Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED,

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2581, 26 January 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED,

BY ANNIE S. SWAN, Author of " Aldersydo," "Carlowrie," " Across Her Path," " Sundered Heart.-'," &u,, &c.

CHAPTER.—XII THE WeddixgDAY. Vichy brightly dawned Amy Burnett's wedding-day. When her mother, Hurried and anxious, camo down stairs shortly after seven, the sun was streaming in through the open door, shedding a Hood of golden glory in the hull. Mrs Burnett stepped out of the door, and looked for a miuuto at the smiling sky, at the sunbeams kissing the wet-eyed daisies on the lawn, and then turned away to begin her many duties with a smile oil her kind face. She was glad that the day was bright, for blessed is the bride that the sun shines on." While the drawingroom was being put in order, and the other members of the family wore partaking of a rather hastilyprepared breakfast in the schoolroom Amy was allowed to slumber on. Polly had crept softly out of the room directly she heard her mother's voice on the stair, for she was by nature helpful, and though her work was always quietly and unostentatiously done, she managed to get through a considerable amount when other people were talking about it. Shortly after nine Mrs Burnett, bearing a small tray, on which was a cup of delicious tea and a slice of crisp brown toast, entered Amy's room.

" Arc you not awake yet, dear?" she asked, pleasantly. "Do you know it is nearly half-past nine 2" "Is it really, mamma? How soundly I must have slept. I have heard nothing," answered Amy, starting up.

" Don't hurry, Amy. Here put that about your shoulders," she said, handing her a dressing-jacket, and then bringing the tray to the bedside. " think this, and then rise leisurely. You have nothing to do, you know, but dress to-day, and that will not take you all the forenoon." "How good you are to me, mamma !" said Amy, lifting grateful eyes to the kind face bent upon her in love. "I may be to-day, my daughter, seeing that in a few hours you will not belong to me any more," answered her mother, lightly, though a tear trembled in her eye. Amy was silent, and lifted the teacup to her lips to still their trembling. Looking keenly into her daughter's face, Mrs Burnett was grieved at its exceeding paleness, and marvelled why the sweet eyes should be cneireled by such mournful shadows 011 the uioruing of her happy wedding-day. " My love, you do not look quite like yourself. I hope your colour will come again, and your eyes grow a little brighter before noon, or we shall have too delieaie a bride," she anid, with gentleness. •' J. am afraid you didn't sleep wc-.ll." "Not in the early part of the night," said Amy, almost in. a

whisper; and then a, wild desire to confess all to her mother came upon her. Oh !it would be unutterable relief to sob out all her humiliation and pain, all her unspeakable gratitude, too, upon that faithful breast! " Everything is ready, and there will be no bustle or confusion at the last," said Mrs Burnett presently. "The girls have really worked well, and Polly is very helpful. Hut I shall bo glad when it is all over/' "So shall I," said Amy faintly then suddenly she lifted her wist full eyes to her mother's face, and added, almost humbly, " Mother, do you think I shall make a good wife ? Do you think I shall make

i Robert as happy as he deserves !" " My darling I hope and believe it," said the mother quickly. I think you know the value of the love you have won. Oh !it is a great and inestimable blessing Amy, the love of a good man, and one which a woman cannot too highly prize, or too sacredly strive, to keep?" Amy winced a little, for every word pierced like a two-edged sword. " I have no fear for your happiness, dear, for I love llobert as if he wore my own son, and he is one who will make his wife's happiness his first earthly care," continued Mrs Burnett, warmly, for the merits «f her future son-in-law to whom she was indeed deeply attached, was a very favourite theme. " But there, I must go now, and you must get up. I wish the next fortnight were over and I saw you fairly installed as mistress of .Eairgate. My dear, you may live to know that children are really little of a care until their wings are grown, and they begin to plume for iliglit to other nests. There ! is not that a sentimental thought for your

practical mother to utter '!■ I will leave you to digest it, and see what the boys arc after. It will be a wonder if there is not some trick perpetrated somewhere this morning." So with a nod and a smile Airs Burnett left the room, and Amv rose but paused often in her dressing to look across the lields to Aucliongray, especially to the little patch of woodland, above which she could see peeping out the roof-tree of her future home. She felt like one in a dream, or rather like one about to witness some important and thrilling drama in which she had 110 part. When she had thrown on her morning-gown at last, she looked into the little dressing-room, where lay the shimmering robe of white silk she would wear ere another hour went by. it had only come home the previous day and Mrs Burnett and the girls wondered at Amy's utter indifl'eraueo regarding it.. The. anxious mother had even noted the little shiver which shook the slight figure when Polly shook out its shining folds, exclaiming at its loveliness. Then Amy Burnett had wondered a little bitterly at what they would do with the bridal robe when the bride should begone. But it was difl'erent now. She took it in her hand, examining critically the trimmings of llowers and lace, noting the elegance and grace of the draperies, and thinking with a little vain satisfaction, how fair she would look when she put it on. What a pity she had given up .Joan Laurenccs's gift, for now she had no ornaments to wear, except the diamond brooch Robert had given her some time ago. Well, it would need to do ; so, having arranged all the details of her toilet in her mind, she went away down stairs to see what the other members of the family were about. Everybody was very tender and deferential to Amy that morning ; even the servants, with whom she was no great favourite, on account of her capricious and domineering disposition, seemed anxious to perform any little service for her, to show their hearty goodwill. All this was very soothing and gratifying to Amy ; and when she retired upstairs again to begin the. momentous dressing, she was in the best of humour with herself and everyone else. After all, it would have been a pity to have missed such a gay wedding, at which she would be the heroine of the hour. As the toilet approached completion Amy's heart beat a little faster—not, however, with the nervous agitation of the approaching ordeal, but with the feeling that Rolfe Ransome might actually present himself at the wedding. His invitation had been sent with others at the Bank, and with them had been duly accepted. Yet surely he would never be so presumptuous. Shortly after noon the guests began to arrive. Polly remained with Amy in her room, and from behind the curtain watched the various equipages drive up the avenue, and making correct guesses at their occupants, though she could not see them alight at the door. " A quarter to one, Amy. And here is the Bank carriage at last. Don't you feel funny !" she exclaimed. " I declare I'm beginning to tremble myself, though I'm only a bridesmaid." " Can you see who are in it, Polly 1" asked Amy, faintly, " No ; but what a funny question to ask. Won't they be all then;: I wish that Rolfe Ransome hadn't been coming, Amy. But I suppose he had to be asked. ' " I wish you'd go out and peep over the balustrade, and tell me if they are all there," said Amy, hurriedly. " In a minute. There's the minister, and t hat horrid woman his wife. 1 low gay she is. 1 ' " Do go, or they'll be in the draw-

ing-room," interrupted Amy, feverishly. " Dear me 1 are you afraid llobert: won't lie there .' There's no fear of liiui, I'm sure," said Polly in good humoured banter, and went away at once to watch the guests entering the drawing-room. j

" Yes, they're all there," she announced, coming back presently. "How perfectly lovely Mrs. Angus looks ! Do you know llobert is quitepale? J shall tease him about it when ]. get a chance." Amy rose, and, under pretence of shaking out her train, turned her face away train her sister. Iter lips twitched, as if she was crushing back some wave of pain, but it

passed in a moment, ae.d she stood up, calm, erect, self-possessed, for she had a part to play, and she would piay it well. At that moment there was a knock at that door, and the smiling face of Mr. Burnett looked in. " The folks are all here. Are you ready, Amy ?" " Yes, papa, quite ready," fell clear and distinct as a bell from Amy's lips. "Then [had better take you downthe other girls are waiting 011 the stairs," said Mr. Burnett, stepping into the room, and looking admiringly at his daughter. "My dear, you look very well. lam verv proud of you, and (!od bless you— but come away," lie said, a trillo impatiently, for his fatherly feeling was making his voice huskv, and he had 110 wish to break do wn at ail if he could help it. Amy laid her hand on her father's arm, and they swept out on to the landing, where the other two bri<l'\smuids joined I'ol'y, and then marched in order io swing-room. A mist RWii'-.i before Amy Burnett's eyes, and she .seemed to know and

feel nothing until she felt the touch of Robert Angus' hand on hers. Then she uplifted her white face and smiled upon him, for there was that in his manly honest face which gave her courage and strength After that brief, upward glance, she. kept her eyes upon the ground until the ceremony was over, until the golden circlet was glittering on her linger,and she was made a wife. Then she felt her mother's kiss on her brow, her father's husky word of blessing fell upon her ears, followed by a perfect babel of congratulation from the assembled guests, As yet her eyes had not lighted upon the rice of liolfe Ilansome. " Allow me to wish you every happiness, Mrs Angus," said a smooth, musical voice at last. Then she raised her head, Her eyes looked clear and straight forward into Ilolfe Ransoree's blue orbs, which were full of meaning. Without so much as an inclination of the head, or a gesture of acknowledgement, she turned her back upon him and touched, with something of pleading appeal, her husband's arm. " .My darling, what is it?" whispered Robert Angus, at once. "Nothing; only keep close beside me. Don't leave me," she said, with an exquisite gleam of wistful tenderness in her sweet eyes. " I feel so safe when you arc just here." Eor an instant Robert Angus wished that the company would vanish away that he might clasp his new-made wife to his heart, ai.cl toll her all that was in his heart. But the laughing voice of Jim, bidding him come and sign the deed of his execution —as he irreverently termed the register—recalled him to himself, and he passed over to the table. And now, weary with the strain of the double ordeal which she had just passed through, the bride was glad to escape to her own room to change her white robes for the more sober attire in which she was to travel. She was trembling so violently that her mother was alarmed, but by the time the toilet was completed she had somewhat recovered herself, and when Polly knocked gently, saying the carriage waited, and that there was no time to lose, she declared herself quite calm and ready to go. The guests, irmed with rice and old slippers, lined the hall, and pelted her unmercifully as she ran out of the house. Robert was hunting vainly for his portmanteau, which some unmerciful tormentor had pilfered from the box. As Amy was about to step across to the carriage, Rolfe Ransome stepped to her side. " I must have a word with you, Amy," ho whispered. "It wasn't iny fault I couldn't get. I'll tell you about it when you come back." " llave you got it, dear ?" she said, turning smilingly to her husband, as, amid a shower of rice, he came running out to the carriage. lie nodded, gave his hand to help her in, followed her at once, and in an instant they were gone. Nothing could have been more perfect., more crushing, than her utter ignorance of Rolfe Ransome. She had appeared as utterly unconscious of his presence and speech as if he had not existed. It was inimitable acting, but it made Rolfe Ransome grind his teeth in rage. In the carriage that matchless composure of demeanour, however, suddenly gave way, and she burst into tears. " Hold me closer, Robert! Keep me always by your side !" she cried, laying her head upon his arm. ".1 ani not worthy to be your wife, not woriiiy of your love ; but oh, I will be ' I will be !" So their married life began.

011 A P I'ER X 1 Jr.- -Edged Tools, In the oriel window of the draw-ing-room at Fairgatesat Mrs Angus, the younger, 011 the afternoon of a dull November day. Of what was the young wife thinking ! What could bring such an ominous cloud to her fair brow ? What inner inipa-

lionee caused her to tap .so restlessly ; with her finger tips ou the broad sill ? There was not much of beauty in the prospect to be seen from the window, for winter had laid grim, relentless fingers on ilower and leaf, on green meadow find woody uplands, and robbed them all of autumn's brighter hues. A dull heavy mist hung low over theearth, quite obscuring the low range of hills in the distance, and even milking the little town itself look indistinct and shadowy. But for the disagreeable nature of the weather, Mrs Angus would not have remained indoors, but she liked her creature comforts, and the ruddy gleam of the tiled hearth was more tempting than the cold caress of the biting northerly wind. About three o'clock she perceived a figure coining briskly up the hilly road from Auchengrgy, and as it grew nearer she recognised Polly. (Had even of a sister to relieve the monotony of the afternoon, she went down to the hall door, and received her on the step. " I am glad to see you," she said, very heartily for her. " Did souklittle bird whisper to you that I was wearying my life out here !'' " No," answered practiced Polly. "Jessie Forbes, the forester's daughter, has come home from service, and mannua thinks she would be the very thing for you : that is, if your housemaid is really going." " Yes ; she leaves next, Thursday, and I h.-u'o not heard of another.

Jessie Forbes will do very well. Tell mamma just to engage her," said Amy, indifferently, " You will .stay and have tea with me?'' '' Tea! Won't Pobert be in to dinner immediately ?"' " N r o ; he has gone to Edinburgh on business, and won't be home till late. Won't you stay ?" " Well, I will, though I didn't mean to," said Polly. " Why didn't yon eome over to spend the day at Thorn? You hardly ever come to see us now." "I have my house to look after," replied the young wife, with an assumption of dignity which highiy amused Polly '• And you have no idea of servants when they are left alone." '■ What a peek of housewifely (■roubles you fire in, Amy," laughed Polly. " Is that what puckers up your face, and makes you look so old, and anxious, and worried somot lines ? " " Do I look liko that, Polly ? ' " iSomotimes. You look as though you had all the cares of the State upon your shoulders. Yot I am sure you cannot have a care or a trouble in the world." " That is all you know, Polly," said Amy, involuntarily. '• Put, wo needn't stand here all day. Take oft' your hat and cloak, and come up to the drawing-room." In a few minutes the sisters wore sitting by the dainty little tablo with the tea equipago between them, chatting quietly together, chiefly of household and family matters lit the Thorn. Polly was right. Amy did look anxious and worried, oven haggard, at times, avid the bright, eyos had a furtive gleam in their depths which seemed to whisper of a mind ill at ease. " When did you seo Mrs Angus at the Panic?" asked Polly, presently, desirous of changing the theme of talk. " Not for a month. I don't trouble her, and she doesn't trouble me," said Amy, with strange sharpness. " I don't care about her, Polly." 11 Don't you '! Why I think she is the nicest woman in Anchengray, except Joan Laurence. I'm sure llobert will be sorry you are not intimate." '• I dare say lie is ; but though I'm Robert's wife, Polly, I don't allow him to choose my intimate friends for nie," said Amy, throwing a piece of sugar to the spaniel on the hearth. Polly opened her eyes very wide. These words seemed to reveal something of which she had never hitherto dreamed—that it was possil.de for a husband and wife of six months' standing to disagree 13lit she had tact and discretion enough to let it pass without remark". " Did you say llobert wouldn't be home till the late train?" said Polly, presently. " It will be half-past eleven before ho will be here. As Mrs Angus doesn't happen to require the carriage, M'Dowall will be. permitted to drive to iStrathblaiie for my husband. It is a shame and disgrace, Polly, that llobert will not give me a trap of my own, to save mo the humiliation of being indebted to his father's wife for the loan of hers." " Bless me, Amy, what is the matter with you ? What do you want with a carriage V exclaimed Polly, in honest indignation. I. think you have no reason to complain. It is a mean thing to say, but can the Bank House compare with Pairgate. Mrs Angus has as much right to grumble over that as yon have to be displease! because you haven't a carriage." Amy was silent, and Polly feared her plain speaking had given offence. " What are you going to do all the evening ; I'll stay over night, if you send Sarah to the Thorn to

tell them," she ventured to say at last.

tell them," she ventured to say at last. "Oh, 110, never mine. I won't woary. I have some letters to write, and some new music to practice, if I am not too lazy," answered Amy, more affably. " .Don't be in a hurry to marry, Polly—especially a man so much older than yourself.

' 11.' expects you to live like a hermit, and to be for ever grateful that he has made you his wife." Polly bit her lip to keep back some indignant words which burned for utterance. She was annoyed at Amy, whoso exacting selfishness she knew of yore, and her sympathies were all with the absent husband. Young though she was she felt how unbecoming it was in a wife to speak, even to her sister, iu such terms. " You've got one of your old tantrum fits, Amy," she said, quickly, as she buttoned on her gloves. " Shall I toll you what I think—that you are one of the best eared-for women in the world, and that if you could appreciate your blessings you would be the happiest, only you can't see it." And, having thus relieved her mind, Polly took her leave. But it was a very long time, before the haunting feelings of discomfort left by Amy's words faded out of her mind. Young Mrs Angus sat idly dreaming in the firelight till the maid came in to remove the tea tray and light the lamps. Then she bestirred herself and seated herself at the davenport, to attend to a mass of neglected correspondence. But she only read over one or two of the accusing epistles, idled a little, pen iu hand, over a sheet of notepaper, with her dainty monogram at the top, then shut up the desk, and betook herself to the. piano. ( To be cmifiiuir'u)