A CIRCUS ROMANCE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3064, 5 March 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

A CIRCUS ROMANCE.

(By Mr W. H. Goldsmith.) ••Tuerk!" exclaimed Gregson, tho ancient and consequently privileged butler attached to the household of Squire Fairfield, of Brantingdale Grange, Yorkshire, as he completed the decanting of a bottle of port wino, almost as old and crusted as himself. "If that bee-yew-tiful juice of the grape doesn't put the squire a goodish way on to the high road to ronooed health, write me down a hass, as the man said in a play I once saw in a theayter. Why, a mere sniff of it is as good and inwigorating as a mutton chop, well done, and not too fat. Not that I have anything to say again chops in general. Certainly not. They're all very well in their way, but I do say, and I ought to know something about the matter, considering the experience I've had. there's nothing to ekal to sound, well-matoored port -wine, and plenty of it, for setting a hinvalid on his pins after a severe illness like -what the squire's just gone through. As for doctor's stuff, why I it, and say bah to it. Ah, well, it's been a near shave with the master this time and no mistake. Pity a man —specially with a constitooshun like the squire's got—snould give way to wiolent passions. What good does they do ? that's what I says. They can't undo what's been done. And they does a power of harm to the misguided individooal what hindulges in 'em. Upsets the digestion, and sends the blood —'specially if he's generous with his wine—right bang into the hupper story. Master's never been so bad since he and master Harry— God bless him, I wonder where he is just at this moment—had that hawful quarrel. Let me consider how long will that be ago 1 Why, it must be surely over ten years ! Lord biess me how old Father Time does foot it along to be sure ! Poor Master Harry. It was hard lines for him to have to leave his home like he did. And for what : Ay, that's what I call the aggerawatingist part of the whole miserable business. To think that as fine a young fellow as ever stepped in shoe leather should have left his home all on account of a bare-backed boss rider. A minx I called her at the time, with nothing on to wear worth speaking of, a jumping through hoops before a gaping raultitood. That's what the young female was as was the cause of master Harry having a tremenjus set-to with the squire, and leaving his house all in a hurry and a big huff." Yes, as the soliloquising old servitor has partly let the reader know the cause of the " horful setto," or in other and more comprehensible words, the bitter quarrel which had taken place between the squire of Brantingdale and his only son Harry, some ton years previous to the commencement of the story, was solely on account of a young and lovely girl, one of the troupe attached to a travelling circus which had set up its temporary tent at Westonfiefd, a pleasant country town in the north of Yorkshire, on the outskirts of which Brantingdale Grange was situated.

Harry Fairfield had visited the equestrian performance more from a feeling of curiosity than in the expectation of witnessing a very entertaining exhibition ; neither had the young man possessed the remotest idea that he was destined to behold, in the sawdust arena, as fair a specimen of graceful womankind as might be met with in a very long day's march. Harry Fairfield's disposition was free and generous, He was given, perhaps, too much to impulse and burning enthusiasm over anything he happened to appreciate or admire. He was physically strong and fearless as well, and he had un intense liking for a noble horse and skilful horsemanship ; and moreover, he was only twenty-two. There was not much cause for wonder, then, that when he beheld " Miss Gladys Grovesnor" upon her highlytrained menage mare, " Zenobia," dash into the arena, he became filled with genuine admiration. At first the enthusiastic young gentleman felt himself unable to decide which he was enchanted with the most— the beauty or the beast. Both, he considered, approached very nearly absolute perfection.

The son of the squire of Brantingdale Grange, however, was far from being without a goodly share of native shrewdness, consequently he took care not to allow his enthusiasm to get altogether beyond control. Moreover, it occurred to him that of the two beautiful specimens of human and equine feminine grace which moved before him in the garish artificial light of the place, the four-footed representative of the gentler sex might, perhaps, be the more genuine of the pair. Had he not read and heard of certain sirens of the unreal world, behind the footlights, whose fascinations of form and feature had been less owing to the kindly bounties of Dame Na'oure than to the skilful and mysterious process know as " making up" 1 As the exhibition of Iα haute ecole proceeded, however, the entire stock of Harry's sympathy became gradually transferred to the fair equestrienne herself, in whose every movement our hero discerned new beauties of form and feature.

By the end of the act Mr Harry Fairfield was firmly convinced that Miss Gladys Grovesnor, the belle of the arena, was dependent on nature

alone for her many and captivating charms. Loud and long were the plaudits which greeted the ears of the fair exponent of the " high school " of horsemanship as she retired from the ring, and no one in tho large audience laboured so hard with the palms of his hands as Harry Fairfield to render the fullest homage to beauty, grace, and skill. The furore of applause only subsided after the accomplished artiste had returned and bowed her grateful acknow ledgments some three or four times to the delighted assemblage. The remaining portion of the evening's programme possessed little or no attraction in the eyes of our hero ; the stereotyped fooling of the " grotesque" even failing to raise the slightest approach to a smile on his handsome, but now unusually, grave countenance. Harry simply stayed on in the lingering hope that his divinity would appear once again to thrill him with delight; but she did not. A consoling clause, however, was forthcoming. The proprietor of the circus stepped into the arena as the performance was nearing the close and announced " that in consequence of the overpowering reception his humble efforts to entertain had met with from the large and influential audience, and by particular desire of several of the elite, who had been prevented from attending that evening, he intended remaining in Westonfield another day and night, when two moro performances would be given." This managerial manifesto sent Harry Fairfield forth from the tent on very good terms with himself. He proceeded direct to the Golden Sheaf—Westonfield's leading hostelry—thinking he might there possibly glean something concerning the circus and the people. He entered into a game of billiards with a casual acquaintance. While thus engaged several persons who had been to the circus be?an dropping in, to the intense satisfaction of the marker, who emphatically declared that he should have no objection to a circus visiting the town twice a month under such distinctly encouraging conditions. The conversation, naturally enough turned upon the equestrian entertainment. A doosid fine girl that Gladys—what's her name?" observed one of the local "golden youths," rather flippantly. " The lar"y is called Grovesnor — Miss Gladys Grovesnor on the bills and programmes," observed Harry, pointedly,as he potted the red a little viciously, adding, "From what I have seen of her to-night, I should decidedly think she is as good as she is beautiful and accomplished,"

The callow youth said no more after thid. He somehow felt there was no encouragement to offer reflection on the circus artistes, beside having a sort of vague premonition that Mr Harry Fairfield would perhaps resent any irreverent remarks passed upon Miss Gladys in a raaner more forcible than agreeable. As soon as Harry had finished his fifty game, he adjourned downstairs to the smoking-room to enjoy a cigar and a glass of toddy before starting home. He found the commodious apartment well filled, chiefly by the leadir.g tradesmen of the town. As he looked round for a seat Harry heard one elderly local magnate—a saddler by trade—ex-

claim, in tones that challenged contradiction — " I tell you again her name aint Grovesnor, any more than mine or yours." " But it's so in the bills," confidently protested a youth perched on a stool opposite the man of straps

and buckles. " Bills !" exclaimed the latter, in tones of withering contempt, " what are bills to me ? I know, I tell you, that her real name is Walkington, as the proper one of the proprietor of the whole concern, though it seems he calls himself on the bills, young man, Courtney— 'Courtney's colossal combination.' and what's more, sir," the saddler went on to say, " he is your Gladys Grovesnor's father. I know the whole history, I do. "Why, I've sold Joe Walkington many a bit of stuff in my line, and what's more, have also been paid cash down as soon as the goods were delivered.

Joe Walkington was always a straight forward man ; no mistake about him." Harry had found room next to the oracular old tradesman, with whom, of course, he was well enough acquainted, and was quietly listening to the remarks which fell from his lips, knowing that he could implicitly rely upon the worthy individual's statements.

"Yes," resumed the man of leather, after a few moments of rumination and a half-dozen whifs of his long clay pipe ; " I know Joe Walkington long before he took to the hoss-riding business. Him and his father farmed a decent bit of land not so very far from hero. Joe was maybe a bit wildish, but a splendid rider, and altogether among horses he was a rare 'un. I suppose that's how he came to get into the circus line, not caring much about farming and a longing to see something of life. I hear he's doing very well, and has permanent buildings in several large towns, where he goes in the winter time, stopping a month or so at each place." The old saddler having apparently said all he intended, or all he knew about Joe Walkiutou, relapsed into silence and a brown study. Harry a few minutes later took his departure home and retired to

bed, to pass the night only in dreaming of darine and graceful equestriennes performing incredible feats on the backs of astonishing steeds. The next morning Harry Fairfield, as soon as breakfast was over, strolled into the town, calling at the shop of Mr Klebiber, the saddler, who had spoken with such authority the night before at the Golden Sheaf, ostensibly to make a small purchase; but the real objeet of his visit was to hear anything that might be stirring regarding " Courtney's Circus." He had not been in the place five minutes be fore who should enter but the raanag'er of the circus himself.

Harry held aloof while the two old acquaintances exchanged a few greetings and referenees to old times. Then the worthy saddler introduced Harry and Mr Courtney to one another in his rather rough, but hearty, Yorkshire fashion. The three were soon chatting away together on the one topic—horseflesh —each loved so well and felt himself duly qualified to pronounce upon. Thus engaged, half an hour passed away swiftly and pleasantly. Harry was at once impressed with Mr Courtney, quickly discerning that his manner and bearing fully entitled him to the designation of gentleman. In appearance the circus proprietor was very commanding, standing fully six feet. A fine head, well set upon a pair of broad shoulders ; eyes of a deep brown colour, which carried respect and authority in their very glance; complexion inclined to ruddiness, together with a long silky beard, all contributed to make a picture of a really handsome man—and one, as Harry inwardly told himself, in every way worthy of being the father of the lovely girl he had seen in the circus-ring the previous even-

Mr Courtney invited Harry, to the latter's secret delight to accompany him to the marquee and have a look over the stud, and, if he so desired, to witness the rehearsal. On arriving within the canvas walls there -was, as the showmen say at fairs, "no waiting." The artistes were all assembled in the ring, awaiting their respected chief. Harry was much impressed with the order and regularity which prevailed in all departments. The minutest detail being strictly attended to, insured the neatness and precision during the actual performances, which had earned for Courtney's circus a reputation far and away above any other similar establishment.

In due course Harry was formally introduced to Gladys under her proper name of Walkington, and he had the felicity of conversing with her for nearly an hour, discovering during that enchanting space of time that the fair equestrienne possessed beauties of mind as well as charms of person. The result was that Jrlarry Fairfield returned to his father's house deeply enamoured of the fair star of the arena. Harry's nature was, as already stated, not one that would brook any half measures, and he there and then fully determined to make Gladys Walkington his wife, provided, of course, that <;he lady would listen favourably to his suit. Harry was certain not to lose the hand he coveted for lack of seeking it. He followed in the wake of the circus the whole

time o£ its peregrination in that section of the county. He became almost aa one of the troupe, being liked by all, from the proprietor down to the humblest stable attendant, ft was during this blissful period that Harry asked Gladys to become his wife. She did not say him nay, and her father gave his free and hearty consent to their union, telling the delighted and successful aspirant to his daughter's hand that he had conceived from the first moment he had spoken to him a great liking for him, and that he knew of nons to whom he would more readily confide his only child's future welfare. In the midst of congratulations and happiness,the jubilantly successful wooer wondered how his father would receive the annonncement of his intended marriage. He did not atterap to conceal from himself that hia only surviving parent might not look upon the project with much favour, being well aware that the old gentleman poseessed a proud and stubborn heart, together with seme well nigh exploded exalted ideas regarding social status. Still Harry hoped for the best, praying that he might obtain his father's consent, however reluctantly it

might be given. Hβ should certainly not care to have a rupture with him. Still the die had been cast; what he had said to Gladys was of course, irrevocable. The troupe at that time was some twenty miles from Westonfield. and immediately after the evening proforruance had terminated Harry hastened to catch an express, which stopped only one minute at the station ot the small town where the circus was located, to take him to Brantingdale Grange, there to recount to his father the tale of his love. As already hinted, Harry had doubts regarding the effect his news might have on the squire, but he was hardly prepared for the tornado of reproach and wrath that was hurled with the direst force at his devoted head, as soon as he had without circumlocution, communicated to his father the nature of the business which had brought him home in so great a hurry. No

matter that Harry explained —or rather endeavoured to explain, for the squire had no patience to listen —that the lady he had asked to become hia wife was sans pnur et sans reproche, and that her father was of a superior stamp to those usually associated with such concerns as the one of which he was the directing power. The almost stunned young man might as well have addressed his words to the shrieking blast, at that moment blowing its hardest around the old grange. Bitter and cruel were the taunts which the squire, in his unreasoning rage, heaped on the head of his only son, whose chivalrous nature would not allow him to listen without retaliation in defence of the girl of his heart, which only served to fan the flame of his father's terrible wrath. The end of it all was that Harry, deeply wounded and full of bitterness of spirit, announced his intention of quitting the paternal roof, and not again re-entering it till assured of an unqualified welcome to himself and the lady who by that time would be his honoured wife. Harry was not entirely dependent upon his father. He possessed three thousand pounds left him by his grandfather. The next morning Harry, with the assistance of the old butler, and a groom, packed up as many of his belongings as he possibly could, and then drove to the station to take the train which was to bear him away from the old home under whose time-worn roof he had first seen the light, and where his gentle mother's soul had quitted its earthly tenement, while he was still a child, too young to fully understand the irreparable lose he had sustained. (To he continued.)