MY RIVAL.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1055, 22 April 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

MY RIVAL.

; Astray sheep has wandered down to the itowing-path, and stands gazing at ns with astonishment, not unmixed with grave reproof, Overhead, two larks are singing, in emulous rivalry of one another, little quivering specks 'of melody, far up in the blue sky. " Laplap" goes the water under the keel; the towing-rope dips in and out as our boat rooks jgently on the bosom of old Father Thames. ; over there,'across that cross-cropt stretch of Ipasture-land, I can see the reapers—can hear the jingle : of belled bridles as the stout .horses carry the last load of hay down a distant lane, A rabbit runs out of a clump of bracken, and makes off as my littlo dog ;Dandie begins to bark at him, •_ When is Will coming back, I wonder? It is quite an hour since he fastened the towingjrope to a stump and started across country, (with a hopeful heart and an empty bottle, in search of a cottage and an old woman who keeps a cow. And if that cow has not a pre-' 'judice againstbeing milked at unseasonable hours, we may be able, perhaps, to orown our impending lunch with coffee.- We meant to bring a 'bottle with lis, but'at the last momentit.was forgotten, together with, the spit and some of the other minor comforts of life, Was there over a picnic yet where tlie salt'was not left behind ?', I trow nofci : : "When you, have quite finished contem-" plating the beauties of nature," says my companion, a littlo crossly, "perhaps you will answer that, question I asked you just now, Miss .dray," ,•■■■':••

' :"What question?"! ask, elevating my' eye-brows with a stare of surprise,' "What' question ?—oh! I remember. You were in-' 'quiring whether my young'affections had entwined themselves.' round any particular object, were you not ?" ' '..■', '•.'.' ; .."And have they?" he asks, bending forward to,scan my countenance more closely. Then, as I do not answer, but turn my eyes away frOm-those .grave blue-grey ones that look into them so searchingly,- "You may have a good many lovers, I suppose," ho says,,with a half-sigh; "fewgirls seem to' 'think that one is'enough, now'-a-days," '.' j_. "Dozens!" I answered cheerfully. : "Considering the varied nature qf- pur:acquaintance, and thenumber of. eligible young men with large fortunes- who frequent; Will's Studio, it is not likely, that. : : : ' Her heart could long, remain her own' under the circumstances, is it ? Seriously," seeing the,shade upon his.face grow, .deep, as if something fa my words jarred upon him,' "I have™ time for such things, even if .they came in my way-which," laughing; ■,'' they do not. ■ Once, indeed, there'came to Will a brand-new millionaire, with a.villa,'at Manchester,' whose brand-new' plaster walls re- : quired.covering with so many feet of painted canvas, : Will sold him two. pictures of his own, and one of mine, and would, please, Providence, have sold him as many more, had not our evil genius persuaded that gentle cotton-printer that I was eminently calculated to adorn the head of the mahogany dinner-table that he had left behind at Mancheater. He offered me, through Will, a very fat hand with a largo diamond ring on the forefinger, which I declined, with thanks, and he, ~ ■ ' Went away in sadness,' '.. with three pictures, whore ho had intended him to carry off a dozen at least. There is the.history of my first and only proposal for yoii,' Captain Pyne, Touching, is it riot?"

."Gay," he says, suddenly, rising and coming ov'er'to my side,'" if I were to ask you tho.same question .that tho cotton-printer (poor dovil) did, what would'you say to'me in answer?"' ■' : " ' "'" v: [' "Had you not better sit down?" I say, mischievously, "or do you want to upset us both into the river?" Then as Hook up into his face, that is warm and tender, stern' and beseeching, all at once my, inclination' to tease.'him vanishes, ; . '"Answer me I" he pleads, ' "I—l don't know," Isay, shrinking from him," " Captain Pyne,' Will will be here directly; please, lot mo go." . .;''.' '"Gay," my darling," he says, passionately, "if there is no hope forme, toll mo so now."' Then,'as I do'not answer, "I will wait till this evening," he says, "Dear, if you will only give me a flower, I shall know what it means!" Then, stooping,, ho kisses the,' small hands' that lie in "his, and releases' them as. Will'appears, two fields off, waving a bottle 1 with anunmistakablo gesture of triumph.' Lunch is over.' Will (Will is iny brother, and the only relation I have got in the world) and Laurence.Pyne are smoking. : I havo wandered a little way'down'the''bank in search of a dump of forget-me-nots Ihoticed as wo passed this morning'. I have made a bouquet of tho wed blue flowers, and tied it up with a blade of grass. ■ Perhaps I may give it to somebody by-and-bye, who knows ? Hero come Will and Laurence,,' Thoy have not seen me yet, for I am sheltered behind the knotted trunk of a great tree, down by tho wator's edge. Thoy'are talking lazily and sociably, with whiffs of blue cigar smoke between each sentence. ■■■■■,■:■■>

■ "Where did you see her first to. get so taken with her, old Chap ?" says Will. ' ; Confidential, and' no mistake.' And lam surprised at Will. He knows'[quite well that it was in his own stu—-'"' : ■•" DoWn at Aldershot," says Laurence. DownatAldershot. It is mean of mo; but' I know who '' she" is, I listen for tho next words eagerly. " Down at Aldershot, eh f. says Will. "Yes, running-after a fellow in the hussars. Luckily for me, he wanted to get rid of her; and as he had dropped a trifle to me at deai'te tho night before, I managed.-'.to square it with him to our mutual satisfaction; and Fan transferred her affection to mo without more ado." .' , [ "Let's look at her again," says my brother, "Pretty little thing, isn't .she,"says' her. ownor proudly, detaching a loeket from his

watch-chain as he speaks (a locket I have often noticed before), "You shall paint her for me if you will, Dene. I mean to bring her up one of theao days and introduce her to your sister," ■ ; " Gay would like her, I know," says Will .with conviotion, ' ''Wouldshe, indeed?" ' Then the two young men turnaud retrace their steps, and I stand dumb and tearless, wondering why the glory should so jsuddcnlyhave faded from sky and shore and river, with a bunch of blueforget-me-nots still held mechanically in my hand,

■ .A cold day; a bitter day, with the keen frosted wind driving a hurricane of fine snow against the windows of the railway carriage in which I sit, striving vainly, with the aid of a rug and a half-frozori foot-warmer, : to preserve the small amount of caloric that yet remains in my chilly frame, 1 "Change— eer—for—Slingaby—Mudford —Bra-a-aybridge," cries the porter, as the boll rings and the train comes slowly into a small comfortless station, A few travellers, numb, .frosty-nosed, and distinctly illtempered, are waiting on the platform, Everybody has a ; cold; tho very newspaper boy pursues his calling under bronchial difficulties of the most appalling nature, I have not got one yet, but I have sneezed every tinie 'the carriage door has been opend 1 ; I lean back now, and shelter my face with my muff from the cold blast that comes in with somebody that gets precipitately into the carriage just as the train is starting, We arc sitting in opposite corners now, in a 'state of frigidity that matches the weather, We have only spoken, once, and that was to mutually exclaim "Captain. Pyne!" and ", Miss Dene I"—as wo recognised one another, Chill, grey morning has become grey noon; we have rushed -in and out of a good many stations, arid stopped at one or two, but we sp'oftk not. lam reading Temple Bar, he the Times, and so interested are we in these publications that we do not even look up. I wonder if he is married yet to the young lady —Fan somebody or other—who ran after a hussar, and whose young affections he won at imii, in such a nice, refined, honorable way ? He does not look the sort of man to do such a thing, does he ? But appearances are deceitful sometimes. The train begins to go slower' and slower; .we' must be coming to another, station (I hope it is tho one he is going'toget.oiitat). We stop short. I glue ray nose against the window, but it is covered with arabesques of ice, and I can see nothing.

I .-},.•■■ ..* ■'. fTeri .-minutes pass. -Twenty. 'Wo [are all' stationary. J ' ',,[:''["" ' '■[,,. .'■:.,..'.''.'' .'•'' iI. 100k 7 round 'fi t 'ray comnahipn.'; Ho has' let dowri'thQ window, ahdi'projcctc'd hkliody partly out of it, Something' is' the matter' evidently"''''." .' " "'',' ,; ' ''"'"'"' | ".What is it? ,'Whjr do we not go on'?".' I Say nervously, addressing toy small question to his legs'/. .Then I'wish I: had not spoken, put the, thing' is.dpne, '' . '[ ; " '..•'' ,''.' I_ " Snowed up!" ho says briefly; drawing'in his,head fuid' settling himself in hia corner with a provoking' air of resignation. . '.' ['''. [ I let down my, window' and he 'shuts, his, andllook out. Showed up if should think' po; tho; white smooth drift in' which 'wd'arb .embedded conies' 'up nearly' to'thehaiidlo of [the carriage-door.. Heads are kicking out of .every Window, a sound'of feminine, wailing [and manly gnashing of teoth cbmeS to;my .ears.as the Snowed up !, : I draw; In my head and close tho [window,'fueling, as'l doubt hottfcat'ljlOok," .the picture'of blank'despair! •''''".'.',''"[ j ■ "You-.are cold,"ho says, and.falls'to'ar. ganging "my [ wraps[about me..'.'•' His'lnihd [touches- mine, and' T draff myself away .sharply, with, a keen pang at my heart.'as I jrerhomber that August 'evening, just a'year ■ago,,when! put his proffered,love away from- J me-knowing him to bo dishonorable and'un-true-as I cast the little bunch of forge't-me-■riots (poor[weeds, that wore 'gathered for a, ■dove-token) into the swift flowing riverl " ' "Gay," he says, am!good actor tl/atheis, [there is keen pain in, both face and : vdicb as iho speaks my name, "why'did you'doit? 'Why[did you cast ine off so' coldly ? You are" irio coquette j Iliavq tried to think you so, ;bnt I caiinofc'succeed; tell me, why?" [ ,;'■' Why?" I echo, bitterly,'" you know as well as I, Captain Pyne. [Why? Because :y,ou were engaged to another woman when ■you asked mo to be your wifo, that is all," : ; f I?" he repeats. ' ' V. ". ;'."Yes,;you I" ; l[say,scornfully. ' "Ob;I [do hot mistake 1 ,. I,hoard you tcllihgWill ■about your love affair—that evening.''' How'j; when,you -first saw heiv she was'running [after a follow in tho Hussars,' and you played 1 [for the right to address her at "dcarte'J and '.won; I see. that you wear'the'locket still," ■I go on, roused, to fresh disgust by the well.acted surprise in his face and manner,''' Look [in it, Captain Pyno, if your memory needs refreshing." ' '"'•'■ ' : : He unfastens the locket from his watch-, chain as I speak, and[liolds it out to me with' a strange look, of : exultation and relief, " Would you like to see her, Miss Dene ?" ho

says, " Would you like to see her, my'little Fan?"- 1 " ;; "'.."' i - : '■ "■" ■■ ■ ..!•■-■' He touches the spring, and : ttie locket 'opens.' ' '.' l:; ■ : ■■■'■'•■ -' ; " ■-■■■'■ ■•'■ ■, Oh, what a fool—what a fool I have been! ; For there' is. no,girl-face within it; but only a colored' photograph "oi ;a -curly'•Clumber spaniel.!''..' -' : v' •' ■ ''!■■';! .':"■'■ ; > ■■" His whole face is one broad smile, as Hook' at hiin; and before I can ask him to forgive' me, he has caught me in his arms, and is smothering me with kisses. And when the shovelsgo to work, later on, there are two people in the' train who are ex-' humed in a state of perfect contentment. Fan belongs to me nov/.-Cloiildej. A, Graves, in Judy's Annual,■'■■■':■ k.