CHAPTER I.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1964, 7 February 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER I.

RESIGNATION. 11 And this is tho placa ?" the tall, refined looking young man asked, a** he seated himself on a stone ujjpn the hill-sido and surveyed the country at his feet. "This is Marranga you have talked to me so much about, Tftdy?" "'Tig, mistber Leonard; wo are in it at last, praises be. There farenint you is bi^' Mount Koban, with the little township lying at the pit of it, just the same as it was twelve years ago. And now look below you to your right ; do you see the low house wid the tree? a'most a top of it, and Roban Creek creeping along by id like a thread of silver in the grass ? Well, that's St. Herricks place." " Ah, I see it, Tady ; and your golden claim, where did it lie?" " Where it lies yet, please God. Do you see the big dead tree sticking white like a skeleton, out of the slope behind the house ? The claims were not twenty yaids from that." " WeH, now Tady, just tell me tho story of the St. Herricks on the spot while I smoke a pipe. It has always seemed to me a very unreal story ; perhap3 I may feel more like crediting it if I hear it here on the apot from which I can tee the scene itself." "You wor ever an' always a hard nut, mother Leonard, and wouldn't believe the priest himself if he wint against you; but here you are now, afther travelhn' thousand* ay mil« 3 to make a liar of ms an' you can't do it." Leonard Prosser laughed pleasantly as he manipulated his tobacco, and looked slyly at the comical figure seated near him on the grass. " I don't know so much about that, Tady What witnesses have you at Marranga?" "I was just wonderin'," Tady returned, thoughtfully. "If he's here jet, there's a gpntlmian livea in one of them white houses bpyam the bridge that can tell you the story as well as I can, an' bedad, he may tell it, for I won't never again. I'm tired of being minbelieved and misdoubted." " If I thought you were in earnest, I'd go straight back to Corbally again," the young man replied, laughingly, as he put a match to his pipe and began to smoke enjoyably, " but I know that you cannot wish for a greater proof of my confidence in you than that I should have followed you half round the world to see Marranga and the lost claim." " That's true, iur, but all tho same I'd like Mr. Pollard to tell you about it, if he's to the fore, but twelve years is a long time." " Who was Mr. Pollard?" "He was a magistrate, an' a great friend intirely of Colonel St. Herrick's. But here, I'll say no more till we go down to the township. See, there's the coach just turnin' round the Gap road - she'll get in an hour before us." The young gentleman did not reply. He was thoughtfully scanning the landscape beneath and around him with the doubly intense enjoyment of a lover of nature debarred from a view of her charms for the many weeks occupied by a long sea voyage, and thinking not » little about the events connected with the St. Herricks, of whom he had bo often heard from his humble friend, Thadeus Connor. Aa they are seated there, silently, let me describe the two dissimilar beings who play no uneventful part in' thia «tory. Leonard Prosser waa Iwenty-three, and a picture of handsome and muscular health. In his bronzed face, every feature indicated »n intelligent and loveable nature, his dark hazel eyes especially having the clear, frank expression of a thoughtful yet frank and fearless nature. He was attired in serviceable, well-cut tweed, and had a soft brownfelt hit on his short brown curls. Thadeus Connor was thirty-five, if a day, and was about as ordinary a specimen of humanity as yon could imagine. He was short of stature, thin-limbed and big jointed. His arms were too long for the size of his little form, and his eyes, set deep in their sockets under pent-houses of red hair, were fiery and small like a ferrets. His round ■shoulders and odd figure were exaggerated by a tightly-fitting coat and trousers of a bright blue, decorated amply with brass buttons, and a brilliant peacock's feather was stuck in the front of his stiff, low- crowned black hat. A very glittering Albert denoted the presence of a watch in his pocket, and a great gold ring adorned one of his stumpy little fingers. The expression of every line of his form and every twinkle of his little eyes waß of cunning and self-conceit, but those who knew the little Irishman well could have told how true and faithful was the heart few gave him credit for possessing. " There's a path close to us on the right ; * I wonder where it goes to ? " said Leonard, breaking the silence at last. " The piace where the Colonel was buried was up there on the side of the hill," replied the Irishman, as he turned his face over his shoulder to scan the track alluded to ; " but by the piper that played before Moses, wherever it goes to there'! an angel comin' down it?" As was only natural, young Proseer turned •also to see what had drawn the exclamation from his humble friend, and he too saw coming along the green fair hillside, a form that might at least have been one in a dream of heaven so sweet and unearthly it was in th«

faue&t loveliness. It was a young girl of eleven or twelve years, followed by a coalblack Newfoundland dog. So strange alto- | father was the appearance of thin child that Leonard Proaser hesitated ere he decided she was truly an inhabitant of this lower world. About eleven years old, as I have said, the girl was small for her age, and by far too delicately slender She was attired in a pale blue dreas, over which fell down to her very waiHt a cloud of the moat lovely fair hair that ever grew on a child's head. It was not golden fair, but of that far rarer hue that resembles the Hide of a young fawn with the closs of natin on evpry hair. The pale face, overshadowed by the drooping brim of b broad Tupcnn hat, was bo delicately outlined in pvery feature that no waxen one was ever more perfectly modelled, nor yet had a brighter roie on its cheeks, and in every line of the face and form there was expressed a calmne*^ and peace that waa surely not of this world. As the girl neared tho men she looked at them steadily, and without a trace of fear in the soft blue eyes over which the fair lashes fell like a veil; but the great dog moved steadily to her side and examined the friend? cautiously as she paused before them and spoke. " You are strangers ? " she asked gently. " Yes, quite strangers," Leonard replied, with a smile that at once assured the child she was addressing one who was to be trusted. " We have only come to Marranga within the hour ; and you? " "I I oh lam no stranger. I was born at Marranga." There was a pause, in which Tady'g small eyes seemed to settle themselves on the child's face with a great wonder in them. " Are you the gentleman who has taken St. Herricks?" the asked hesitatingly, as she gazed at Leonard, while she held more oloiely to her breast a cluster of golden. blossoms she was carrying. " I think not]; we have as yet made no arrangements for residing at Marranga." " I beg your pardon," the child said gently ; •' St. Herricks was mama's home once, and wo heard some gentleman had rented it. I did so hope it would be some one nice." The last sentence was repeated thoughtfully, «s her eyes wandered down to the low house among the trees that Tady had pointed out as St. Herrick'e. " Stay Miss," the Irishman said eagerly, as the girl was turning to go on her way. "Are you a St. Herrick ? " " Yes, I am Resignation St. Herrick — the late Colonel St. Herrick waa my father." " I thought bo," Tady oried, " you have the poor Colonel's eyes as like as two peas." " Mama says so ; did you know him ? did you know my dear fatner ? " and the rosy flush spread from the soft cheeks all over the fair face. " Yes, Miss, I knew him well. I was here at Marranga I suppose before you were born." " Yes, it must have been. Papa was dead before I was born, that is the reason mama called me Resignation. Did you love my papa?" "Everyone respected and liked him !" Tady said quickly. " No, not everyone ; there was a bad man — you forget — the man who killed him." " Yes, the curse o' (rod on him, I forgot Dan Lyons 1 " Tady cried angrily. "Hush, do not speak wrong words. God knows best himself. May I Bhake hands with you because you know my dead papa ? " " God bleEa the child ! " the honest Irishman said, as he clasped the little slender hand that was tendered him. " You will shake hands with mo, too, as a new friend ? My name is Leonard Prosser," the young gentleman said, putting out his hand also, " and will you introduce me to your dog? Dog? and I are always great hiends." "My dog is called Guardian, sir, for he takes care of me, and h a very faithful dog Are you going to stay here sir? " " Yes, dear, we think of remaining for some time near Marran^a." "I am glad, I Hhmll «cc you again. Goodbye now " and thp cluld made a grave bow to Leonard and Tndv and then glided down the path toward Sr. Herrick's. ' Ihii t time qnurn now?" tho Irishman asked as they ytood and watched the light form pa*nm« through the underwood that skirted th* eminence on which they had been seated, " that we Htiould meet Colonel Herriok's daughter the very first on landing in the place ? " "It is a, Mtrnnge coincidence, truly. This child wax not born then, when you left Marranga, Tady ? " "No, but one was expected if the mother lived. God help her, it was a hard trial she had to bear. What do you Bay to getting down to the township now, Mr. Leonard? The coach is nearly in, and we'd better be aeein' afther our thraps."