CHAPTER XII.

Waikato Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1848, 10 May 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XII.

Most of the gieat episodes in our lives are associated in our minds with a particular, day, or week, or month. Juat aa the plane is unnoticed until fruit or flower .ippear, so we remember the great events of jife only by the particular time when the sil.mli working? perhaps of years come to a head, budded, and bore blossom — and fruit, —perhaps in a single day. Year by year the silent stream has been undermining the bank, but no one obseives anything until the landslip occurs. Though one of the greatest episodes of Herbert's life was crowded into the eight days— from the Thursday he gave notice of his famous motion to its octave — the workings of his mind for years, the steadily growing force of ciroumstances had made everything ready for the cataclysm. It was, indeed, for him a memorable week — one to be long remembered. It stood put afterwards in his life, as does the one bright speck of scailet in some of Turner's pictures— one living gleam of colour, in a world of gray. Herbert had, undoubtedly, lost that selfcontrol which had been his pride. He had, when quite a lad, come to the conclusion that he was alone happy who had mastered himself ; and he sometimes pushed self-mastery coo far. His companions knew that his nature was warm as hi 3 passions, and they marvelled much at his power over himself when extraordinary temptations assailed him. His greatest feat of self-mastery was his surrender of ease and pleasure to grasp hia business. Yet this carefully raised structure of power over self vanished at the touch of a woman's hand. What a warning for the future. How often is it so? D© what he would Herbert could not tear himself away from Alice. Day after day found him at the cottage, each day ri vetting the chains. Perhaps, in his present stage of progression no othex woman would have had suoh influenoe over him. He had arrived at that stage when young men aie very (vise, and strike out a progiamme for life, which is, perhaps, almost too good to be followed. To suoh men as Herbert, youth is not the season of danger ; it is at maturity that the day of trial comes. Had Alice been of another order of women, impulsive, impassioned, calculated to stir up the basest of the passions, Herbert might have escaped ; his youthwisdom, now in full power, would have come to his rescue. But Alice was not of that kind of women. She could best be described by Wordsworth's immortal Ime3, too hackneyed to be quoted. Hei mother's illness had made her think and woik earlier than usual with girls, and this had impaited to her thoughtfulness and judgment. Naturally, she had a solid mind. She was juofc deficient in passion, she could love warmly ; but her judgment was more powerful than any of her passions, and held them in cheeiv, the obedient slavus of her will. She was one of those happy — how infinitely happy — people whose minds are thoroughly balanced. She never did anything without weighing its consequences, and she could stop heiself at any moment if she became convinced she was upon dangerous ground. She was not a woman to arouse in any man of good feelings a furious, flaming, ungovernable passion. She was a woman who would grow and grow upon any honourable man, until hia love for her would become a pure and steadfast f lamp, a blessing to himself, a beacon that would guide him through life. To think of such women as Alice as mistresses is impossible to the right minded ; they seem to have an indisputable right to be thought of only as wives. Their power may not appear so great as that of women of passion, but it is more enduring, it is one of the great factors in holding society together. Herbert strove dm ing these few days to thoroughly understand himself, to comprehend the nature of this passion, so suddenly come upon him, but in reality it was the growth of his trend of mind for years, his desire to obtain as wife a woman who would bo pure and good, and who would keep his passions in check. He found that esteem lay at the bottom of his love for Alice. He could not think of her as he had thought of some women ; an improper idea could not enter into his mind concerning this sober, sensible girl. It was a daily pleasure to him to see her care and taste, her housewifeliness. She appeared created to make a comfortable and happy home. He was surprised and delighted to find that not only was she an adept in household, matters but that she had not neglected her mind. She had read books as she did everything else, with care and judgment, and her views on literature were correct and discriminating. Given the opportunity, and she would make a brilliant woman, without the defects that characterise too many brilliant women. Added to all these qualities and accomplishments Alice united an even temper, born of her experience and judgment. Originally, as she naively enough told Herbert, she had been pettish. She had repined at her position, at the amount of work she had to do, at the cheerless character of her surroundings, and she bade fair to become ene of those shrewish, nagging women which are the terrors of society. Her judgment rescued her. She saw, with that wonderful clearness of introspection that was her great attribute, that if this fault were not amended her future would be dark indeed ; that she was preparing for herself and others a life of miaery. She early that anger is worse than useless, that it is a folly ; and she had, when convinced of her error, set to work to change her nature, or rather to restore it to what it had originally been — genial, sunny, long-suffering. And she had succeeded. Herbert had no opportunity to prove her, but Ebby's eternal talk about Alice and her perfections assured him what she so frankly told him was true. This was another feature is Alice, her perfect truthfulness, her utter want of concealment. She had had her experiences in this regard, as with bad temper, and had long decided to live so that Bhe would have nothing to conceal. A lie, or anything resembling it, whether lived or spoken, is always a burden ; truth, in life and word, alone gives perfect ease and happiness. The character of Alice I have endeavoured to sketch out was thoroughly grasped by Herbert before he had known her many days, and it strengthened his love for her until before the great Thursday it had become too powerful to reßulfc in anything except marriage. At that conclusion Herbert arrived at an early stage ; he could arrive at none other. He had searched his heart and found that he loved her as he must love his wife ; that to him it was a necessity of life to be united to her. Yet up to the Wednesday, when certain circumstances occurred that forced him to a decision, he had put off any determination. His main idea had been to enjoy the happiness of being in her company, until after the great fight on Thursday had come — it would be time enough then to decide. Yet he had decided long before he was called upon to act, though he endeavoured to conceal it from himself. There were two great stumbling blocks in the way, but Herbert made little of them. Though fairly educated, there was no doubt Alice was not educated sufficiently to take the position that the wife of Herbert Gifford should, nor had she the opportunities to acquire the nameless accomplishments, bo necessary to prevent a hundred mortifications in sooiety. Besides, her having been upon the stage, would be sore to become known. ■ But Herbert made light of these difficulties. * He had

a scheme of his own to rfaal with the fust, and as to the second, he knew his wealth would make all things smooth. People might think what they liked, but they would receive the wife of Herbert Grifford as an apgel from heaven — would not her wings be of gold 1 What troubled Herbert more than all was Ebby. He felt great anguish of mind, when he thought how, but for him, the poor fellow, would probably have gained his cousin's love, an he had already her affection, and how he might have married her and been a happy man. It was, thought Herbert, a sad day for-- Ebby when he sought his hjelp. There was no hope for Ebby now, not eyen if Herbert retired from the field. Herbert | felt deeply for the young fellow. He knew ] that Ebby, despite what he said and what he tried to appear, was most sensitive, and that he loved Alice, deeply and unselfishly, with a; love that had grown as it were in the shade and become part of his life. Herbert liked Ebby more than any man he had met, and he felt keenly that he should have been, instead of a saviour and friend, a destroyer. He dreaded the time when Ebby would be undeceived and his life made desolate. For, during all this time, Ebby never seemed to comprehend the real state of matters. He was supremely happy in the company of the two people he loved best in the world, and he thought it quite reasonable that Alice should be wrapt up in Herbert, for he was more fit to be her companion than himself. As for his proposal, that was put off from day to day for want of courage. He was living in a fool's Paradise and he would not for world's destroy it. Yet even in Ebby's mind some idea of the true state of things was dawning, though he would not» permit it to assume form — only a catastrophe would force him to see things as they were. As to Alice herself ,her feelings were difficult to analyse. For her a new world had opened, and she was feeling her way in it, step by step, ready to fly back if she felt the ground unsafe. It was a wonderfully pleasant world, on which the sun shone and in whose trees the birds sang and the fruit glowed. About the future she did not then concern herself. At first she simply felt a great and inexplicable pleasure when in Herbert's company, a void in his absence ; and she hardly understood the cause until circumstances revealed it. She had never known what it is to love. She had read and imagined enough about it, but the reality is always a very different matter. She did think, when by herself, of the possibility oE Herbert proposing marriage to her, and the painful thought of how different their positions were occurred to her. But the truth in regard to Herbert and Alice was that from the Thursday to the Wednesday following they were living in a dream, and though they had glimmerings of the realities in store, of the gray morning that was coming, they desired to enjoy the vision as long as possible — the awakening would be soon enough. The dream might have continued for a long time but for circumstances thatjprecipitated events. What Mrs. Mostyn thought no one knew. She seemed very absent-minded, and though Alice was deep in her dream, occasionally the thought flashed across her mind that her mother was in many regards changed. During the few days of the delightful dream Herbert thought but little about the struggle upon which he was to enter on Thursday. Once or twice he talked over it with Alice, to whom he narrated the long course of events, the sequence of evil that had led' up to his resolve, and the great hopes of the effects of the blow to be dealt, through Whinatun and the Bovine Bank at the great monetary syndicate that then ruled the colonies. Alice could not enter heartily into his views, for to her revenge was distasteful ; it was an attempt to right a wrong which could not be righted, to do another wrong. He almost felt persuaded to let the matter drop until he reflected what his position would then be. As to his hopes to improve matters by breaking up the ring, Alice was with him there. He found in her a most solid judgment, which made things clear, even though she knew little of the real facts, for she had strong common sense. The great day approached and found Herbert vaocilating and unprepared. He had but thoughts for one thing. Thus, while his enemies were meeting three or four times a day to discuss their plans, and had by Wednesday erected what they thought impregnable fortifications, Herbert was " dreaming the happy hours away." He had even forgotten the "message from the sea," and the strange letter to William Whinstun nestled in his pocket side by side with a withered rose that Alice had worn in her hair when first he saw her.