head. ' "What, don't you believe me! It's true. Listen. The lordffng was coming to Rabat on a vfeit to meet bis prospective' bride—me —you know. Well, I 'didn't want to see him, and I told dad so, and we had a row about it, and he fetid nasty things to me. Feeling des- • perate. and having heard you spoken

of in Rabat as mos-t gentlemanly, I de'tcrmined to cooS $o you for a holiday. £O, after enquiring Gw way, I mounted mare, rode out to you, and here 1 'am, 3ut I <lsl hope you'd keep me a 'prisoner for at least a fortnight. You're most inconsiderate. I've only been here 'three daye, and now I'm to be cent back 'to RahllC, and shaJl have to meet that Yordting after all. Can't you keep me a Tut longer—#fcill—till he's gone?" "I fear that cannot be. I have sworn I "by lAHah to deliver you up to-nigtit, 'and "

' "Yes, yea, I know —you wouldn't 'mind robbing q. man, or killing one for "that matter, but you won't break your 'word. Well, Til have to go, I suppose, ibuit I won't marny ihait lordling. I'd imarry a'niggei sooner —or even you." ' "That may not be. A true believer 'toay not wed with an infidel like you." i. "Excuse me, you're tie infidel at Jeaslt, so I've been taught to believe. But then every religion treats a rival like the pot does ttae kettle." 1 "And • you ete not fat enough to ''marry." "An I .I'd forgotten. You fatten your girtS for marriage as we do onr turkeys ifor Christmas. 'I shall have to* look «;«ewhen> for a fcuetenfl." > ,"I have anotSer captiv?--an English)mJui, who % at your disposal, if you Ireaily want a husband." I "That's vCry kind of you, Kaid. Do 'you make a practice of giving men iwayf H so, I've a heap of spinster friends at home who'll be glad of an introduction to you. Wliat's' the man like—old and uglyt" ' "No, he is young, but a moat blasphemous iitiilW. if! coiled our holy ■■piophet a rotten impostor. I should lave Med him on the spot, only your English Gorernmetft make a great fu«6 Wbout sueli matters. StJTf, Ee shall suffer i—l w3l. marry him ♦> you." '< The girl laughed hwrrtily at t'ae ■Moor's unconscious humor.

' "Sfoo'ie really 'too cruel," she said. "No, I can't lend myself for iftieli an tewful chastiseiflent'. Besides, I don't •want a husband, I only want an excuse l£or refusing the lordliig. If I married Vour captive, ho might mant to follow be 'home. I'd Kite to see him, though. Whore is het"

The Kaid clapped his hands, an attendant entered, and the captive Englishman was sent for.

l "Don't let Him know I'm English, Said. Say I'm French," said the girl, irringingwShe mantilla she was wearing Vo that it partly hid her fea-tures. 1 "As you will," replied Mustapha, us We Englishman, liis arms bound with ttout cords, and struggling in the grip W three braiwny Moore, was thrust trough! y into the pavilion. ' Haltcbok-ing with suppressed rage at (the treatment lie received, the man strode across to where the Kaid was Wtting, and, putting his face close to the Woofs, hissed out Between his teeth: ! "Look there, you. Kaffir, if there's anything of the man about you, take off these cords and IH fight you and any two others of your gang with any •weapons you like." ' "That's splendid," murmured the girl, %otto voce. Then, speaking aloud, with to foreign accents she added: "Oh, Monsieur, you say—a bad word before of I %oc. M * ! "I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle, 1 tfidn't see you. But this old rogue here iirould provoke a saint." j • "I have found ze Kaid charmaat."

• "Have you? Well, you musit have (very queer taste." Then, turning to IMustapha, he demanded: "What have I teen sent for now!" 1 "This Frankidi maid has need of a 9msband. Will you wed her!" J HV

"H jou agree, she willjmy the ransom I "tor your freedom," continued the wily i ' "Moor, with a leatß&y grin at lfis own %atateness. I . "Eh?" exclaimed the girl sharply. "It is but £SO, my daughter." "Oh!" And she nodded acquiescence. "1 don't sec what you can object to/' f *aid t)he Englishman to the girl, drily. •It's' the fashion just now for girls u> > buy husbands. American ladies pay very iigh for the commodity. There is smh,' to, dearth ta the market of marriageable .1 4nen. Ami £SO is really a—a slump rfce. I consider that I'm dirt cheap. « hope you won't expect too much, c Mniigb, from a fifty-pounder T! 1 "Oil! No." 1 < iGood." . . . "Listen, Monsieur. The Raid out 1 jokes. I tell him my faser would marry me to a mail I love not. lie say 1 can,

■hare you, zwi I cannot marry zc oscr... But I do not love you—pardon. Mon-; jeieur-—" 1 • > "ob'f Certainly—tlie feeling's rectproMbjd,/ 1 quite "understand—you don't *sfijl\val husband, only a nominal ./Hie—a tori of absentee lord ami master, ■Who does Jtot sleep on the premises." "nil* It is only a joke,■ Monsieur." ■ the firsC time I've 'heard marriage f icd that way. I've always reguffdea it a& one oi the mo?t horribly | v . sen oils things mtucr the sum—a sort of ■\> ]77ht& and plague epidemic in one. 1 ' | "Hotf! You rafuis towed the ladv?'' <i"">;vndeil the Moor fiercely. * .-i shall if you start aaiy bullying. At t : <ilt Tin inclined to oblige Madcsinoi*"lV, at the post, though a permanency, dm -' i»t entail any persoua.l attention.' "01.. -no, Monsieur. If n« niany-tc t j.::t iiinnerHaJnent.. Toujours—for ever —how do you find zat 1 !" "Perfetft. In fact, I'm agreeable to jajtything. I came to tli'is burnt up cin- ; ■lier-iieap of a country for a bit of sport, 'lrul until I was captured I'd a beastly •slew time. Now tilings are beginning if -to loefc up a Sit. Besides, your sugges- [&__ -turn happens to suit mc. A wife who'd a«r«r biitktr me is an excellent idea. ' 'Mill you name the liaippv day!" SSP> "The present w nlways. with us and Sjr ' » bent" said tihe Moor before the girt pT' hod time to reply. ''Summon. the old W," JBpanfeli priest hwe. Mulai" |£? 01 r bring hiin along," oried the HugIs. JiA*iai>. "f presume you'll have these EfL <m*U> removed. 'lt's' only an exchange Bfe* *«< 'bondage; • I'm to be tied up another Hp's . MutiipSn mofiOMd one of his men to the' Active. '•"lfonsieiir—ieuFfi jrou considered what l do?" said the girl, wiho began to Mjtt'ofcve misgivings w» to Blether she was aomgthing wry stupid, not WMSkfym "TOwtaJnlv. T'm selling ray nam* to (or fifty iwunda—name only, mind, Hg||jjjfc l ,ytni vyott't get aU of that, if any; tWs faree is over, y-ou go your

way, I do ditto, I-t my book admirably. The idea of marriage ill nauseous to me. Under o>ur arrange-, mont I shall be a spectes of married bachelor, safe from tihe liusbanil-liuntiu harpies wlro make life in society a paylive burden. Ah, here's the priest!" The priest, whon lie heard he was to be pai«l for his services, expressed 'him* • si'lf a<rreed>ble to Jo anything. "Weil, get au wi'th 'the job, then! I '' cried the fJnglirihman. "I've an appoiutmej.'t in Rabat, and " "SoV' interpose* the girl (juiuKij. "Vou must uot go zero; you agree alii) to it." "Oh, Tm not particular where 1 go!" The ritets were performed avoiding to the r.'tual of the Catholic Church. A slight hitch occurred when the priest askeu the bride be<r name. She ut first declined to give St, then, finding'she must do so, said 'twas Julie Franeaise. "Kb? Ab, capital!" ei'ied the Englishman. "We'll make i't an iuterua- ' tiouai union. My name's Jolin Bull.'' The priest smiled, but made uo demur. He to 'be well paid, and their real i naim<s wore not lite o.oneern i

namiea were hoc iiia concern. "And iiow, Senor, where is the ring?" lie ;uked, turning to she bridegroom. "The ring! liaug it, you don't think 1 travel about with a stuck of weddingrings ready, do you? The lady provoked this happy tragedy; let hist pro.*ithe TUig.' 1 '■Oil, .Monsieur, you are vure difiieile murmured the .soi-dfeant Julie. "I pav your inif-som, 1 pay ze wedding ceremonies. Ze bridegroom always iiud zi MJuquet ami ze ring, lou must " "Xes, I know. I'm afraid you'll wait i deuce oi a time if I'm to find it. The anly ring I possess is tills old signet." "It will do quite well, Senor!" muruuired the priest persuasively. "But, my dear padre, it's a, sort of Ea/mily heirloom—a bit of the Went-ivoirth-—I mean my family's gold plate. [ doa't feel justified in parting wi'tii it." "Oui, Monsieur, I vill keep it ever—tUl I die." s "I don't doul>t it. All! well, you're paying fifty pounds for it, so I suppose i must part"; aid he drew tie ring

from his finger, and, following the priest's directions, he placed it on the bride's various lingers till it reached its | resting-place, when the ceremony was ! over, and the priest pronounced a bluesrug on the newly-wedded pair. Whether it was by an inspiration, a: for a joke, the Englishman couldn't quite say iiunself, but he suddenly took the girl in his arias and kissed her fervently several times upon her lips. Foir a moment s'Ji'e suffered, his ardent embrace with apparent contentment, then suddenly 6he Screamed. In a moment, by Must&pha's orders, the bridegroom was dragged from her and hurried from the tent—laughing. "Devilish nice girt, the Frenchie!" .muttered the tnaa as he was hurried off back to his cell in a mouldy old towec "Lipß as sweet as a ripe peach. I never tasted better 1"

"'A bit of the Wantwortlh family plate,' he said," murmured the girl, when th« man was gone, as she toyed with tihe ling on her finger. "Wentworth! wily, Unit's the fajnily name ot What's the cireet?" She scrutinised the ring carefully in the subdued ligiht, and then burst into a merry buoyajit laugh. "Kaid!" she cried eagerly; "you'U be careful of the man, my husband. You'll see he comes to no harm, and you'll restore him to liberty. I am responsible fox his ransom, you know." "I swear it by Allah. But why uo you laugh?" "Do you believe ?n. la.te?" she asked, in reply. "Oh, of course, you Mohammedans are all fataJiste. l' m one, too, now. This man, your captive is tire lordling m y father wanted me to marry.''

Helen Saintsbiury sat in a gardencihaiir propped up by cushions, on the terrace at Ellesmere Court. It was three in the afternoon, but 6he had nosunshade, and though the iiii 11 was liot and glaring for England, she didn't seem to mind i't. She had lately returned from llqrocco, so she was inured to the glaire and the heat. She was fairiv tall and brown, and her pretty, wilful face looked very coaming as siie blinked at the sunlight and smiled at her thoughts. Bab s coming to-day!" she murmuied softly to herseii. "I wonder if he'll toll me what he wun-ts to. If he doesn't, 1 must help him out. Poo-r old boy, ho li'ttle knows tlia't he's worrvmg liimself unnecessarily. I won't let him suffer any longer, though it is such fun to see liim squirm. Wo-n/t it be delicious to watch his face when I show him that bit of Wentworth family plate. Hairk! Yes, 'tis he."

She sprang up lightly and went to greet fne newcomer.

•'You're nice and early—that's splei: did; -we can ha-ve eucli a long chat. Where wi'll you sit, Lord Lartmere? Bring that seat nearer my ehair or ' "IH stand, if you don't mind, But I want yon to sit and listen. I've something to tell you, and then I'm E oim«." 'Going! Wiore, Bob?" There was a touch of apprehension and appeal in the way she put the question. 'I don't know. I mean, I can't name precise locality, but somewhere away from you—the farther the better."

"You're horribly rude!" • "^ rsrrv<! . vour comments till I've finished. then you may call me something worse than rude, and tell me to go tS Ule Antipodes, or the—tflie No a ladv wouldn't tell a main to go to such a hot place. toctf, placc! 0h! d ° y°» "Man.

"Damn Morocco!" J, e .blurted, as je to* a step or two along the terrace. She ** to « "I beg your pardon," said Lord Dartmore, return,ng to to side. "I couldn't repressi it. .Morocco at present is my par&uiar bete now. I didn't like the pla«e when I was there, and now " 'TVas tot <Why you didn't come to Kabat to see us, as you'd promised? e thought it strange you should bolt off home in such a hurry. I believe you tell in love with a pretty Jloor." "I never saw onfc-I mean a prettv one. I saw one or two frights f crc privileged, tllien. All the real Motammodan women ar c "Thickly veiJed. ' ;

"Ye; thank heaven. But I saw one unv-encd once—by ficcjdc.nt." "Ok, do tell me all aliout it." "1 can't. I mean, I'm going to. Jt was at a fading- " "* Mohammedan weddihgf "No. A Christian wedding." . "Fancy! Whose was it!" "How should I Snow?"

"Not know! Weren't you one of tin guests ?"

"No. T was present as the—tlio bridegroom."

ion? Oh, how jolly! Fancy, you're married. In Moroeco, too. How delightfully romantic!"

"Oh. yes, it ronmntic enoii«h for a novelette. But, IMen —don't von care?" •' "Ca/i"! 1 stionlil think so. I want, to hear all about it. Every detail, mind. I'm m interested. First «!:p was tlw lady?" "I don't know"— savagely. '"Yi«i don't know your own wife?" "No." "How strange! What was she like, then ?"

"I can't say. Tlie place was dark and silie kept her fffec buried in a mantilla. Oh, I know it all feoundu incredible, hut it's true. On my way to Kaba.t f was made capti've by some .Moorish bandits, and held for ransom. Fortunately, tliri,chu«f didu t know I was a. titled personage, s'o he only asked .€SO I refused to jny, as' f wasn't in any hurry to gel to Rabat. You know, I'd to see jou. tlierc—for the first tinne, and I drea'derl the meeting, as f felt I should hate you. Oh, what fools men are!" "Yes. that's common knowledge, fell ine aflraut your wedding." "All right. Tlie second day oS tny ei|*Llire tlie Raid seat for tile to hi's navJlton and told me a vou'p.' *dy—a. French «irl—-who wa« j.r<wnl. would i pnjTfut' raiisotn if I'd uiany her.''

"Oh. I set!. She'd seen yon captured and admired the brave fight you'd made fur freedom»"

"Nothing of thclcind. I was captured when I was asleep and snoring. She only wanted my name to protect lier agiii'rnst u marriage her father had in view."

"And you, tfke a, true knight-errant, rescued la belle demoiselle, and sheltered her beneath the ancient cosnoiqen of " "Of John Bull." "But that's not your name." "It's my generic najn'c." "And so you really married her?"

"I believe bo. An old Spanish priest) officiated, find I put my signet ring on] four or fiw of her fingers, as inistructteii. ] I did 'it beteiust! H would keep me from marrying you. And now I'd give my. soul to he firce, that I. might tell yoti rtoiine'thing I dit.re .not." He turned iwtv from her and leansd against tihe balustrade iff the terrace. "You—you kissed liter, Holi?" "Yes. ilow did von know that?" He tuTnfd quickly and faced her.

'Oh! 'well—it was ths least voii could

• dii» to your wi'fe," the answered do* • mutely. • "1 supposo flint's why I did it. I nevcv know 'the reasou." I "Was—was i't niee?" -"'Yew " lie siii'iil, alter a slight pause. ?Shti bl-Utelieil deeply a«nd looked very pleased. , "And so you're going avviay—to try a.iul Hud her?" "So. I of doing that several times l>eltore 1 met you. Now it's all I'lLanged.'' lie canne and leaned over imt chair. "Oh, Xell, its wrong, 1 know, to

say i;t, but i't will out. I love you. I love you as I .never dreamed I could love a woman, ??o madly, a'o paissionaitcly, .so vainly, too. Forgiw mo. 'sTil'l, 1 ought root to havu told you. J'il go--; good-bye." lie tunned abruptly from her chair and moveffoll' quickly. "Bob! Stop a minute. I've womethiug to lell you," she tried, vising aud going to hi<m. '-I've noit been acting fair .by yo'u. Vvc let you fall in love vviui me, when 1 knew all t-lie time you" were . married." '"Vou knew?"'

? ''Yes. Wasn't T—in UnUit? Your French pri.rJ came from there. I know > . Jier well," ; "ReaJly?" "Vi".?, and I mean to reunite you bo till." "TUuwk you,"' lie saiil <oUUy. ''Hut I've no desire io cultiva'te her further a.nquniiijtanoe." "A*i! 'l>ut islio ur-Hies it, and tTie B;iyaird who could lend lik—his •geincrLc' name so—so " "Idiotically" he suggested. "So <oW.igmgly, wi.II surdy tr.raJit a further favor. Besides, you belong to her. She bougdil you.'' "She'll fiml sihe's made a kid bargain. I won't see to." "You will, Bob, to oblige me. Reraciniber, she's your \v?fo, a.nd it will make her so happy." "Oh, perdition to Iter !'* "Oh! Monsieur, you say a bad word befole me." "I beg your Why, how do you know she said that?" *'l 'was only imitntins: voiit wife. You

i was omy Nonating yowr wile. iOu can't escape from her, Bab; she lias your signet ring • l iih your crest on it. YVhajt have you to identify her by?" "^thing." "X&fc even t!he taste of those kiss'es V "Weill! Perhaps I might " "Kiss nic, Bob.* She was facing (him now, her right hand was on liis shoulder; her happy,wilful face, wiith jmrscd-up lips, "was offering itselif to lii'm. She held her left hand 'before his eyes, and ilie saw upon the third finger hiVsfgnet ring. "Here ie my right to your Seel" "Why, 'it's—it's any ritng, and you—good lord! Oh, my'&irli'ng, you are my wife!"—By Frederick Jarnian, in M.A.P.