CHAPTER XXXVIIII.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2185, 10 July 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXXVIIII.

" Fare thee well ; and, if for ever. Still for ever fare thee well." George Manners remained three days longer alter this interview with his cousin at Nnrbrough. During these he worked very hard, and had so far advanced in his project of the school that before he left a room was taken, a schoolmistress advertised for, and some dozen children already promised as pupils to begin with. All this had not been attained without some difficulty and exertion on his part and that of his two sisters — Katie and Dolly. Dolly in particular entered into all his plans, and eagerly accompanied him among the fisher people to try to induce them to promise to send their children. Here, however, he met with great indifference and from some with cousiderable opposition. • The bairns were well enow afore,' said the hard- worked woman, who stood outside the miserable cottage doors. Still the family at the Vicarage were favourites ; for though the bitter times of hard* ships and privation during the winter were at this season of plenty to a certain extent forgotten, yet the kindly feeling which Mrs Manner's real charity to them then had created was still left among them ; ' and to please the \oung master,' one or two of the gaunt tisherwomen at last gave their consent to George's laudable desire for the improvement of the education of their children. With a list of names in his pocket, therefore, he returned to the Vicarage on the evening of the day before he left, and was called upstairs by his mother to the drawing-oem while he was taking off his hat in the hall, under the excuse of show, ing him her flower9tand. While he entered the room he uttered an exclamation of surprise, for sitting there, with the faintest rosebloom on each cheek and wrapped in shawls by her careful nurse, was his friend Amy. ' What, you hero !' ho said, with real pleasure in his voice ; ' I hardly hoped for so much.' • She says you say sho ifl to get, well, and that .she is going to try,' said Mrs. Manners, cheerfully ; ' and she wants to hear all about the school, and how many children you have got.' ' Here's the list,' said George, producing it from his pocket ; 'and I hope you won't let one of thorn escape you, for they've been troubled enough to get. But Doily's the girl — Dolly hunted them out like a little terrier ; what a clever woman she'll be, mother ! she has an immense power of will.' ' ' I pity the good man who gets her,' answered Mrs Manner*, laughing-. • She'll keep him in order with a vengeauce, certainly,' .said George. 'You should have heard her to-day ; you would j have thought K.he was one of the most profounded scholars in the world to hear her expatiating on the advantages of education.' 4 It iH a good thing,' said Mrs Manners ; 'it will mike her want to learn herself to teach the children. Dolly never is so happy an when she is holding- forth to somebody else.' •She's not liko you.' Amy.'said George, looking thoughtfully at the invalid on the sofa. ' No,' she answered, with a soft, low sigh ; * I wish I wero different ; but I've a sort of shyuess I cannot*overcomo. I'm not fitted for the world.' " ' Nonsense, child,' said George ; 'you're not fitted to manage the world, I admit ; but you would make a very good, very pretty— shall I say vi e- regent ?— but Dolly must be quceu, or everything is wrong ' 'You should not encourage her, George,' said Mis Manuern. ' I defy you to pufc hor dowu ; she oven fixed on the scholars .shu would have for her cbiss to-day, and I noticed she chose out the sharpest ones. But you must not let her havo ho own way too much, Amy., 'I will try.' answered Amy, smiling ; aud thnu at G ujnre'a requev she wrote down f.'rbim u. U»tof boo s and other

necessaries which would bo required for the schoolroom. 1 1 will send them down as soon as I get to Oldcastlo,' said George, and a shade passed over his face a« he spoke. • But you won't go till late to-morrow, will you, George?' asked Amy, anxiously, for she had noticed the change in his expression. 'And you'll soon bo back ?' "I cannot tell when, though,' he answered, quietly. ' I shall have so much to do and look after ; but you muit let me hear constantly how you are getting on. And I may as well give you some of the sinews of war now. Hugh sent down a cheque for a hundred pounds yesterday morning, and I got it cashed to-day ; so here is half of it for you to begin with, Mrs Directress. ' ' Oh, don't give it to me to-night, George.' • Yes, to-night, promptness is the soul of business, co let us fix it all when we are about it. It grew late before they could arrange everything to their satisfaction, and presently Mrs Manners got tired of listening, and went downstairs to look after her husband, and thej were thus left alone. ' Come to the window,' said George, at length,, rising and pushing away the papers. • How long the days are uow — and beautiful.' ' Yes,' »»aid Amy, ri-inir also, but very feebly, for she was still so weak nhe had scarcely strength to reach the window alone. 'Are you not corning?' said George, looking round ; and then he added, ' what, a brute lam to forget you want help. I must carry yuu, I think, you foolish, weak little woman.' But. ho did not, but put her arm in his to support her, and then led her to a chair in the old fashioned recess by the window. 4 See, there is the moon ju»t rising,' ho said ; ' anothtrr day is done.' 4 Well, you've not >pent it'idly, have you ?' answered Amy, gently. ' No,' said he, looking down at the fair, shadowy face beside him ; ' while it'in day— you know the rest child ?' 1 You are always doing something, George.' ' It is better for me — I wunt no time to think.' Amy sighed. ' And,' continued George; earnestly, ' when I do I want to have some thought* I nped not blush for — 1« have some little good to count up amotiir the long list of sins a no 1 sorrows.' ' The school is one,' said Amy, with a little laugh. ' Yes,' answered George, tho school is one; even if it fails it, has helped — will help, I hopo, to umui.se and occupy your mind.' ' It is good for yon to think of me.' ' Is it ? Thpri I will be good.' ' But need you go away George?' said she, the next minute, timidly putting out. her hand, and t iking the strong, sinewy brown one which rested on the window-sill beside her. ' Ye*, Amy, yes,' ho answered, shortly. • But why ':' uh ! dear George, let me not feel I havn injured you so much. Do not let. me drive you from tohi- hom<\' ' I am goinjr money-grubbing, as Hugh calls it,' replied George, with a kmd of v.iirue smile, clenching the hand wbieh Amy was not. holding tightly as he «poke. ' But you will come back ?' pleaded Amy. 'I shall bo ho lonely. Oh! come back George— will you promise ?' she whispered. He made no answer, hut his faco <rrew pale jukl his lips trembled. ' Will you not promise Y she urged. ' I feel so safe when you are near ; if you go away, who a.n I to look to ? Oh, promise me, George !' ' We will see,' he half muttered ; and then commanding his feelings with a \iolent effort went on — ' When lam away I have asked Hugh to see after you. If you want anything apply to him.' ' But he is not you.' George was silent. 'It is selfish of me, perhaps,' Amy went oh. ' No, my dear, no,' said (ieorge, interrupting her in a broken vmce, 'but do not talk of it to-night— talk of it some other day— to-night let me stay by you a little while.' 'Yes.' Neither spoke for the next few minutes. George was struggling with the strong, almost overpowering feelings of his own heart ; w hile, vaguely happy at being near him, Amy still held his trembling hand. Suddenly, however, George broke the spell. ' How clojjc it is,' he said, turning impetuously away from the window, and beginning to pace up and down the small drawing-room; 'and it's getting late for you.' 'Well, good night then,' said Amy, rising, and feeling he was unnecessarily abrupt. ' Stay one moment.,' said George, returniug to her, and taking her hand ; and then in a low, faltering voice, he continued — ' Yes, good night— good night, dear Amy. May God take you in his keeping now and for ever.' ' Why are you so solemn !' shu asked, with a kind of fear. ' I have no reason, but there was something I was going to ask. Will you Jet me hear you are well and happy sometimes, when I am away V 'If you will come back,' whispered Amy, fondly looking up into his face. •Yes," he answered with a deep-drawn breath ; and then he stooped down and kissed her hand. ' And the other too,' he said : and Amy laughed an I held it towards him. 'And now we must go away,' and he led her to the door and opened it. But as she entered her own room, which was almost immediately opposite, she looked back and smiled ; and George stood still till she had disappeared, and then almost with a moan he turned away, and, closing the door after her, went to the window, opened it, and leant out. 'Oh God ! give me strength — give me strength,' he muttered between his clenched lips, • for it is hard — hard for me to do. 1 An hour later Mrs Manners catne upstairs to look after her invalid, and found Amy already half-asleep ami in bed. ' Where is George, I wonder ? she said. 'I have never heard him come down. 'He went back to the drawing-room after I left,' replied Amy ; ' I heard him close the door. But I daresay he is out smoking by this time.' ' I daresay. Good night, dear ; I hope you will have a good night ;' and Mrs Manners kissed Amy's sweet face and gently left the room ; and as she passed the drawing-room, she opened it and looked in. 'Is that you, George, here?' she aaked, in surprise, for the moonlight was shining on a bowed figure by the window; and as she spo*c George lifted up his face, which had been covered by his hand. 'Yeg, mother,' he answered ; and something in his tone immediately struck her, for she came into the room and closed the door, 'What is it, my dear ?' she said, laying her head on his shoulder; ' what are you fretting about?' 'It is nothing.' he said — ' nothing new.' But the look of pain on his face and the coldness of his hands alarmed Mrs. Manners. I 'Tell me, uiv darling,' sho said, tenderly, laying his head agaiiibt her comely form,' tell your mother,' 'I have dove my best for her,' außWered 1

George, beneath his breath, and with a kiud of sob — ' I have done my best.' •I am sure of that,' said Mrs. Manners; 'but don't dear, don't vex yourself. You'll pet over it by-and-bye; its well your going away a bit.' *Ay, mother,' •You'll be seeing some one else,' went on Mrs. Manner*, consoling. No, no, indeed,' 'You think so now, dear, but folks change— men folk in particular. Please God, you'H be bringing me home a nice nice, pretty, young wife some of these days. ' I thought to have dpne that once, said George, much affected. ' Well, you will yet ; and when Amy gets well ' ' I hope she will, mother — well and happy. Poor, poor girl, she has borne enough.' * Yes dear ; but ' llt was wrong of her to deceive me, you mean I have forgiven her, and you must too.' 'I hope I can do that to all, Georgie,' answered Mrs, Manners, humbly ; but she has brought sore trouble upon us all. 'No, mother.' ' Are we not to lose you ? You don't know what that u to me, Georgie — you will never know ;' and Mrs. Manners' face flushed and her lips trembled as she spoke, ' My dear mother !' ' There's been nothing but love between us, has there, dear?' went on Mrs Manners, ' since the night your poor mamma died and I carried you upstairs, and sat holding your little hot hand till you cried yourself to sleep. I mind that night well. How different you two were : Adelaide was «o bad at firttf; about her, but the next day she wan crying for aomething else ; but my little Georgie fretted and pined for long,' ! ' Well, I got another mother,' answered 1 George, affectionately, ' and I could not have got » bettor one.' 1 ' I've tried to do what I could,' said j Nelly, himply ; •of course, I'm not like J folks who are born ladie* — but I've tried ■ to do my duty to the Vicar and the darlings God has given inp, and — to you.' ' You have been only too good.' ' This business has grieved me sorely,' | said Mrs Manners, ' from first to la-t j It's beeu hard to know what best to do, but you wished her to stay ' 'Yes,' answered George, 'I wished her I to stay, and my mother yielded to that ; wish ; and for her I hope the worst i« over.' 'She'll fret, I'm afraid, when you corm> to part.' ' We have done that, mother,' answered George, in a low, pained voice. • What, to-night, dear ! How's that ? ' I hoped to sparo her,' went on George, in the same low, broken Toice. I ' She is not strong enough to bear much, ! but she little thought it was the last.' i 'When do you leaver' joked Mrs Manners, putting her other hand in his. ' Early to-morrow morning. In the first train — before poor Amy wake.s I wil! be goue.' ' And we may never meet again,' s-vid Mrs Manners, now fairly sobbing-. j ' Don't you remember, mother, what ; you told me the • •therday:' 1 answered i George kindly. * Where you hoped wo , would all meet at last — little Bonny and , a jj ' { 'In heaven, I hope, Georgio — in ( heaven.' sobbed Mrs Manners. I 'It is better I should go, you know that,' contfniißcl George, gravely. ' Hotter i for myself — better for her. I might have [ learnt to love her to well.' ''And when she hears !-' '-aid Mrs 1 Manners, wiping her blur eyes. ' Oh ! 1 George, what, am I to do ?' : ' I will leave a note for her, explaining ; merely that I am leaving earlier on account of bu-ine.>s, and she will naturally I expect to see me again ; and in a week or i two — for it, will b«> that time before I cm get thing-) in sufficiently good working order to leave ()ldca»tle — she will. I hope, be stronger, and, perhaps, by that, time ! sho too will think I have boon wise.' | ' And if anything is heard of this m:in ! — this hu-band of hers ?' j George winced as Mrs Manners said | this, but recovering him!*elf almost at one.c he said — 1 Hugh h:n promised to befriend hor in my abionfp. Ifi.s old connection with Captain Claytons rogimont will enable him always to hoar of his movements, and I think sh« can safely trust him.' ' Do you really ? ' Ye- 1 , for ii mid all Hugh's weakness there lingers the old instinctive feeling of honour, which clings as a brithright to a race like ours.' ' But,' he added, btruck. perhaps, with the absurdity of his .speech. • that's an unnecessary pieco of bragging on my part.' Hugh is a gentlemin, an-1 that means — Hill mean*, I hope, a mm who would not Ho to hi* friend, or bandy plot to deceive a woman like>he i».' ' Yet many who call theniM-lves gentledo.' ' Not manj, I hope ; and I think I ran trust Hugh in this. Beside.-, mother, Amy, (lops not care for him.' Mrs Manners sighed. ' But do not let us talk of it any more," said George, rising. *It is over, and I have much to do.' For some hours after this George occupied himself with arranging his hook* and destroying old letters and p-ipers, juhl also in drawing up ji rough copy of hi-, will, in cisc ho should not ugriin return to England, to leave in the hands of hioolicitor : and then hft ad 1 rested a brief, but, kind and cou.-iderate letter to Amy — 'I find,' ho wrote, 'I am obliged U< leave earlier to-morrow morning thn I expected, so I will not disturb you to say good-bye. 'I want you, you see, to get all the rest and strength that you possibh can, so as to commence our new under taking as soon as ever you are well enough to do so ; and I want you akso to write to me the smallest details about it ; and, mind you, let the chicks— Katie and Dolly — do the hard work for you at first. Aid hoping soon to see you are quite wt 11 again, I remain your faithful triend. (j Mannkh.v' A beautiful, cloudless, midsummer morning was shining when became down the next day, and prepared with a very sad and sorrowful heart to bid farewell to his old home. •He, however, was not going away without his mother's kiss and mother's hles&ing ; for when he entered the diningroom, though it was yet early morning, ami none of the rest of the family were astir, he found his breakfast laid ready, a fire burning, and Mrs Manners waiting to receive him. She had, in fact, been up nearly an hour before he appeared, and had prepared everything for his comfort that sho cjuld possibly think of. But she might have almost spared herself the trouble, for George's face was very white, and his manner was very nervous when he came in, and he tried in vain to show his appreciation of her kindness by eating borne ol the good things which she had spread before him. • I can't, mother,' ho said, at last, pushing away his plate, and then he rose. ' You will send the packages by train,' he went on. hastily ; ' and now I think I may as well be walking on ; it wants half-an-hour to the time,' he contiuued, looking at his watch ; but it's a line morning, and I may as well be oil.' ' Very well, dear,' said Mrs Manners sorrowfully, for she saw it was useless to prolong these painful moments. • And now, mother, guod-byo ,' dud he. put his anus round her. 'I will see you to th« gate, dear, answered tyrs Manner*, aiti jsbe placed.

her hand in his ; and together they went out among the fresh, wet roses and the grass. •I have no need to a^k you, I know, 1 said George ; 'but you will be kiud fo) her, always kind to her?' ' Yes, George.' ' Should— should anything happen to me, she will not be left quite unprovided for ; and, as long as she , w ishes it, she will have a home here, won't ahe, mother ?' 1 Don't distress me, (ieorge, don't,' said Mrs Manners, leaning her head against her son's shoulder, her eyes fast filling ac she spoke. ' What can happen to you, my dear — what can happen ? ' 'What happens to us all,' answered George ; ' what comes at last, however long we have to work ' 'Oh ! George, stay with us; don't go even now.' ' You know it is better I should not.' 'But it is so hard— so very hard,' sobbed Mrs Manners. 'It will Boon be over; good-bye, mother — good-bye, my dearest mother ;' and he stooped down and kissed her, for by this time they had reached the gate. 'But this is not our long good-bye, George. You won't come back, you say ; but I'll come to see you at Oldcastle before you go ; and maybe, so will your father tco ' ' Will you ? I should like that. Well, then, a short good-bye now ; and again he pressed his lip 3 tojiers, and then they parted. When he had gone a few steps from the gate he looked back, for he wanted to see the old house once more ; but Mrs Manners was still standing watching him, so he smiled to her and went on. Presently however, when he reached the turn in the lane which hid him from her view, he again stopped and waited patiently for several minutes, till he felt sure she would have returned to the house ; then he retraced his steps, and stood silently looking at his horne — silently looking at one window there, round which the ivy dropped and clustered, and thought of her who lay sleeping unconscious that he whom she loved l)C3t on earth was probably lea\ing her for years — peih.ips for ever — '(jrooil-b)e my little uiil.' said George, 'good -bye, my d<ar, dear love. It is i quiet spot he thought, ' where I leave her. I pray Go'l th it she in-iy rind peace ;' and then, once moie looking at the ivied window, and, with a muttered piayer upon his lips, the hia\e man r ur:ied away and ln-gui his lonuiy exile.