The Storyteller.

Waikato Argus, Volume IV, Issue 285, 7 May 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

A MAN IN A MILLION * CHAPTER 111. The Irvines, brother .and sister, were orphans ; indeed so far as they knew, they had neither kith nor kin belonging to them in Scotland or anywhere else. Their father had been a colonel in the army, and after his death, which occurred suddenly and unexpectedly, the widow had taken an unpretentious flat in the outskirts of Glasgow, where, on her slender pension, she thought she could manage to live, and at the same time give her two children the advantages of good education ; and none know the value o£ this better than do the Scotch. Flora should be a governess or teacher of some sort: so reasoned Mrs Irvine; but Douglas Irvine should be a minister. She had set her mind upon that. It was the one dream, the solitary ambition, of her whole life. There was no profession so noble, none so mighty, and certainly none so peaceful and good. She would struggle hard to support him throughout the curricula of arts and divinity, and then —ah ! then he would be sure to get a church. It should be in the country—this was another portion of the mother’s dream—in the sweet country among the grant old hills; a village in a glen, a streamlet “jouking” through the meadows, the spire of the kirk—her son’s — pointing heavenward through a cloudland of trees, God’s green acre near it, and the old-fashioned manse not far away. Picture like this was pleasant to look forward to; and amidst such pleasureable surroundings she thought it would be delightful even to grow old and die. No one but herself, however, knew how hard the struggle she had undertaken was going to be, nor how many the privations. It was these latter, perhaps, that told on the mother’s constitution at last, for she sickened and died. . Douglas had just succeeded in obtaining his degrees of M.A. when the sad event occurred, and he found that he and his sister were in poverty, and alone in the world. Teaching he could not bear the thoughts of—it meant, to his way of thinking, a drudgery that was not only uncongenial, but positively mean, Nn, he would enter a merchant’s office. There, at least, he would have scope for thinking, and even time for study, with the possibility of a future. Events proved quickly too, that young Irvine had made a wise choice. His aptitude for business, and welltrained methods of thought, were of such service to his firm, that he was very soon not only thoroughly trusted, hut often even consulted upon matters of importance. About two years after his mother’s death he found himself in Rotterdam, whither he had gone on duty, It was here he met Van Doomp, a wiry, thin-lipped, calculating old Dutchman, who had a house in Zanzibar. The offer he made to Irvine was too tempting to refuse. He but asked time tu consider if, and meanwhile wrote home to his employers. He was bound, he said, to study his own advancement before everything, therefore his services were in the market at the command of the highest bidder. Van Doomp was the highest bidder, and apparently the instrument who was to shape the young man’s life. He could not leave his sister at home, however ; in fact she would not be left. They had never been parted yet, and Flora had no intention they should he. So she went with him. Society in Zanzibar is by no means extensive, and almost the first person to call on Irvine had been McGregor. Both he and his sister must look upon McGregor’s house as their home. That was a command. But Flora’s abilities were soon recognised by the Scottish merchant, and as Hilda took to her from the very first, the offer to be the child’s governess and companion was speedily made and gladly accepted. I do not think any sister could have loved a brother more sincerely than Flora loved Douglas. This is, of course, not to be wondered at. lie was the elder; he had nursed her, for that matter ; they had grown up together, and even her mother’s fondness for her boy had tended to make the sister revere ' ‘ ,i, r But no one else in the world was, in Flora’s eyes, half so handsome, half so clever, or half so witty •as Douglas. It was natural enough, therefore, that she should often speak about him to Hilda, and too often probably sound his praises, and make much of him. But love begets love even in an indirect way like this, and Hilda had more than once—ay, more than fifty times, perhaps—told Flora that she wished she had a brother like Douglas. ‘ Well,’ Flora had replied, 1 he can to both of us. He is big gh. Hilda had laughed at the proposal, but laughingly agreed to it; and when Douglas was told about it he was delighted. This brotherly love of his had nevertheless deepened into an eflcction of an even more abiding nature, fully a year before the time at which our story commences.

No ; Douglas had not told his lovp, for many reasons. He looked upon Hilda as in a groat measure too young to understand feelings like his. At fifteen, what could she know of love 1 He forgot that in these sunny isles of the Indian Ocean flowers bud and blossom early —though, alas ! they often fade early also. Besides, it was so very sweet to be a brother to her, to be able to call her Hilda short and simple, to assist her in her studies, and to be her escort through the crowded streets and bazaar.

Mr McGregor's first inquiry of an afternoon when he returned from the otlice, sometimes tried, often weary, was after the children, as lie called the three of them.

1 Where are the children, Mrs Yacoob ?'

'De chil'en, sih 1 Oh, dty happy 'nufT, I s'pohe. Dey all togedder to de bazaar.' • Then bring my slippers and pipe, Mrs Yacoob, and have the dinner all ready 'gainst their return.'

It certainly was not invariably to the bazaar the children went out for a ramble, though they usually passed through that way, and down some long street towards the seabeach or towards the bush. At nearly all hours of the day the narrow blind streets were crowded to semi-suffocation with a streaming multitude of gaily-dressed Arabs, Parsees, Hindoos, and Banians, to say nothing of the stream of pantins slaves, singing under their burdens of cowries or merchandise, borne on bamboo poles that passed from the shoulder to shoulder of each couple. These slaves did not sing because they were happy : their song was more of a mournful chant than anything else, and kept each couple in step, thus helping to steady the swinging package. I have said ' blind streets ' because the walls of the houses arc everywhere destitute of windows except the merest slits like the arrowholes of ancient castles.

Every one seemed busy ; the only creature who dared to or cared to take life easy being the little brown humpbacked cows. As one of these marched leisurely along, with her gilded horns and flower-garlanded neck on a level with her bade, many a hand was outstretched to reverently touch her head, or make her a fruit-offering of plantains or breadfruit with words that sounded half a blessing and half a prayer.

Douglas Irvine had to lead Hilda by the hand through this motley stream of humanity, the girl being right behind him, and Flora bringing up the rear. ' Siraecla, sameela. sameela !' (Make room) was Irvine's constant shout, as with his disengaged hand he touched the natives on the shoulder, by way of a hint for them to move on or move off as the case might be. Sometimes, in traversing the streets, they had Yacoob as an ad-vance-guard. He had been a slave once, but was now a free nigger, and showed his independence by an indiscriminate hustling of Arabs or Farsees alike. The former had be3n his masters, and so he thought himself justified in taking revenge. He was a powerful fellow, and few would have dared to tackle him. Indeed, his independence, not to say insolence, while escorting the ladies thus, at tin - es knew neither bounds nor limits. Once —and he had bitter cause to remember this in sorrow and silence many days afterwards—he hurled a I soi-disant ' gentleman Arab ' so roughly to one side, that he fell on the top of a bag of gum copal. As he regained his feet he half drew his sword, and only the intervention of Hilda saved Yacoob from an ugly fate. After Hilda's birthday, when going for a sail or row, Y'acoob always accompanied the trio, and he invariably brought the guitar. It did nob sound half so sad at sea, and the ripple on the water made the music infinitely tender and sweet. It was one day when Hilda had just laid down the guiter on the cushions that Irvine sighed as he said—- ' How beautiful that son 4 was, Hilda ; but I feel that life like this is far too happy to last !' And that day and these very words were remembered by both in the days of grief and misery so soon to come upon them. [To bf Continued.) 1 ■■ . . . -