Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 January 1902 — Nora's Test [ARTICLE]

Nora's Test

BY MARY CECIL HAY

From £ Darkness To Light

CHAPTER XV. One of the prettiest riverside gardens on the north bank of the Upper Thames, and a party assembled there, as radiant and as varied as the myriad . flowers among which they sat or strolled. A beautiful picture it was. For, , beyond lhe little crowd of idle human forms, the river flowed in wide and calm serenity; apon the dazzling flower banks fell the cool shadows of rare old oaks and elms, and even the dresses caught a new loveliness among the roses on the velvet ■ turf. *’■ *'""? Mrs. Pennington, skillfully concealing the fact that she was in an irrepressible flutter of excitement, went from one la another of the iittiy groups of elder guests already scattered among the’ shady, tempting scats; though, while she talked with each for a time, in her easy, I gentle way, she was seeking one familiar face. ■' “My dear, - ’ observed her husband, speaking low as he passed her, "your old friend, Mrs. Brunton, is in the rose tent, by the river. She would like a few minutes’ chat with you alone, I’m sure, after your long separation." Mrs. Pennington nodded, with a imile •f relief, and hastened her steps a little. “1 fancied you would reach this spot eventually," was the smiling greeting she received as she entered the rose t<»nt, and took her seat beside her old school friend; ""your husband guessed I should like a few minutes with ? vpu.alone. How delightful it will be to have you in London for a time. Cis! I’don’t think Lever was so surprised in my life as when I read your letter, which Was awaiting me •a my ret urn yesterday. Ihave not quite accepted the story, even yet.” “Nor have I,” smiled Mrs. Pennington. “I cannot even yet believe in Nora's fortune, and can scarcely realize the fact that this house is Our present home.” "How beautiful it is!” said Mrs. Brunton, glancing around. "And so exquisitely arranged both within and without! Some one with perfect taste must have selected it for you, Cis.” "Mr. Poynz did. that. He says he chanced to hear of it at once, and had no trouble at all, so I expect he knew the' best agents to apply to, as neither Mr. Doyle nor my husband would have known. We have taken it for the summer. 1 fancy Nora will wish to go abroad after that” , "She likes the house, of course?” "Likes it!” echoed the vicar's wife, with a smile. 'tShe seems happy here beyond all words. She enters into everything with the freshest and heartiest enjoyment; and yet, with all her merriment, she is, so wonderfully soothing.” “No wonder that you look upon her as “No, indeed. The only wonder is that she is so glad to be thought so. No one ever could learn from Nora that I was not mistress of this house, and of every pound that we spend. And she would not consentto anything but an equal aF lowa nee for herself and Celia.” "Is Nora changed by the change in her position?” "Not in the slightest.” said Mrs. Pennington. "She, just goes on in her old, independent, happy, gravely merry way. I’m sure you could) never guess what was the last thing in which she invested. A violin! Yes, you may well smile. She ■ never plays it except in her own roousa but I often listen, and, though” she is : only feeling her way. as it were, and find- | ing out tunes without learning the instru- ; ment. you have no idea how pretty it is. She has a concertina, too, but I think the violin is the favorite.” "But she plays the piano, surely?” Not to content herself, so she never plays to strangers. She plays to herself sometimes, but never really practices as Celia does, and as girls must do now- j •days if they would keep up with the, age.” "1 suppose." said Mrs. Brunton, "Miss' St. George is now to be considered as a suitable wife for the young curate, and ■ to be cultivated accordingly. And prob- ■ zbly a slight hastening of the match, if ' that be possible, would be a wise step under existing circumstances. How long have you knowu Mr. Poynz?" Though surprised a little at the abrupt question. Mrs. Pennington answered without hesitation: and all the more quickly because Mr. Poynz was one of a group coming toward them. "Wen. bear this in mind. Cis," continued the elder lady, in a whisper- "I'm more of a woman of the world than you • re. and, beyond that, I'm familiar enough to be almost in the confidence of each party. Genevieve Foster’s one aim ■nd desire is to be admired; never mind ulterior motives at this moment. Now • nd.then her eyes have !>eeu tardily opened to the fact that another girl could-be •s attractive a* herself; and Miss Foster has not assisted to make life a 4>ed of roses for that'girl. But the effort she is ' making to win her way now is stronger , than all her other efforts put together, and wnoevof■stnrrds in.her way will xrovbe spared. Ah, Celia, I am glad to see you, dear! How yon seem to lie enjoying this first season of yours! I and your mother have l>ecn having a chat about •Id times.”

W ~’ -fCHAPTER XVI. Th* gnm«*s had all lH*vn lost and. won. The lone, plrassnt. dilatory meal, which •Mrs. I 'ennfngton hud already learned to > call "high tea." and which was a neccsaary adjunct to her garden parties, be eauae the guests lingered on. and would hare famished on strawberries alone — wan over: and now those guests who had i not left were tentißf in the seals upon the terrace, talking quietly and Idly, as they looked down upon the river, flowing ' softly on, beyond the trees and the arches and the colonnades of roses. “Nara," whispered Willoughby Foster, stopping her, as she crossed the terrace, after fetching a book which Mrs. Brunton wished to see, “I'va brought a new rord for the rudder of your boat. You will come with me to put- it on, won t you?” “Of course," assented Nora promptly. “Did you forget yoa had it until now?” Tor souk- reason or other. Will did not '

answer this question, as they walked down to the river. The little boat was ■ 'out upon the w-ater this evening, swaying softly and enticingly upon the incom-ingw-urrent. “Sit in your own place for one moment, Nara,” young Foster said, “while I stand here upon tlic steps and run the cord through; then you can judge df its length." He took her hand, and held it until she was comfortable in her seat; and then he put the rope through the rudder, and laid the two ends in her Jap. • “Just try it for two minutes,” he said I and, stepping down into the boat, he put off from shore without a pause. But he colored painfully when he met Nora’s questioning, laughing glance, for she evidently thought , just then that the unjnooring of the boat had been a mistake. "Two minutes,” she said, presently, as he pulled hard against the tide, with his head bent and his lips closed. "We have been twice two minutes, Mr. Foster.” "Isn't it a ,lovely evening?" he asked her, hurriedly; “and lovelier upon the .water than anywhere. I will take you badt-im&few..mjnutes. .Nora; but let me have a taste of exercise, and you a taste of rest.” i ' ■. , So, not at all unwillingly, in the calm summer evening time; she leaned "back in her cushioned seat, and looked around upon the peaceful scene onswhich the slanting sun rays lingered; and she never noticed how hard and fast Will Foster worked for his own purpose. But when at last he laid down his sculls, and the boat began to drift slowly homeward with the current, her eyes were suddenljopened. to. ±h<Ljww,.Jntense_earnestii4‘ss. upon his usually happy face. "You are not a very clever oarsman,” she said, quietly, though her heart began to beat as she remembered how fast he had brought her from home, and how she had involuntarily allowed him to do so, while she dreamed the time away, "not at all clever, indeed, Mr. Foster, or you would keep your sculls and sit back upon your seat.” ■ - v “I don’t want to seem clever this evening, ey.en. tg you,” returned Will, with father a forced smile. “I want to seem only what I am. Nora —very much in earnest, dear, in what I am going to say to-night, because I’ve soften tried and failed.” “Please fail this time, too.” “I cannot,” he said, and his hands were tightly clasped as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "My heart is too full to-hight to be silent. Nora. I love you so dearly that surely you will give me one little promise to care for me*in return. I cannot expect such love as I feel for you, though even that may come in time;_but promise me you wlll'care for me a little, Nora.” ’ "I do,” responded the girl, gravely. “I care for you a little how; more than a little, for I never forget what companions we were years ago, both in mischief apd out of mischief,.or ho.wyou, have been iny friend ever since; but I can never care for you more than I do tonight; and that is only as a friend.” "But you will feel differently, Nora, darling. Surely, surely you will accept me some day?” "I shall never change to you. Will.” she said, very gently. "I am as sure that ! I shall never like you more, as I am that | I shall never like you less. Please let I things be as they are. Life is so pleasI ant now.’’ i "But things cannot be as they are." cried Will, with rising vehemence. "It is not* to be supposed that you will not I marry—you of all girls.” "I cannot ye|; perhaps I never can.” Nora said it with a strange, quiet sadness, and her face had grown very white. But when she met her companion's blank, ; incredulous gaze, she smiled a little, and her own friendly, easy manner came i slowly back to her. ; "Of course you will marry," persisted Will. "Why, everybody wants you now.” "I shall not marry everybody.” “I'm sure,” the young man «vent on, ’ heavily, “no one could be so devoted to I you as I am, and have been since—- I was going to say. since 1 went back to I Ireland and found you grown up—but—but I declare,” he added, ruefully, "I don't believWTcan remember a time when I was not devoted to you.” “I do. I remember when you wouldn't carry little Larry Hogan home from Fintona on your back, though I asked you." "1 cannot laugh,” fretted Will, "even at the memory of that truant day of ours, when we stumbled across little Larry in the dark as we came home. No, I remember I wouldn't carry him. for he was a muddy little object; but I would now, Nora, at the slightest hint of yours, i and in my best clothes, too. Do listen, dear, and tell me you will try and like me enough to marry me. Don't always jest.’’

"I don’t think 1 always jest," said Nora, while, lighted by one swift ray of thought, she saw not only her isolated yon th,-tort a possibility oX-a-sluiniu-d-and. isolated age. "I am not jesting now. But see how pleasantly we glide with the stream. You could not change the bent’s course without nmking everything less pleasant, could you? So why should we disturb tt?" " "But, just looking your future seriously tn the face. Nora, dear?" pleaded the young curate, his voice full of trouble. “In' the natural course of things your drifting will be disturbed, ns you say. So uhy not't'hoosc now who shall —" “Disturb it?" put in Nora, laughing, though her cheeks again had grown very pale. “No, not this summer, please." "I bate loved you always," reiterated Witt, going back to his once strong argument, “though since you have been rich I have not liked to tell you." "I thought not," returned Nora, demurely; "so you are trying now, just to please tne. But I like silence best." "If I keep silence some other fellow—" “I should not listen"*if be did," said Nora, with a simple assurance which solaced him infinitely. “1 want this summer so “Xora, do you really mean this?" whispered young Foster, after he had moored the boat at the garden steps, and was

offering her his hand. “Will no one be—be more successful than I have been until you have bpd all .this summer aa a holiday?” J “Noj.no one.” ( CHAPTER XVIL "Mr. Pofnz,” said Nora, one day, with a little cry of joy, as she stood above the lake, “I have found her at last! I have found Miss Archer! Do you see her there, sitting by the lake? Would you—would you mind going back . alone, please? I must speak to Helen.” He comprehended her wish to go alone, but made her promise not to return without him. Then he stood and watched Tier to the* noticing ' how others watched her, too; but he turned away hurriedly when he saw her greeting to Helen. Yet these two friends, when the girl's glad and tender greeting was Over, fell into a strange, pathetic silenw, while each lookd into the other’s eyes, but* with such a widely different gaze! "Helen,” Whispered Nora, presently, below her breath, "have you been ill?” Then Helen raised her hand and covered her eyes for a moment before she spoke. “No, not ill. How good it is to sec 4 you again, Nora! And you look so happy and —so beautiful. I have heard much of your beauty and your charm, dear; but you are just what you were in the old days, except that you are more ■ ■ But perhaps the dress makes the difference.” "Ami where have you been since the old days, Helen?” Nora asked, trying not to look pitifully into .Miss Archer’s face. "I know you did not receive my letter; but —did you quite forget me, or wish to lose sight of me?” "I wrote once to Miss Foster, asking if I might hear of you,” she said, “but 1 never quite expected an answer. I had gone into Berkshire then—they knew where—and I have been there ever since.” "And have you been unhappy?” questioned Nora, very sadly. "Oh, no, quite happy. They were all most kind to me—most kind. I am only leaving; them now because my pupil is going to finish her education in Germany. I have been very fortunate,” she went on, Tn her patient, grateful tones, broken now and then by a short, dry cough, which struck Nora like a blow. "Don't look so moved, dear. If I seem changed to you, it is only want of rest, and that only through my own fault. My pupil is a very quick and clever girl; so that I have had to work hard to keep in advance of her. It was all night work, of course — A to be done after she had left me —and it tells upon me now, perhaps, more than it would have done when I was a girl.” "You are a girl now,” said Nora, tenderly, "and yoq will soon be strong, Helen—so strong! And you shall not have a care in the world if I can prevent, or anything to do except enjoy yourself; and all your time shall be leisure; and we will go wherever it is most healthy, and travel easily. And you shall have, sea air, and such care and love, Helen! I’ve looked and waited so long for you. Say you will come with me now.” "No; that cannot be,” said Helen, quite firmly, though the tears had gathered in her eyes while Nora spoke. "On Monday, when I leave this pupil, I have an--other..Xo found for me. She is a little girl—an only child —so the teaching will be easy and light.” "How soon may I go to thsi lady, Helen, and beg her to excuse you?”

“Oh, no, that must not be,’’ Miss Ar--cher'answcfell, hurriedly; "I must go.” “Then you shall go just for a month,” said Nora, with regret; “and you will leave them then and come to me. I shall fetch you when I come back from Ireland. Where are the rooms you have taken, Helen?” “I will give you the address,” said Helen, writing it as she spoke. “You—you will not give it to any one else, dear?” “Not to any one,” said Nora, making the promise readily, and resolving silently that.these two rooms should be made comfortable before Helen went to occupy them. "Who is with you here, Nora?” inquired Miss Archer, after a little silence, during which she had found it hard to realize, even yet, the fact of Nora’s tender, loving attachment to her. “Mrs. Pennington and Celia ” “The little friend you left behind in Ireland, and loved so well, and from whom you were always expecting long letters?” “You haven’t forgotten, then?” exclaimNora._delightedly. “And Mr. Foster is here.” “I thought so,” smiled Helen. “You are to marry him very soon—his sister says. My pupil's sister told We this. She told me many things of them and of you, when she came home after this season. And how did you evade Mr. Foster to come to me, dear?” “He was not with me. We came on Captain Graham's drag, and Mr. Poyns was with me when I saw you, and he will come forme again. Helen—oh. mydear, I wish I could give you a little of my health.” “It is nothing,” said Helen, losing the sudden pallor which had startled Nora. “I—l cannot expect”—with a faint smile —“to look healthy idi'my life, dear. And —but I must go. Good-by, dear little friend.” Her eyes were quite dry, though a little feverish, when, with the gentle kisa of her pupil on her lips, she turned away, and felt that all the world was better and brighter, and more faithful for tiiut lidiir she ha<T speffF resting by~tire lake. And Nora stood for a <few minutes looking after her and thinking, while Mark came slowly up. Bhe repeated to him, as they went back to the palace, much that Helen told her, and her own plans to make Miss Archer happier for that month, and then to win her to stay with her; but, remembering her promise, she would not tell him where Helen's home was to be. . , ■ J, I hope you nre immensely hungry; Norn,” whispered Will, as he seated him? self beside her in the dining hall. “Yop are to enjoy everything to-day, you know, and dinner is a special item.” They jeated all throngh the meal, in a > quiet, grave way. which -took from none of the fun; and then they spoke lazily of leaving in anotherhour's time, and strolled out to hear the band in the central hall. They had all walked on to look for scats, except Mr. Poyns and Nora, when, as they sauntered idly on the edge of the throng, Mark was met by one of his grooms. (To be continued.) Poverty may sidetrack a man. but it never blows him up.