CHAPTER III.

Waikato Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1797, 12 January 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER 111.

"When music arose with its voluptuous rf'vell soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake i»ain." Ever the same, whether at a little bush station in Australia or in the gilded nalaces of ' Belgium's Capital.' Many a check there ' blushed at the praise of its own loveliness' but none oftenor than did Harriette I limt's, for of all the fair girls there she w»3 the Uirpst. Always dainty and graceful happi•\chh and love had added so rnioh to that :raco and daintiness that to-ni^Ut she wai boc'utiful. As the faint pink glow appeared over the hills the morry dancers broke up. The gentlemen carefully cloaked their fair partners, and they all returned to the house, passing in meiry laughing groups under the trees still hung with their tiny coloured lanterns. Hamette had promised Mrs. Stanbririgo that fhe would see that the lights were safely put out, so she slipped away from George and wont round with the^ old man who had waited up to do this, answering sweetly to his sleepy grumbling remarks. The lights out, she stood at the entrance, a dainty white picture under the shadow, of the Kll dark ferns, looking towards the hills, at the rosy eastern cloud, and called out to the old man as he moved away: "A Morry Christmas to you John." He stopped and looked back. " Ain't yon coming in Miss Hurst ? " " Yes, but I want to watch the dawn for a little while, and I want to see who's sleepiest, whose light goes out first." And she nodded towards the lighted bedroom windows laughing merrily. The beauty of the dawn and soft witchery of the hour held Harriette spellbound in her f ern-covered nook. A long time she stood there her hands loosely clasped before her, her eyes wide open and solemn, thinking really of nothing ; her mind was in that state of fluttering happy vagueness when definite thought is impossible. Suddenly a heavy crunching footstep, passed near her. Though frightened, she stifled the great inclination to cry out, and listened intently. No repetition of the sound came, but almost immediately a man's form crossed before her, and stood a little way off facing towards the house. She saw his profile in the pale gray light, the old stooped figure, straggling gray hair, and pale face with its curved nostrils, and recognised with a quick heart pang, the old tramp and Mrs. Stanbridge's brother. He threw his eyes rapidly over the house, looking long at the yet lighted windows. "It is both too early and too late Worse luck I " she heard him say. " The sun will be up in a few minutes, so I had better go round and take the stuff out again and wait for dark to-night. I'll give my lady sister and her son a right loyal Christmas. There'll be no dearth of illumination, anyhow." He laughed his low, short laugh, and walked -juickly forward. Harriette watohed hia figure disappear in the twilight, then she leaned back against the door-post trembling. Her mind had received 3uch a sudden shock, such a jerk from its soft dreamy vagueness to this sudden reality, this sense of near danger, that it took a few moments to forma distinct idea, to remember what this man's presence here might mean, and especially his words — his last words. All her good practical sense came to her. She would not go to the house, nor alarm any one ; the intended harm was put off, he said so. Well, she would wait and see what was best to bo done. He must pass this way ;it was the only means of egress unless he held keys, which was unlikely. She was right. Hg soon re-appeared, carrying a bundle in his arms, and picking his way carefully, with his head bent down at.d eyes on the ground. He would not see her, and if she was careful he would not hear her. She waited breathlessly till he had passed her — so close that she could see his evil-looking eyes, and hear his rapid heavy breathing. Then, with one look at the house, she tighdy gathered her white fleeoy skirts together and followed. An earnest prayer was in her heart and in her eyes, but she kept her lips firmly closed, lest a sigh or breath might betray her. She strained her eyo3 through the pale light watching the old figure among the trees. On — on. Now' she can see him distinctly. Later she sun chines on his grey hair, and she must keep fuither away among the thick timber. He doe.4 not stop at the fence by the" river-side, but turns and follows the curves of the bank till they reach a sharp bend : here they turn.to the right into a little gully overgrown with scrub and low brushwood. Poor Harrietle, stumbling and breathless, keeps as close as she dare. When the prickly shrubs tear her diess she shivers lest he might hear the sound and turn. When the dry branches crackle u ulerher feet she stops and covers her mouth tightly to repress the scream of terror that is in her throat all the way, and leady to come to her lips at any moment. . The little gully narrowed into an apex at the foot of two offshooting spurs of the distant ranges, and in the angle, well-sheltered by overhanging boughs, stood a low hut built of bark. The man has never once looked round. Now ho docs, and Harriette stands back against a great thick tree-trunk that is her scieen. He unlocks the padlock hanging on the wooden door, and goes in, drawing the door close behind him. The gill's instincts, always quiok and good, were sharpened now by the sense of the responsibility she had taken on herself— the having of tho3e she loved — and she followed har instincts. No sooner did the door swing back thau, with a fleet, light run, she was before it, holding in her fingers a short piece of stick. To place the link of iron across the opposite iron loop and secure with the stick was the work of a moment. Her task was done. Now he could work them no harm, and she sank down, trombling, at the door, while great sighß of relief came from her white lips. Presently she hears him moving about, then the cracklimg of a fire. There is jio chimney, no outlet of any sort ; he would want to open the door soon to let the smoke out, then what should she do ? She smiled confidently as she looked up at the iron links with the stout peg through them. " I wish he had left the padlock outside," she said to herself, "then there wouldn't be any fear." She gathered a handful of the strongest twigs she could find, and waited. She hears him cough, then comes a tug at the door — he mutters a curse of impatience, then another tug, and another — more curses and tugs. "I must have left the padlock outside. No, here it is. Bah! I can't stand this smoke. What can it be ? I'll have to burst the door open." He must have thrown his whole weight against it, for, to Harriette's utter dismay the stick almost broke. Then there was quiet, The girl's strained hearing could follow every movement in the hut. He was making his breakfast — now putting the fire out — now eating his breakfast. After awhile he came to the door again. 11 If the hinges were leathern I'd cut them. What can it be ? I must get out." The strain on the peg was so great. this time that it snapped in two. Before she could have ,put in another the- door would have opened,;, she saw this, and without the hesitation of a breath, she had drawn up the broken stick with her right hand, and instantaneously inserted the -thumb, of her left hand. <■ > . > i . < . He tried thedoor again with all his strength.! Poor jHarriettel ir Her -thumb muit have.

bn.licn (IiPT, . i he ti'.oiighl by tlieslnup agony ; but she did not utter a sound. By and bye ho gave it up. " Anyhow I must get out this evening if I have to smash it down. I can sleep and think till then." For hours all wa=! quiet, save ■when he would speak his thoughts aloud and from them Harriette learned how she had saved her lover and friends from injury. He talked of how he would in the dark of the night carry his oil-soaked sticks Lo the stables and house, and the likely places he would place them in, so that the wholehorneptead -would be burned to lhegrouii'l, with the sleeping people. " I hope to H«aven that fellow, her eon, comes in fo] a roasting," he said, " I don't hate her half as much as I do him." The poor girl hanging on the door, suffering excruciating physical pain, felt the mental tortureand horror fctill more as she liatenod. And this was Omisfcmas Day with Harriette Hurst The hot sun's rays beat down on her uncovered jjhead, and scorched and blinded her. She could not protect herself fiom them. She could not open her eyes ; still she would not take out the poor bruised and broken thumb. He might come to the door at any moment, for ho was growing suspicious and restless. She felt it could not last much longer, soon unconsciousness would come and she must fall down. "Why didn't George come?" And so Christmas day wore on. The sun had long passed his noon attitude when a couple of horsesraon entered the little gully. Her white dress showing through the trees attracted their attention and poor Haniette was rescued. When phe heard them coming she exerted herself to bear another pang, for she knew the noise would staitle the captive and cause another and more violent wieneh at the door. When George was beside her f-ho told him, in quick, gasping words, to put the top end of his riding whip m the link when she should draw her thumb out. That done, she laid her white face on his shouldfr, and the rest, the unconscious rest she had dieaded, came. Geoige and his friend carried her into the shade ckwe by and hastily consulted. Geoige was in dire distress and amazement for the broken thumb, and the man's voice cursing within the hut told only a scrap of the story. Ned Arnold galloped off to the homestead and left George with the poor unconscious girl who, pale and senseless in her torn white dress, the withered roses still in her dress and hair, was deaf to George's loving re assuring words and could not hear his lamentation over the poor maimed hand. How different from the belle of last night's ball ! All the gueßts knowing of their hopes and happiness, had, laughing, wished them a merry Christmas — and this was their Christmas. Soon Mr. and Mrs. Stanbridge eamo, with Linda, no one else. Mrs. Stanbridge partially understood things from Ned Arnold's explanation of how Haniette was found, and would bring only her husband and daughter. She said water -must be brought from the river and Harriette restored to consciousness first. Tears stood in her eyes and she often kissed- the girl's white face while bathing it. The curses from the interior of the hut every moment grew louder and deeper, as the captive came to the knowledge that he had been circumvented. Mrs. Stanbridge heard and knew the voice, and, wken piesently Joud blows sounded on the door, she, with her husband and son either sido of her, opened it.' The old man with the fury of a- tiger at bay faced them ; but when he saw who they were, his natural cowardice showed itself in the rapid change of his appearance and demeanour ; he looked a most abject and selfaccused wretch. " Madgie, I did'nt know it was you." The cringing voice and manner iiritated her. "Come out into the light of God's sun James Seaforth — come out into the presence of my husband and children, and tell me the meaning of this." And she swept her hand in the direction where Linda sat holding Harriette's head on her lap. The sinking sunbeams of that Christmas Day filtered through the foliage of the trees on the group in the little gully lighting up in bright patches the fair angry face of George Stanbridge, and the pale suffering face with drooping haggard eyes on his shoulder. They shone on Mr. Stanbridge's iron-grey head and stern faco, and on the tall matronly woman at his sido. They shone in bright Hecks on Linda Stanbridge's fair young face so full o£ (surprise, and showed the soft compassion in the blue eyes that were so like Geerge's, only that George had no compassion in his now. Its brightness did not spare the bent old man, who, the muscles of his white bloated facs all knotted, and his white head bare, stood listening to the story his sister told ; and waiting the judgment which shall be pronounced when that other story — the story of the pale girl with a bandaged hand held close to George's lips— is told. It was a peaceful spot, and one looking down from the heights above would smile as tho unyoked horses, grazing beside the bug«y, and the sunlit group under the trees met his view— a quiet pio-nic party he would surmise. Peaceful enough in surroundings and oxterior, but how unpeacably every heart in the group throbbed, each with it^ own particular pulsation of pain, as the owner was influenced by the narration. When Mrs. Stanbridge had finished, narriette, looking up frprn her resting-place on George's broad shoulder, told hers in a few j words, and ended by entreating Mrs. Stanbridge to accord that forgiveness which she knew was in her heart, and only waiting to be spoken. , Linda, out of pure pity, and George, at Harriette's whispered request, joined their i voices ; then Mr. • Stanbridge, taking his wife'p hand, extended his other to the old N re-morse-stricken man, and spoke in a few, soulatirring sentences, such words of peace and good-will as sank into the world-rusted and almost seared heart, as later proveil prolific in bringing good out of what was before all evil. > • Though, many Christmases have come and gone since, each one brings back the incidents of that eventful t>ne, to the homely, hospitable people at the foot o£^ the hills — and many a kindly eye grows moist and sympathetic while looking at Mrs. George Stanbridge's left-hand, where cruel deformity has marred its once slender, white beauty, and bears testimony to her strength of love and noble worth in time of trial. THE ' END.