Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2659, 27 July 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelist.

[ALL IUGUTS KKSKKVEI).] Love's Labour Won: AX EVKNTI'UL STOIIY. BY JAMES GRANT. Author nf "'The Ilonianco of War," " The Black Watch," " J<"airor than a Fairy," &c., &c. CHAPTER XXllL—Evknrs AT ROSK COTTA«K,

Tiiaxk God lie has gone," was the the thought of Mr. Gideon Grimsliaw, as he pulled up his gill-like shirt collar with satifaction, on seeing the departure of the Pagoda, P. anil 0. Liner, from Southampton, announced in a morning paper. " I always feared that some confidences of his might spoil all at Ravensbourne ; but he lias gone in silence, behaved like a trump in that respect, and now we have the field and the baronet to ourselves."

The " we" referred to Mrs. Chillington; but bGth were rather mortified when, after an absence from home of some days, Sir Brisco's letters to tlieui came to hand, and made them aware that he knew fully of " Miss Talbot's engagement to, or entanglement with—which you will—Captain Lonsdale." So the worthy pair feared they might have rather a difficult game to play in landing so big a fisli in their net for Melanie ; and Mrs. (Jhillington, while exonerating the baronet from any suspicion of espionage, was vehement and bitter in Jier denunciation of what she termed, " unseemly out-of-door phi landering." Melanie felt that it was terrible to have the great and tender secret of her heart so roughly dragged into the light of day by these two old conspirators again and again ; and she had a particular dread of her Aunt Chillington coining to swoop down upon her, for that lady, with all her stateliness, her magnificent white hair and charming little feet and hands, had a great strength of will and purpose, as her full, square chin and stern, straight-lipped mouth evinced. She was a dame who throughly knew her own mind, and always got her own way, by sheer dint of doggeel intention.

After what he had, so much to his own annoyance and mortification discovered, Sir Brisco for a time purposely avoided .Rose Cottage, to let Melanie settle down and become composed, and meanwhile, when September came solaced himself with cub-hunting. Her mad infatuation for a young otlicer, who had merely crossed her path, and had only his good looks and V.C. to recommend him, would, lie doubted not, die out, with absence and separation ; and he never believed in the theory that the latter made the heart grow fonder. At forty years of age a man takes a love trouble badly, but at sixty it becomes, we should suppose, a kind of quiet obstinacy to persist in it. Melanie was no longer worried now, after her absences when visit-

ing or rambling, by seeing Uncle Grimsliaw confronting her repeater in hand, with an ominous frown on his narrow brow and a suspicious glare in his pale eyes. With the departure of Montague Lonsdale, the chief occupation of her life, latterly, was gone; and already she had begun to reckon the weary days—days so piteously weary and vague —that she must live without him.

" What have we done, Montague and I, that we should have learned to love each other and then be so rudely parted, it may be for life— for life perhaps 1" was often her aching thought. "Forget him! They hoped she would, judging by their own hearts ; but in memory his face was ever before her, without the aid of photography ; his voice ever in her cars and the fond hopes that could end only with life, she thought, were high in her soul; but nothing save these memories came to her just then, amid the vacant greyness of existence at Rose Cottage; nor would she have tidings of him till the steamer reached Port Said, probably; but to her joy she had letters from headquarters, from Southampton, from Malta, and from Egypt; and then she could but read them in succession over and over again, for she knew that she should hear no more until he reached the shores of India,

These letters were all duly delivered to her by the postman, but now Unclo Grimshaw thought of introducing a locked letter-bag for the cottnge, a bag of which he posessed the key, and with what view we shall show.

After the Port Said letter, how flat, stale and colourless and unprofitable seemed the course of daily life at R,ose Cottage, now that he was far away to the stirring scenes of his military career in the far east and it seemed as yet a vain task to count the days of his absence, or reckon on the time of his return.

His return ! How remote and far ofl that event, seemed to her. And so the grey life went on, with its half-seen clouds and breakers ahead.

Suddenly there came a day which she long remembered. She had first been looking over her housewife's books and knitting her pretty brows in perplexity over long rows of figures, and then assisting Dick with his French and German, till he grew worried and she grew weary, when Uncle Grimshaw, with a smile of unalloyed malevolence shining in his colourless eyes and rippling all over his usually complacent face, said ; " Who do you think has sailed with him in the Pagoda 1 ? ' Him —do you mean Montague ?' asked Melanic

" Captain Lonsdale—yes." " I have never thought or cared," said she, wearily. " You do care." " How ?" " Miss Hilda Tremavne, a young lady of whose proclivities, I believe, you are aware '{" " Who was your informant 1" " Your Aunt Chillington—it is ill the Morning Post." Now, Uncle Grimshaw had never heard of Miss Tremayne before : hut Mrs. Chillington had duly informed him, from her knowledge, that these tidings might be a trump card to play for mischief ; and they were not without a most unpleasant effect upon Melanie. " Hilda Tremayne V she repeated in a breathless voice, as her colour

changed Did Lonsdale kno v when they parted that this enterprising young lady was going to India with him in the same ship 1 If so, why did he conceal his knowledge, and why omit the fact in his last letter 1 To avoid annoying her, as prudence and confidence suggested, if that was his real reason, which Uncle Grimsliaw was acute enough, by torturing insinuation to render cloudy, vague, disquieting and vile. "If she is engaged to a Mr. Musgrave, what is she doing 011 board that Indian steamer 1" asked Melanie, all ignorant that the failHilda only went so far as Port Said.

" Who told you she was engaged to anyone 1" " Montague Lonsdale." "Of course, to throw dust in your eyes, poor fool; or her marriage, as in many other instances, may have been broken off. Any way, the name of her father, the general, appears also among the passengers. Melanie became silent, and the strange coincidence gave her food for much thought, especially after she had convinced liorsell—which she did—by perusing the list of passenger in the Pagoda ; and it Avas equally patent to her that Montaguo Lonsdale had never referred to the mysterious presence of Hilda on board.

For a time it stung Molanio to the heart ; but still she hoped it might be explained away by his next letter which she oxpected from the Point de Galle. Meanwhile, however, the episode was one out of which Uncle Grimshaw was artful enough to make the most and worst, acting upon hints from (Jliillington Park ; but ere long Melauie had more pressing matters — growing troubles' —-nearer at hand to occupy hor mind. She did not see much of her friend Amy Brendon just now ; doubtless the latter was full of her own happiness and the progress of

her love affair with Horace Musgrave, and Melanie rather liked to be alone.

Alone, that she might be free to frame excuses for Lonsdale's silence in the matter of Hilda Tremayne, that she might think of him uninterruptedly as much as she cliose, and look forward with growing and happy confidence to the time of his return ; but, also, how much had lie inevitably to pass through in the way of danger from the risks of war and a most pestilential climate, ere that day came.

Melanie seomed now to be no longer a girl, but a women ; one with an heritage of pain, with something of humilation and desolation in her eyes at times, while striving to give all attention to the studies of Dick, to relieve Mr. Grimshaw's pocket as much as possible ; and Dick, feeling himself somewhat of a millionaire, with Lonsdale's sovereigns, had invested in boxes of gloves and perfumes for Melanie, in a fine meerschaum for Keggie, and a new and most resplendent collar for Bingo, to whom he discovered Uncle Grimsliaw surreptitiously administering a most vicious kick when the poor animal was merely sitting on a mat outside the door, and scraping at the latter with two little impatient paws, as rapidly as they were wont to scratch into the liolos of rabbits and rats.

Dick had nover forgotten wlio it was that some time before this had made away with all his rabbits and white mice, and vowed vengeance, lie despised the adjunct of a hedgehog 011 this occasion, and with no small skill contrived to introduce an entiro wasps' nost in closo vicinity to his affectionate uncle's bed, with a stinging result which that personage was unlikely to forget to his dying day.

CHAPTER XXIV. —The Despatch Box. "No letter for me, undo —110 letter for me ?" again asked Melanie, with, a haggard and anxious expression of face, as Mr. Griinshaw, after investigating the contents of his new institution, the letter bag, or despatch box, rather, carefully re-locked it, and consigned the key to his pocket. " None, I regret to say," he replied with perfect coolness, then, spreading, a napkin add applied himself to liis breakfast, beginning with a fata do/oie yrats. "What can liavo happened?" cxclaimed Melanie, looking about her with a bewildered air.

" That which often happens, especially with soldiers and sailors," said Mr Grimshaw, as a malicious smile spread over his face and seemed to ripple up to the summit of his bald shining pate ; " your friend Captain Lonsdale has gone far away, and, like most men of his kind, has many modes of getting over that separation which you feel so hard to endure. He has comrades, duties to attend to, change of scene, amusements, pleasures—a shining stream of life to float upon; but you, and women like you, who are compelled to stay at home, must stifle all such thoughts as impossible — these regrets for selfish forgetful ness amid the tame surroundings where, perhaps, you have once been so happy—pursuing the same vapid occupations and seeing the same persons, while the man—but we won't talk of him," said Mr Grimshaw, rasping up his hom-liko sido tufts and feeling rather pleased with his own eloquence, after putting poor Lonsdale's last letter, unopened into the fire.

" How can you say those things, uncle ?" asked Melanie, with difficulty restraining her tears, and reading a strange expression of mistrust in the eyes of Eeggie— mistrust of Mr Grimsliaw

Absence is said to make the heart grow fonder," resumed the latter; " but I believe that enough of it will tend to forgetfulness rather than doepor regard."

"How cruelly practical you are!" said Melanie in a low voice.

If Lonsdale had written from the Point do Grallo, his letter must have miscarried, she thought, and she must now have patience till he reached Calcutta.

" Military men are no doubt very odd," said Aunt Chillington, who had como to spend a few days at the cottage, with the view of influencing her neice. "We know not, but lie' may have a -wife alroady—like that wretch Montrcssor of the same regiment ! I daresay every man in it has a couple, at least," she addod, as if referring to the IV. Veteran Battalion, of famous memory.

Knowing the folly of opposing her aunt in a war of words, Melanie withdrew to write to Lonsdale pouring out all the sorrowful secrets of her affectionate heart, asking him for a little information about Hilda Tremavne, and describing her own disappointment and anguish at not receiving a letter from the Point de Galle ; and this missive she pressed thrice to her lips ere—with a prayer in her heart —she dropped it into the fatal despatch-box, which Uncle Grimshaw took especial care should never carry it to the post at Stokoucross. And thus their correspondence was intercepted both ways. All the old arguments and advice were now repealed to her, ad nauseam. " You throw aside the substance for a childish notion—a romantic preference," said Mrs Chilling'on, all her laces quivering like ruffled feathers with indignation. My heart is Montague's"

thought the poor, worried girl "and Montague's it shall be, even if we never meet in this world again."

"Wilful all her life; obstinate from her cradle!" said Uncle Grimsliaw, unjustly in his anger. "I dare not think what will become of Melanie and those brothers of hers if she disappoints us in this matter."

"It is atrocious, after all the time and money I spent upon her last season," said Mrs Chillington. " Atrocious indeed."

" She aught to know that now all girls marry for an establishment; they did so even in my time ; and with money one can do so much." Mrs Chillington was charitable— so eminently charitable. Was a subscription list to bo formed, a bazaar got up, a scheme for poor children, for the daughters of clergymen, a charity hall to clothe niggers—the old story —she always figured as a lady patroness, after she had carefully scanned or ascertained, the names of those among whom she was to rank in print. She was a great believer in print. " The season is quite a thing of the past, in town, of course," said Mrs Chillington, in a deeply aggrieved tone; ''but it is rather hard that I should bury myself here for a week to advance your interests, Melanie." " And I fear, aunt, that after the opera, the Lyceum, and so forth, you will iiud our penny readings at Stokenoross School vory mild dissipation indeed," replied Melanio who felt provoked amid her sorrow, as her two relatives were never weary of ringing the changes on the brilliant proposal of Sir Brisco, of its many temptations and advantages, how liavensbourne would be a home for the helpless Reggie if ought befell his uncle, and how Dick's future prospects would be the kind baronet's special care. " A man like that — an old baronet, my dear "

" Old, indeed !" " I mean his title is old, lie is a catch —lie is not likely to give another chance to a girl like yon — one of a broken-down and povertystricken family. Twenty thousand pounds per annum! Are you mad ?" asked Mrs Chilling ton, fanning herself vigorously. Melanie sighed with weariness of heart. How often had she heard all these bitter things before!

" When will the time come," she thought, " when parents and guardians will cease to interfere in any fashion with the choice of husbands and wives, enforcing their own real or pretended experience, while talking of old heads on young shoulders, and so forth ? A man, at least, is lucky; he can generally choose for himself." Autumn was drawing on, and still the despatch-box contained no letter for Melanie. What did it, what could it mean, this most unaccountably cessation in the correspondence of Montague Lonsdale 1

In all that time she had heard nothing of him, or from him, and she knew not how or when to prosecute her inquiries. No answer had come to her passionate, loving and latterly reproachful letters ; and yet she loved him as much as ever, though growing weary and heartsick by that long and unbroken silence. " Why does he not write to me ?" she often said to her confidant, Reggie. " Has he ceased to care for me 1 Has he seen someone else 1 Is he too busy, too ill—oh no, no— not that 1 Has he repented of his engagement to a penniless girl, -who has only her love to give him 1

But Reggie had his own suspicions and stoutly declared that all these fears were groundless.

"Why waste your thoughts— your regret—upon him ?" asked Uncle Grimshaw one morning, as he re-locked the despatch-boy in angry haste. "Is he not too contemptible for it 1 Has he not proved himself alike false, fickle and indifferent. Is lie worth a tear V'

But poor Melanie shed many more, and Reggie writhed on his couch as lie listened to their blatant uncle j and meanwhile she had many hopeless days and half-sleepless nights. "We do well," says a writer, " to cover up and hide these sorrows that all of us go through once, at least, in our lives—sorrows for which there is no cure, no solace, no consolation, save in the gradual hardening of our own hearts and the healing touch of that most merciful of all consolers whose name is Time."

And as the weeks passed on, Mr. Grimshaw could see, but with more anger than pity, that the once faintly rose-tinted cheeks of Melaniegrew pale and wan ; that her sweet, grey-violet eyes began to wear ahopeless expression, while a dark cloud of despair and suspense hung over her head-—the herald of a storm she could not, dared not

Now that Lonsdale was gone —a species of double separation accomplished—Mr. Grimshaw and Mrs. Chillington advised Sir Brico, when, with Melanie, to ignore all he knew of her love affair to forget it, as they hoped she would soon do ; or to look upon it as girlish and romantic folly ; to trust to silence, time, a sense of her own interests, and so forth.

To do him justice, Sir iirisco Bravbrooke was neither cruel nor unreasonable; nay, much the reverse, indeed. But he was too old to understand a young girl's love ; and though he knew not tho actual

pressure that was then put upon Melanie, and was to be put still further, by the cruel alternative they gave her, he thought: " Oh, it is all right : all girls have first fancies, and she will get over her silly one for that Infantry fellow, poor Lonsdale, and all will be jolly in the end." "Be true to Montague, and do not let them control you through me," said Reggie to her; " there is some trickery at work. Let them browse upon the jigger as they please," he added, sliding into his nautical phraseology, ■' and try to bring you up with around turn; but I will go to a hospital—yea, to the workhouse, or anywhere to save you, dearest Melanie.

And as he spoke the poor fellow put his wasted arms round her, and drew her sweet face caressingly on his breast.

Inspired by a kind of superstition of the heart, she frequently visited their late trysting place by the river side, and in doing so, by recalling more vividly the last words and last gaze of Lonsdale, subjected herself to a species of loving self-torture ; and there she would linger, conning over in memory the details of their parting, watching the majestic flow of the Thames, and remembering as she did so the lines of the Scottish poetess, Isa Craig, as she tells us

" It glimmers Through the stems oE the beeches Through the screcu of the willows it shimmers, In long winding reaches ; Flowing so softly that scarcely It seems to be flowing ; But the reeds of tho little low islands Are bent to its going ; And soft as tho breath of a sleeper, It's heaving and sighing, Iu the caves where tho fleets of white lilies At anchor are lying." Then she would wring her slender hand--, as she thought of the cessation of letters and the chasm that thus seemed to have yawned between the past aud the present, with the torturing advice of Aunt Chillington : " Think only of Sit' Brisco, for the sake of your brothers and yourself ; try to forget that other man to whom you bound yourself, as he seems to have forgotten you." (To be continued.)