Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2701, 2 November 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelist.

BY JAMES GRANT. Author of " The Romaucfi of War," " The Black " Watch," " Fairer than a Fairy," &c., &o.

[ALL kigiits reserved.] Love's Labour Won: AN EVENTFUL STORY.

CHAPTER Ll.—Evil Tidings. In the secluded district -tvliere Kose Cottage is situ ated there wore no newspaper shops, with startling posters, to anuounce the great events of the time—even of the preceding day—at the utmost coniines of the earth; thus Burmese news, like other news, came but slowly to the vicinity of Stokeucross. A day or two after Amy's marriage, and all the transient excitement thereof, came one which Melanie Talbot was never to forget. In the air there was a strange stillness, that boded something, she thought, by its actual calmness and sadness, and Melanie was just then impressed by that emotion, when a paper, a day or so old, was purposely left in her way by lier Uncle Griinsliaw, and thereon, the first item that caught her eye was news from Burmah! " Thank God !" had been Mr Grimshaw's exclamation when he read therein. Melanie now felt her heart sinking in her breast, and something prophetic of coming evil—a terrible fear—fell over her. The writer detailed briefly the capture of Myon Gyon, the advance to Ava, and what we have related elsewhere, with the subsequent fall of Captain Montressor, and the too probable death, after capture, of his friend, Captain Montague Lonsdale, | in the jungle, after the operations had concluded and the fighting was supposed to be over. " As the bodies of some of Captain Lonsdale's party were found floating in the river, and all dreadfully mutilated, not a doubt remains," added the telegraphic despatch, " of the fate of that gallant young officer at the merciless hands into which lie fell—Dacoits of the -■orst type. The subsequent discpvery of his white helmet, battered Out of all shape and covered with blood, has been deemed by the .Staff as ample corroboration of their worst fears—another valuable life lost in this inglorious war." Twice, at least, she perused these awful tidings, and sat as if they had turned her into stone. " Melanie V said a voice—her uncle's. A low wail answered him. Its very intensity made him shiver, yet he had in his hand, crushed up, a letter just reeeived from Mrs Chilington—a brief but exulting one. " So, so, this is well," she wrote : "the wretch who has stood so long be ween that fool Melanie ancl wealth and rank is gone at last End lier oonseuse at once the gir

can no longer have any excuse for delay. How I shall enjoy the Crystal Palace fete to-night!" Like one in a dream, Melanie smoothed out the fatal paper with tremulous but tender hands, and carefully folded it, like one who knew not what she did. In our lives, it is said, there are times—even moments —so filled with emotion that they seem to mark a turn in them —a turn we never, never reach again ; and so it was now with Melanie Talbot. Uncle Grimshaw was not one given to tenderness, oven in his best moments. He knew not how to console, even when he wished to do so ; and in the present instance he felt only intense satisfaction, and continued to polish his bald head and twist up his absurd side tufts, while he betook him to brandy and water, leaving Melanie to thecare of old Betliia, who had been a kind of mother to her from childhood. Passive, but faltering, she allowed the fatal print to be taken from her hand, as she was placed in a seat by the kind old woman, who watched anxiously, with pain and wonder, the great change that for a time had come over her. Melanie was, as yet, tearless. The slight colour had gone from her checks, the light from her eyes, and for a time she seemed more dead than alive as she sat drooping in an easy chair.

One hand was pressed heavily against her left side, as if a pain was there ; her breath came in fitful gasps, and her head reclined on the breast of Bethia, whose arms were round her. Then the latter brought her some wine, and insisted upon her swallowing it. She made no effort to do so, and the glass rattled against her teeth till, with a low cry, she burst into a passion of tears. A storm of sobs shook her slender frame, but were a species of relief. Bethia was not sorry to see the tears come—experience taught her that anything was better than the stupitied and despairing expression of that sad young face —the fixed horror of the haggard eyes; and when the sobs grew fainter and less frequent, Melanie reclined on the old woman's ample breast, like the child she had been, and wept freely. So passed the first dreadful day of sorrow, and the night came, yet brought with it no relief from care —no escape from thought. Taken prisoner aud put to death by Dacoits—no trace of him found but his bloodstained helmet! Dead, after deeming her, perhaps, false, her letters having been intercepted, Melanie thought, as the full force of all her misery rushed upon her life—a cold dark wave beneath which she bowed her head. Could she ever take up the prosiac duties of life again—when that life, her heart, her soul, all seemed to have left her ? All that made existence worth having, worth hoping for, was a failure now, and nothing remained but a blank full ot bitter and unavailing sorrow. But no sorrow can last, in its first keeness, and in time she would realise that it would inevitably and inexorably be, in the words of Philips : — " By Time subdued—what will not Time subdue !" In the freshness and poignancy of her grief, his face, his figure, his eyes and voice came painfully, vividly before her in memory now —again and again more than ever, his expression when the first secret of their hearts escaped them mutually, and when she felt the tender touch, the clinging of the lip that first gave her a knowledge of all a loner's kiss contained. How far from what she wished it to be, her treasured photo seemed now ; but how inexpressibly dear it was —dearer than ever was a holy relic to the most pious devotee ! Save her brother Keginald, now more helpless than ever, there was no one to whom she could turn for genuine sympathy. Her heart seemed turned into stone, her brain was throbbing wildly —hearing nothing more, seeing nothing more, conscious only that a dreadful calamity had overtaken her—feeling deprived of power or coherent thought. Sir Brisco Braybrooke sent his cards of condolence. This seemed a kins of mockery, yet it was not so on his part, for he was by nature a kindly old man, and hearing of the the depth of her grief from the vicar and from Mr Grimshaw, he did not intrude upon her at first. When he did call he was somewhat shocked by the change in her appearance.. " In time I may hope to euro all this now," thought tho baronet, while looking into the sweet pale face of Melanie, and listening to her low, vague replies, that filled him with sorrow and something of mortification, while she, sank back in an easy chair, strove to shut out Iris bluff lionest visage, with its husky grizzled eye-brows and white moustache, as that of ono who sought tc come between her and the face oi liini who now lay cold and mouldering in a distant gravo and in a plact to her unknown. "You will think lightly of all this sort of thing to-morrow," saic Uncle Grimshaw, eyeing her with i sardonic glance, when Sir Briscc had taken his departure. "To-morrow — what difi'erenc< can to-morrow make to me ?" askoc Melanie. " Much, I hope." « How—in what way T " Because," said he, with an angri

grin, for her brief intensely bored and disgusted him, " people view things differently, and are always much more sensible and amenable to reason in the morning than at night." "What brings him here?" murmured Melanie; " how can he come when his presence torments me so!" "And yet you owe him much for his kindness," snarled Uncle Grimshaw. For days and weeks after this, with eager and haggard eyes, she sought and searched the public prints with nervous avidity for further tidings of Lonsdale—even for complete details, if such were come—of his death ; but she sought in vain, for nothing of the kind ever appeared. His name seemed to have passed away, his memory to be forgotten, Hiid other men had taken his place. It was inevitable, "For the fashion of this world passoth away." CHAPTER LlL—The Poonqyee. "Every hour" it is written, "we are sowing the seeds of character, which one day may astonish even ourselves by blossoming forth in actions of which we had not supposed ourselves capable." So it was with Montague Lonsdale, who could have little foreseen all he became by the course of events, how patient and watchful how wary, yet resolute, how capable of enduring and facing out to the bitter end, amid the barbarous people whose capative he became, all that he had to encounter. In the jungle he had been knocked down by a blow frem a clubbed musket, then he was dragged up, half senseless, with his face deluged in his own blood, and carried off, partly blinded thereby, by the Dacoits, for what purpose he knew not, helpless, disarmed, incapable of resistance. Thus it was that, save his battered helmet, no trace of him was found by the searchers after the death of Montressor. That he was reserved for some barbarous and protracted death— of ransom the Burmese Dacoits never thought —he had not the slightist doubt. His hands were tightly, painfully bound by a hemp cord, which—that it might shrink and inexorably tighten still more, was carefully and deliberately wetted, a barbarity under which several of our men died in the Chinese War, when their hands decayed and mortified below the wrists.

Through a district where the long reed-like elephant-grass grew to a vast height, he was or driven in haste, while the cord which fettered his arms began fast to occasion torture as it shrank ; and his captors, true Burmese, though men of small stature, seemed, capable of enduring great privations, being strong, wiry, active and muscular ; thus they urged him on without delay of mercy. " In what we call bottom, these people are not inferior to Englishmen," says a writer in the Bengal Harkarn, "and they resemble us in their love of luxury and similar amusements. In true bravery," he adds—incorrectly we think —" they take the lead of all other Asiatics, as no one who has over had an opportunity of seeing them at Kangoon will deny." Lonsdalo's captors _ mocked, grinned, and scowled at him, while chewing the inevitable beetle nut, and jabbered and talked about him evidently ; but iguorauoe of their language loft him equally ignorant of their intentions, his only wonder being that they did not hack him to pieces and save themselves all further trouble on the subject.

■Whatever their intention, it was evidently upset when they overtook two men bearing a third in a species of palanquin, and who, on seeing Lonsdale, uttered a shrill cry and issued an order in a peremptory manner.. On this, the cord that cut his hands was cut through by a sharp dah, and not a moment too soon, as he feared from the extreme torture ho endured, that a little more of such fettering would have nearly wrenched his wrists through, and rendered him a cripple for life, or what was likely to be left of it. He now discovered that his protector was the wounded man whom he had succoured a short time before, and whose bleeding limb he had bound up with a hankerchief — the strange-looking and aged Burmese who, by his yellow silk attire, he now discovered to be a Poongyee, or species of monk—a personage of whom wo have more to relate anon. Not a word he uttered could the luckless Lonsdale understand; but it was evident that the old man recognised him, felt grateful for the succour he had given, and made the Dacoits aware that he was to be spared and protected. Thus their menacing manner changed at once, under his orders and influence, though their covert glances betrayed hostility and baffled spite in the expression of their narrow, almondshaped black eyes and flat olive visages, and huge cheek-bones, narrow foreheads, and course jetty hair, all of which were indicative of the Hindu-Chinese type—for such the Burmese are —a people described by Father Sangermano in 1785 as "servile, slothful, brutish and false." The undressed wound on his head occasioned Lonsdale intense pain and no small anxiety, when day began to break, and he knew that uptime it would attain its tropical heat; while its captors were still

proeeeding—he knew not in what directing, save that by the position of the sun he supposed it must be inland, or to the east of the Irawaddy far from the welcome sight of the smoky funnels of the river steamers —at once so suggestive of Europe, civilisation, and of home. By order of the Poongyee, some f oo d—such as rice and cold fowl, with chillies and pounded fish, all taken, with other plunder, from a house they had passed—was given to him when the whole party halted to refresh, in a wild and lonely place amid the jungle scenery. Mean while, the poor old Poongyee, who lay in the palanquin in agony, alternately fanning himself and telling over his rosary made of large seeds strung together, took only a little boilud rice, served up on a green leaf, and washed down with spring water. The sun was rising over the leafy wilderness, through which glimpses could be had o£ a misty grey horizon, overhung by clouds iu masses full of brilliant tines, and in the immediate foreground, where the halt was made, the lengthened shadows lingered till the sunlight pierced

til em. The Dacoits in whose hands Lonsdale now found himself were twenty in number, and were Peguens, who inhabit the lower valleys of the great river, and a few Karens or wild tribesmen from the mountain ranges ; and four or five there were whose bright red cotton tunics and baggy blue trousers showed that ■ they were fugitives from the army of King Theebaw, whose reign had now drawn to a close. Lonsclale knew enough of the Poongyees to be aware that with their strict ideas—for in their outward life and the observance of rules those of Burmah are more rigid than their brethren in Siam— such companions would not be the choice of the old man in the palanquin ; but none was left him just then by the force of circumstances, and they were in duty bound—after his accident from the random shot —conveying him to his monastery, where they arrived about nightfall about three days after, and departed, leaving Lonsdale's head on his shoulders, but with evident reluctance. However, he had not seen the last of them. There he remained for some weeks, unable to effect an escape with the least hope of safety or success in making his way through paddy fields, water cuts, forests and wild jungles infested by savage animals and equally savage Dacoits. Without weapons, a guide, and knowledge of the language, it seemed impossible to reach the Irawaddy, where alone his desire might be accomplished. He was ignorant now of all that was passing in Burmah, ignorant of the operations of our troops, as to whether they were still in the land of the White Elephant or had re-

turned to India, and of anything subsequent to the surrender of King Theebaw to General Prcndergast, and that Bhamo had fallen to the latter—Bhamo, the great town of Pegu, where the yearly caravan from China arrives laden with treasure, vermillion, velvets, umbrellas, and pheasants; ignorant also of Lord Dufferin's important proclamation, to the effect that "by command of the Empress Queen, it is hereby notified that the territories formerly governed by King Theebaw will no longer be under his rule, but have become part of Her Majesty's dominions, and will, during Her Majesty's pleasure, be administered by such officers as the Viceroy and Governor-General of India from time to time may appoint," i.e., thatßurniah was annexed by Great Britain, with its one hundred and fifty thousand square miles of country and four million of souls.

He was suffering meanwhile fnr.n his slowly healing wound, and saw with no small anxiety that his patron and protector, the aged Poongyee, was evidently sinking under the, effect of his lacerated limb, which medical skill of a Burmese kind could not cure. The monastery was rather untenanted just then. Many Poongyees had fled to the hills of Pegu in terror of the British invaders, and some who had been found unworthy to be professed members of the service of Buddha, had been stripped of their yellow garb, degraded and expelled, to resume a secular course of life. Built near a pyramidal temple dedicated to Buddha, this monastery occupied the slope of a hill above a minor tributary of the Irawaddy, and though sick of his inactivity and apparently hopeless detention there, Lonsdale could not, as yet, complain of being either ill-lodged or ill-fed ; for it was not then the three months of the Buddhist Lent, and offerings of fruits, rice, ghee, flowers and so forth—apart from many other good things—came freely in from the devout, but nothiti« of the nature of flesh, as the strict religion of Buddha forbids the sacrifice of animal life for food, so far as ecclesiastics especially are concerned. The most humble of all God's creatures was the poor Poongyee, •who, in his spirit of gratitude, protected Montague Lousdale, whom he, no doubt, would have sent to the British head-quarters had he possessed the means of doing so with any hope of safety. He set no store upon the life ho was evidently so soon to leave himself.

In the lives of these strange communities, Lonsdale saw much that had been, of course, hitherto quite unknown to him.

No priest ever kindles a fire, lest by so doing he may deprive some animal of life; hence he takes the simple food, bestowed in charity, just as he receives it from the ffiver. He is bound to procure that food bv " the labour of his feet;" thus, in the early morning, Lonsdale saw them, as soon as they could " distinguish on their hands," setting forth from the monastry each with his sabeit or wicker work basket, with which, but in deepest silence, he paused at each door to receive such cooked -food as the devout chose to accord ; and —like that of the Scours de Charitc in Europe— the food thus obtained was shared with the poor and necessitous. In every convent was a zara or reader, who is treated wish respect and awe. "They are held," says a recent writer, "in the highest respect by all ranks of the people, and from the Sovereign to the beggar in the street. Their dress, their mode of life, their renunciation of the world and its pleasures draw on them the admiration of the laity. When they appear in public places they are the objects of the greatest deference, and all people, whatever may be their social position, give way to them. . . Throughout British and Upper Burmah the respect paid to the order is everywhere apparent, in the liberality with which their wants are supplied, the size and beauty of the dwellings built for them by laymen, the respectful language in which they are addressed, the submissive attitude of those who appear before them, or in the pomp displayed on the occasion of the solemn cremation of their mortal remains after death." So in the care of these people Lonsdale was safe, apparently, till Dacoits became rampant over all the land between Rangoon and Bhamo. Yet his impatience of the life he led grew stronger every day now that his wound was completely healed. His thoughts for ever rose on his brother officers, on the regiment and what it might be doing, on the deaths of poor Digby Montressor and other good fellows, on the unfortunate Claire, now really a widow in a distant land. More than all did his thoughts, of course, run on Melanie, and how she might be situated. Had she heard of his capture—it might be of his death 1 All these surmises coursed through his mind again and again, and knowin" , the malign stars that reigned over her destiny, his soul rightly foreboded the worst, and seemed to writhe within him in his wild and eager longing to procure arms and quit his monotonous life among the Poongyees, not one word of whose language could he understand.

His protector's hours seemed numbered, and the latter was evidently sinking fast, when there came to the monastery a Pqongyee_ or Rahoan, who had once been ill a Portugese merchant's oflice in Rangoon, and who, in trade, had frequently come in contact with the British. Thus he had picked up some of that gibberish known as " pigeon English," by means of which he made Lonsdale aware of tho progress of recent events; and that though Burmah was supposed to be conquered, and its king was departed, a great dacoitee was springing up on every hand ; and that, weekly, fresh troops, horse and foot, were pouring from Bengal into the land of the rubies; that hostile bands were springing up everywhere, that his existence in the monastery was known to some of these, and that if the old Poongye, who was an influential s«ra,died, several were certain to eome and demand that he—Lonsdale—should be delivered up to them, and they were certain to slay, perhaps impale him, with the greatest barbarity. With this intelligence to think of on one hand, he knew, on the other, that in a country where every man's hand was against him, and where his race, European features and completion, proclaimed him the foe of all, his chances of ever being free and in safety again were infinitesimally small. (To be continued.)