CHAPTER XIV.

Waikato Times, Volume III, Issue 177, 26 June 1873, Page 2

CHAPTER XIV.

I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to Bay. 1 And do you feel better now ? ' said Winny Rowlands, ) coming towards the hearth, where sat, in a big, soft, easychair, covered with chintz, young Gerard Robertson, toasting by the fire. Old Nurse Roberts was pottering about, warming some slops over the hob. It was a snug little sittingroom, opening out of the terrace bedroom — alj the snugger^ that the w ind howled and rattled at the windows, and the surges hissed and rattled on the beach below, and the rolling swell that was tumbling over the harbour-bar hummed and boomed in far-away cadences of wrath. For all these sounds — distilled through the stout casement, through the snug, warm curtains, smothered in the thick-piled carpet, buried in soft, downy cushions — rendered more grateful, by contrast, the warm tli and color of the room. ' I feel so much better, that I am ashamed of myself as *v rank impostor. I have no business to be sitting heraJLte an invalid, lapped up in down. Let me take myself 067* I am. quite strong enough.' ' Indeed you shall do no such thing, Mr Robertson. 1J know too much about spraina and bruises to allow you to move out of this room for some days. I blamo myself somewhat^ for allowing you to sit up at all ; and at the slightest signup of insubordination, I shall order you off to bed again. Mary Roberts here is »n iiifloxiblo instrument of my will ' ' Well, indeed, Miss Winny, you know best. Shall I put the young gentleman to bed ? ' ' Give him a little longer, Mary, please. — There, you ccc what scrt of discipline you are under, Mr Robertson. X know yonr name, you see, though perhaps you don't know mine. lam Gwenhwyfor, the daughter of Evan Rowlands, of Bodgadfan. You wonder how I know your name. It is written on your portmanteau, and I was curious enough to read it ' 'You will pardon me if my rough Saxon tongue stumbles over names which flow to melodiously from your ' ' Nothing tends to inflammation as much as sarcasm, Mr Robertson ; therefore, unless you desist, you go to bed.' 'Then teach me what to call you, my dear young lady — you who have been an angel of deliverance to me.' ' Hush ! Well, the country people call me Merch Evan. Rowlands Bank — or, if it's one of the old sort, perhaps Merch Vodgatlfan, which is more poetical ; to my father, I am Winny ; to the outside world, I am Miss Rowlands.' ' Then I must be an outsider,' said Gerard, with a sigh. ' It's n mnn named Rowlands, by tie way, I'to come dowM# here to see ; but I don't suppose he's anything to you.' ' Oh, if jou u&nt to know arjone here you must know hit % territorial' or official designation. Rowlands., by itself, is nothing Do you kuow they call my brother Rowlands Stamp Office, and I don't like it.' ' Why,' sa\d Gerard incautiously, ' ghat's the man I want ' ' Oli, how nice ! ' said Winny, clapping her hands. ' And to think you should come here wounded! We shall take doubjo care of you, if you are a friend of Arthur's. Perhaps you have come to the wedding ? \n a, \recJf he is to bjfc. married.' ' Married ! Eh ? ' 'Yes. He i* staung now nt Llanfechan ; and the bishop is there too, and he is going to marry tliem. He has come j almost on purpose, because Mr Roberts — that's Mary's I father — is such a friend of his. It must be very nice to be. I married by the bishop, don't you think ? ' , I ' Well, I don't know ,' said Gerard. ' I think I wouldn't 4 mind being married by the commonest curate, if the gir\ were to my min,d/

'Mary Roberts is ho prettiest girl m the county, and the amiablo ; and we are all so pleased at the match . ;Papa goes down there to-morrow, I think , and I am going ,on the dft/ before the wedding ' Gerard sighed It was very hard to have to upset all these ptoni, to bring rum mid misery into this pleasant and hospitable family What could he do ? He would feel all the kindness shown hn.i as so many shovel" of hot coals upon his !kad Ho must get away ; lie couldn't stand it nny lon'vr; and yet, how could he contrive to got away, llio doclo,- would assist him, no doubt—that funny old fellow, who had helped to bring him here. If he would only come ! ' I must really go away to-night, Miss Rowlands,' he said. ' I have to make an official visit to your brother ; and though you are very kind, and I can't be sufficiently grateful to you, yet I really must go. I daresay the doctor can arrange for my be ng carried down to the hotel, even if I can't walk. 'It's quite impossible,' said Winny. 'We shiu'd be barbarians if we let you do it. The doctor will say the same — Ah, here he is. J ' The Hen Doctor came in without saying a word, and sat down by the fire w ith his hat on. He began knocking the ,coals abc u with the poker in a very discontented mood. ' Who's to pay me the hundred pounds ? ' Le cried at last. 'What hundred pounds? ' ' Why ! the hundred pounds I was promised for finding ■the young man.' ' Oh ! ' said Winpy, clasping her hands, ' I forgot all about that ; I forgot that I had offered a reward. Oh, papa must pay it IHe won't ! ' said the doctor sulkily. ' He will, when I explain it to him— that is, if you have earned it I think Owen Gwyar should share it.' ' Whnt nonsense ! ' cried the doctor. 'It was I who found the pair of them ' ' You don't mean to say you offered a reward for me 9 ' said Gerard. ' Yes, I did, on the spur of the moment. Do you think it's too much ?' ' I don't think I am worth a hundred pounds,' said Gerard. 'I should have great difficulty in raising that sum on myself. It's absurd when you come to think of it. Why should you pay for finding me ? ' ' And who do you think -was going to find you for nothing, young man,' cried the doctor angrily. 'We didn't want you at Abehirnant, I can tell >ou ; no, indeed ' ' Come, doctor, take a five-pound note, and cry quits, and then help me 1 o get dow nto the hotel ; for I mustn't trespass upon the kmduess of Mr Rowlands any longer.' ' Yah ' ' said the doctor angrily ; ' keep your money in your pocket. Do you think nobody has got a five-pound note in his pocket but yourself ? Look here ! ' he cried, thrusting his hands into his coat pocket, to feel for the roll of notes, ,that he might flash them before the astonished Englishman But he felt in vain. He turned all Ins pockets inside out. ' Have you lost something, doctor' ' Lost ! I'm ruined ' — Oh ! ' he said, with, a great grunt of satisfaction, ' I remember now ; I left them m my greatcoat pocket.' ' They'd be much safer in the bank, doctor,' cried AVinny. ' Well, good-bye. I must leave you now. You won't think of letting your patient move for another week,' said Winny, nodding and smiling an adieu. Gerard couldn't keep the image of Winny out of his mind. Welsh girls are generally dark, but Winny was iair as & lily, with a beautiful blush rose-tint on her cheek, that glowed and paled at every passing emotion. Sho was of medium height, and of full rounded figuro, and carried hertdf with all the freedom and grace of a mountain nymph. As sho had moved about the room adjusting this, settling that, giving thus cushion a shake, bringing the sulky coals into a glow and flame, Gerard could not help thinking that * girl of that sort would be a pleasant companion and partner ■for life if she were to be won. But could she be won ? Would she not, from this time forth, regard him with dislike and aversion — as a wolf in sheep's clothing — a man who had eaten of their salt, and Alien betrayed them P Of course, he hadn't any option in the matter ; but women never make such allowances. No. He must leave the house as soon as he could, and get the jpragmatical old doctor to help him. The doctor, however, after knocking about the coals for a while, ran out of the room — paying no attention to 'Gerard's .call to him to come back. What was to be done now ? The old woman, the nurse who was his attendant, couldn't understand a word he said, or wouldn't perhaps —for she could talk to Winny well enough. It was getting dusk ; the sun, a glowing, coppery ball, shewed himself for a moment among the crowds of angry clouds that thronged the west, and threw ,a lurid angry gleam i,nto the room. But Mary Roberts, plying her clicking needles, fashioning somo coarse-ribbed stocking for the grandsqn who wu a sailor-boy at sea, looked almost as grand and Sib\lhc as siie stood there in the glow, shaking her head sorrow fully, and muttering gently to herself The tide had now n>en, and the waves were beating heavily on the shore In waiting for their rhythmic beat in counting the majestic strokes of the ground-swell that was rolling grandly in, Gerard soon lost reckoning of time and space, and sunk into a heavy sleep. He awoke suddenly ; men were in the room. 'Ah, my dear sir,' said a voice at his lide, 'l hear you are not satisfied to remain here, but insist on going into the town. Well, it is a pity you should go ; but we \ won't hinder you. We have got a stretcher for you, *nd | men to carry you ; and, as it's getting dark, perhaps we'd better lose no time. As the hotel is some distance up the harbour ; we'll put you into & boat, md take you there by river, which will bo easier for you — cli ? ' Where had he heard that voice ? ' Oh, it was that illomened man's who had met him at the station. ' Oh, thank you,' said Gerard, gLVing a piteous glance at the warm com"fortable room — at the darkness and gloom outside. ' I'm quite ready, I think — my portmanteau will bo sent after me, I suppose ? ' Two short and stout seamen stood at ,each end of the stretcher, which they spread out upon the floor, and upon which Gerard was laid ; they .then hoisted the poles upon ,their shoulders, and carried him out of the room. Winny, as sho gat at the piano m tho drawing-room, heard the tramp of men on the stairs, and she shuddered ; for more I ithan once she had heard the tramp and shuffle of laden men ; find each time it had betokened the removal of some one she loved to the churchyard in tho mountains. It was an uncanny sound ; and she struck a few chords on the piano to drive it from her ears ; but her hands unconsciously fashioned on the keys a funeral »iareh, to which the heavy footsteps of the men kept time ns thoy tramped down the soft-carpeted stairs, as they climbed over the paved courtyard, as they scrunched the yieldmg shingle. The footsteps ceased, and then the beat of oars took up the time — oars s.'only nulled against a heavy sea.