CHAPTER II. LOVE AND HONOUR.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2248, 4 December 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER 11. LOVE AND HONOUR.

It was strange about this timo how nrnoh Mis* Dorothy was wHntort at Sir Johu Hampton's, Faith would not have

been true to her worn. inly nature if she hud. been blind to wli.it w<is going on. And having found lu j r own mairiage with <"i Royalist attended with euoh happy results, she was nothing loath to Hpeed on m ltters between her favourite Dorothy and the handsome young Civalicr, who — his despatches delivered to Sir John —did not require much urging .to remain longer with them. And so the June days flouted by, end the second of July — a day fatal to the unhappy Charles Stuart — drew ne.ir. O.ninous whispers from the outride world reiched the village of Brentford, and Sir John looked unusually grave. Quo morning, whon Dn'othy, complying with a icque-'t fiom Faith, brought her work and spirit the diy with them, ILiny Vane in the evening, a* usual, saw her home. Thoie was a set look about his mouth and .1 determined expression in his eyes. For a time he walked by her side in silence. ( Doiofhy, dear Dorothy !' he said at la.st, and oomehow Mistress "Dorothy was not as surprised at the sound in his voice as one would have supposed. ' I am going 1 away, Dorothy,' lie went on ; ' going to fight for my King— God ble.-s him !— and for my country." Bat in spite of the words, which sounded ;ill very well, there was a suspicious trembling in his voice, which went t-ti .light to Mistress Dorothy's loving litlle heart. At the w ords '+ o fisrht ' the girl's face suddenly paled, and hhe felt thankful lor the fiiendly twilight, which hid her changinsjr colour from the young Royalist. As for Harry, ever} thing was forgotleu but the two facts — one, that lie loved this sweet Puritan maiden, or thought he did ; and the other, that the next day he had to leave her— leave her, with the words that had been trembling on his lips for the last week, unsaid. No ! isuddeuly determined that tho words should not remain unsaid. 'I love you, dearest Dorothy,' he whispered in her ear, and his arm crept round her waist. 'And, Dorothy, I think you love me a little?' But Miiticss Dorothy made no reply. Ifc was al-o so strangely new and sweet, and hrr little heart was boating so very qAfficlcJy, and her hands trembling so. 'Do you lovo me, Dorothy ?' asked Harry Vane again. A trembling, shy littlo 'Yes? ciime faltering from Mistress Dorothy's lip*. And, juit as Harry was bending low to l.Ls her, the sudden light of a lantern wt, tinned full upon them, and, standirg a few yaids in front, was M*u>ter Giles Huilmiy. It seemed to the two lovers as if all power of moving or speaking was gone, and they stood quite still. Dorothy, blushing, speechless, and tern fie. l ; Harry, for once in. his life, thoroughly startled out of all self-posses-sion, and with his arm still around Misfresg Dorothy's waist. His first surprise over, Master Hanbury \s anger burst foith. His reproaches were bitter, and lie spared neither Harry nor his daughter. 'Forsooth young gallant,' he said. 'And is this how you serve your King and your country? Stealing honest men's daughters; winning hearts only to be thrown aside when thy fancy changes ? Learn then young man that my daughter i^ not to be treated as thon treatest a fine London lady— fine speeches one day and a cold blow the next.' 'Master Hanbuiy,' said Harry, the colour rising to his face and his blue eyes flashing with anger, 'I love your daughter, and I ask her to become my wife ; the fault is mine; I should have spoken to you hist; spare her your reproaches.' Master Ilanbnry vouchsafed no reply to these words ; he drew his daughter's arm within his own and went on his homeward way,aud Harry followed. Arrived at their house, Master Hanbury opened the door. He then turned towards Harry. 'Young man,' he said sternly, 'I see thy mind is set upon thy foolish idea. For my daughter's sake I will s.-ttle this matter once and for all. Thou hadst better come id.' This was indeed a novel courtship. And had it not been for Mistress Doiothy, Harry would not have been so serious. I Jut one look at her white ftightencd face, one glance from the dark tearful eyes, and he forgot everything else but his love for her. xsis love, poor little Dorothy. It was such a strange inteiview in every way. Dorothy was eieep ; ng away to her own little room but liL'r father stopped her, so she stayed by the open window, with the soft evening air caressing her face and cooling her biow. At the table the two men sat facing p.ich other. Then Master Hanbuiy vpoko ; and as the girl heard her father's vows all hope died out of her h'Mit, a'xl the tears rose faster and faster to her ev.es. 'It shall never be said that the d mgh'er of Gili>s Hanbury wedded a godleo Civalier,' finished up Master LI uibiny with a stern decision. ll. my lose fiom his chair, a flush on hi* fac and hot anger in his voice. 'Is that jour only objection ?' he said. 'la it nothing to you that we love each other? Have you forgotten your own young days ? ' Younir m in,' replied the old Puritan calmly, .md with blow deliberation, 'confiuo thyhclf to the present subject, thou ait too h i^ly and ready with thy wonß I have given thee my answer, and I shall not eh a tiire.' Hany crossed the room. ' Farewell Doiothy,' be said, bowing down and t ilmg her Land. •Ifl do not .see you iigiin but ho did not rinif-h. With a civ liVe a wounded biiil Mistress Doiothy hll at her father's feet. 'Dear favher,' ishe cobbed, • you will break my heart !' The old man looked at his child ; stern and iiubendiug- as he was, he loved her fondly. Ho lifted her up, and then he turned to Hiny. ' Thou bhalt marry my child, on one condition,' ho said. 'Wilt thou give me thy word of honour never asrain to diaw thy sword in tho worthless cause of him thou cv.UVt thy Kiug ?' There was silence in the room — one wild throb — and Mi^tro-s Dorothy's heart giow as cold as if a hand of ice hid been, lain upon it. A bte <m his homeward way buzij'-d into the 100 m and out again, and the uu-koo clock iv the passage saug cuckoo eight times As the 1-ist &ouud died away, Hairy .spoke. His face was a little palor, and his voice was low and quiet. " Dorothy,' he slid, without looking at her, " nhall choose for mo.' ' I c.uiuot, I cannot/ ishe <-obbed. 'Oh ! do not a--k m<\" ' You must decide,' said Harry, witli a dull sound of determination in his voice. Mi^tios Dorothy lifted one appealing look to her father's fice. Theie was no relenting this time, and sho knew it. Then slip went to her lover* bide, her handsome young Royal Ut lover, and, like it knell of doom, there came to her mind the remembrance of. some words he had spoken only that day. Pt>le was his face, and, like his, her voice was quiet and slow. ' Thy honour — is— denrer— to me than thy love,' said Mistress Dorothy. ' Farewell!' No other word was said ; there was nothing more to say. Harry Vane held her hands tightly for a moment in lm. 1 Good-bye,' ho whispered, 'dearest Dovofby, thiuk of me always.' Then he added, bitterly, "If I am killed in the battle ifc will be the best thing-. Goodbye.' He was gone, gone, and he might have spared her that last pang, • Killed in the battle' The words sent a shiver of pain through Mistress Dorothy. She cront away to her own > oom. That night wie in >>n bhed rays of tender pity on a pale young girl who sat by the open window

with a spray of wild roses in her hands, heedless alike of the pas-ing houra, and of the sharp thorns which wouuded h< r lips as the raised the diooping flower.*, and kissed them passionately Love had brought her a more deadly wound than the thorns of the wild roses. 'Harry! Harry !' she sobbed, 4 shall I never see thee again V And the moon was veiled by a fleeting cloud, as if it wept for the next and last meeting that was to come.