THE AWAKENING.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 248, 25 February 1911, Page 10

THE AWAKENING.

It is not a very unusual thing when a boy and girl grow up together and live at one another's side for many years for their acquaintance to develop entirely on brother and sister lines, even though there is no relationship between them. Both 01 them get into the habit of taking one another for granted, and if one of them suddenly awakes to the fact, either that the boy at her side has become n man, strong and gifted and attractive, or thai the girl has become a woman, lovely, charming and magnetic, it generally comes as a shock to the other.

Just such a young coupler Curtis Blunden and Myra Yorke— were -landing one fine September afternoon listening to the music of the band on the pier, whither they lmd strolled in desultory fashion, leaving the elderly gentleman, who was Curtis lilunden's father and Myra Yorke's guardian, sitting on the hotel verandah. Air. Blunden had smiled a, satisfied smile as he watched them off and saw tlmt Myra slipped her arm into Curtis Blunden's in the most matter-of-fact and confident way.

"Let's go on the pier, old boy!" she had said, and on the pier they bail loafed for the last hour. Suddenly Myra. looked up, and for the first time in her life she saw there was that in his eyes winch enabled her to read the telegraphic despatch from his soul. JI was only a flash, yet it suffused Myra's cheeks with crimson, but it was the crimson of annoyance, and a feeling of dismay sprang up in her mind. That Curtis could ever have thought of b'er in that way ,startl*l her and made her resentful. They were like brother and sister, and her pride in all that Curtis had done had been the pride of a sister. "Shall we go?" she said, scarcely looking at her companion, her tone at .strange variance with the merry tune the band was playing.

They sauntered off ttie pier and turned along the parade, and as they reached the breakwater Curtis turned to her and said huskily:

"r want to yjjfd'k to you, Myra; I want to ask proceeded, "if, somehow, you and I can't sail together through life..-! must be thinking of settling soon to something, and if I nave to leave you behind it —it will be a wrench, dear. Can't you come with me as my wife?"— all this coldly and dispassionately, although the man was seething with excitement. He didn't dare to look at her, but kept flicking his boot with his cane. Anything more unromantic conKi not have been, and Myra, who told her own girl longings' after a love that seemed ■ like it, looked up merrily, saying: "Oh, Curtis, it is simply 'absurd! I could never think of you in that capacity. Why, you always seem to me like a brother. Is it a joke?" "A joke!" he exclaimed. "A joke! If so, then the dream of my past few years have made it a pretty long joke. Very well, dear," he continued, resignedly"; "Don't trouble any more about it. Don't let the pater know what 1 said; it isn't necessary,"

But, meanwhile, "the pater" was sitting in the smoking-room of the hotel, musing. He remembered his early struggles for success as a young barrister, the chance which had thrown an important case in his way, the use he had made of it, and the golden years which followed. Yet it was not on them that his thoughts dwelt, but rather on the boy who had been left him by his wife. He had centred all his hopes in Curtis, and there hau never been a son who more richly deserved a father's affection.

Fourteen years previously Myra Yorke bad been sent to him as a ward by the wish of her widowed father, and a short time later Colonel yorke had died, leaving his estates heavily shackled with mortgages, and Mr. Blunden then and there conceived the idea of devoting himself to developing Myra's estates. He had advanced a great deal of his" own capital to speculative builders, who paid him a good ground rent, and, as the years went by, the fields that had been so unproductive were bringing in a splendid rent-roll, and all the liabilities bad cleared themselves except those to himself, which, if ever he had' to claim them, would make a vast difference to Mvra. But such a necessity Mr. Blunden felt sure would never arise; he had done it simply for his boy's sake, and when Curtis married Myra that would be sufficient reward for all his toil.

"f will speak to Curtis to-night." he determined.

That night after dinner the old man broached the object of his life to his son, and, with pale face, Curtis listened. "It'sall very well, pater," he said at last; "you speak a.e if you were certain Myra would marry me. What would you do supposing she refused me?" "I should find another home for the ungrateful girl and cease every attempt to look after her property. I'have only done it for you, my boy." And Curtis, who felt 'certain he would keep his word, answered:

•1 m sorry, sir, Imt I can't entertain the proposal for a moment. Myra's a iiics girl as a sister, but as a wife—why it's impossible!" '

"Nevertheless, it must be," returned the other doggedly. 'Tt shall not be!" said the son. with rising color.

Hw father sprang from his chair, all his terrible temper getting the upper hand, and exclaimed:

"Either you propose to Mvra or you leave my house and trust to your own beggarly resources! To-morrow I give you, but only to-morrow. Do vou think lam going to have the plans' of a lifetime defeated by obstinacy like yours' Alter your mind, or go!" * "I will go to-night if tou wish »ir" returned Lis ton. ' '

"If you do," said the old man, with terrible emphasis, '-you will never eomc back—never come back!" ami he left the room angrily.

Angry as Ins father, Curtis hastily went upstairs, packed his valise and then strode doivn to /see Myra. He found her in the drawing-room and as his eyes rested on her, somehow he ielt she had never seemed co dear as mow, when he knew lie m «st l%se her '-(iood-tiye Myra," he said, putting out Ins hand, "trn off for g0,,,). The pater and I have quarrelled." '•Nonsense!" she said, smiling. "['ll work the pater round. You stop and tomorrow morsing you'll be fast friends iiS»m. What is it alioul ?" Cm-tis felt his heart heating wildly. Per haps ,f ] 1? told her the truth she niiglLt—alic might consent even vet But he put it from him as an ,;, IWol . thy thought, and simply said; "Oh, about certain plans in life he has for me with which I don't agree I'd better cave for a time, but promise to et me know if anything goes wrong with him wont you? Above nil. don't%eak to him about this quarrrl. I've ~,.m exacted a pledge from yo« before. *o -nve me your word, Myra." ' n

And, moved by his insistence, «h« promised fully expecting that, like many a qnarrel between them before, it would be all over in a week.

But tlie weeks had dragged into months, and they were back at their own home, and still there was no sign of relenting on the part of Mr. Blunden, though the last six months had aged him terribly. Myra waited in vain for the east sign of eagerness to see his son or i «. i?V, f , h ™- Co ' n Pi"'onatel y she eft Curtii' letters to herself about as if by accident, and at last, bustling on« day into the dming-room, she actually found

the old gentleman, with a very red face, trying to put back a letter of his son's into the envelope, but it had stuck. "Ah, pater," she cried delightedly, giad to break the ice, "I knew you wanted to hear about him, you— you scamp!" putting her check against his. "He's a scamp," he said, laughing,in I spite of himself. "I believe Til marry you myself, since he won't have you." Then a light broke in upon her, and, raising a threatening forefinger, she said:

"Was it over mo you quarrelled?" ''Yes," said the old gentleman, shamefacedly, "I wanted him to propose to vou, and lie wouldn't." "But he did," she said, "and T would, not have him." Mr. Blunden looked thunderstruck.

"Didn't he acknowledge it?" she proceeded.

'"Not he," said Mr. Blunden. a. light now breaking on him. ''lie suggested that such a possibility might arise, and T threatened him with all manner of things if you refused him. So he kept silent apparenty for your sake."

"What could you do to me? she enquired, proudly. "My dear," he answered, "without the money Curtis could bring your estates would not be of much value, and I said if—if your refused him that I "

"Would let them remain so, I suppose," she continued mischievously.

"Yes," he answered. "So now, you see, you have separated father and .son. What do you propose to do?" The girl's eyes filled with tears as she said:

"I'm going to send for him, if he will come."

"But." queried the old gentleman, "do you want him?"

"Oh, pater," she whispered, "J never knew how much till he went away."

"Send for him, then," he cried delightedly.

"Write at once —no, telegraph," exclaimed the old gentman. "He'll come!" And he did.