The Colonel's Enemy.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3140, 18 March 1909, Page 2

The Colonel's Enemy.

V CHAPTER XlX.—Continued, j "I do not think he looked ht it io; that light," the major said, ing bow much more dignit'j j,j s atm t would put on if she Ww that the family lawyer had been secretly in love «ith her; "he was sure that I wculd sanction anything he might do; you were my first care when 1 came home; I.left the rest of our relations to hirn—and, by the way, ■what a multitude there is of them; if I had recognized their claims to the extent they wished, we should /■fcavg very little left for ourselves." i "-— y "Why do you say'we' and 'ourselves'? I did not know you were W married." B. "Nor am I. I speak of you, A. and Mary, and myself. Your place is at Eavenskerne, my dear aunt. that I have found you I mean take Mrs Walton shook her head. "We shall be very glad to see ahe said, "but I have done HPtwith Ravenskerne forever, Frederit is associated with too many m painful memories. The contrast ■ between the home of my childhood m and the wretched spartments my hus- ' band died in would be more than I could bear. Do not offer me assistance of any kind, directly or indirectly ; we have chosen our own life, and live by our work, without aid from anyone, and that is what we shall continue to do." "And I say you shall not," the soldier announced, almost sternly. *'Sureiy I have some claim to be consulted? Will you deny me the aright to do my duty?—and it is certainly my duty to rectify any mistake my uncle may have made—atone for any injustice he has been guilty of. For my sake, aunt, you will not let him lie in his grave unforgiven; and if you forgive him you will come home with me. Why should you condemn me to live in that big, dreary house alone, when you and Mary, whom I love already, could makejt so bright or me? My father was your favourite brother; you would not have denied this to him, and why should you deny it to my latbar's son?" "I have given you my reasons, Frederick," Mrs Walton said; but not with so much decision in her tone. "I was afraid you would -want something of the kind, and that is why I was reluctant to let you into the secret of our identity." "You were afraid 1 should wsnt something of the kind," he said, in - affectionate rebuke. "I wonder what jou would have thought of me if I had not wanted something of the 'kind. Why, look at this pretty face, pale for want of fresh air, and thoughtful with the constant worry of her work. Am Ito live in luxury and leave her here to her drugtry? I would rather sell Ravenskerne to the highest bidder, waste the money in idle extravagence, and go back to my comrades in India. Come, my dearest aunt, think it is your brother Fred speaking. \o you through me, and if you were my mother's friend, as I am sure you were, think you hear her voice at this same time." He had taken both her hands while sppaking, and his handsome face so close to hers, the bitter resolution of many years melted away; but she could not quite give in. "What shall I say, Myra?" she asked in tears. "You know how often I have snid I would never, under any circumstances, go back to Ravenskerne." "If you leave it to Mary," the soldier said, "and I like her own name best, she, I am sure, will side with me." "It is for my mother to decide," Mary said; "and whether we go with you or not, I think you are very kind and good." "And, frankly, if the decision were with you, you would come with me?" "Yes," she said, softly. "You like m 3 a little already?" "Very much. I have no brother, and you are almost as near." "Quite as near, I think, Mary. The children of two brothers, or two sisters, or sister and brother, are so near that the tie between thrrn should always be a pure and sacred one. You will be like a sister to me." He kissed them both; and from that moment took possessioon of them with his masterful, though gentle, air of authority. Mrs Walton was too well acquainted with the masculine section of the Lugard race to dispute any point; and perhaps ehe was not sorry to have her determination broken into; he was delicately thoughtful and indulgent; but they felt his suggestions, bting the result of careful consideration, were dtcisions deliberately laid, down before he mentioned them, and he was always careful to have the right on his side. "There must be no more drugery," he said. "Intellectual drugery is always irksome, but it assumes its worst aspect when it takes the shape of hammering music into the fingers, I will not say the brains, of reluctant pupils. Music, unless there is absolute genius with it, is the very lowest form of art, and as a passion or a gift it is not possessad by more than one in a thousand, I might say one in ten thousand. Only a few hundreds in a million rtach, as their highest point, the dead ltvel of a dreadful mediocrity, and for every bright particular star that rises a myriad flickering rushlights stay behind, wtich would not so much matter if each one did not mistake is little feeble flicker for (he twinkling of a star." "You are rather severe," Mary said; "but there is a great deal of . truth in it. Many parents will make their children learn whether they have any aptitude for it or not." "Pardon me. they make the children tiy to learn. You may drag a ci.ild v 0 a piano, just as you may I lead a horse to the water, but the '

V - By WLNTHROP B. HARLAND. § / Author of "Lady Elgin's Secret," "A Harvest of / £ Shame," "Tho Elder Son," "Lord A ZAshton's Heir," Etc. i I i 1

'; earn and the other , not u rink. So no more lessons, p -se. The inventor of the three years' system has much, very much, to answer for. If pianos were not so plentiful and easily obtained, we pliould not be so inflicted as we are. Children, whose musical capacity would never rise beyond a few cords on a bsnjo, are fondly expected to rival a Paderewski or a Liszt." "But how do you know this?" Mary asked, with an amused smile, "when you have been so long away." "You forget that I was not always away. My tutor lived in Bayswater, and on summer evenincs, when I had been studying hard, a dozen different pianos, with a great deal ot forte in most ot them, have driving as many distinct tunes into my suffering head; and when I went home to Brixton—for economy's sake I lodged in Brixton — it was rather worse. I was opposite a boardinghouse for German clerks, and nine of them had a musical evening six times a week." "Yet you are fond of music," Mrs Walton said. "Of m.usic, yes. I have a passion for it, but no ability; and there is some music that almost suffocates me with emotion. You shall play to me presently; but we must settle a few details first. I am in London now, on some business which may detain me a little time, but when it is finished you will be ready to return with me." j "Suppose I were to say that could not be?" Mary said. '"I should have to wait, that is all, and I should not mind. My own rooms are here in Piccadilly, and if you will give me a cup of tea and a chop cksw and then, instead of condemning me to a lonely knife and fork or the prosy old bores at my club " "My dear Frederick!" "Thank you, aunt. I did not doubt your hospitality, and I will come, and while you stay in London I should like you to be acquainted with Dora—Miss St. Hilary." "The young lady Leonard Dacre is engaged to?" Mrs Walton said. The major replied in the affirmative, with a slight involuntary contraction uf his straight thick brows. "Yes, it is her father who is rather unaccountably missing. Mr Dacre, her guardian, is now unwell, and she is nursing him. The house is a dull one at the best of times —for a young girl, I mean—and I should think that a companion of her own age would be an immense relief to her." "A companion of her own age?" Miss Walton said; "and Leonard tells me she is quite a girl." "So are you." "My dear Frederick, I am nearly thirty." "Then you had better keep that piece of information for your own relations, or you will run the risk of being disbelieved. Leonard told me you were two or three and twenty, Mr Kcssiver snid you were thiity, and between the two I was in doubt; but, falling back on my Indian experience, I remembered how rarely appearance and age go together. I have seen a girl of three and twenty look haggard and worn, and one ten years older look quite bright and youthful." "How would you account for it?" [to be continued.]