CHAPTER XXVI.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 2021, 20 June 1885, Page 5 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXVI.

Sameness ia one o! the most terrible monsters that make the life of man a terror and a weariness; varioty tho angel which gives existence its charm. Exoept to men of lethargio dispositions a routina of anything, however pleasant, is intolerable. Even Paradise to ordinary humanity would become too tedious to be borne. Henco it ia that youth is always our happy time, because then everything is new, every day brings an utterly fresh experience. At a certain age, when the world is no more new, when we have tasted all ita pleasures and experienced its employments and fruitions, there comes a time, the most dangerous period of life, when man says ; •• I have no pleasure in it." Often at this stage the wearied seek death bj their own hands or give way to the demon aloohol, and are as surely lost as if they committed suicide. But meroifully for us the Groat Baler has spread ovor the various periods of life new hopes and employments. When childhood is over, ohildhood that never wearies, for it drinks in the world so new to it as the bnd drinks the dew, the passion of love fills our sky with roseate light and the pursuit of the beautiful phantom engages our swift-footed hours. Then follows the reign of necessity with most men, the exciting straggle for a mere living, competence, or fame. The interest is soon transferred to our children, in whom we live anew. Life on the Happy Isle was too monotonously happy. Ebby had only said the truth that after a time it would become intolerable to those who had moved in the buty world. Still, it io to be questioned whether its ocoupations would not have proved sufficient wben the homesickness was gone. Yet it was monotonous. The sun roBO and the sun set, meal succeeded to meal, boating excursion to excursion . Since the arrival of the party on the island there had not even been a break in the weather : the same cloudless, deeply blue sky in the day; the same purple, diamond and pearl studded oountry at night. It was wearying with its quiet happiness, its unrufflad serenity. The morning succeeding the night inwbioh Orinora had first experienced the sorrow of this world was bright and beautiful -as its predecessors. The sun looked down into the lovely valley, and turned its lake into gold and silver, the dew on the herbage and leaves into diamonds and opals, and set the myriad birds rejoicing. Boats skimmed over the lake, cleaning its silver, as the inhabitants prooeeded to their tasks, and through the wonderfully tinted foliage columns of smoke began to ascend, betokening the early meal. It was a scene of rare and wonderful beauty 1 — but ever the same, ever the same. That was what Herbert, Harry, and Ebby thought as they strolled over the island, realiiing how thoroughly they were captive, although their chains were of roses. This had never struck Herbert so much as it did this morning. The bird had seen a weak wire in ita cage, aad was fluttering ita winga to take a flight to be free I Aranoah ocoupied his mornings generally by holding a levee on the pier, at which he gave instructions for the work of the day, and heard matters that were submitted for his consideration. The Council Hall was on another island, where he attended at set times, but he dealt with matters of immediate importance in these morning interviews. It was when he was returning that Dorala met and informed him that Orinora was very ill, and refused to rise. He at once paseed into her chamber. She lay on the bed undressed, white as death, with great rings round her eyes. Her aspoot frightened Aranoah. She was his only treasure. " Orinora, darling," he said, shuddering at the coldness of her hands, •' what has happened— are you ill? " " It is nothing, father," she said, and her voice sounded hollow, and alarmed him still more ; " I remained out too late last night, dreaming and thinking, and I caught a chill." It was the fint time she had ever uttered a falsehood, harmless as it was ; ever failed to tell her father when she was in trouble. Deoeit was impossible for her. Aranoah at once saw through the poor pretext, and his face became clouded. "My ohild," he said, " you are not telling me the real cause. Has Paranoa been threatening?"

"No, father." Has Herbert been unkind ; has ho said anything to trouble you ? " She did not reply. Tho pale faca became crimson, the teaw began to well frcm her beautiful eyes. "Orinora," aaid her father, tenderly embraoing her, " tell me all. You never concealed anything from me; it will be best to let me know what has bo changed my girl. Fear not ; I will put matters right." What an extraordinary force is love. It develops in us in a moment feelings and ideas o£ which we never dreamed. This girl, who had never ooncealed anything, whose heart had been like that of those diaphonous creatures whoso pulsations oan be seen by the eye, had suddenly act around itself a veil, too saored to be lifted to even a father's eye. A dread of compromising her lover, of doing anything that would cause him to love her less, set up a new code in her mind. As if by an inspiration, she Baw how she could, truthfully, acaount for her state without revealing what had occurred the night beloro. 11 Father," she said, rising up, " you know I have been a mere child, knowing and feeling nothing. I have been acting in the past ; now I know the reality. Oh, father, I love Herbsrt." A smile came over Aranoah's face. "Is that all, darling ?" be said. " I know that well enough." "I have sung and talked of love," said Orinora, now gathering strength as she caw the fatal disclosures could be avoided, " but I knew nothing of it until he came. I was very happy, father, for a time, though I could not tell why. Only yesterday, when we wero together, when he was very tender, did I understand that at last this was the love that I had yearned for, but did not understand ; the love that Paranoa had endeavored to make me feel." " It is ono of the inevitable experiences of life," said Aranoah; "it haß its pain, but it has also its great reward." " I knew none of its pain," replied Orinora, " until last night. I was bo happy, bo unutterably happy, that I wondered what had ooonrred to change my nature. And then came the pain." "It is our inheritance," was the reply, spoken abstractedly; for Aranoah'a mind had gone back to tho days of bis pith of sorrow. " But," he cried, " what brought the pain." "I reflected, father," said Orinora, somewhat evasively, " upon our position. Herbert cornea from the Other World, whete there are many fair women. Ho must have loved some of them." Aranoah smiled again ; there was nothing to alarm him in this 5 it was the old story of woman's love from the days of Eve. " None of them," he oried, " can oomp&re with you, Orinora." " Bat," replied the girl, and her face paled again ; " I thought how unfit lamto be his oompanion ; how unable to join in his thoughts and to understand them ; how likely it was that I would weary him, as must the eternal monotonous beauty of our land, and then, dearest father oame the terrible thought : he is but a passing visitor ; he will tire of this place and seek to return to hia own land. Oh, father"— how pitiable was the ory then—" that is what has killed me. Ob, father, father, if ho goes, if he goes—" "But he will not, he can not, he will never desire," said Aranoah, embracing tho weeping, Bobbing girl. "Be easy on that point, darling. He cannot leave this island. More than that I know he loves you too well. If ho did anything to distress you, I would kill him." " No, no, father," replied Orinora, " let it all bo of his own free will. Daarly as I love him, if he desired to go I would not say a word against it, though it killed me, nor must you, father, stay him." •'Woman like, woman like," Baid Aranoah. "But these are mere fanoies, Orinora. You have been too happy and you have conjured up evil spirits, thinking the happiness too great. Cheer up, my child, dress yourself. This must not be an uncertainty any longer. Before tho day is over you will have all your doubts satisfied. But what made you think he could leave the island, when you know those who come hero remain until they cut off tho body and seek a home in Achernar?" "I know," replied Orinora, "that his companion, Ebby, ifl a ounning mau, and that he is every day experimenting. Has he not talked of marvellous inventions, of men flying in the air. Could not they leavethat way ?" Had Aranoah received a blow he could not bo more utaggered. He now remembered that in their many talks over new discoveries Ebby had dwelt on the progress of ballooning and that he had made and navigated one of these machines in the Cape. It came burning hot into his mind that Ebby might now be busy in inventing some such machine that would give himself and his companions freedom— at a great risk, perhapi. What a terrible result would follow, if he put his scheme in force— if he was permitted 1 But even into Aranoah's mind came the caged bird's idea; an escape, and the re-visiting once more of the scenes of his youth. For the moment it did not seem attended with any dire consequences. What if Herbert married Orinora, and restored her to what should be her position in the world ? But in a moment oame an appalling reflection : Herbert's aoknowledged love for Alice, whioh he had described when he first oame to the island. This agitated Aranoah strangely. It hadesoaped him heretofore, while watohing the growth of tho young people's passion, because an escape from tho island had never entered into hia mind. It seemed impossible to make a balloon on the island, and even if it wero made, it would be madness to try that means of freedom on a sea seldom visited by vessels. But now he hardly knew what to Bay. He became as agitated as his daughter. She saw '" Father," the asked, with a great fear, " do you think this can occur ? Will he leave me, never to return ? Father, father 1 " " It is all a dream," replied Aranoab, with an effort. "No auoh thing can happen. This day, Orinora, you will bo made happy. Now dress yourself, bathe your face, and come to breakfast." It was tho most diamal breakfast that had been partaken of on tho island since the strangers had arrived. Hardly a word waa said. Orinora ate nothing, but Herbert's prelence made her gayer. Aranoah was thoughtful and absent. He gave assent to Ebby'a proposal to visit the cliffs, as if he did not hear. " Take a turn -with me to the other end of tho isle, Herbert," he said, when breakfast was over, and the two departed for the most important interview they had yet held.