The Storyteller.

Waikato Argus, Volume VI, Issue 406, 4 March 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

MY NEW NIECE.

I am a bachelor, with an acute appreciation of the condition. No wife comes between me and the peace and quiet which I love : I sit at the feet of no children in order to learn the way wherein I should walk. Perhaps I am selfish ; most men are when they get the chance. Whatever I am, I like it. A sound philosophy, seeing that one is always in companionship with one's self.

A few y ears ago an unexpected event occurred, which threatened at the time to revolutionise my whole system of life. The disturbance took the form of a niece. Athena-like, she sprang full-grown into my life. She was the only child of my brother John and his wife Fanny, both long ago dead and buried in India. The girl's existence had almost passed from my mind—for she had been adopted by her mother's relatives —when circumstances over which I had no control obliged me to offer her a home under my bachelor roof. On recognising in her the inevitable, I flatter myself that, as a philosopher, I rose to the occasion. Not only was she offered a warm welcome, I even, with the help of retrospect, worked myself up into a bit of sentimentality over Fanny's child, another Fanny. She had her mother's name. Had her soft eyes and appealling glance, her gentle, winsome, womanly ways? Poor Fanny! How sweet she had been, and if—However, it never had been me, but always John. And no one had ever known or even suspected, least of all Fanny herself, or John. Under the spell of the old far-off memory, I vowed to myself that the girl would find in me a protector, one on whom to lean her feminine weakness. The age of chivalry still lived ; all the manhood within me rose at the thought of gentle, helpless little Fanny thus cast upon my care. On the expected day of her arrival, I sent the carriage to the station and awaited her on the doorsteps. It was better to let a shy young creature arrive in that way, more composing. The carriage did not bring her, however ; it returned plied with luggage but without Fanny. ' Miss Newcorae is coming on her bike, sir. She is fixing it up at the station, and will be here presently,' the coachman explained. ' I have only brought the young lady's luggage.' The man's half-repressed smile made me glance at the impedimenta in process of removal from the carriage, My eye at once noted, amongst the usual feminine boxes of abnormal size, an unmistakeable gun-ease, a fishing-rod, a medloy of golf and hockey sticks; in fact, the paraphernalia of most manly sports. The thought of a certain " Frank," from whom I have received various telegrams relating to Fanny's arrival, suddenly came to me. I turned with a quick feeling of surprise, not unmixedjwith annoyance, to ask an explanation of the coachman. At the moment the sharp tinkle of a bicycle bell sounded close to my ear; there was a light, swift spring to the ground and up the doorsteps* A treble voice, witli a note of enquiry in it exclaimed, " Uncle James V The arms in connection with it were, at the same time thrown gushingly around me. I am not very ready; perhaps even, for that matter, rather slow. I managed, with difficulty, to get out a strangled. ' Welcome, dear child Dear Fanny V It was enough, however. Whilst I stood there, metaphorically overwhelmed by the wave of modernity which had so unexpectedly swept up to my very door, the girl took everything into her own hands. At one and the same moment she gave orders to the servants and explanations to me. The luggage, gun-case golf and hockey implements, &c, were all hers. So was " Frank." It was her name. Not the silly, insipid " Fanny" which she had long ago disowned. It was not required for me—and I felt no inclination—to interrupt. A furtive study of " Frank " engaged my attention as she bustled about. Short though it was. she certainly had on a shirt, for she gave the impression of a youth trammelled by such a garment. Her hair, though tightly drawn back under a sailor hat destitude of feminine adornment, suggested the possibility of golden curls like her mother's, whilst the eyes were poor Fanny's over again. Only with a difference ! And what a difference, what a transformation it made. The free self-confidence of the new order looking through them instead of the old womanly timidity and dependence. Before many days had gone, I had fully realised that there would be no demand on the protective spirit which had stirred within my breast. On the contrary the fault was mine if I did not understand that my manly weakness now had a prop. To her credit, however, it must be said that she was tolerant of my oldfashioned ways, and the patronage extended to me was, on the whole, kindly. From the very first moment she made herself completely at homo

under my roof, though this by no means signifies that she was much at home, for except at meal times and in the night, I don't believe she had a quiet moment. If she wasn't out with her gun or rod, she was engaged in " putting," or in some one or other of the mysteries of her various atheletic pursuits. Ami, then, the bicycle! The wings of Pegasus can hardly have annihilated space more supernaturally than did the wheels of that girl annihilate it. Her idea of distance quite took away my breath. 1 1 never knew we were so near Leaford,' she remarked one evening.

'We are a good twenty miles distant,' I said. l lt is all that I dare say, and a stiffish bit of collar work at the end. I ran over this afternoon to look at the links. They are splendid. I had tea there and a nice run back. Why don't you get a bike, uncle V ' Perhaps because I think the bike might get me,' I We could see to that,' she said, graciously. 'There is very good easy going in this country. Look at the level stretch of Tadmore, not a dangerous pitch the whole way. ' Well, I do not wish to damage its reputation.' ' I tell you what, uncle/ she went on after a thoughtful pause, ' you are inclined to stagnate—every one is, more or less, at your time of life —you should struggle against the feeling, make an effort. You want to be roused.' The murmured interpolation ' I don't failed to stop her; she proceeded to the relentless conclusion, ' You must get a bicycle. And at once, while the weather is fine. In fact, the sooner the better.' The decision of her tone sent a cold chill through me. Could an average ' old' man withstand a ' new ' woman 1 Could I ? My prophetic soul was confronted by the sudden vision of a maimed and sprained creature, strained in every limb, stagnating no longer, but gyrating to destruction. In the extremity of the danger, however I did not lose my head. I remained silent.

Although I had not strengthened the enemy's hands by opposition, I was fully alive to the urgency of the case. I had not been a practising bachelor of so many years standing for nothing. If I was stagnating, I meant to go on doing so. It may be that I was pottering through life, Well, I liked pottering, and potter I would to the end of the chapter. If it must be either she or I—the feeling had somehow or other been growing in my breast that the houße hardly afforded room for both—it would possibly not be she. Yet not for one moment did I contemplate casting the daughter cf John and Fanny adrift, for I am a man of sentiment, with the full equipment of family feelings. 1 had an idea, however, a happy inspiration. I despatched a note to Algy Hamilton, inviting him to stay. He came. Before many days had passed I enjoyed the pleasant experience of being able to congratulate myself on ray own sagacity. The young people took to each other with a zest that exceeded my rosiest expectations. Whether or not Algy was ' new ' I could not ssy. He was young, smart, and a briefless barrister. Had he worked at his profession as he worked at golf, cycling, &c. t he would certainly have deserved, if not commanded, success. From morning till night he and Frances—my compromise between Fanny and Frank—toiled at amusing themselves. They never had a moment's respite from one thing or another all day. In the evening they played billiards and smoked together. All this apparently with intense satifaction to themselves, and decidedly to me. The bicycle that cleared from the horizon, I was left to stagnate in undisturbed peace. The return to my normal state, after the abnormal weeks since the instalment of Frances under my roof, was delicious. A perfect enthusiasm to retain it took possession of me. I eagerly watched and waited. The only drawback to my watching was that it had so little scope. I rarely saw them except at meal times, when I was privileged to listen to a conversation usually technical and above my level. Occasionally, however, they considerately descended to it, and talked kindly—if ignorantly—of books and things of culture. One day Algy did not appear at luncheon. • He's lunching at Hazelwood,' Frances explained. Thon she went on : ' I have quite taken to Algy, uncle.' 'So I perceive,' I said, carefully repressing the sudden joy that awoke within me. ' He is a dear boy.' ' A boy ? Humph ! He is a sufficiently precocious one.' 'He does know his way around, I grant you. He is very good company ; we suit each other down to the ground.' ' You do seem to enjoy each other's society, if that is what you mean,' ' There is only one drawback,' she smiled, shaking back the golden curls, which on the less severe occasions of life—at meal times and in the evenings—were allowed to show, ' Algy is so ridiculously in love.'

' How do you know V I inquired, again taking myself in hand with stern repression. 'He told me so to-day. But 1 knew it before ; suspected it after a day or two. Hallo!' she broke off, ' There he is, back already. What's up now, I wonder ! I must be off to see ; he's not coming in here.'' She sprang from h«r chair and disappeared, whistling from the room So it had cone ! And that was the " new " way. Not a blush, not a falter in the voice, not even a quiver of the eyelids, nor a droop of their lashes. No matter. Ic had come—whether new style or old—that was the chief thing. I hugged myself in the smug consciousness of my own subtlety. [low warmly I would bestow my blessing on the young people ? They bad not kept me waiting long. All that day and the next, indeed, for several days, I sat, constantly expectant, in my study, of an interview with Al°y. Nothing of the kind occurred. Perhaps it was not part of the modern programme. Still an uncomfortable feeling began to creep over me that I ought to come in somewhere —I, who was so willing to help. Had 1 happened to be in a position like hers, I felt no doubt whatsoever Frances would have done a great deal for me. And yet how could I blunder in with my old methods 1 As well might a mediaeval knight engage in |modern warfare. Less than over did I see the young people during this time of expectancy. They seemed absorbed in each other, which was natural; but, which was less so, the closest observation, whenever I did see them, failed to detect anything in the least lover-like in their devotion. They were apparently good comrades—nothing more. Well, that was in the programme, too, I supposed. At the end of an anxious week I was at last relieved by Frances—not Algy, which hardly surprised me—entering my study like a whirl wind.

' Success and the man I sing ' she burst out, triumphantly. ' Algy has done it; everything is arranged. He is engaged !' 'Thank heaven!' Even the shock of this robust method of announcing the engagement did not submerge the gratitude that I was then free to express. The girl stared. ' I never knew that you took such an interest in Algy.' ' Always, always,' I said, hastily. ' And now that he is to be my nephew ' ' Good gracious, uncle !' she broke in ; 'is that all you know about is ? The idea is too silly for words ! You don't mean to say that you think it is me V I could feel my face falling as the icy chill of disappointment struck suddenly home. ' Who else ?' I feebly inquired. ' Mrs Aldridge, of course.' ' The lady of Hazelwood ? Frances nodded. ' Why, the woman could comfort ably be his mother,' I exclaimed. 'She acknowledges to being more than ten years older than Algy. But that is ail right. I don't believe he would have looked at her had she been a year younger. You see, Algy is in a very good set. These boys are so accustomed to dancing attendance on married women and professional beauties, they get to like 'experience.' Its not like long ago, when it used to be girls. Algy is awfully in love. It was great fun helping him.' ' She is very rich. That's helps too.'

' 1 dare say. Algy will give her lots of opportunity for helping. He's sublime about money. Dear Algy ! lam so glad he is settled. We had a glorious time working up the business together. Only it'f such a pity he goes away this evening. Don't mind if we are late for dinner, we just want to do a rarewell record, Au revoir, uncle.' She tripped off, waving her hand in airy adieu. It was a come down. Never have I had a more humiliating quarter of an hour than that which followed the girl's departure. Facing the situation, I realised that my knowledge of humanity—of which I had prided myself—-was out of date. Failure had been the natural result of basing calculations on obsolete data.

My knowledge must be brought up to date ; such was the resolve which concluded my cogitations. I did not want another fiasco, and I did want—well, to stagnate in peace. On the clay after Algy's departure I went up to town. An entire week was devoted to making a conscientious round of the theatres. Thestage profesvses to hold the mirror up to Nature and to reflect, for the amusement and instruction of Society, the ways of Society. Could I have a better teacher 1 I opened my mind 1 marked, learned, and inwardly digested. Then I began to understand ; the secret uf my failure was revealed to me. Love still held the stage; so far I had been right, After that I had been all wrong. The Romeo and Juliet idea was evidently archaic. Youth was not attracted by youth, but quite otherwise. 1 saw the wild hoyden of seventeen captivated by the elderly General ; sweet and twenty succumbing to the blaze man of the world; the dry old Professor, though absolutely unconscious of his personal charms, yet dealing destruction to the young maiden heart.

A modern Shakespeare would have made old Montague and not his son the hero of the play. Then I remembered Algy and his elderly love and the views which Frances had expressed on the subject.How obtuse I had been ! How aiitiquatod and ignorant, with re gard to modern developments ! Before leaving town 1 looked up my obi friend Palgrave. He had loomed on the horizon of my memory after hour 3 of deep consideration. We had lost sight of each other for many years, which was n© wonder, seeing that his life was spent mainly in the germ world. By good luck I found him, and at a time when—it appeared—there was but little doing amongst bacteria. He accepted my invitation to the country.

Palgrave arrived a few days after ray return. My spirits rose on meeting him at the station. The bicycle had again been on the tapis, and I had been somewhat down, not to say uneasy, all the morning. I felt that Palgrave would be a success. 1 was only just in time to abstract him from the train—he had forgotten the name of the station. His hat and half his luggage had been lost on the way; from the portmanteau the remnant of his impedimenta, portions of various garments projected. He was the very type of an erudite Professor. My newly-edu-cated eye took in the attractions of near-sighted eyes, his long hair, stooping shoulders, and the clothes of learned rather than fashionable cut. Everything seemed most hopeful. The pity was that he took snuff ; but it could not be helped. And, indeed, one got to hope that he would take more instead of less, so liberal was he in scattering it over his clothes and things in general. Again I watched and waited. It seemed as if the process of waiting would be a long one. It was one thing to separate the Professor from his beloved bacteria, but quite another to get them out of his thoughts, 1 don't believe that he even knew there was a girl in the house for several days. The way in which his abstracted gaze wandered past her at meal time was most disheartening. He had been with me nearly a week when I said to Frances —partly, it must b» owned, with curiosity as well as apology ' I am afraid you must find the Professor very dull. But he is an old friend of mine, so I hope you will not mind.' The girl looked up sharply. 'Dull? Oh.no, no! Not dull!' ' Perhaps you would have me say deadly dull?' ' Uncle James !' She stared at me. ' I thought he was a dear friend of yours.' ' It is not to be expected that you and I should have the same taste in friends.' ' I don't think the Professor dull,' she said, after a short silence. 'He is very quaint. I often fear he will fall into the lake. I watch him from my window.' ' Yes, I noticed that you have not been out as much as usual latelv. You have not been feeling ill, I hope.' ' Oh, no ! Not a bit. I am quite well,' Was it the haste with which she spoke that made her flush ? Whatever the cause, what a change a bright bit of colour can work in a girl's face ! It set me thinknig all that day. Several days later the sound of voices in the library arrested my attention one afternoon. I had given up the room to Palgrave for his visit. The door was open, I stopped, and—screened from observation myself—looked in. I looked and listened, I did not excuse the act ; but if a man cannot do what he likes in his own house, where clso can he do it ?

Frances was standing at the foot of the library ladder with a large volume in her arms. The Professor's exclamation of surprise showed that he had only just come into the room. He was gazing at Frances with eyes that gleamed behind his spetacles. E do not believe that the man had ever before looked at her. And she 1 Was that the irrespressible, self-con(ident girl ? She was absolutely faltering out excuses and apologies for intrusion. ' I was so interested in what you said last night, I - I—wanted to — see —for myself—something about —bacteria. She glanced deprecatingly at the big book which she held. ' I—thought—you had—gone out.'

' I am glad that I returned,' the Professor said, gravely. He was still looking at Frances, and I wondered if he noted the golden effect of a stray sunbeam that had just caught the curls. 1 I feel such an intruder ; but I did so want to know—about bacteria.' ' Dear mo ! How curious, how very interesting !' But whether it was the bacteria or the girl I could not tell. The direction of his eyes however, had not changed. ' What authority are you consulting 1 Do you adopt the Virchow theories f Frances made a little movement of the book and looked up. Good gracious ! The very impression of her mother's eyes ! But Palgrave's were now fixed ou the volume, bent down, peering close at it. ' Waldkopf ?' he exclaimed. ' A compilation of absurdity, inexactness, aud false reasoning. My ninth chapter in ' The lufu3orian Sugges-

tions of the Miocene Ag 3 ' disposes of him absolutely.' He grasped the book, I fancy he was unconscious that his handclosed over the girl's. He was all rian now, back in the bacteria world where there were no girls, nor golden curlSj nor appealing eyes. And where there were no other professors with other views to be refuted.

My interest was keenly aroused —not that I followed his continued denunciation of the unfortunate Waldkopf. I was wondering whether he would turn over the leaves of the book with his own or Frances' hand. In my eagerness to see, I pressed forward and knocked against the door. The noise fortunately covered the immediate retreat I was obliged to beat.

After that I waited, but I did not watch again, except the marvel of the growing change in Francis. Perhaps it was the curls—no longer severely repressed —which gave more softness to her face. But what had softened her voice and manner? I could have more easily have fancied the gentler tones coaxing me to stagnate, rather than sternly repressing any weak bent in that direction.

I don't know how it happened and I never shall. The only thing which mattered was, that it did happen. One morning when the Professor's visit was drawing to a close, Frances came back from the direction of the lake—l think they had found it a regular bacteria preserve —engaged to him. The engagement was announced to me at once. There were tears in the girl's eyes and blushes mantled her cheeks. The likeness to poor Fanny so startled me that congratulations were halting and confused. The Professor standing by, tapped the snuff box in his hand and beamed benevolently through his spectacles. I have never professed to understand women, whether old or new. I personally claim no credit for success in coping with a difficulty of life. Enough for me to enjoy in humble gratitude and wonder, and to leave the understanding to who will. I have resumed my old life. It may not be stagnation, but it is peace. My house is the only one in the country which has no bycycle stable.