OUR NOVELLETTE.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 163, 27 October 1883, Page 10

OUR NOVELLETTE.

NERETTA'3 FATE.

A Petite Stoby

1i was nigh upon midnight. The streets of the great metropolis -were silent and deserted, the teeming multitude o£ life buried in the twin brother of Death —namely, "Sleep;" but one home in Berkeley-Square was alill lighted up, and the red druggeting on the steps and pavement showed that the inmates had been beguiling the hours of darkness with a dance. The bright polished plate upon the door denoted that the house belonged to an eminent M.D., well-known in West-end circles, who -was reported to be xapidly making a fortune. As the last carriage Tolled away, a man servant came out, and proceeded to fold up the carpeting, while a gentleman came on the steps buttoning up his overcoat, and leant against the stone pillar to light his cigar. " I will come part of the -way home with you, Ellis," said a tall gentleman who was standing at the door seeing his friend out. " This is a glorious alight, and a walk will do me good, and I am not likely to be called up to-night." " All right, old fellow. I shall be too delighted -with your company," and Kllis Downes smoked leisurely on while his friend returned for his overcoat and to wish his sister good night. He rejoined him in a few minutes and the two passed into the street. Colin Jeverson, M.D., was a tall, upright man of thirty-five, with keen blue eyes and fair heir, a man generally liked and of fair abilities. His companion was some ten years his junior, and his brown eyes and dark complexion made one doubt the relationship of cousins which lay between them. They conversed for som % e distance on the affairs of the evening, Ellis chaffing his friend for having paid unmistakable attention to a fair American lady, remarkably good-looking and wealthy, who had made her debut in London that season. " Come, Colin, confess, old mau, were you not a little smitten by the charms of the fair Transatlantic ?" said Ellis Downes between the whiffs of his cigar. " Why, I myself saw you dancing four or five time 3 with la demoiselle" "Beally !" said Colin Jeverson carelessly. " They say she is awfully well off, and moreover takes very kindly to your attentions," continued Ellis Downes, while a covert smile lurked at the corner of his mouth. " Nonsense ! Tut," responded the Doctor with a laugh. " Why ! I myself thought you proved the most attractive to the fair one ; then, you see you are a regular lady's man, we professional men have no time for such folly." " No ; very likely not," laughed his friend sarcastically, " you amuse yourself in a different -way, but it's with the same end in view. I should like to know how much more of your professional time it takes to listen to the woes of a fair invalid than to a gouty old gentleman or asthmatic old lady, eh ? Why, I myself have heard girls say professional men are the jolliest going." "Do they? Well then I am the exception which proves ycur rule," retorted the Doctor good-humofiredly. " Are we to turn down here ?" . " Yes, it is the nearest way." As they turned into a small, narrow street badly lighted the Doctor paused in front of a house, the windows of which were open and the .blind drawn down. " What's up now," demanded Ellis Downes crossly, for he "was tired and wanted to get home. The Doctor only answered by a commanding " Oh ! " as an air from "La Sonnambula " was played most exquisitely on the violin, and then a clear woman's voice broke into the silence of night -with the thrilling chords and soft cadence. To the Doctor, a great lover of music, this was entrancing. At his own house he was known never to ask people, except to hear some celebrated singer or musician. He himself possessed a box at the Opera in the season, and attended any good concert when his prof easional duties allowed him. After the " Sonnumbula " came an ordinary song, sung with much feeling and pathos. Instinctively neither of the listeners spoke, as the song being finished, a man's voice said — " That will do, Neretta, for to-night, shut the ■window ; " and then a woman's figure drew the bolts 5 and Ellis Downes said, with a sigh, " By Jove, what a lovely voice ! Surely some opera singer lives there." "Poor wretch," muttered the Doctor compassionately, " obliged to practise up to this unseemly hour of the night a magnificent voice, but nothing could equal the playing of that violin." " Oh, come along," said Ellis impatiently, "or I shall never get home to-night." "Well, I will say good-bye, as it is beginning to rain. If you have nothing better to do, drop in some night for a smoke." "Thanks, I will, good-night," and Ellis Downes disappeared in the darkness, while Colin Jeverson turned on his heels and walked thoughtfully home, cogitating on the strange music he had heard, determining to learn more of this accomplished violinist. He little guessed how soon his curiosity would be satisfied. Afternoon had given place to twilight a few days later. The Doctor was leaving his house to attend a dinner in aid of one of the hospitals, •when an old grey-haired woman clad in dingy black amended the steps and after looking at the Doctor keenly a few moments, said : — " Are you Dr Jeverson, sir ?" *' Yes, my good woman. What do you want ?" " If you please^my master is taken very ill, and Mdlle. Nerefrta bade me come for you at once." The ' woman spoke earnestly, and the breathless speech certified to the urgency of her case. "How far is it?" he said thoughtfully, as he glanced at his watch. " Quite close ; but oh pray, sir, make haste, or he will bleed to death." The woman hastened down the steps, and the Doctor followed her with quick rapid stride, .cogitating how long he should be detained, and •whether he should, miss his dinner.. So deeply ■was he thinking that he forgot all elseaa he strode along and did not notice where the woman was leading him till he found himself on the very doorstep of the house from which" hVtia'd heard such magnificent playing. The woman led him into a narrow, [badly lighted hall and opened the

door of a small sitting room, saying eagerly as ahe did so, " Mdlle. Neretta, I have brought the Dootur." As he entered, the Doctor saw the figure of a young, slight girl bending over the apparently inanimate form of a man, supporting hia bead o.i her arm, and the red torrent which issued frori' the man's mouth showed how necessary was his aid. The girl never moved as the Doctor leant over the patient, evidently her father. The bent head never raised as the Doctor examined, foifc his pulse, and looked for a few moments at the closed eyes, then shook his head. The woman advanced a step, but still the girl took no notice of either ; the man still lived. " We had better lift the patient on to the sofa," he said gently, " he will be better there." Almost unwillingly the girl arose and assisted in raising her father,' und then as she turned to the light and addressed him, Colin Jeversou saw her whole face, so white and tearful, yet. so strikingly handsome that he almost startled. The clear olive complexion, large eyes, and delicate features told no English birth, and the speech in a soft quivering tone was slightly foreign. " Doctor, can you do anything for him ? ; ' The question was simple, the answer monosyllabic, yet the Doctor found great difficulty in saying it. " Mademoiselle, I can do nothing ; there is no hope." The girl seemed stunned, and a look of despair came into her face as she clasped her hands tightly, and whispered hoarsely, " No hope ; no hope." " Annette '." she cried, turning to the old servant, who was beginning to cry softly, aud clinging to her as she tried to steady her voice, " Ask him — how — how — long — . Oh, G-od ! I can't." " I cannot tell ; possibly three or four hours," said the Doctor soothingly, as he gazed at the dyins* man. "Papa! papa! only for three more hours," she sobbed. " Say you do not mean it ; you will do something." " Indeed, I would if possible, but 1 cannot ;" he answered solemnly. " There are cases where a Doctor's skill is useless." She heard not the latter part of his speech, for she had sunk down by the dying man's couch, ! sobbing softly for a few moments. The Doctor stood gazing at the beautiful young girl. It seemed so terrible to leave her there ; but what ' was he to do ? " I will return presently and see if there is any change," he said softiy to the sermnt. Jividently the girl heard his words. v No," she cried, springing to her feet and laying her hand wildly on her sleeve, " you will not go and leave him dying. I will pay you for the trouble ; but you will stay." The Doctor involuntarily acquiesced as he looke-J down at the pleading, beautiful face, and forgot all about his dinner us he sank into a chair at the foot of the sofa and watched, while the girl went back to her place, satisfied. The old servant lit more candles and disappeared. And so the strange, terrible watch for death went on, and the hours of night wore away. Still the Doctor sat, still the patient breathed. Presently he moved slightly, and in an instant the girl was leaning over him with a voice struggling for calmness. " Papa, it is I, Neretta." "Yes — good child— kiss me." The child obeyed wildly, and sank down again with her hand in his. The Doctor rose and looked down at the patient. The angel they had waited for had come and gone, and Death had claimed him for his own. He leant over the girl, and said kindly, " Come, you must not stay here." But the girl only moaned as she rocked herself backwards and forwards. The Dootor hesitated. What was he to do now ? He opened the door and softly called the servant, who came at once. "All is over. Your mistress has had a terrible shock ; get her if possible to lie down. I will 1 call again in the morning," and he passed out. Two months have passed away since Mr Neretta died, and for many weeks Mdlle. Neretta lay on a sick-bed, faithfully tended by the old servant, while Dr Colin deverson came and went j with the punctuality and professional accuracy which are the characteristic attributes found with the letters M.D. He had always a cheerful smile and kindly word for the beautiful invalid, who, as she laid back in her cushioned chair, with the sunlight playing on her face, over which hud stolen a shade of sadness, looked more like a carving of the Madonna than real flesh and blood. If he spoke more kindly to her than usual, took more interest in her, pitied her utter loneliness, it was simply what any other man would have done in hia place, the subtle influence I which compels a man to bow before a beautiful ' woman, as a woman does before a noble, upright man. Perchance, had the Doctor known how each visit was curing his patient, but to die a harder death, he would have acted differently. Neretta unhappily had made Colin Jeverson her hero, and in her sickness learnt to love him. He had stayed at her wish through that terrible j night, and the girl worshipped him for it, with all the wild impulse of Southern blood craving for what it has no longer, some one to love. She knew it was infatuation told herself she would get over it when she got ■well, but till then she had nothing to do but lie and dream of her loneliness and his goodness. How she longed for his visits, and when he said " good bye " and the door closed after him, weak and miserable she buried her face in her pillows and sobbed herself asleep ! Annette, the old servant, who had received her from her dying mother's arms twenty years before, and who knew every trouble, every joy " of her baby " as she had once called her, saw it all, knew that Nerotta had giYenherhearttoamanyrhonever would or could give her auy love in return, and she cursed him in her heart, though she knew he intended no harm. One thing only remained, that was to get her away from this fatal spell which was mesmerising her whole life, to get her once more back to her old occupation. " Mademoisell,e," she said softly one day when, after a long Bleep, Neretta lay dreamily looking out of the window, " you have no,t played for a long time, when will you play again ? " " Never," aaid Neretta, sorrowfully, m she remembered her last practice.

" Then how will you live ? There is now the doctor's long bill to be paid." " Ob, I forgot," and Neretta started. "How miserably poor I am ; I forgot all except my utter loneliness," and her eves filled with tears. " Mademoiselle, you have had success. You j must begin again ; your good father wished it ; it is best for you." • | "Why best for me?" retorted Nerettft, sharply. Her warm blood would take no dicta- I tion, f von from her only friend. " Because," and the old woman came close and laid 'tor wrinkled hand on the girl's arms, as with fcuitf'ful f-ice she scanned her j>ale, delicate face and flashing eyes, "because you will then learn to forgot roar friend, the Doctor." A crimson flush passed over tho girl's face, and ahfi dr^vv- herself up haughtily, as she replied in nn angry tone, :: AaiHH£(\ you are mad. Why should I forget ' Inv!' ? T£e jias been very kind to me." !! And you have learnt to love him," said the eld wouiarc, sorrowfully, as she laid her hand caressingly on the beautiful bowed head. " Ob, my baby girl, come away anywhere and forget him ; he does not care for you, and " " Annette, hush ! I cannot bear to hear you say those words," and the girl clasped her hands wildly, as she looked in the face of the old servant. " You are right," she continued passionately, " I do love him, God alone knows how much. There is no harm in so doing ; he can never know it, the secret lies between you and me. Promise me," and she laid her hand almost fiercely on her arm, " that if I go away you will never mention his name again. Oh, £k>d, I cannot bear it." " Yes, my darling, we will go away anywhere and forget him." "Yes," she assented eagerly, "we will go directly, to-morrow. Papa would wish — but I must see him once again to say good-bye," and her voice sank into a whisper, "if it killed me, I must do it. Then farewell for ever," and her voice ceased, as the servant gathered her in her arms and gazed on the pale face, for she had swooned. ! In Dr Jeverson's smoking-room that same evening sat his friend Ellis Downes and himself [ before a roaring fire in two lounging chairs, ! smoking leisurely. " Well, Ellis," said the doctor heartily, " I am very glad you came in, for I havo some news for : y ou< " "Have )ou, what is it?" queried his friend, from behind a cloud of smoke. " I am going to be married." " By Jove ! No ! Whom to ?" ■ " The fair Transatlantic, as you pleased to call her, or rather Miss Frasor." " I always said so," replied Ellis, with a laugh. " Well, my sincere congratulation?, old fellow. When is the event coming off ?" he enquired, as he wrung his friend's hand, " Sometime before the end of next year." "Well, mind you ask me to the auspicious occasion." " Of course, dear old boy, you shall be best man if you like, that is, if you are not marriod yourself before then." " No chance," laughed his friend, and having finished their cigars, they went up to join the ladies in the drawing-room. # # * # * Before the year has drawn to its close Dr Colin j Jeverson finds himself a married man in Paris, possessing a rich, pretty wife and the usual \ accompaniment of menial servants and bandboxes, and staying at one of the best hotels. At table d'hote everyone was discussing only one topic and one person — the magnificent singer and violinist who had made her debut the previous night, and Dr Jeverson strolled out after dinner to secure tickets for the ensuing night ; he i eturned after the lapse of an hour, having with some difficulty procured them. He did not notice the cloaked figure which passed him on the stairs, nor did he notice it start and stop, and then address a waiter, and ask how long that gentleman had been staying there. Tho waiter replied he had only just arrived with his wife, and wad going to remain the night. With a slight bow and bien merci, said in a low sweet voice, the figure, followed by a servant, entered a carriage and drove off. No one saw the beautiful figure sink down on the cushions with a heart-broken cry of " Married ! married ! Oh, God, I cannot bear it ." But crowds applau led the arrival of the celebrated debutante at the Opera that night, as she stepped again from her carriage as upright and beautiful as ever. Next morning a special early edition of Le Temps informed the Parisian world that the celebrated debutante, Mdlle. Neretta, had committed suicide ' after a very successful perform" ance tho previous night ; and Dr Colin Jeverson discovered his tickets were useless, but a cheque for a hundred pounds lay on Ins plate with these brief words scrawled in pencil: — "In remembrance of past kindness received. — Neretta." Then the beautiful patient and celebrated violinist were one.

"Wanted Known. — T. Harris, tobacconist, has removed to Isaacs' Buildings, Lower Queen-street. Flies and Bugs, Beetles, insects, roaehe3, ants, bed-bugs, rats, mice, gophers, jack-rabbits, cleared out by " Rough on Rats." Moses, Moss & Co., Sydney, General Agents. The fallowing tesfcimonal in reference to the efficacy of Hitchens' Blood Restorer speaks for itself : —"Park Hotel, Auckland, September 21st, 1883.— Mr Williams : Dear Sir, — Hearing from Mr Hitchens that you are ngeut for his Blood Restorer, I have pleasure in testifying to its wonderful properties as a cure for rheumatism. You know what a martyr I was to it. When on the coast I tried every remedy that I hoard of to no purpose, until I was induced to try Hitchens' Blood Restorer and Ointment, and am happy to say that it has perfectly cured me. lam now six months exposed to all weathers, and have not felt the least symptoms of it. Before I took it I was a complete cripple ; could not walk without the support of sticks ; and for six weeks at a time could not leave my bed. I state a few of the things I tried for it to no purpose :— • lodiade Potassa, Guiacuin, Gollah's Indian Mixture, Turkish Baths, Rotorna Sulphur Baths, White or ' Sjjfchur Island ; I was also in Greymouth and Wsngamu hospitals, and received very little benefit from any of tkem^ I was'very ill when first I took it, but, after; a few bottles, it took away all pain. lam now as well as ever' I was in my life. I have suffered so much from tho complaint that I think it would be a neglect of duty not to oiako it known as much ' aa possible.— From jours truly, Jons Gbo. Babron."