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Novelist.

BY JAMES GRANT. Author of "The Komance of War," "The Black " Watch," " if'airer than a Fairy," &c., kc.

[all kights b&sfbved.] Love's labour Won: AN EVENTFUL STORY.

CHAPTER LVll.—Desperation. Df all we have detailed in these two preceding chapers Melanie knew nothing, and too probably would never know. Meanwhile, at Rose Cottage, each day passed like that which had gone before it—dull, empty, profitless ; nothing pleasant seemed ever to happen, nothing at all ; but now, as a gloomy change, deep sorrow had fallen on one, at least.

One thought was ever before her. Montague Lonsdale was gone, in the bloom of his strength and manhood, as she had seen briefly and coldly recorded, without comment, in the public prints ; and she had a long life before her, perhaps—a life in which he could bear no part, save as a memory.

The doubt, that conies to all when the loved are gone, that we have in any way failed iheni, was strong in the heart of Melanie now ; while before her floated the recurring memory of tender words and carresses, of many sweet and graceful actions on the part of her two brothers in her misery—actions that knit the three together in affection at this sorrowful crisis.

Melanie knew that Lonsdale was the last of his race—the last of the old Lonsdales of Cumberland. She knew also that he had neither father nor mother, nor other kindred to sorrow for hira, hence her own sorrow was all the deeper.

With all this on her mind, she had the hard pressure of her uncle and aunt to undergo in their views regarding her, for, as the former phrased it, " now or never was the time to put on the screw !" Since the day of Amy's marriage, Eeggie had become more helpless than ever, and his removal somewhere, from his uncle's roof, seemed to have become inevitable now, unless Melanie was ready to sacrifice herself.

"If life has no better promise than this, death were preferable," said she.

"Rubbish! Bosh!" muttered Uncle Grimshaw.

" It's hard enough," thought the girl, "to eat the bread of dependence, without'having it flung in your face, as we three have."

And so a terrible conviction >egan to press upon her now, hough all her sorrow and unavailng anxiety, that her fate would iventually be a marriage with Sir 3risco, for the sake of the two whose uture seemed to depend upon it; nd in the rush of blind desper.tion, to save Reggie from humili,tion and to prosper Dick, she legan to school herself to face the. uture in any fashion her Uncle Trimshaw and Aunt Chillington fished ; while in their eyes, voices nd hearts, there was neither comiunction or pity. So after weeks nd months of despondency on one ide, of taunts and sneers and bitter loom on the other, Melanie, like a unted creature, at last consented.

She would hear the last appeal of Sir Brisco.

Uncle Grimshaw chuckled hideously and rubbed his hands over each other in glee as he thought of the settlements, which ho knew would be noble; and also, as he thought of the flesh-pots of Ravensbourne Hall. No more rchav.fes of cold mutton, with rice pudding and cheap Madiera—ugh ! And then to think of Sir Brisco's rare old port—rare as to its bouquet and aftertaste, in glasses of six to tho bottle.

Melanie only saw the net from which there was no escape closing its meshes around her.

" I must go through with it all— all to the bitter end," she thought; " there is no one else to care for me now," she added aloud, unconsciously. " A right view," said Uncle Grimshaw, approvingly, " Well," he added, looking at his watch, " in an hour Sir Brisco will be here for your final decision."

Terrified, perplexed, overwhelmed by grief and chagrin— grief for Lonsdale, and chagrin for the pitiful came she was compelled to play, an emotion of desperation, wo call it, stole over her as she realised the fact that ho was coming for a reply in sixty minutes, and that, by the ond of these sixty minutes, the future of her young life would be decided. Yes or no!

When Sir Brisco came, her aspect, as she gave him her hand for a moment, chilled and mortified him, as he was generously anxious to protect and befriend her. He noted her plain dark dress with its jet ornaments, and knew why it was worn; he noted also her pallor and lassitude, but never doubted that in time all that would pass away like a summer cloud, could he but win her. Already he had said again and again all that he had to say on the subject; but now, momentarily chagrined, he paused. "Then you will not have me, Melanie ? " he asked, doubtfully.

Silent for a minute she remained, and then, while trembling from head to foot, she replied in a dry and husky voice—a whisper, almost : " Yes—l will marry you." "You will?" She bowed her head in assent. *' Just as I was beginning to lose all hope- —Oh, Melanie!" he exclaimed, with joy. " But say nothing more—more I could 1101 stand just now/'she added, as she tottered to a seat.

She had promised, she thought, but the worst part was yet to come —the future, and like one unconscious of what sho did, she sat clasping and unclasping a little jet bracelet on her slender wrist.

Satisfied with his progress, after lingering a little and hovering in a fatuous kind of way about her, he kissed her hands with old-fashioned courtesy, and bowed himself out, feeling as if he trod on air in his triumph 3 and yet he was far from being a vain man.

That evening a suit of diamonds —necklet, ear-rings and bracelets— came to Melanie, nestling brightly in their blue velvet case. " They are a trifle, when compared with the Ravensbourne diamonds, as you, my darling, will see, but they are family relics, and have, for more than two hundred years,been handed down from father to son," said the note that accompanied the gift.

Melanie closed the the case without touching any of the jewels, and —as if to shield her from temptation —placed upon her left wrist the gold bangle sent to her by Lonsdale, his last and only gift from the far east.

She was certainly more composed when Sir Brisco came next day and found her alone again, doubly encouraged by her full promise and her acceptance of his gifts. " >' ow you can have no reason for declining to hear me, Melanie," said the baronet, softly and earnestly, yet in a matter of fact way ; but Melanie, who thought the word " now" referred to her recent calamity, felt there were tears in her heart and voice, while her soul sickened at the whole situation.

" In one short sentence I can embody all I have to say," he urged stroking his snow-white moustache ; " I love you, Melanie."

" And I can make you no return."

" Have you tried ?" he asked, bending over her lias closely as he dared yet. " No." " But why ?" She was silent—thinking the fatal promise of yesterday should content him. "I do not ask—l cannot expect, for a time at least, a girl as young and beautiful as you to return my passion, but you have promised to be my wife—my darling wife ; friendship will grow day by day till it ripens into love, Melanie, if not of profound depth with you, at least such wifely affection as you can bestow, and with which I may be well content. I do not look for that wild love enthusiasts dream of, or romancers seek to depict," he continued, carressitig the moustache which was, unfortunately, so white. " But it may —nay, must—console you, and record my worship of you, that I can befriend those you love so much, and thus smooth away the anxieties of your life."

She knew what he referred to, and, though her breast heaved painfully, she could only hang her head in assent ; then she said,

"You mean to 1)6 kind, Sir Brisco, yet your words are repugnant to me."

" Repugnant—how V " They seem to bribe me." " You won't tell me to-morrow that you have changed your mind T he asked in alarm. " No—why should I change it now—and for what V she asked in turn with a bitter smile. "Do leave me to my own thoughts," she urged. " Be merciful, my sweet one,'' said Sir Brisce, who certainly thought all this kind of wooing was strange ; " give me your hand in mine ere I go." Frankly enough she gave hiui a slim and ringless hand ; then he suddenly drew her towards him and tenderly kissed—not her lips—but her cold and tear-wetted cheek.

" Now do leave me, Sir Brisco V she implored, shrinking. " As my plighted wife, Melanie —ves."

And he retired, fearful that he might hear some fatal response. But confidence came to him fast now, and when he came again he brought their bridal on the tapis, and said, as he drew lier head caressingly on his breast, "One kiss, Melanie, dearest— permit mo—to show that we are something more than friends now."

"Oh—no—no—!" said she in a low voice, as she shrunk from his arms with outspread hands.

The last kiss she had given avus accorded to the only man who had ever saluted her—Montague Lonsdale —and she felt that it would be a species of sacrilege to allow the lips of another to take away the charm of his last—his final farewell.

The baronet suspected as m>ach, but only thought to himself— ' : Stuff! how long will this romantic folly last ?"

AVhile Melanie thought, also, she was to be married now, and this sad superstition of the lieart could not go on for life.

The baronet began to urge about the marriage now, but Mielanie coldly, without a blush, but growing, if possible, paler than ever, would not hear of its taking place sooner than April.

"It seems an age till April!" said he. "But, Sir Brisco—" "Do drop that formal 4 sir,' dearest Melanie." She remained silent. " Lone before that time I Jiad hoped to see you enshrined at Ravensbourne Hall," said he, bowing over her hands in his stiff, .oldfashioned way ; and yet, withal, it was not without its tenderness and grace.

CHAPTER LYIII.— Hunted. Melanie still mourned for Lonsdale as for one who was 110 loi lger in this world.

A few months ago—only a .few months ago—was the ever-recurring thought, and he was living- '.but now he was with the dead of ag.es, passed away into his original nothing as if he had never been ; and she was on the point of mar - riage with another. Well, to her that seemed only another mode ol' death, too ; and times there were when she actually thought to escape it by running away the moment the ceremony was over, despite the! scandal that would be certain to ensue Often had she harrowed her heart

by visiting the aid trysting-place, watching the silent flow of the majestic river, as the sunset cast the shadows of the old elms into it— shadows repeated downward so clearly that the eye could scarcely detect where earth or water met in that glassy mirror. The sky was blue as of old, the clouds as fleecy and white ; but the wind seemed to sigh sadly through the leafless but budding branches of the tree overhead.

Then all tho spell of the past would come upon her powerfully, and tears suffuse her eyes—bitter tears indeed—when feeling thau sfi

must lay by the old time, with all its memories and empty hopes, its tenderness and love;, and think only, with a firm, or rather callous and indifferent heart, of the life that was before her.

"Do those who have left us know what passes on this earth T she asked herself.

Surely not; for if so they could never attain to happiness and peace; but if it be otherwise, she thought, then Lonsdale must know that the sacrifice she was making was for others, and not herself.

She had to endure, almost daily, the visits of Sir Brisco, during which she seldom could sit still, but paced up and down the room like a hunted creature, when, after a time, he had to go to London for a space to make some necessary arrangements about their marriage, and for that space she was left to herself.

No matter how oppressive his presence proved to be, she felt that she had no right to drive tho poor in an away from the neighbourhood by coldness that all would deem most misplaced now.

She would get used to him in time, she supposed, and to her state of existence—be able, at least, to sleep without dreams that harrassed and haunted her. Besides, to do him justice, Sir Brisco Braybrooke was ever so gentle, patient and good to her. Through the girl's brain such thoughts were ever coursing, even when she seemed to sit, passive and placid, in a low arm-chair by tintire, watched only by the sad gaze of her lame brother, after the curtains were drawn for the night, the lamp lighted, and she stared into the red embers with wide aching eyes. Then, as if a fever came upon her, she would start up, when roused, perhaps, by the stroke of a clock, throw open the window, push back her dark air, and lean out for a little time to let the cold breath of the night fan her temples. Anon, she thought she would rouse herself and seek some of her old occupations ; but gardening had lost its charms for her, reading required concentration - that was impossible, ditto, needlework, which would only give her leisure for bitter reflection. Then she tried her weekly accounts, as of old ; but the figures danced before her. And now the April days were stealing on— on to the hour of her fate.

Already the little children were gathering the early flowers ancl chasing the butterflies with mad glee, in many a green grassy lane, where the people of other years had trod to church and market, time out of mind. The trees were showing their bursting greenery fast— especially the elms that overshadowed the cottagc, the oaks in Ravensboumo Chase were putting forth their red buds, and the beeches their graceful sprays. The laburnum wa3 shedding its golden petals, the plum trees were masses of unbroken blossom, and the happy birds were building busily and singing merrily in every shady bower. Dick was looking out his fishing tackle, for a new goldon light was playing on pond and stream. A little time more and the flowers of May would be all over the land. Ere that time came—Melanie clasped her hands and shivered. Engaged! If, but three months ago, anyone had told Melanie she would be so, she would have deemed that pei'son or herself insane. Now Sir Brisco's coloured miniature, on opal, with burly eye-brows, grizzled upright hair and white moustache, was to replace that of Lonsdale, with his liandsomo young face, his keen soldierly eyes, close shorn dark hair and darker moustache —his general expression of a pleasant and purpose-like fellow, who, as-the mess used to say, could do anything, "from holding his wicket at Lord's to facing the devil in his shirt sleeves."

Even her brother Reginald, for whom she was chiefly making the sacrifice, reprehended the coming marriage. This did sound hard; she couid neither explain nor retort —she was too affectionate and too gentle ; but she felt, just then, as if iife was over with her, and in her exhaustion and faintness, when turning to leave the room, her knees bent under lier and she tottered.

The new turn of affairs partly puzzled little Amy Musgrave, who when on a visit to the vicarage, bright, merry and in all the flush of her own happiness, said to Molanie: "I wish so much to ask you a question—but—" and then she paused, though their arms were entwined. Ask," feaid Melanie, wearily. " With all my old love for you, I have perhaps no right ' " I never had a secret from you, Amy." "Well—do you really intend to marry Sir Bmc:o now V " Now T Molanie repeated, and

I then burst into tears at all the word j insplied.

" I do not like this marriage— this May and December business," said Dr. Brendon, when Melanie had gone • " she seems to be selling herself for wealth and position." "Nay," said his kindly old better-half ; " think of her friendlessness, her uncle's character for meanness, her brothers' dependence. I hope they will both bo happy." " So do I, good wife—but you mean together." •' Of course."

"All—but I mean apart," replied the doctor, cynically. "Melanie Talbot's heart is not in this affair, but with the lad who has found his last long homo, so far, far away. God rest liini! Montague Lonsdale was thoroughly an English gentleman and soldier." The time drew on. Melanie did not wish any wedding 1 cake or breakfast, in a wedding sense—or bridesmaids, or fuss; all was to be as quiet as possible, to the intense disgust of Mrs Chillington and to tlie disappointment of Sir Brisco, who was vain of his young bride.

" What do you mean, you eccentric girl?" demanded Mrs Chillington.

In what way 1" "No breakfast —whoever heard of such a thing V " There seems no one to invite, aunt." " Acquaintances are easily found." " Perhaps—but how many are friends ?" "Is it usual to have a marriage in this hole-and-corner way, and with a man in Sir Brisco's position V " I do not know what you mean. I shall bo married in Stokencross Church." By that old country frump, Doctor Brendon; why not at St. George's, Hanover Square ?" "J. am an unknown girl—Dr. Brendon will do all that is necessary." "Be that as you please then, 'out ere long no one in town will be hotter known than you, Melanie. Sir Brisco's wealth and your beauty will achieve great things; We shall see your photo in every shop window—the Braybrooke costume, the Braybrooke hat, the Braybrooke orchid, or something so named by gardeners—the Melanie waltz— you will become the rage, my dear ! Your laces will be priceless, your furs the envy of the Empress of Russia."

And the little woman of the world laughed loudly in her glee. " We English people are supposed to marry for love," says a writer, somewhat cynically ; " but as a matter of fact we marry for fifty thousand other causes that have nothing to do with it; but woe to the rash couple who are indiscreet enough to own their fidelity to the selfish national tradition."

However, nothing short of a miracle could alter the destiny of Melanie now. (To be continued.)

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT18891123.2.39.3

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2710, 23 November 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Word count
Tapeke kupu
3,147

Novelist. Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2710, 23 November 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelist. Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2710, 23 November 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

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