THE COLONEL'S SACRIFICE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2758, 12 March 1910, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE COLONEL'S SACRIFICE.

(By ELIZABETH M. MUON.)

• Hello, dad!” “Hello, my buy!” 'tlie bugiit-faceu schoolboy anu tlie lean, brown-faced Colonel clasped hands without a single trace of that icelmg that Englishmen of all ages would rather die than exhibit to the public. The hoy looked after his luggage and gave directions with a lordly air that made liis lather smile, ran along the platform .to shake hands with a grave-look-ing young man who had alighted lioin the same train, and returned breathless with his haste. “That was old Two-and-I wo ; toadies us our sums, you know, at Xevliouso, he explained volubly as he got into the carriage beside his lather. An iti Ilv decent chap—no end of a good sort.” “is he. my boy? is lie staying m town? We might ask him to dinner, Roddy, if he'd care to come.” _ . “We’ll ask him iater on, dad. He's putting up in Chelsea. He s been awfully down in tlie mouth lately.” “Ah, lost money, perhaps?” “Girl, I think,” said Roddy gloomily. “Poor chaip,” said the Colonel sympathetically. There was an embarrassed pause—they were both painfully near a subject that was in tlie minds of both. But the present time was hardly one for a discussion of so delicate a character. So, when the boy plunged suddenly into voluble chatter about his own past dogs, the Colonel wag visibly relieved. But when dinner was over, and they were alone together, the boy curled up in an armchair with his hand on the bead of Ole Bull, the great bulldog who had been liis pet from childhood, and who keenly felt the boy’s absence at school, the Colonel lit a cigar and broached the subject that was uppermost in his mind. “What do you think of my news. Poddy?” “.Just at first I didn’t quite cotton to it, dad,” he said candidly. “It hurt you, Rod, eh?” “No, it wasn’t that,” said the boy, stoutly. “I don’t remember my mother. I. never saw her, did I? There has always been just you. But I thought it would be rotten to have a woman always dodging about, and we d never bo by our two selves again. And thou I felt jolly glad. I thought it must be beastly slow for you all by yourself when I’m at school, nobody but Bully, and he can’t talk—though' lie comes precious near it sometimes. <lon’t you, Bu lly. And then i thought it would be rather jolly to have a lady hero, someone kind and sweet and up to fun like—like”—the boy hunted round his memory for an example—like Mrs. Dane.” 'The Colonel broke into a laugh that had a tinge of chagrin in it. as he recalled the rotund form and the beaming red face of the lady in question, and knew bow different liis Shelngh was, with her blue Irish eyes and the snow of her skin. “And so will the one I have chosen be jolly kind, Roddy. She is young enough' to be a first-rate pal for you. and old enough to feel her responsibilities. and to know that our happiness will lie in her little hands. Ajxl we’ve got. to make lier hanpy with us and put, lier before all, eh, Roddy ?” “Whv, of course,” raid the boy promptly, and he gave the hand that the Colonel laid upon his shoulder a tight squeeze. “I’m not going to describe her to vou, for I have promised to take you round the first tiling in tlie morning, and you’ll see Sihelagb for yourself.” Tlie bo v was decidedly nervous when he followed his father into the little "drawing-room in the house in Hill street the following morning, and he owned to himself that he wished lie were jolly well out of it, for anything of this kind made a fellow feel a fool unless ho were the chief actor. But when a thin little woman with an elegantly dressed head of a. sea-shado-of gold that betrayed its own falseness, and a glittering smile to match, came forward eagerly to greet them, the hoy christened her a “oat” there and then, and wondered at his father’s blindness. “This is my boy, Mrs. O’Brian!” “How perfectly charming! "What an immense fellow 1”

She shook hands with him, and then seemed to forget his existence, and rushed off into a tirade about Shelagh. Tile boy drew a long breath of relief. “She has been out —she know that you were coming, of course, but she took into her head to go to matins at the church. A very ridiculous ideaburning the candles at both ends, I tell her. She did not return from the Denvers’ dance till four this morning. Her father was of a very serious turn of mind, and I do hope Shelagh js not .following in his footsteps. _ I shall Iks so glad when she is really in your care, my dear Colonel, for she is a great responsibility.” _ She iput her head on one side and sighed. Then the door opened and a girl came in—a girl in a white woollen frock that showed the perfection of her slim figure, and matched the snow of her flawless complexion and heightened the daringv contrast of her densely black hair.

At the sight of her Roedy’s eyes started from his head, and he gave' a low whistle- that threw him into an agony of confusion. But what right

had this girl to be his father’s promised wife, when he had seen her only a few weeks before standing on the river bank at Newhouse with her hands held fast- in those of old Two-and-Two, the mathematical master, and with a look on both their faces that any fellow nun was not a fool could have underi tend ? The Colonel went to meet her with a tender, protective air that made Roddy feel queer as he watched them curiously ; then thev both came towards him, and he rose to his feet. “This is Roddy, Shelagh. You two are- going to lie tremendously good friends, you know.” “Tremendously good friends!” said tlie girl, her firm, red lips breaking into a fleeting smile. It was so sweet a smile that Roddy, looking at her, could have wished that it had lasted longer. She held out her hand. “And what does Roddy himself say?” “] hope v/e shall be jolly good friends,” said the boy, with a shyness that made his voice gruff, “for dad’s bake.’ ’ “He is cautious.” She put her two little hands on his shoulders and looked dawn into his face with her blue-grey Triv.li eyes, and Roddy’s fell in spite of his boldness. “But when you get to know me, Roddy, won’t you try and like me. for my own sake?” There was a little plaintive accent in her voice that went to Roddy’s heart, lh' would have sworn himself to be her

knight-errant; but where did Old Two-and-Two com© in? Did girls fall in and out of love with such callous rapidity? It was quite a relief when Mrs. G’Rrian called the maway at last, and lie had time to recover himself. •He knew it would be so- easy to love her—she was just that sort of girl that a fellow liked to iihink belonged to him. 'She was prettier, far prettier, than he thought when he had caught that glimpse- of her at Newhouse. Had she thrown up Old Two-and-Two to marry liis lather? And was it that that had 1 made so great a change in the cheery young follow who ,had won the boy’s heart? Roddy’s face hardened at the thought. After this, as was natural, they were often together, and one day the boy blurted out where he had seen her first. “You saw me at Newhouse?’ ’ “i/m at school there, you know?” “I did not know.” She caught her breath quie'kly. “Your father has mentioned it. I suppose, but I thought you were at Rossall. I was staying with the Barringtons.” “At the Fosh, yes, I know.” “Then you know Mr. Bethunc?” “Yes.” “And—is he a favorite of yours?” She smiled -a little at the uselessness of such a question relative to one who could not fail to bo loved by anyone. “He’s the host all-round cricketer in the county.” said Roddy, solemnly, “and the docentest chap that 1 have ever seen, bar dad.” Tn spite of himself tlie boy felt drawn to Shelagh—she was more herself with him than with anyone else —she never had any of the gav little speeches for the Colonel that she had for liis son — with him she was always quiet and cold—she had the aspect of one who receives and never gives. Roddy saw it .'ill and wondered often that his father did not al.-o, and toll him that his wife would go to him lacking that love without which marriage—true marriage, is impossible. And there was Bethunc also — if she cared for him why did she not break with the Colonel? On© morning, when ho was taking an early morning prowl, he came upon th<> mathematical master and Shelagh tii living together, and it jumped into his mind that this explained lier sudden liking for the early services her mother objected to. She came to meet- Bethunc. They wore both walking along and the aspect of both made the lad’s heart sore, though be hardened bis lace and turned on bis heel to avoid them. But they bad seen him, and Shelagh came hurrying after him with a jocular greeting that- did not deceive Roddy in the least. “Did you not- see me, Roddy? M hat do you think of yourself, sir, that a lady has to hurry after her knight in this way?” “You had got Air Bel'liunc,' 7 said Roddy coldly. “Roddy, arc you cross?” “If you like Air Bet-hune best, why don’t you stick to him? It’s not fair to dad, meeting him every morning.” _ “Roddy, you are impertinent. Y'ou are incensed because I meet Air Bethiine in the street, and stop to speak to him. Alust I then cut- all mv old friends because I am going to marry Colonel Draycott?” “He’s —lie’s more than that,” minified Roddy, miserably.

“I was engaged to him once, Roddy. You know that?” “I guessed it.” “He is too poor to marry me. ATy mother would not consent, and eo — there’s the end of it.”

“Did he give you up because that uncle of his married?” “That- was it, Roddy. Don’t say anything more about it.” Slio clenched her hands fiercely as she remembered liow she had refused at first to be released. She had held valiantly to her love, but circumstances had been too much for her. She must forget him; and best for him to forget her too, though the thought cut her with its pain. “Here wo are at Hill street. Are von coming in?” “Not now,” said Roddy. “Good-bye, Roddy—try and think the best of me. I’m going to run straight you’ll gee.” But the white misery of her facehaunted Roddy all the way home. 110 confided it all to Ole Bull that evening when the boy and t-ho dog were alone together. “You see. old chap, Old Two-and-Two is a thundering good sort, and lie’s awfully down on his luck.” Ole Bull acquiesced with an awkward curl of his lip. “And Shelagh can’t help loving the beggar. And we like her, too. Y’ou go©’ we haven’t got any womenfolk like other people, and it would be downright jolly to have her a fellow likes have his women pretty and smart ami all that sort of thing.’ I’m fond of her, Bully, and dad is awfully gone on her.”

Ole Bull agreed witih this exactly. “But dad’s the best of the lot, and we’ve got to think of him first.” It would have surprised and pained 030 Bull if any other view had been taken of the matter. “But if Shelagli marries dad, and she can’t forget the other, I guess it’ll bo worse for dad after all.” And then the Colonel coming suddenly in, nearly fell over them in the dusk. “Hello! you two.. Wliat are you doing in the dark?” He poked up the fire briskly and sat down on a chair beside them. “You are going to Hill street for tea-, aren’t you, Roddy?” “They asked me,” said Roddy slowly.

‘‘Then we’ll go round there together, Rod. But I’ve got a bit of news for you. I’ve been thinking of that friend of yours—Bethuno, isn't it? Mr. Sellorigor wants a secretary, and asked me to recommend one. What would you say to Bethuno, R-oddy? It would be a splendid opening for a young man. ‘‘Why, dad, that’s splendid. It’s no end good of you,” and then he stopped suddenly with a look on his face that puzzled Iris father. “You think he’d like that sort of tiling? It’s not a post to go begging. But ask your friend to dine with us to-morrow night and we’ll talk it over. You know where lie’s putting up?” “In Chelsea,” mumbled Roddy. “I’ve got it written down somewhere. But f don’t think he’ll, come, dad, because of —Simla gill.” It wa s out now with a vengeance. “What the devil has Sholagh to do with tlie fellow?” “They were engaged once, you see. Old Two-and-Two Avas going to marry her, and, being poor, and al] that, and —the Ca—Mrs. O’Brian cut up imugh and prevented it.” “Do you know what you are saying, Rod?”/ “It’s the truth, dad. If they weren’t poor, they would marry—now.” The Colonel was silent again. He. had tried to cheat himself into the belief that Sludagh of the soft Irish eyes lover] him —that it ay as only sweet maiden Iv coyness that made her hold him at arm’s length, and ho had Avorsliipped her for the tender modesty that was so rarely to be found. Shelaglx bad never told him that she had loved him, but her mother had. Hoav often hail he not listened to her asseverations of Shokigh’s profound affection that girlish shyness .sought to hide from him? And —ronfound the lying old Avoman. “Roddy, this is news to me. Til hove Co enquire into it. Thanks for the hint There’s no fool like an old one, Ti.'.'-v sav. and it took a schoolboy to find it out.” • Dad. vou Avoir t ho hard on SheIceh? Girls can’t help liking fellows, von knoAv, and Bethuno is no end of a good chap.” “I’ll be hard on no one but myself, Rod.” . , And the end of it avsis that Bethuno received his secretaryship and a wife at the hands of a brave soldier and a generous gentleman, and Mrs. O’Brian’s hysterics had no avail. And on the day < f her wedding, as Sholagh came up the aisle, she turned happy, grateful eyes tlirtt Vnono like jewels to that P^ r t or the church where safe her faithful friends —the Colonel and Roddy.