BRYAN.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1613, 4 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

BRYAN.

By Janet Carroll.

Man for his glory to ancestry flies, But woman's bright story is told in her eyes. A few pale stars look down from the vapoury expanse above, and reflect; themselves in the faces of the pools, which lie, in ths centre of the muddy road. It has been raining all day, and for several past days, and the night is one of those dreary, murky ones, that our Australian winters often bring us. Grace Oonnor, wrapped in a warm grey cloak, that covers her straight tall figure, from head to foot,; her head in its little sesjlcap, bent low to protect, her face from the biting fierceness of the'-wind; walked with firm cjuick steps past the dirty pools, never once looking into their star-reflected surfaces; for she is late to,-night, and;she knows, how they at home— mother, and Bryan, and little Sars-, field —will wonder and grow uneasy, at her lengthened absence. " Bryan might come to meet .me.!. Poor Bryan 1 I hope he won't I though, for I'm sure he's tired enough. So ', am I," she, added w,ith a pathetic little sigh. 'It is, a long walk from then* little farm home, ,to the town —a walk of more than three miles i !-t-and Grace, does it every day ; besides sewing through eight weary hours. They kept her working-at the shop till an hour ago, and she is so i tired, and so cold, that she feels -it .would be relief to cry, and two great tears slowly /welled up; but they didn't fall, for just then she- turned the corner of the padlock,! land the,bright welcome light, shone from the sitting:room window of her home. With a loud short bark of recognition, faithful Old Oscar rushed down the dirty road to > meet her. She stooped and kissed his iWet, black head. > " Dear Old Oscar, you've never, rmissed a welcome-home to me yet." She tapped at the lighted window before she • reached the door. 1 iShe evidently,expected a r,eply-from i within, for she waited a second; ■ with her face smiling, in the light; but no ! ariswer came'tof the challenge, she opened the ; door'herself, Oscar, stiUJby her. side, went in , Tvitn.her.,, Grace.looked round the room, and laughed' softly to herself. " Mamma and I Sarsfield are , both asleep, and I wonder where Bryan, is. <?" , . ,The<room;was small,,.but cosy,'and if bore - about it-tokens of a'refinement not always, to j ,be found, in ,the homes',of the colonial poor. Two of three really good,,paintings hung, on, . the walls; a well-filled bookcase, stood in tone .corner, <j,and, many t Jittle, dainties of deft *finger:work set the homely furniture,off to its] >beat (advantage. '• ;A,',bright twood, fire burned; fin..the,'white chimney; a lighted Janip stood j on,the,table, which, was- drawn t up near,, the, * fire,' and, 1 on one and of. which,, covered with v a. t clean white cloth; stood a cosy 7 covered teapoii. randi,|iray ;^w,hile a plate of i,,orisp.) brown toast i (,warp\ed beside the fire; —evjden,tly Grace's ktea.sß^sidefthe table,,in{ an arm-chairj thatjSfcood !6n',the,|hearthrug,jher/ifeet resting .oh' a, tinyj ca'toolftwas'.Grace's motn§r. t> per, comely, head > ►feaned ,back <pn/ t;,thef,chair-cushion,\and £gr'finger4.stiiltfJiepJi,thejr plaoAon' ihe^stookingv meedies.^on,; herilap,'?{At jthe, .oppQgite.endiof^ yihe^Amko^ wjthft%.£fcwU on -hisoout-/ . strgtpjh,ed ,armsr,iwas'i sleepjng]toq.j^Wavy t yelr; ; lomhairi plugleria^tbic^klx-^i-a gjiprpse.gf white • f.'fpreheatt arid dark eyebrows, Were all.that, 3waBssib'le jof t Sarsfield^Oonnorr; |^p Jiya^uriiedi.in bjs > QQaple%y^s..j ;An fpEeffiApgky^igaa^aAis r.anns /.shqwedj^that jits^ £&Mei{hfwl; i^f ( heen;,^ffep|}ve{ in^keppingf it's; r^l^ln^^led, OE}eye%awak«j.ty j >. lf ', , ./It'lfSffien^waog rS camp s.bSck-,with ihop^ Jhat,,, and?

Mr, Dantry himself.' I libpeomy dear<b6yi will meet with favour." ' i *• • > ' < ■ "Think of it Grace, our Bryan, seeking a menial's place. -It seemed, enough that you, should be at the the bidding of strangers, but Bryan with all his conscious > pride < and strength and manhood I > I hate thinking about it, but at the same time my heart feels greater love, if possible, for my boy. It is all for us, Sarsfield, you, and me. He says' the land does not pay as it ought, and -now in-the winter it would be far better for us all if he were receiving Avages. Tears were in his eyes as he watched you going away this morning." She knitted slowly, and looked into the fire. " Mr. Dantry is a good man, but why should He have wealth and ease, and my brave, proud son poverty and cares, and our support, all ' sapping his young life ?'! Mrs. Connor's voicehas taken a fretful tone, and her mild eyes are weighted with heavy tears. • ■ ' The boy gets up — he is a tall slim lad of" about nine, with ejes like Grace's, and a delicate pale face — and comes beside his mother's chair. "Mamma, you've .been talking like that all day. What's the use ? It was worse 1 when father died, and our furniture and things were all taken. I think it's nicer to be here in Australia and have shabbier things, but no debts, and no sickness, and no death." ■ " Bryan said he'd be back before nine— he'll soon be here and then everything will look bright. Things always look brighter, when Bryans at home. Bryans a prince. Look here' Grace, when you've had your tea I want you to read this to me; I've been reading it, but I'll understand it better if you read it. It's about 'my namesake — a great General Sars j field, that died away from his own land, and said, when he was dying, that he wished his blood had been shed for Ireland— l remember Ireland, I remember our house, and my bedroom, and the big tree against the window. There were robins in it one winter." The boy talked softly to himself, looking into the fire, and the mother, laying her hand, on her head, turned*to Grace. "Grace you have not spoken one word tonight about this errand of Bryan's. Is it so distasteful to you ?" " Why should it be distasteful to me, ,mamma, the poor have no choice. I am proud of my good, noble, brother, and will rejoice at his success for all our sakes." ' j Grace has a pale clear complexion and blue 1 candid eyes, indeed, her whole face bears in every curve and feature the imprint of oandour and truthfulness. As she answered her mother, quick flushes pass over her face,, and she looks away into the fire. " Grace, you always flush like that in Mr. ! Dantry's presence, and when his name is ! mentioned. Would you rather that Bryan sought employment at other hands ?" Torrents of blushes were pouring over the gill's neck and face .under her mothers .earnest look, and she shifted the tea-things nervously. "At other hands, Mamma ! I'm sure he is good and kind, and — — " _"He is good and kind, and more, he is a gentleman ; one of the few we have met in our new life. Still, if Bryan " " Mother, oh don't tell Bryan." A click of the gate and a rattle at the doorhandle, and all eyes turned in eager anticipation. "It's Bryan," said Safsfield, running towards the door, with Oscar barking loud welcomes at his feet. A tall, stalwart man, in long, dripping coat, peaked cap, and his legs encased in leather, came into the room, and a glad " it's Bryan" came from all lips again. Grace took his coat, cap, and riding-whip from him, and in a few minutes he joined the circle at the fire. No one asked any questions, nor did Bryan seem disposed to talk, till—manlike — he was at his <■ ease. He had said on entering ." it's all right, mother, I'm in luck," and they felt they, could afford to wait his, pleasure for the rest. Grace deftly re-arranged the table, and soon placed a substantial meal before him. ' > When Bryan had eaten of it, and had grown accustomed to the light and comfort of the room, he threw his long limbs out toward the fir* and leaned back enjoying its cosy warmth after his long ride. " Grace, I know, and mother, too, are just .dying' of curiosity. I see anxiety and pangs of suppressed expectation in your faces. Lo6k at Grace's eyes extended to their fullest, and Sarsfield is not free from that special weakersex weakness. Why, Sarsfield, how could you admit such a thing into your composition.". They laughed and questioned him to no purpose, till Grace seated herself beside him, and, laying her sweet face coaxingly on his coat-sleeve, said, "Bryan tell us,- ..we're, all' tired, and oan keep out of bed only just long enough 'to hear the good news. Do you know tHat I worked three hours past time at the shop to-day, and when I came home I found mamma and Sarsfield, both asleep." Then he, told- them how Mr. Dantry had welcomed him so cordially, and, though surprised at his request, instantly gave him the vaoantmanagership.andofleredhimremuneration far beyond his expectations. The monetary part of the business was spoker&xof and arranged in such a> thoughtful, delicate way," that Bryan said he felt ashamed of the uneasy , .thoughts and stings of family dignity that had troubled him on his ride out. Mr. Dantry was a thoroughly good fellow, he said. He had made him stay to dinner, at Kupoora, and had ridden back with him a few miles, arranging and talking... "He's coming on Sunday to see you, mother, and Grace ; and he charged me with his best regards to you both. That's all I have to tell, except that I start at my new business in ten' days from this,* and, in the meantime, I'm going to dis1 pose, of this .selection and property, and put you in a nice .little cottage I've been looking at for some time past, just close enough to ' Grace's shop, and Sarsfielc^s school. , ' , He submitted to their caresses, and looked very contented while they each— mother and sister— kissed hjs handsome, sunburned face., 1 Grace lingered by him to the, last. » ',' Goodnight, Grace, my girl, you look done up." Her arms were round his head, and she pressed it to her cheek and stroked his dark, soft hair with' her, slender fingers. t , - ".,-,. ','jßryanj,, 'darling,' I wish Mr. Dantry,, wouldn't come on Sunday." t , 1 Byran tbolc -down her hands, and looked •round quickly. "Why?" "", ' ' 1 "Because-jbecause, you 'see, Byran, we're 'so poor 'and shabby now,' and not, fit — " ' ! "Are'nt ,we just''fche same, though we're 1 Tinny ?' ' ■* - 1 lady, though you sejfyje.uVa shpp, 'my'sisteV. ! Danjaryfcnows it/'heeaM'., 'M^Hfeat l ar^yim'Blpfhmg- about?/' Theh it a/siiiddenf came to him.. '.'"Grace, ( 'does, jyour^ sanction thoW blushes' apd ßegulate* 'thb'se^he'atohrobs?' ''Ah', my /little sister! !lt "isn't thiWre poof. 1 ■ J'm 'sorry';' how — ".' ' * i "'Oh'/ vOoti't 1 - be Vofr^'Btyaif'ljrpbn't be l s'orry"f6r j the n v obl4 f 'thing "ybn"ve Mdnei'afyl 'you're' talking' nofisenie'/'uttef ' nojiken^you 1 'are,litfa^ ! would ndfbe.abfe to entertain MrVtfanfry J a£ *we is differen't^meetine peop^ou^ then 1 'there's 'n^resp'on'^^y^iio' st6§itbl'dV'buWhen'it's in 'orie'sfoWnmb^e; 'and sucfra Bhtb^fittje ho^e^ !-.•%*• Or 4% ■ m site \\ti'A , #ft:'-<sq "j. -yr)^ ry" ? B»jppp^/it^4|}ecaij# Vl&Siv fore£,,^yery (

o!£ 'winteY cold and teeming'ram^ 1 Tile "pools lT in the roads v ha r d' become,' urifl'er ' such trying influence; 1 patches 6f 'doughy 1 mud,' and^'-' the' few flowers before Mrs. CoWor's'door Bad '^ grown bright*' and lustr'eful again-^the bright red of the 'geraniuirr looked*' redder^ 'and' the' n dark gloss' of the green leaves darker; altoge- ' ' ther the 'little wayside home had 'a blithfe" cheery' appearance in the sunshine. /Its in- - mates laugh 'and sat pleasantly in the little " sitting-room bn* this Suhday afternoon. They are entertaining' their visitot and Bryans 1 employer, Mr." Dantry, of the llupoora Station. ' Oscar; sleekt and bla6k, • lies on the &oor-mat; blinking sleepily ai? the geraniums and punc- • tuating the merry conversation, with lazy effortless wags of his tail. Brian's loud free 1 laugh 'pours through the open lace-screened^ window, and is accompanied by other's,' ,'dif-y ferently modulated, but not 1 less joyous. ' The" warm afternoon- "sunshine, gradually '' softens into the 'pale grey ■ evening, then the' 1 «■ dusky twilight comes on, still ' the visitor ( stays, and His grey horse impatiently'rifeighs arid tugs at his link-looped bridle, sometime^ ' snuffing disdainfully at the now empty food bag. Indeed, the moon is high, and the houz^ late, when he goes. 1 They dfi stand at the gale in the pale silvery' light, seeing him off.' Charles Dantry, mounted oh his restless grey charger,' stands on the road side of the gate, the moonlight 'making his handsonie face look pale, and his' dark eyes shine brightly. Bryan leans on the 'gate palings, asking a few final questions, concerning' next week's undertaking, and Grace, tall, pale and slender, is at his side. The moonbeams ' bathe ' her sweet face and rippling hair in a' perfect shower of light and radiant halos\ Sarsfield is thereltoo, holding his sister's hand, and silently ad- 1 niiring the handsome spirited horse. "May I come back with Bryan next ' Sunday, Miss Connor ?" She looked quickly and entreatingly at her brother. " Surely, Mr. Dantry." But Bryah said not a word — all the jocularity went from him, and his eyes became grave. " Very well, I shall come. Once more — Good-night." He reached clown his hand, and she • gave him hers across the gate and' over Bryans shoulder. The grey horse, looking almost spectral in the moonlight, carried its^ider swiftly up the dark road out of sight, and they turned to- ' ward the houße. Grace looked apprehen- • sively at Bryan, but he never spoke till they reached the door. " Grace, come back to the gate with me." t They talked at the gate, and their voices went up to the house— Bryan's, angry and loud at first,' then softer and kinder — at last, tender and soothingly, for Grace was crying. "Mamma," said Grace next morning, standing' at the door in her long grey 'cloak and seal cap, "don't let Bryan write a' letter to-day, please. I got up early to tell him something, but he was gone. I will tell him to ; night when I come back ; but in the meantime don't let hinvwrite." ■ Her face looked paler than 'usual, and a worried look Was in her blue feyes. Bryan was absent all day, -and poor Mrs. Connor felt uneasy; she could read her ' daughter's 1 heart and nature like an open book, and 'she knew Bryans pride and stern sense of rectitude : "He 'could be unjust to my poor girl in his endeavour to uphold our dignity —^indeed, I feel he -could even be unkind to her. Yet there is nothing in the world he loves as he' loves Grace." When Bryan, flushed and hot-looking, as though from swift' riding, came into the yard in the evening, his mother went to him with Grace's message. ■ - " Too late to tell me that now. I've been to Eupoora, and, as Dantry was hot at home, left my written resignation — resigned a situation I never had, mother ;" and he smiled at her.' ' ' And when Grace returned, her mother, 1 waiting in her room for her, told her of hia words, his serious face, and absence all day. She kissed her mother with a weary little sigh: t > " Never' mind, mamma — never mind about me. Tea is ready, and Bryan must be waiting ; go to him; and I will come directly — and mamma," following her Jo the door, "you '. know — we both know, that whatever Bryan does is' right." Then she bathed away the tears that would pome, tied a soft pink ribbon at her throat, and went out. Bryan sat in his place at the table, and she went quickly up to him and, placing her hands on his shoulderd, said : ',' Bryan, darling, there was no need for that." " Mother told me, and I am glad to knpw ' that, Grace ; but, in any case, I think — indeed I'm sure — I'd have given it up. ;Now let us say no more about it. Go round to' ' your seat, and look as merry and pretty as ever. I couldn't have my tea without mother at the teapot, and Grace opposite." 1 " And me, Bryan 1" " And you, Sarsfield ; I 'always want my dear little brother." Grace sighed softly to herself, arid took her accustomed seat, and, if her smiles were sad ones, still she smiled and- took her part in the conversation, which, though strained and disjointed, all endeavoured to keep up. While Sarsfield was delightedly rehearsing a trial of skill in battle that had taken place that afternoon between Oscar and, a large and fierce iguana, the noise of galloping hoofs sounded loud and ' distinct from the road. They stopped a moment 'at the gate, then approached • the house at a more even pace.' "ltd someone Oscar knows, or he'd bark!" said •Sarsfield. ' Grace opened the door, and Mr. ( Dantry walked in. 1 " |Good-night, ladies ; ihig is a rude interruption of mine— but this letter from Bryan I found on my return home this evening; As , you see, I have lost no time K in' coming .for an explanation. You were at Eupoora to-day ?" " I was." ' ' ' ' ' ' They were all standing up; Grace at Bryans . s|ide, and Both opposite Mr. Dantry, who stood ; , in|the centre' of tne'room, witt an 1 angry light in 'his dark eyes, and an impatient wrinkle on his forehead. ' "Well?" • '" You've read the' letter?"' ' ( : "I've read ,the letter. ', It "says N you decline ' the' J managers^ip t at'Eupd6raj but not why. . It " seenifl to be s very sudden 'determination, and if I were dealirig'witn any other man,' but j^ou, tßryan-^ t Bryan-^" J *" V , '',„"/' / ' I ",Mr. Dantry, I, willj not give t you', all my ( reasons fbr! this peculiar^and.'it'must's'eem, un v gratelui; behaviourl , Will'yo'u be ' if ri'iy;irlat''Tdo 1 MwwVtb^le&ye thVland",/ f y'el ;'4hat'l would rattier stay jwtfth'niy motKer 1 * f 'and sister, and that it is'the'iri'wishVthat' l ' AouiadbsV;"-' 1^';;;; f , ;•'., '"' - \ ' \ Mr?D I % antry, I dark,an'<l,,indighant, 'standing *t -MWull^eigHf with' 1 tha^impatienj fftfWn" gVa'du^lyjSofteiang, ty'dked i&rnestiy.mtb^t^e,' han'd&ome^nburn^d'face'jbef'ore'hinl! "' -* J J we'are^friends. ''jT w»| r afraid. 7 our^ttiendship^ Nva^'at7Bta^e"in4hemat^r] v a'hdjWs%h6.p'e'for >J^ fßrVfriM'fellow/and, VBtf, deaV M&JCdr&br, : <• J. must; and siaUsay;iir now, 'though I meant 14 . w>ifM: mm^o%M& t 'afaVfor'./my 1 >