Novelilst. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] Love's Labour Won:

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2698, 26 October 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelilst. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] Love's Labour Won:

BY JAMES GRANT. Author of "The Kiminncr. of War," "The iilack " Watch," " I'nirer than a Fairy," &c, &c.

AN EVENTFUL STORY.

~ CHAPTER XLIX.—The WANDERER. Crossing the open space, which he knew to lie a field, he vaulted over a low boundary wall, followed by his dog, now barking wildiy and joyously with a full sense of freedom, and found himself in a roadway which led off right and left— he knew not to where, nor cared, so that in either direction he got away from liia present perilous locality. Chancing it, he hurried on a ittle to the left, and then, with a caution beyond his years, paused and listened intently to learn whether his escape had been discovered or if he was followed. Not a sound—not a footfall broke the silence that reigned around him. M« looked sharply about also, but no one was to be seen ; so Dick trod on or ran rather, until lie became ■' breathless. The whole of: the past few hours seemed a kind of nightmare to Dick —a nightmare with only one sympathetic figure in it, that of the kindly sergeant, who he hoped might not get into a scrape through his disappearance, as Dick's ideas of military law were very cloudy ; but he felt high exultation at the idea of baffling Mr Pugwasli, and also of eluding for ever Corporal Gutters, whose visits to the constable's room he never doubted had direct reference to getting Bingo into his hands, for sale or sonio other nefarious purpose. Such a story of his adventures he would have to tell Melauie and Reggie. But when should lie see either -* again 1 Tears started to his eyes at this reflection ; he would not return to his uncle's house, perhaps to find there a warrant for his arrest, issued by the tyrannical Pug wash — for D'ek had a shrewd, but uni)', "'""at suspicion, that by his flight after taking the enigmatical shilling of which he had heard so much, he was somewhat of a deserter. Anyway, he would return that coin, or the value thereof, to Sergeant llawkesly, if he could ; and then, he thought, the compact woud be ended. Past houses and home, the windows of which were closed and dark and the inmates of which were sunk in slet'p, Dick walked on—he knew not whither. He felt cold—miserably so—and all the more when the hours approached morning. He knew not how many miles he had traversed, and supposed they must be many ; yet he had not placed a very great distance between himself and Woodstock after all, as it eventually proved, for after passing a mile or so beyond Chalbury, a little

market town, he got into a network of lonely lanes, that led him partially back in the direction he had come from. High in the sky rode the Queen of Night, " wading," as .Scott describes it, through fleecy clouds, peering down apparently at the lonely warfarer, between the bare, black hedge-rows of the deep old English lanes, and flooding all the long white fields and quaint little paddocks with silver. He discovered an empty cattleshed in the sheltered corner of a paddock, and crept therein for warmth, and to escape the biting wind, which had now become keen and frosty, to add to his misery and enchance the conviction that all the romance of which he once had fancied himself the hero had evaporated. No brilliant or racy adventure had come to Dick, which, after all he had read of the wild peril and daring faced by youthful heroes, was rather disgusting to a boy of pluck and spirit ; and his teeth chattered as he sunk among a quantity of dry straw in a corner, and being well nigh worn out dropped into an uneasy slumber. When he awoke, the sun was shining brightly in a blue and unclouded sky, and frosty rime covered all the landscape. There had been a slight fall of snow in the night, and amid it the little footprints of the robin, and the deeper indentraents of the long-eared hare, were visible to the practised eye of Dick as he came forth, shivering and reluctantly, without wrapper or overcoat, and betook himself to the highway, that was to lead him he knew not where. To cultivate a little warmth, he attempted to run ; but his steps were staggering and uncertain now. Anon he passed a little pond by the wayside. It was overshadowed by some pollard willows—those hideous features in the Dutch and English landscape—but upon it was a group of children belonging to an adjacent farm, sliding to and fro, happy, joyous, full of frolic and life, wiMi noiso, laughter and apple-red cheeks : and pausing for a minute or two, Dick watched them wistfully, enviously. Suddenly there was a migled yell of terror—the ice, which was slight and thin, cracked from end to end. a little girl fell in, and the rest fled with cries of terror and dismay, leaving her to her fate. Amid the broken ice, the child rose and sank again, while the shrieks of a woman were heard : " Oh, my child—my poor child— she is under ice now, and I—l cannot swim." " But I can," cried Dick ; " and I'll save her too !" Without the hesitation of a moment, he went headlong into the chasm—for the pond was deep— and the woman continued to shriek and shudder and wring her hands, as she saw Dick, struggling amid the broken ice and whirling water, grasp, once, twice, and thrice, a dark object below the surface, and then rise with his face cut by a sharp fragment ; but after a third attempt he got the little girl to land, and placed her, voiceless and all but senseless with cold and terror, in the arms of her mother, who, in the mental agony of the moment, forgot to give the preserver a word of thanks, but rolled her apron round the dripping rescued child, and bore her off towards the house. Drenched, the icy water pouring from his clothes, more cold and more miserable than ever, chilled to the very marrow of his bones, the unfortunate Dick Talbot looked wistfully, helplessly and hopelessly after her. Ho was about to follow, and in the humility that was born of loneliness and misery to seek for food and warmth at the ruddy fire, the steady radiance of which he saw streaming from a niullioned window on the frosty atmosphere and the bleak waste of wintry fields, when his eye caught the sight of something red upon the adjacent highway. Whether it was the coat of a soldier or aught else, Dick nßver thought of waiting to see; but thinking only of pursuit and re-capture, he glanced wildly about him for a place of concealment. Near the pond was a barn, above which was evidently a spacious loft, to which a ladder gave access. Staggering like a drunken man, he scrambled up the ladder, cast it down after doing so, and found himself in a dry and cosy place that was piled nearly to the roof with straw, fodder for the cattle below ; and there, after wringing, as best he could, the water from his coat and trousers, he burrowed, as he had done on the first night of his flight, for warmth ; and then a faintness came over him, the rpsult of all he had undergone—anxiety, weariness, dread, and lack of that sufficient repose so necessary for the young ; but now sleep-—the sole luxury of the poor and the toil-worn —induced by comparative comfort, came upon Dick, and his dog crept close beside him. He must have lain thus for some hours. When full returned, he knew not what the time was, whether midnight or the early winter morning ; but the short day had evidently passed, and complete darkness set in. He knew perfectly well where he was, but lay still, feeling the while, every limb stiff and sore ; and it was something I'ke a miracle that fever did not attack hrm. lie was

about to cloze off agaii. when he was roused by the vehement yelping of Bingo, whom he found affectionately licking his hands and face; and then the more furious barking of tlie clog thoroughly aroused him. A red hazy light flashed along the loft in which he lay, showing the bare and cobwebby rafters above the piled straw below, and a couple of men making their way towards him, one armed with a doublebarrelled gun and the other with a pitchfork. The first, by his costume appeared to be a farmer, in shoot-ing-coat, ample waistcoat and long gaiters, fat, cosy and well-to-do looking ; the other, a shock-headed yokel in knee-breeches, hob-nailed shoes, and the inevitable smock frock, which, as it is the attire of Norman peasants probably came into England with her conquerers. "Come, tumble np , ?" cried the farmer angrily. " How many more of you are there among that i straw. , ?" A great alarm fell upon Dick, and all his spirit had departed now. Tears started to his eyes again, as he thought of Molanie and his poor lame brother, both so loving and tender. " Yes," he muttered ; " I shall be murdered now, I suppose, and no one will hear of it—how or where V " Tumble up and toddle out, I say !" cried the former again, striking the but end of his gun on the floor. " You are one of those rascally tramps that steal my hens and set my barns a-fire by smoking among the hay and straw. Oft'with you all, or I shall summon the police!" "All ? —I am hero alone, sir," said Dick, staggering up with difliculty, and half-blinded by the glare of the lanturn held before his eyes. " There ain't no more than this boy, Mr Mopps,' , said the yokel, after peering about and prodding the straw with his pitchfork. " Where do you come from—who am your friends, you young warmint '!" " Oli, sir," said Dick, now almost incapable of -standing, " do be kind, please; I have neither father nor mother nor homo,'' This broke clown the indignation of the farmer, who of late had suffered much from the depreciations of " tramps," as he called them, who had robbed his henroosts, and fired 'his hayricks more than once by the reckless use of lighted matches ; but he was a kindhearted man and saw that the boy, if pale, sorely fagged and "seedy " in aspect, was a handsome one, with crisp golden hair, and honest, featles.s blue oyos. " Gome down from this place and let us have a look at}'ou," said he, loth to become too pitiful suddenly; and Dick followed him from the loft, down the ladder, into the keen air of the winter evening, where he fell in a heap, half-lifeless on the ground. " Wife ! wife ! look here !" cried Farmer Mopps, in great dismay, as he carried Dick into the kitchen and set him in a chair near the fire. " Oh, mammy," cried a little girl, peeping fearfully at him, "this is the boy—the boy who pulled me out of: the water !" " And who ran away before I could thank him," exclaimed the farmer's wife. "So he is, John— the same boy—poor child, he looks like death."

" Dang it," cried the farmer, "is this the case 1 Was it you that saved my little lass in the duckpond f But Dick was past responding; he could only gasp an assent, while the smaller children gathered round him in fear and wonder ; but the unwonted warmth brought back circulation, life and energy to Dick quickly now, amid the many comforts of the spacious farm kitchen. Long before the present time, the farm-house had been a manor, and hence was huge, rambling, straggling, and very quaint, but very comfortable. There were spacious old wainscotted parlours, where many a glass of old port had been drunk to " the king over the water, and the confusion of all Hanover rats," and where the squires of the past had hung their swords, their whips and hunting gear; but were now used as storage rooms for bacon and apples, potatoes and lumber. The family of Farmer Mopps, it would appear, were just about to sup, when Bingo's barking had sounded au alarm and drawn attention to the supposed tramp in the straw-loft. A fire blazed up the spacious chimney, which was lined by old blue Deft tiles ; the red-brick floor was closely swept and slightly sanded, yet not a footstep had marred its perfect cleanliness and neatness ; a snow-white cloth covered the heavy oaken table, and thereon were tea and hot cakes for the children, culd beef, pie, and a tankard of brown October for the farmer. So ere long Dick found himself in clover, thoroughly renovated, and in the eyes of the old couple the little hero of the house, as the saver of their eldest daughter from the depths of the duckpond. On being questioned about himself, he became unusually reserved for his years, and passing over his military aspirations and the episode connected therewith, he only stated that he had run away from home in consequence of illtreatment ; and received the unpalatable advice that it was his duty to return to that home at once, whereever it was.

Burly Farmer Mopps was full of fun and jollity, and sung merrily to his youngest child, who crowed upon his knee. Among other ditties was one which was painted ou his huge ale tankard, a vessel more than a hundred years old ; and he carolled it out with great gusto :— Let the wealthy and great lioll in splendour and state, I envy them not, I declare it ; I own my own lamb, My chickens and ham, I shear my own fleece and I wear it. I have lawns, I have bowers, I have fruits and sweet flowers, And the lark is my morning alanner ; So sing, jolly boys, now, " Here's God bless the plough, With long life and good luck to the farmor." Meanwhile, Dick's four-footed companion crouched by the genial fire—he had not seen one for some time past —and the children stuffed him with cake and scraps of meat. " A good dog !" said the farmer, approvingly. "I had just such a terrier once—a Scotch one he was —and he went up a drain after a rat, till he got wedged in somehow, and had to bo dug out by the shovel. ' Four men were two hours at it ; and he was never a hair the worse." Betimes the household of Farmer Mopps, whose sister-in-law was housepeeper at Ravensbonrne Hall, were all abed. A comfortable sleeping-place was assigned to Dick, whom the farmer, after a conference with his wife and with her earnest concurrence, resolved to take him to his friends on the morrow, whether he desired it or not ; but others, whose influence was unthought of then, were fated to come into the affairs of the young wanderer, for the early breakfast had scarcely been partaken of next day, when, to the consternation of all, then? appeared in the farm kitchen the smockfrockecl yokel, accompanied by Corporal Gutters, of the R.W.F.L.W. 0. Regiment, and a rural constabln.

The two former had met in a roadside tavern ; and the corporal, on hearing the boor detailing, with much exageration and horse-laughter the episode of the discovery in the loft, and that there was a boy and a dog in the case, never doubted who tho wanderer was, and, inspired by the hope of a reward, had followed the trail at once. "My eye !" he exclaimed on seeing Dick ; "you do look like a ghost down on its luck.' , " Now, what may you want, my man ?" asked Farmer Mopps, pausing, with tankard in hand. " Only that 'ere young cove," replied the corporal, eyeing with malice and triumph the shrinking Dick. "Why—and for what?" "Punishment! He has bolted— mizzled—deserted the Queen's service, that is all." " A deserter —this child !" exclaimed tho farmer's buxom wife, starting up. " Precisely. Child—he's one of the devil's own kind, that's wot he is; and he must come along with us—double quick too !" he added, with a glance of appeal to the tall, stolid-visaged constable. All the children now shrieked and yelled, believing that Dick, and his dog too, were to be done to death, as deserters. "Lookee here," said the bluff farmer, " I want none of your larks, my young fellow. This is all stuff; or if a little money " " Money won't do nothing !" said the stripling corporal, adopting a bullying tone; "he must go into the custody of this 'ere coustable till we gets a suitable h'escort to eadquarters." "And what may the penalty be for a boy like this giving you the slip." " Hanging , , niaybo ; and too good for him," said tho corporal with a grin, while the cries of the children were heard again, to his great dolight. " I want nono of your chaff, you young cad!" said tho farmer, assuming his hat and ample greatcoat. " Where is the boy to go? " lie asked, turning to the constable. " Back to Woodstock, sir. It must be, as the corporal says it." Dick's heart sank. He thought of Mr Plantagenet Pugwash, and Pugwash only. " John," cried the farmer's wife, "have the horse put to the dogcart, go back with the boy to the town, and see an end of this folly— for folly it must be," she added, with a hostile glance at Gutters. So in ten minutes more Dick found himself, like one in a dream, but comfortably tucked up in a warm rug, being bowled bcick through, the keen frosty air to Woodstock, with. Bingo between his knees and the corporal and constable seated behind him—a proximity to the civil power by no means to the taste of the Whitechapel warrior. Farmor Mopps drove rapidly, and Dick soon saw the tower of the old Chantry Church, and heard its pretty peal of bells— saw again the streets, the town hall with its piazza, and the place from which he had effected his escape, as it seemed now, in vain.

Now Dick had heard of terrible things being done to daserters—and he was one ! He might be shot perhaps —blown from a gun. What had lie not read of in the tales of war and terror published for the behoof of boys ? He had seen an engraving—who has not seen it?—of a deserter who declined to have his eyes blincVfolded, on one knee before a dreadful platoon of musketry, with his dog rearing against him, to be shot also—-just as Bingo would do in that supreme moment; and Dick almost

wept as he thought of his own demise in this fashion, before a squad of the R. W.L.W.O. commanded by the inexorable Corporal Gutters. But few things in this world happen exactly in tho way we expect them to do. The farmer asked to see a justice of the peace. He was told one was sitting in court now—Pugwash, as Dick's "prophetic soul" feared— and he was lugged, rather than conducted, by the corporal into the justice room again, and lifting up his eyes to the dreaded Bench, he saw, not the grotesque and plebianlooking soapboiler in the central chair thereof, but the gentlemanly presence, suave and pleasant face of Sir Briscc Braybrooke, with his bushy eyebrows and snow-white moustache. " Dick !" he exclaimad ; " Dick Talbot—w hat the duece is this 1 Where is the charge-sheet—what is the matter 1 Where have you been hiding yourself all this time, you young rogue 1" For days and nights Dick had never had his clothes off, and their sodden aspect gave him a rather deplorable look just then. His story was soon told. "Leave the matter to me," said the baronet. " Corporal, you may go; but send here Sergeant Hawksley. I shall arrange all this." And so it was duly arranged by the influence, advice and money of Sir Brisco; and instead of being handed over, as he feared, to the tender mercies of Corporal Albert Edward Gutters, Dick found himself being driven hemeward that evening in the well-hung carriage of the friendly baronet, who laughed heartily at all his adventures and the present end of his visions of military glory. Great was the joy of Melanie at the sudden restoration of the wanderer, her " iost boy," as she called him ; but thp new debt of gratitude to Sir Brisco Barybrooke was a source of perplexity to her, lessened, however, just then, by the fortunate absence of her uncle, who would have made it a reason for indulging in his usual taunts, advice, and the urgence of his matrimonial views and wishes. " Yon shall be a soldier yet, Dick, if you choose; I will send you to Sandhurst as a cadet," were the parting words of Sir Brisco. CHAPTER L.—Marriage Bells. The preparations for Amy Brendon's marriage had meanwhile gone on apace. All was getting fast ready now ; and her Hussar, Horace Musgrave, looking handsome and more like a Hussar than ever, even after his woeful " smash up" in the hurdle race, had come to Stokencross, accompanied by the groomsman, one of the Prince's Own—with a bracelet for the bride ; one of the most beautiful Bond-street could furnish—and taken up his quarters with his kinsman at Ravensbourne Hall. There, too, had come the bright Hilda Tremayne, with her— it is difficult to say —choice (she had smiled on so many), whose initials had caused such dismay to Amy in the past time. So the wedding-day came at last; a bright and clear day, early in December. The whole village of Stokencross was astir betimes ; and coloured mottoes, garlands or false flowers and bright streamers gave a picturesque appearance to the little street overlooked by the ancient church on its green knoll. Amy had but two attendants, Melanie and Miss Aurora Pugwash, judiciously invited to be a bridesmaid by Mr Brendon, as the daughter of a very wealthy parishioner, whose wedding gift far, far eclipsed the poor offering of Melanie. But the next marriage at which the latter officiated, she hoped would be her own. Her own ! How little could she then foresee, when, whore and how she was to figure as a bride. The floral wealth of Sir Brisco's conservatories had been lavished on the decoration of the old village church, as his pineries and vineries | had made the elegance and luxury of the bridal breakfast. Dick Talbot —marriages were of small importance to him, save in so far as a huge piece of cake was concerned—had gone for a ramble in the woods; and his brother Reginald was alone—alone with all Ms own sad thoughts after a sleepless and weary night, for being in- I capable of all exercise, repose came to him fitfully and in snatches; and on this morning, in one of these, he had dreamt of Amy Brendon. He heard her voice talking to him kindly and pitifully, though he knew not the words she used. Ho touched her thick dark hair with his thin, wasted fingers, and played with the piqiumtc fringe that curled nearly to her bright -and laughing eyes; and ere her face began to fade away, lie felt—yes, actually seemed to feel—the touch of her lips, in a farewell kiss, softly and glowingly upon his own; and ho awoke with a start and a halfstifled cry, to find it was] her wedding morning. And now, with the memory of that vivid and tantalising dream. keenly in his mind, he sat near the open window, heedless of the frosty air, reclining on his couch in his usual helplessness, and listening for the passing - sounds that came from the distant village. He reviewed his past life simee he had known her, especially since ho had corne home, a helpless crip-

pie from the coast of Egypt, doomed to beggary by the very Government for which, he had lost health and hope. He thought over the time when he had rejoiced in her society and in the light her beauty and her grave and winning manner shed around him, till the blow struck his heart, when Musgrave came and he knew that she was engaged—was to be married. How he felt none knew save himself. Better, he thought, to have been struck blind—yea, stone dead. He would have avoided her, after that news came — avoided her society and escaped the world ; but he was helpless as a child. All the love of his heart had gone forth to her, allured by her winning ways, her sisterly bearing to him— for Amy never meant or imagined it could be more. Ifc was a perfect love, as he neither hoped nor looked for any return. Her presence to him had been as sunshine cast about the gloom of him of his existence ; and in his silent worship he would cheerfully have laid down his life for Amy, if by doing so he could have served her. His emotions were expressed in the words of Shelley's serenade, as he had often heard her sing it: — I rise from dreams of thee, In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I rise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me—who knows how ?— To thy window-chamber, sweet. Oh lift me from the grass— I die—l faint—l fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas, My heart beats loud and fast; 0!) press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last. The blow he so long expected had fallen at last, and the girl he could only love in secret was lost to him more than ever. In his dumb despair he now realised to the full how great and how futile that love had been. Those two were together now ; ere long there would pass side by side from the altar, where her father had given her away ; and ere long the new made bridegroom would he worshipping the bright beauty of her sunny little face, his arm encircling her waist, and kisses would be where his—Reginald's —-had never been, on her brow, her hair, her lips; while he was here, on his couch, crushed, lonely, desolate, and longing only for death. Suddenly the chimes rang out joyously and merrily in the square ivied tower of the village church : but the sound brought no message of gladness or peace to the ear of Eeginakl Talbot. It came rather like the muffled knell that announces the hour of doom to the dying. He made a wild essay, as if he would start to his feet—instinct with emotion, convulsed by an inward struggle—only to sink back among his cushions, while the old and attached servant, Bethia Barlow, ignorant of his thoughts, of all he felt and endured, burst in exclaiming :■ —■ " The joy bells—the marriage bells of Miss Amy—bless her little heart. You hear them, Master Reginald," she added, as if lie was still a boy, as with clash and clang the notes came upon the frosty air through the open window, where she had swept away the snow, that Melanie might feed the robins as usual.

Intent only on listening to the wedding chimes and the sound of cheering that came from the village, she did not remark the changed appearance of the unhappy young man, who looked, as he felt, dying. As he reclined back, with closed eyes.' he hoped the fiat had gone forth that would bring peace to his over-taxed heart, and, as far as this world is concernod, oblivion to his soul. A fit had eonic upon him—one from which he was long in rallying ; and the dreadful announcement that he " was gone " were the first tidings that met Melanie on her return from the festivities at the vicarage. But Eeginalsl did not die, though left in a more prostrate condition than ever; and another shock of misery now awaited the unfortunate Melanie. (To be continued.)