THE SHADOW OF HILTON fERNSROOK A ROMANCE OP MAORILAND BY ATHAWSTBURY D "ilia al r ;;'.''"- : - ' -- "' eERTR AND SMITH 8 BOOK STORE ACRES OF BOOKS 63 3 MAIN ST. UC4NNATl. OHIO. '-AV /to?. " Victorine let the flowers fall, and turned the bracelet on her arm." FRONTISPIECE Page 211. THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK 3U\u Versus fbppnottsm A LOVE STORY By ATHA WESTBURY The Illustrations were drawn By A. BURNHAM SHUTE NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY PUBLISHERS : NEW YORK : 1902 COPYRIGHT, 1896 NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY URt CONTENTS. PAGB Prologue : The Burning Schooner 5 CHAPTER I. Fernbrook 13 IL PaxinBello 22 HI. The Mesmerist 34 IV. The Might Have Been 45 V. Colonel de Roal 56 VI. Te Papa's Rangers 67 VH. The Heights of Tomartu 76 VIII. Velis et Remis 81 IX. Cupid 93 X. Love's Young Dream 105 XI. Peter Dusk 119 XH. Trance Shadows 127 XHI. Maud Carlington 138 XIV. At Last 153 XV. The Bandoline 164 XVI. " Love's Test" 173 XVII. Behold the Man 183 XVHL The Bird has Flown 197 XTX. Fencing 206 XX. Victorine Gayland's Agony 214 XXI. The Block Pah 227 XXII. Bearding the Lion 234 XXIII. Colonel de Real's Theory 243 XXTV. PoorTeCoro 252 XXV. "Ward's Rifles" 261 XXVI. Ne Plus Ultra 277 Epilogue 300 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE. Victorine let the flowers fall and turned the bracelet on her arm. ------- Frontispiece. Te Core's eyes slowly close, the shapely head, with its coro- net of glossy raven hair, falls backward on the cushioned chair, ----------40 For a moment he stands over his fallen antagonist. 65 "Now then," he says, "be careful to step firmly. Don't be afraid." -_---_-__ 109 The stranger sat down and pressed his hands tightly over his face for the space of a minute. - - - - 161 Fernbrook quickly drew forth a similar weapon and covered his adversary. - - - - - - - -190 Round and about the guns the battle seems to rage fiercest. 275 " Why should you kill me ? " he said at length, looking down on her determined face. ------ 288 PROLOGUE. THE BURNING SCHOONER. ON the evening of December 10, 18 , the "Durham Castle," merchantman, 2,000 tons register, lay like a huge log upon the waters, in the breathless stillness of a tropical afternoon, when the air was hot and heavy, and the sky brazen and cloudless; there was not a puff of wind to ruffle the surface of the ocean, upon which the ship rose and fell with the monotony of a clock's pendulum. The sun had just got low enough to peep beneath the awning that covered the poop deck, and spread his rays athwart the figure of a man asleep on the cabin skylight. Save for the man at the wheel, and another at the quarter railing, the sleeper was alone on the deck. In the absence of a breeze, the ship rolled and lurched on the heaving sea, her idle sails flapping against the mast with a regular recurring noise, and her bowsprit rising higher with the swell of the water, only to dip again the next moment with a jerk that made each rope tremble and tauten. 5 6 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. The " Durham Castle " had been sixty- five days out from the Land's End, and was fast approaching her destination, when a dead, sleepy calm environed the vessel, as if she had entered the Dead Sea. The ap- pearance of the ship differed in nowise from that of an ordinary ocean liner, except perhaps that she carried a more than ordinary complement of passengers. The intense heat had driven them below, some to indulge in cards and other games, some to read, and the re- mainder to sleep, like the man reposing on the sky- light. By and by, as the sun sunk lower down on the vast area of golden azure, this personage awoke. Stretching himself, after the manner of a ponderous ape, he threw a quick glance upward at the flapping sails, and then called out " For'ard there ! " " Ay, ay, Capt'n," replied the man forward. " Pass the word for Mr. Jones," he cried ; then rising and advancing towards the binnacle, he said, " No sign of a change yet, Benson." " None whatever, Captain," responded the man at the wheel. "There isn't as much wind as would fill a paper balloon." Mr. Jones, the chief officer of the " Durham Castle, " a bandy-legged, big-bearded, gruff -voiced son of Nep- tune, waddled on deck, and drew near his superior officer, Captain Jepp Bowman. " Reef the topsails, and haul fast the foresheet and jib, Mr. Jones ; we may as well make everything snug for the night," said the Skipper. The commotion overhead roused the attention of the passengers, who flocked on deck to watch, and some to help the crew in taking in sail. Many were there who cast anxious looks over the broad expanse THE BUENING SCHOONER. 7 of water, in search of the first glimpse of that new land which for the future was to be their home. Others there were, and of these not a few, who were returning home again, from a visit to that older and former home. The colonist, the emigrant, the needy, and the well-to-do, all crowded together, to watch the sun go down into the vast sea in all his glory of crim- son and gold. " How many days before we reach port, Captain ? " asks a tall, burly sheep-farmer, returning to his station on the Patea, from a trip to Scotland. "Well, I reckon, if we have no better wind than we've had lately, we shall reach Auckland about Tib's Eve, which, by the way, is neither before nor after Christmas," replied he, laughing. " Oh, but I trust to eat my Christmas dinner at Glenbrook, with the Missus and wee-uns," added the farmer. " I hope so," rejoined Captain Bowman ; " a cat's- paw will waft us into port, if we can only get it." "Then, we are near land?" " Very near. According to my calculations, the Great Barrier is not a hundred knots distant ; I ex- pect to sight its peak every hour." The news soon spread, and when the dinner-bell rang, there assembled a gladsome array of faces in the saloon and in the fore-part of the ship, to congratulate each other that the end of the long and tedious voyage was drawing near. Darkness came apace, with hosts of stars, which were mirrored on the bosom of the glassy sea, giving it the appearance of some wonderful floor studded with dia- monds. On deck the passengers were standing in knots, laughing and chatting and smoking. 8 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " Fine night," said one of these a well-made, sol- dierly-looking old gentleman, striding up to the Captain, and joining his pace with that of the Skipper. "No signs of a breeze yet, though, Colonel Lan- groove." " How provoking ! " Just then, from out of the violet haze that hung over the horizon a strange glare of light broke. " Hallo ! " cried the Colonel. " Did you see that ? " Captain Bowman rubbed his eyes. " I saw it dis- tinctly a flash of light." Every one on deck had seen it. " Mr. Tremaine, the second officer, saw something like that before dinner. There must be thunder in the air," responded the Captain, as he passed into his cabin for his night-glass. Ere the Skipper returned, a thin streak of light shot up for an instant, then sank again. The Captain had seen it. Placing his glass in the direction, he looked long and carefully. " What is it, sir ? " interrogated the Colonel. " I can hardly make it out," replied the Captain, still looking intently through his glass. "There seems to rest a tiny black cloud on the extreme edge of the western horizon ; and if it was not for the crimson sky, I should say there was flame with the cloud." " What, fire ? not fire ? " Ay ! " An hour later one simultaneous exclamation burst from all the watchers on deck. From out the gloom there rose a column of flame, that lit up the night for the space of three seconds, and then fell, leaving a dull red spark upon the water. THE BURNING SCHOONER. 9 " It is a ship on fire, gentlemen ! " cried the Captain, and in the same breath an order was given to lower a boat. The long-boat was in the water in a few minutes, and Mr. Jones stood by the gangway awaiting further orders from his chief. " She does not appear to be a very large ship," re- sponded the Captain, in answer to a question put by someone near. " A fore and aft schooner, I should say by the cut of her ; but she is a long way to leeward, a good ten miles or more. Mr. Jones ! " " Ay, ay, sir." " Put a keg of water and a flask of brandy aboard, then call the watch." " Poor devils ! they will be roasted like chestnuts," muttered the Colonel, as the glow in the sky became more and more intense. " They've got their own boats," said Captain Bow- man, coolly ; " and you may be certain they will make use of them. In the meantime, I'll show them that there's someone near. There ! they'll see that," he added, as a rocket rose upward with its ghastly flame into the air. " Mr. Jones, man the long-boat with six men. You may take a volunteer or two from among these gentle- men willing to go with you." In a moment a score proffered their services, but only a relay for the six oars was selected, and the boat pushed off into the darkness. The sea appeared oil rather than water. Huge, foamless billows rolled onward without a sound, save for the dip of oars, which was re-echoed in space by a succession of strange impressions like voices. The men pulled with a will. As the oars struck the dark ele- 10 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. ment it flashed fire, and the track of the boat resem- bled a sea snake writhing through a lake of silver. " Give way, lads ! " urged the mate, with a cheery voice, and the rowers, with set teeth and compressed lips, propelled the little vessel along with the speed of a steam yacht. By-and-by they were in a cloud of smoke, which hung over the crimsoned waters, and the order was given to ease off a little. The burning ship was close at hand now. Mr. Jones wondered that no boats had been met with. Raising his voice, he bade his exhausted crew lay on their oars, then hailed the burning vessel. She was a large, clumsily-built schooner, with great breadth of beam. Though the fire had only been seen but an hour or two ago by those on the "Durham Castle," the craft was already a wreck, and appeared completely deserted. Amidships and the lower deck were one mass of flame. Her ports presented great charred rifts and gaps, where the red-hot fire glowed as through the bars of a gigantic furnace. The masts had gone by the board, and trailed a blackened wreck on the water. The flames still roared like a cataract, amidst huge volumes of smoke, which rolled away like a cloud over the sea. The mate pulled slowly round the stern and hailed the deck again and again. Still there was no answer, though the flood of light that dyed the water showed out every spar and rope as distinct and clear as noon- day. " What is her name, men ? Can you see it ? " roared the mate through his hands, as the boat drew nearer. One of the men in the bow stood up, and shading his eyes with his hands, called out : "It is the 'Seagull,' sir!" THE BURNING SCHOONER. 11 " The ' Seagull ! ' From where ? " " Sydney," cried the bowman, amid the roar of the flames. " That will do. Back water, my men. Round with her. There is not a living soul here," cried the officer, and he gave the order to pull back to the " Durham Castle." Mr. Jones was mistaken. Through the gloom, and shrouded in the cloud of thick smoke, two men lay-to in a boat. The oars were in their hands, but they did not use them. With straining eyes these two personages watched the move- ments of Mr. Jones and his companions with all-ab- sorbing interest. Once when the mate passed near, on his return, one of them put out his hand, as if to call out, but the other, with a quick movement, seizing him by the throat, and muttering in an angry tone, " Fool ! would you betray us ? " held him down until the rescuers had passed by and left the lurid mass but a red speck in the distance. When day broke, and the " Durham Castle " appeared but a speck upon the vast surface of waters, these two solitary men hoisted an old tattered sail they had with them in the boat and sailed away from the charred wreck of the ill-fated schooner, steering a course al- most due west. 12 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER I. FEKNBBOOK. No spot in the whole southern hemisphere can boast such a bold, rugged, and imposing coast-line as New Zealand. On its most northern ledge towers the Great Barrier Rock the point on which the ocean-tossed mariner first rests his eye the first land seen when bearing up for Maoriland. A strange land this. Along its shores the vision encounters huge and mystic shapes at every turn of the sea wall : here the Colossus of Rhodes, there a ponderous Sphinx, rising sheer up above its fellows, and whose base has been lapped by the restless waves for a thousand years. Truly a strange country is this of Te Waito, the Maori, and the most mystic and awe-inspiring spot of all is that of the Barrier Rock. Save the fire mount- ain of Tongariro, it is the grandest and also the high- est point in New Zealand. It is a gigantic mount, as large as Gibraltar, and equally ringed in by the sea, except at the western end, where there is a narrow strip of kauri forest, which links it with the main- land. Viewed from the sea the Barrier represents the ap- pearance of an exact cone, up to within fifty yards of its summit. There the sloping ends. Beyond, it is treeless, and as bare and bald as the crown of a friar ; otherwise the sides of the giant guardian of Maoriland are densely wooded to the water's edge. FERNBROOK. 13 Singular, indeed, betimes, is the treeless summit. Seamed and scarred, its surface is mottled with a dark glaze, which, during the sunlight, and even under the mellower beams of the moon, gives forth a coruscation, as if the lights were reflected from scale armor. Riven rocks, with deep yawning chasms, are everywhere around it, and the strange glow is over all. No northern painter in primeval day ever dreamed of forms so mighty, so grotesque, as seem to look down upon you from the rocks around. It requires only a very meagre stretch of the imagination to people these heights and depths with a race of Titans, to conjure up the sculptor at his work, rude though it may be, after all the countless ages that have passed. On the southern side of the Barrier, and within a mile of that narrow neck of earth which joins the great rock to the mainland, stood a large and solidly- built mansion. Its position was a broad sloping ridge, which ran parallel with the base of the mount for more than half its entire length, overlooking a lovely valley. The architectural style of this building was almost as quaint and as strong as the natural walls of rocks sur- rounding it. Thirty years previous to the opening of this story, Colonel Harry Fernbrook a handsome, dashing spend- thrift, who had run through a large fortune hi London sold his commission, and with the money emigrated to New Zealand and purchased the Barrier Rock and adjacent land from old Te Huri, the Maori chieftain, and there made his future home. The Colonel, who was a bachelor, had not been set- tled over a twelvemonth at the Rock ere he fell in love with and married Myra Hilton, a half-caste Maori girl of great beauty and an heiress to immense wealth. 14 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. One son only was the issue of this marriage, Hilton Fernbrook. The boy was sixteen years old when he lost his parents by a boating accident off the Barrier during a squall, and the responsibility of the youth's personal welfare devolved upon Rita a tall, silent Maori woman, who had been Mrs. Fernbrook's nurse and chief domestic. A bold, weird-looking landscape is this around the Barrier Rock, with its glistening pinnacles, its far-re- ceding peaks, and downs of worn rock, with the set- ting sun full upon them and lighting up many a gloomy dell below. Here where the sun glinted upon the face of the cliff, an Iris might be seen shining amidst the fleece-like vapor, but rarely did human eye behold this beautiful phenomenon, for the place had the reputation of being haunted. Few there are in our day who believe in ghosts. This go-ahead era of telephones and telegraphs has grown out of all that. We have become too matter- of-fact and practical for such humbug. Nevertheless, he was a bold fellow who would venture alone into the dim and dismal region of that ravine and not feel the influence of the place upon his nerves. It was evident some daring mortal had ignored the peril, for a tiny spiral column of smoke could be seen ascending from the haunted depths of the ravine up- wards to where a kind of stairway was traced formed of creepers, the outstanding stems serving as steps. s It was only by standing upon the very outer ledge above, and parting the foliage that screened it, that the smoke could be seen; and, if only superficially observed, it might easily have been mistaken for a strong waif of the fog that floated above the water- fall near which it rose. Closely scrutinized, however, FERNBROOK. 15 its blue color and soft filmy haze rendered it recogniz- able as the smoke of a wood fire, and one that must have been ignited by human hands. Under the branches of a large kauri tree standing by the edge of the lagoon, a canoe of rude construction was moored by a twisted piece of supple-jack attached to the tree. Nor was this the only indication of the presence of man. Close under the cliff, and near where the torrent came tumbling down from the rocks, stood a kauri pine of enormous dimensions. Its buttressed trunk covered a surface of more than forty feet in diameter, and the bole rose nearly to the brow of the cliff, with a thick foliage upon it which completely shut out the view overhead. Beneath it stood a whare, or Maori hut, constructed of flax thongs and rushes, with a door opening out to the path up the rock. Few and simple, indeed, were the articles of furniture in this primitive abode. A couch made from two poles, interlaced with flax and fern thereon, formed a bed, a sheet of bark placed upon four stakes for a table, and a kauri log for a seat. Save an old tin kettle and one or two utensils, there was nothing else in the establishment in the way of goods and chattels. Against the walls hung a vari- ety of singular objects. The skull and tusks of a boar, enormous bats with human-like faces, snakes, strings of teeth and beads, and quaint images carved in wood. Squatting by the door of the whare was a Maori, smoking a short, black, clay pipe. He was of gigantic proportions, and frightfully tattooed over every part of his face. Between his broad shoulders was set a bull- like head, almost neckless. This personage was evi- dently waiting and watching for the appearance of someone expected by way of the cliff, for at the slight- est sound he would crane himself and listen attentively. 16 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. At such times his back was bent like a bow, present- ing a great hunch, partly the effect of advanced age and partly from natural malformation. The Maori's costume was in keeping with his abode. A short, thick taiiiba of mica, jack-boots (much worn), together with a blanket formed into a toga, completed his costume. At his hand stood a double-barrelled gun, with shot-bag, manufactured from the skin of some wild animal. Whoever the individual might be for whom the old Maori watched and waited, he did not appear to hurry, for the sun began to dip into the sea away beyond the Tonga Reef ere the expected personage made his appearance. In the fast deepening twilight the form of a man ap- peared at the apex of the cliff, who gave a peculiar cry, in imitation of the toho ; the Maori below sprang to his feet immediately at the sound, and began climbing up the face of the jagged rock with astonishing rapidity. The lagoon reached, he unfastened the canoe from its moorings and paddled across to where the man stood for whom he had been waiting. There was just light sufficient to see that this latter individual was a little, hardy-looking man, young, and with a form as lithe and supple as an eel. His face, though bearing no particu- lar indications of masculine beauty, denoted both dar- ing and cunning in a remarkable degree; otherwise there was nothing to distinguish the man from any ordinary mortal except when he opened his mouth then one felt a disagreeable sensation, such as may be felt at the growl of a panther or the croak of a raven. In a very short time the pair recrossed the lagoon and descended the cliff. Not a word passed between FERNBROOK. 17 them till they reached the hut ; there the Pakeha threw himself upon the rude couch, and emitted a long whistle of relief. " So, this is the Great Barrier, is it ? " he cried, with, a mild irony in his unpleasant voice. " I guess I've seen some few places on the globe besides New Zea- land, but hang me as high, Captain Bragge, if I ever saw anything to compare with this. There isn't a level yard of terra firma on the entire rock. If one wants to go over the way to visit one's neighbor, although there are no neighbors hereabouts that I can see, you can't do it under five or six miles' climbing. Give me a match, Bosco." The huge Maori grinned, and at the same time handed his white companion a curiously-carved box containing vestas. " Now, old fellow, I'm going to rest here for half an hour," continued the little man, lighting a cigar, and handing another to his companion. " In the meantime, I want you to see that the gear is put into the boat all ready for a start." " What, to-night ? " inquired the Maori. " To-night, Bosco. The moon will be up in an hour. We will sail when there is light enough, if you please.'' The herculean savage gave a grunt peculiar to the Maori race, lit his cigar, and left the hut. The other sat and smoked in silence for some time, until his thoughts found vent in audible mutterings. " Egad, this is going the ticket and no mistake," he cried, taking the cigar from his lips and apostrophizing the curling smoke above his head. " Here am I, Timothy Sharpe alias the " Ferret," and Valet de Sham to His Greatness Mr. Hilton Fernbrook, Lord of the Barrier Rock ; here am I, ambassador, courier, forerunner and what not, to 2 18 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. herald the approach of my boss master, I mean to this his home, after an absence of five years spent in England and on the continent of Europe. Ha ! ha ! it's rare fun to be a gentleman, and to do the grand tour, as the boss and I have done it for these years past. Ha! ha!" And the idea so tickled the risible faculties of the little man that he rolled off the bunk in a fit of uncon- trollable merriment. " Well, well ; I've done my mis- sion here satisfactorily, at any rate," he observed, when he had somewhat recovered himself. " One trump card played, which will go far to win the game if properly followed up. Now, let me glance once more over my in- structions to make sure I have missed nothing. Firstly, to give Bosco the Maori a half-dozen lines scribbled in such an outlandish fashion that old Nick himself couldn't have read it ; the Maori read it, though, and deuced glad and pleased he seemed after it ; placed himself at once entirely at my disposal, and he put the missive away in his dirty blanket as if it had been the Koh-i- noor. Secondly, received at the house when I got there, and devilish tired I felt too, scraping my shins against the sharp, steep rocks received at the house with open arms, and especially by that tall, dark old she-cat, Rita, the housekeeper. What an eye she has, and what long claws for scratching ! Humph ! Ferret, you rascal, beware of that Maori devil in petticoats. How her withered face lighted up when I told her that Master Hilton was coming home ! Ah, well ! if the place does not suit you, Timothy Sharpe, you can give notice ha ! ha ! Lastly, I am not to delay my return ; very well, Mr. Hilton Fernbrook. The wind is fair for our sixty- mile journey, and I'm glad it is so, for an open fishing- boat is not the safest and most comfortable conveyance FERNBROOK. 19 on the coast of New Zealand on a dark night, and with a chopping sea on. Entre nous. Ferret, if the wind holds, the Master of Fernbrook shall see the face of his humble servant ere to-morrow's dawn."' " Who's there ? " The harsh voice croaked out the latter exclamation fiercely, and at the same instant a revolver was pulled forth from the breast of the but- toned-up coat. "Bah! It's only Bosco returning," he cried, after an intense pause. "This infernal den of peaks and chasms would unnerve the devil himself." He had only time to replace the weapon in his coat when the Maori re-entered the whare. " Well, is the boat ready ? " "Yes." " Come then, lead the way, Bosco," cried the other, rising, and lighting a fresh cigar. " My master gave me positive orders to be back again at Pukehini by to- morrow morning." The old Maori took his gun, and after securing the door of his whare, led the way down the ridge of the ravine in silence. It was a perilous path, even to those who were acquainted with its intricate windings ; but Bosco, who, old as he was, had been born and reared in its vicinity, guided his companion safely to the western ledge, overlooking the sea. In a small circular-shaped inlet, completely hid by the high overhanging cliffs above it, a goodly-sized yawl was seen rising and falling witn the motion of the waves. The Ferret and his companion embarked. After they had cleared the cove a large lug-sail was hoisted, which, catching the breeze, sent the boat along at the rate of six or seven knots an hour. The Maori held 20 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. the helm, and steered for a promontory opposite the Barrier, but far away in the distance, and on which a tiny speck of light shone over the dark waters. For over an hour there was a dead silence between these men ; then the Maori spoke. " Is the Master not well, that he has sent you to re- port his arrival ? Why did he stay at Pukehini ? " "Ah! that's it, Bosco," replied Sharpe, evasively. " Masters do not always consult their servants as to what they intend to do. They order, and we obey. You will have an opportunity of asking the boss that same question two or three hours hence ; perhaps he may answer you in a more satisfactory manner than I can. One reason, no doubt, is that he has not been very well. The voyage was a rough one, and Master Hilton is a bad sailor." The Maori gave an unmistakable grunt of dissent. " The young eaglet always loved the sea," he said, in his quiet tone. " Many a time has he tempted me forth with bribes of tobacco when the winds roared, and the waters were white with foam. Hilton Fernbrook hath changed indeed if the rocking of a great ship taketh away his health and strength." " Bosco, you are a Maori, and therefore cannot un- derstand the changes which may come to one by travelling. The Master of Fernbrook has been absent five years." "Tut! Twenty years cannot change men's likes and dislikes," replied Bosco. " Argued like a Maori," cried the Ferret, laughing his discordant laugh. " The boss is not changed a bit, spite of all the queer things he has seen. He loves old Rita and Bosco, and bears in his regard all the old domestics who served his father before him." FERNBROOK. 21 " Ah ! Bosco loves the boy," grunted the old fellow, in a mollified tone. " When he was no higher than this thwart, I marked him with the eagle of Te Papa. Let him travel where he may, he will remember Bosco." " Certainly ! Now I think of it, there is a tattoo- mark on my master's left shoulder." " Nay, the eagle is upon his breast," cried the Maori, quickly. " Of course, old man. What am I thinking about ? responded the Ferret. "See yonder; what light is that?" he added suddjily, pointing to a red glare shining athwart the, prow of the cutter. " That is the Point Light," answered his companion. " From that peak in is twenty miles to Pukehini." " Good ! Here, take a nip out of this flask. Master Hilton will reward you handsomely for this job, Bosco." 22 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER II. PAX IN BELLO. A GOLDEN morning, and such a one as one only sees about half a dozen times during a New Zealand au- tumn. The sun glinting in upon the large dining-hall at Fernbrook flashed back a thousandfold reflections from picture and mirror, and from the costly glassware and plate scattered profusely over the table. It is a noble hall, and of vast dimensions. Its fittings and furniture are mostly of Maori wood, dark in hue, but massive in their character, and polished like English oak. Looking round this apartment, the idea comes to you that the architect who built Fernbrook had erected a feudal castle, and supplied it with all the modern improvements and embellishments of the nineteenth century. A glorious morning, indeed, the warm sunlight illu- minating spacious courts and galleries with its mellow glow ; but on yonder balcony where a regiment of the line might parade with ease what a view ! Be- neath, sward and lake, and giant kauri forest, dim and dark, set in the midst of a sea of sapphires. East, west, and south, ocean and mountain, and overhead the deep blue arch of heaven. Within a grand chamber leading from this balcony, and known as the dra whig- room at Fernbrook, several persons were assembled on this fine autumnal morn- ing. The room itself was a long, wide apartment, PAX IN BELLO. 23 worthy of a palace, with bay windows deep and roomy as the embrasures of a fort, and curtained with maroon velvet. Rare pictures on the walls ; exquisite statu- ettes in bronze and Parian marble ; silken couches, ex- hibiting elegant taste in the blending of colors ; in short, all that could charm the eye, educate the taste, or give comfort to aesthetic senses, found an appro- priate place here. Near to an open window, upon the sill of which rested a tiny silver cage, a lady was employed feeding a canary. She was a superbly beautiful woman, not more than twenty- three years of age ; tall and com- manding in her proportions, she appeared the breath- ing personification of that lovely dream sculptured by the famous Hiram Power. Her face was the splendid, passionate, glowing face of a Cleopatra, and there was that in the well-shaped brow, eyes, mouth, and lips, which betokened mind and culture of a very high order. Magnificent in person, lovely in face, Lady Blanche Trevor was also as fascinating in manner as one of the fabled sirens of old. Within the folding doorway close by stood this lady's father, Major the Honorable Bob Trevor, M.P. The Major had been twenty years in the colony, was a member of the Ministry, owned many broad acres, and a fine country residence on the Waikato. Men said the Honorable Robert Trevor was haughty and dis- tant even to his most intimate friends, but it was con- ceded, at the same time, that the Major had a kind, sympathetic soul underlying his reserve of manner. Standing here in the full glow of the sunlight, the member for West Auckland presented the appearance of a tall, stately soldier, handsome yet, though sixty years had passed over him. 24 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. On the opposite side of the room, and almost hidden by the thick drapery of the window, stood a young Maori girl, gazing out upon the landscape beyond. It would have been difficult perhaps even in Maoriland, where the female form retains in an eminent degree the faultless outline and exquisite roundness of the primeval race, to find a form so beautifully perfect. She was adorned in a costume which lent additional grace to her dark and resplendent beauty. Encircling her glossy raven hair a chaplet of white flowers shaded the oval features, delicate and pure as those of a Spanish gypsy. A loose robe, woven from the finest mica flax, girded at the waist with a girdle of curious shells, gave the girl a picturesque appearance when contrasted with the costly morning robe worn by Lady Blanche Trevor. It was not the costume, however, which engaged your attention. It was the face. Poet nor painter ever dreamed of anything so spirituelle, so gentle, meek, and tender. It was the face of a beautiful woman, uncon- scious of her beauty, and with eyes through which the soul seemed to be gazing for the first time in much amazement and surprise at this wondrous but wicked world. For the information of those who are about to visit Europe, let them go to the Moorish city of Taugiers : within the walls of the Delgardo they will see a picture of Isabel de Masquin, the famous beauty and the heroine of Telba. Here it seemed as if that old painting had walked out of its gilded frame, and stood transformed in the living, breathing image of Te Coro, the niece of Rita, the dark, stern housekeeper at Fernbrook. The Maori girl had never known any parent but her aunt. Te Papa, her father, a renowned chieftain, had lost his lands and his life in an uprising against the Pakeha. The orphan baby had been brought to the PAX IN BELLO. 25 Barrier Rock by a trusty messenger from the shattered tribe of the slain chief. She was only two years old then, but the close, reserved Rita loved the wee thing for the sake of the unfortunate brother. At sixteen, Te Coro was not only beautiful in person, but, thanks to her relative, cultured in mind. She early showed a passion for music, which was indulged to the utmost extent by her friend Blanche Trevor and her father among others. Strange to say, the beautiful Maori could not be induced to adopt the Pakeha fashion of dress, though she was English in everything else, save blood and name. Perhaps the aunt had influenced her niece to the contrary. Who shall say ? Dark, cool, and inscrutable, sat the tall figure of the Maori nurse by the huge fireplace ; three parts of a century had she seen, and although it had whitened her once thick black hair, and had left deep wrinkles all over her strong face, it had not dimmed the latent fire of the dark eyes, or retarded the freedom of her move- ments. Rita had nursed Mrs. Fernbrook when a baby, had held the Colonel's wife in her arms when Hilton first saw the light of day, and when that dire catas- trophe came which deprived the youth of both his parents, Rita had vowed in her heart to watch over him till death. Over by the piano yonder lounges that same Hilton Fernbrook, toying with the long ears of my Lady Tre- vor's King Charles. He was a trifle over twenty-one when he started on the grand tour, and he has been absent about five years so the Major says, who has a good memory for dates. Looking attentively at the young man, you observe he is the image of that splen- did portrait in oils, hanging on the opposite wall, The painting was executed before Hilton Fernbrook left for 26 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. his trip abroad, but there is no mistaking the likeness. Over the face of the prodigal the lines are beginning to show clearly, and the deep black moustache is much fuller than in the portrait ; nevertheless, it is the same face. No second glance is needed to determine that a face once seen not to be easily forgotten. In all, a very handsome man ; dark, certainly, with his strain of Maori blood, yet with the form and thews of an athlete. In his very ease there is intellectual predominance, born of that self-same reliance which an unusual degree of physical power is apt to bestow. Something there had been mental labor, perchance, in sickness which had evidently left its mark upon him ; but it had in no way diminished his rare muscular force. A man pre- eminently to be selected from his fellows for feats of activity and strength. You could see the sense of a robust and strong individuality, strong alike in dis- ciplined reason and animal vigor, pervade his every movement. A man habituated to aid others, needing no aid for himself. It was not the strong supple form of this young man that engaged your attention so much as his face. The first thing noticeable in it, as a whole, was the unmistakable sign of a will inexorable. No one looking at his eyes could deny their power of attraction. Large, bright and, when roused into action, scintillating like those of some wild beast it was their very fascina- tion which drew you as a loadstone to the man, spite of either antipathy or hate. A disciple of PuysSgur or Mesmer would have acknowledged in the Master of Fernbrook a mighty clairvoyant, gifted abundantly with magnetic influence, and that subtle force which holds the will of others in complete subjugation. Watch him lounging in cosy indolence ; the brute he is toying with shows its dislike and its white teeth, but PAX IN BELLO. 27 it does not bite him, nor move from his reach. Why ? Because it cannot. See, when he raises his full arched eyes to that bright young face by the window. Te Coro is fully twenty paces from him, with her gaze fixed in quite the opposite direction ; but she turns suddenly, and meets the magnetizing glance only to dye the soft cheek with a maidenly blush. The myste- rious force is so strong in him that even the Colonel, schooled as he is in the art of sang-froid, feels its power, must fidget, turn and gaze at his young friend with a curious gleam in his look, puff more fiercely at his cheroot, and conduct himself in a way altogether foreign to the quiet gentlemanly fashion for which he is famed. There is one person present, however, who does not appear in any way disturbed by the magnetic power of Hilton Fernbrook. Let him turn his swift glances upon old Rita as he may, they have no effect upon her. The Maori dame sits quietly knitting. It is almost her sole occupation now. Betimes she raises her stately head to look his way, and as she does so the smile fades from her withered face, and the black eyes grow hard and cold. The breakfast bell peals out by and by, and the guests prepare to descend to the dining-hall. There had been that quiet pause amongst the company which usually precedes either of the chief meals of the day, and especially if the party happen to be hungry. Hilton Fernbrook rises and goes to the window where Te Coro stands, and offers the Maori his arm. With a shy upward look at his dark, smiling face, the girl accepts the proffered courtesy, and the pair go down the broad stairway together, the others follow- ing them. " Don't you think there is a marked change in Mr. 28 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Fernbrook, Dad?" whispers the Lady Blanche to the Major, on whose arm she is leaning. The father pauses and looks steadily at his daughter. " My dear Blanche, * Mr.' is a rather cold term to apply to one who was your schoolfellow, and is to be your husband," he answers in the same tone. "In what manner is our young friend changed ? " " I cannot tell you, sir ; but there is a difference in the Hilton Fernbrook who left New Zealand five years ago and the gentleman who has returned to us," she replies gravely. " You ask, where is the change ? in what? That, I repeat, I cannot tell you; but it is there to me plain enough." " Tut, a woman's whim," says the Major, moving forward. " Your ladyship was always crotchety, from a baby. I see no difference in the son of my old friend, save, perhaps, that he has grown more manly, and that five years' travel and study have improved both the inner and the outer man in a surprising manner." "Dear Dad, I do not mean to imply that our newly- returned host is other than Hilton Fernbrook," she answers, with a smile. " What I do mean is that the youth who left this Rock five years ago has changed his nature without having altered either in face or form. When I look at him, it seems to me as if other and sinister eyes gazed back at me through the face of my young friend and playmate. Do you understand ? " "In good sooth, I do not," responded the Honor- able Bob, somewhat testily. " Early rising evidently does not agree with you, Blanche. Try a cutlet and a cup of cocoa. Fasting is not good, it brings in its train all sorts and conditions of morbid fancies. Come to me after breakfast, and we can talk the matter over." PAX IN BELLO. 29 A noble dining-hall, truly. At the head of the mas- sive table stood a high-backed chair, carved in Maori fashion. Above all other races on the globe, the New Zealanders are undoubtedly the most expert in this art. Te Waito, the sire of the famous Rewi, spent three hours a day on the average for a period of twenty years on a figure of wood, now in the hands of a certain Interpreter. Many years must have been spent on the grotesque lines and fine tracery exhibited on this chair, ere it came into the possession of Colonel Fernbrook. It was a gift from a friendly chieftain years ago, and had neither joint nor nail in its con- struction. For just one instant the son of Colonel Fernbrook paused before he took his seat therein paused irreso- lutely, as if in doubt, or fear, or both. The hungry com- pany heeded no such trivial circumstance, but began a vigorous attack upon the good things before them. There were not wanting toasts and neat speeches in honor of the wanderer's return, even at the early meal. If cordial greetings and flattering words of welcome went for anything then, the Master of Fern- brook had cause to be proud of such favorable tokens of good-will from his friends and neighbors. These, by the way, had received intimation of his coming a week previously, and were congregated at the Barrier to give him welcome. The recipient of all these courtesies took them very coolly. He performed the honors of the table with perfect ease and dignity. Travel had certainly changed the man in this respect, inasmuch as Hilton Fernbrook at nineteen was both awkward in manner and as shy in disposition as any unsophisticated village wench. There were many amongst the guests assembled to 30 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. do honor to the owner of Fernbrook Hall who had been on the most intimate terms with him, besides the Major and his charming daughter. Foremost was Ralph Warne, son of the head of the firm of Thomas Warne & Co., Bankers. The estate of the Warnes joined the Barrier Rock property, hence the two boys had been inseparable friends from childhood. A fine, strapping, active fellow, this young Warne, and of the true Saxon breed. He had been a term or two at Auckland, and returned quite a masher of the first water. To stare at you through an eyeglass, though it was doubtful if he could see at all by means of it to drawl and lisp with exquisite slowness when speaking, and to decorate his handsome person, after the manner of my Lord Chesterfield on state days, appeared his sole aim and occupation. Ill-natured people said he was a foolish coxcomb, with more money than brains ; but ill-natured people do not always utter the truth. It was certainly true that the banker's heir had no idea of the value of money. He would have been a plump pigeon for any worldly Captain Hawkesley to pluck ; but there were very few of that ilk in the vicinity of the Barrier. Nevertheless, a keen reader of men would have ruled that beneath the outer network of affecta- tion young Warne was not such a fool as he looked. The wealthy coxcomb had done some trifling good with his money at times, if the testimony of the gentle- man seated opposite to him is to be credited. Alton Lyndhurst is a poet and novelist. He has a faded look, as of having grown pale, for lack of daylight. He looks as if he had worked by night, and lived by night, and as if the sunshine and fresh air were a new sensa- tion to him. He has well-cut features ; but the out- line of his face is too sharp for beauty no sculptor PAX IN BELLO. 31 would choose him for Apollo or Antinous. Large hazel eyes, bright and clear, full of vivacity and ex- pression, redeem the defects of his mobile countenance. On the whole, there is a charm in his face from the in- finite variety of light and shade to be observed there- on. He is a man about whom people rarely make up their minds all at once ; a man who improves upon closer acquaintance, says his friend Ralph Warne. Time was when young Lyndhurst had to support a widowed mother by writing articles for newspapers and magazines. It proved a pitiful struggle, for the colony was not by any means a reading one. By the strictest economy, mother and son managed to exist, however, and the poor disciple of letters found time to bend his genius to more ambitious work. He be- came the author of a new novel. In this effort, in which every hour devoted to its construction had been a sacrifice, the author had striven to rise out of his old familiar self to something better. Alas, for the faith- ful work and the lofty aspirations ! The book was a failure, and the kindly publisher who sent it forth to the world was almost ruined by its publication. The Wellington " Exterminator," in a slashing article three columns long, fell upon the ill-fated work, hip and thigh. Other journals of less magnitude followed in the same strain, while one or two damned the volume with faint praise. By some means the disgraced book found its way into the hands of Ralph Warne, who read it with in- terest. Some of the scenes therein depicted were, as it were, a faithful record of his own gay life. From that moment the cloud was lifted from the life of the unfortunate Lyndhurst. Unknown to the writer, the banker's son purchased a whole edition of the work 32 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. for distribution amongst his friends. It finds favor now, because it has had the stamp of fashion set upon it. The newspapers may rail and condemn as they please. The flat has gone forth. People who never read a romance in their lives read this one, and find much therein that is true indeed, that some parts of it fit in with their own existence " to a T." The book brings the author money and what is infinitely more dear to him -fame. The great and wealthy alike are proud to have him amongst them. " Who is your friend ? " asks Mrs. Morgan Hardrith, a widow of forty or thereabouts, who has just returned from a visit to her late husband's relatives in Wales. The exquisite sprig brings his eyeglass to bear on the fair one, and replies, in his slow measured accents, " Oh, ah, that gentleman is Lyndhurst." " What, Alton Lyndhurst, the author ? " "Ya-as!" "I have read his book. How good-natured he looks." " Haw ! Did you expect to meet a laughing hyena beneath a frock-coat, Madam ? " " I don't know what I expected. He writes like a man who despises the world he lives in, yet there is no mistaking the broad sympathy in every sentiment." Young Warne stares at the widow, almost rudely. " I know nothing of sentiment," he drawls. " It is a trick of the trade, no doubt, with writers to preach sympathy. It does no harm, however, and pleases the ladies." " Introduce me." " With ple-shaw." The conversation becomes general. Heretofore the heir of Fernbrook had been the focus of the party. PAX IN BELLO. 33 With well-bred hints and questions pounding in upon him, he has been compelled to give a brief resum$ of his five years' wanderings, and he has done his task to their apparent satisfaction. There are people here as his guests who are delightful social butterflies : women whose fetish is fashion, and whose religion is dress ; women with whom to waste a summer after- noon at kettledrum, with whom to dawdle away long evenings in a country house, discussing fashionable scandal, or the last new thing in robes. Men there are, too, who neither toil nor moil ; men whose clever, well-chosen words are full of scathing irony for the human asses who delve and sweat, and rise at cock- crow. They talk about literature, Mrs. Morgan Hardrith expounding primitive opinions in that can't-be-denied voice of hers. Major Trevor, less vehement, but more trenchant, joins issue, and there is a brilliant fence of words between them, until the sharper edge of the woman's wit places the gallant son of Mars hors de combat. Rhoda Hardrith, heiress and belle of the season, takes up the running in lieu of her mamma. The favorite poet of the young beauty is Byron. She has no sympathy with Tennyson, because she does not understand him. " The Idylls of the King " and " Love and Duty " are so much Greek to her. She adores Fielding and Smollett. If the latter is sometimes naughty, he has also the power of making amends to his readers by being awfully nice. Alton Lyndhurst sits mute, while his friend Warne fixes his eyeglass, and smiles sweetly at the talkers. So the meal pro- gresses to its end. 3 34 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER III. THE MESMERIST. THE rigorous winter season has fairly set in. There has been a plethora of garden parties, balls, hunts, and what not for the frivolous and fashionable during the delightful autumnal weather. Hitherto Fernbrook has never seen such a gathering of beauty, of vanity and ugliness, of well-bred men and vulgar women, within its walls. In less than three short mouths the Rock has become more famous than was Almack's in the Jersey and Londonderry days. With a lavish prodigality, Hilton Fernbrook has made his house al- together one of the pleasantest in New Zealand. The demigods of society crowd his rooms, and make excur- sions round his bold rugged domain, drink his wine, and fill the place with mirth and revelry. Parliament has assembled, and the Honorable Bob Trevor has departed for town, taking the Lady Blanche along with him, at her earnest desire. The Major and his daughter are not missed, however, from the throng of guests at the Barrier Station. Most of them find it quite a romance in real life to spend the winter here, in this old mansion where betimes the wind roars so loudly, and where the angry waves, foam-crested, break themselves against its solid base. Some of them, Ralph Warne among the number, have determined that the long dreary evenings shall be filled up with amusements. If they cannot hunt the wild boar and THE MESMERIST. 35 the toho, they have determined to turn half the house into a temporary theatre. For this purpose, agents have been despatched to Auckland, who have returned with the necessary workmen, together with a small cargo of material for dress and scenery. Meanwhile there is trouble looming in the distance for the whole country. Te Papa of Taranaki, and his ten thousand tribesmen, have broken into open revolt. Five years previously this chieftain sold his people's land to the Government for ten thousand pounds. Some one told the chief that he had given away the land for less than one-tenth of its value, whereupon Te Papa demanded his acres back, or his warriors should drive every Pakeha into the sea. News of these tidings came but faintly to the ears of the rank and fashion congregated at the Rock. What had such idle butterflies to do with Te Papa, or his hordes of savages? Parliament had met ex- pressly to deal with the arch rebel and his followers. It was no business of theirs, yet while the house de- bated, while its members soundly abused each other, instead of taking united action to quell the rising in the bud, five powerful chieftains of the Waikato es- poused Te Papa's cause, and the rebel movement became general throughout the length and breadth of the Northern Island. Amid all the gayety, and the noise and bustle of the active spirits about him, Hilton Fernbrook went the even tenor of his way. Sometimes, when the vague rumors anent the Maori rising reached him, his eye would light up with a fierce, sinister gleam of satisfac- tion, as if the thought of the coming deadly strife was a source of congratulation. One wet evening, when the guests were assembled in the spacious drawing- - 36 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. room, rehearsing their intended performance, the host stole quietly away to another part of the mansion. It was a small room at the extreme end of the northern wing overlooking the sea-wall. A very neat snug room, luxuriously furnished, and quite retired from the suite of stairways and corridors which led to it. In one corner stood a magnificent piano forwarded from London by Hilton, during the first year of his sojourn in England ; before the instrument sat Te Coro, fingering the keys in a reverie. Fernbrook heard the loose irregular strain and paused upon the threshold. Had any one been present, he would have noticed how quickly the player turned about with her gaze upon the door. She felt the presence of the man rather than heard his approach. " Pardon me, uni Titi" he said in a soft tone, and using the endearing Maori term. " I am almost bored to death with all the incessant noise and excitement ; I have come here for a few minutes' peace. Will you allow me to sit here and hear you play ? " A deep blush mantled the smooth, olive face of Te Coro as Hilton strode into the room and took a seat beside her ; but the next moment it faded, leaving her ashy pale. He saw the troubled look in her face, and felt her shapely hand tremble as he took it between his own. " Titi, have I offended you ? " he asked, in the same low, soft accents. " Here have I returned some three months or more, and yet I have had no word of welcome from your lips." "You have had many welcomes, sir," replied the Maori, in a quiet tone ; " surely you cannot miss mine. Remember, I am but the daughter of a savage. I am Te Coro, your ward, the object of your generous THE MESMERIST. 37 bounty. I feel I am the daughter of old Te Papa, and therefore cannot offer you the services of my tongue. Words are only air. What then ? If I have not bid you welcome home again with my lips, I have done so a thousand times in my heart." " Yet you have avoided me, Te Coro." " I am a Maori. My likes and dislikes are not always in my acts, nor that which I think to be seen in my words." He looked at her with a calm, steady gaze for the space of a minute, then said gayly, " We shall be friends, you and I, Te Coro. When you were a wee lady, no higher than my vest, I used to call you sweetheart : let the bond remain between us yet. The years that have gone are but so many seconds spent in a troubled, dreamful sleep. Come, let me hear you play, uni Titi." He leads her to the piano, but she trembles so she cannot command the instrument. " Why is all this nervous emotion ? " she asks herself. " Am I not the daughter of the brave Te Papa ? Why should I tremble in the presence of my benefactor and friend ? " She cannot answer the question, put it as she may. There is a subtle influence at work, outside her func- tions, over which she has no control. She feels it, as if it were a palpable force of material form and circum- stance. Hilton Fernbrook is swift to note the change in his companion, and a strange smile illumines his dark face. " You shut yourself up in these old rooms too much," he said presently. " I must speak to Rita about it. Now you shall hear me play." He sat down and began a soft prelude from one of the old German masters ; 38 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. anon, this gave place to Agia's difficult yet soul-stir- ring "Del Nomino." The Maori forgets for the moment all emotion in her astonishment. The girl is a thorough musician ; but this man touches the instrument as she had never heard it touched before. The full notes roll forth with a sweetness and withal a power which move her almost to tears. He glides from Agia to Mozart with a rapid run, which tests the grand piano to its full compass. The " Agnus Dei " is played as if upon an organ, and fills the room with melody melody which o'erflows, spite of the rattling rain, into the corridor, where old Rita hears and pauses to listen on her way to her room. O, Music! what tongue can equal thine? What creature crawling beneath the stars with the stamp and the likeness of the Godhead upon him, will not find in thee a refuge from the hard, iron-bound work- aday life, where men stand by and hear each other groan ! Genius and Art are twin-born with thee. O, Music ! Faith, Hope, and Charity are linked together in thy golden girdle. What a grand language dost thou speak ! All nations and tongues comprehend thy voice. The cares and the frets which cling to the practical, pause at the threshold of thy mysterious domain. We need but run the fingers o'er the keys, and lo ! the worries of the dull globe vanish into thin air. Te Coro sits silent 'neath the witchery of the charmer. Those great dark eyes of hers flash swift- ly o'er the moving fingers, which run rapidly into Beethoven, Pastoralle, and after that to a sweet pen- sive air from ' Lucia.' The New Zealand maiden can- not have too much of that magnificent music. She is THE MESMERIST. 39 more composed when he pauses, and turns towards her those magnetic eyes, which sparkle with a lurking satisfaction. They sit face to face, he talking, but with his look straight and full into her eyes, and very watchful of every slight, varying expression therein, There is a method in his watchfulness which does not betray itself to his companion. She feels the attrac- tion in his gaze, but cannot resist it. After all, it is a pleasing, lulling sensation, this which comes over her ; a strange new pleasure, never felt by her before, where- in all the senses appear soothed into peace and quiet. Hilton Fernbrook sees the change, smiles, and turns again to the piano. The first note makes her start as if from sleep. And yet she has not closed so much as an eyelid, nay, had never for an instant lost the con- sciousness of his presence there before her, It was only when he turned from her that an inward feeling of some undefiuable danger came to her a danger hid in some subtle way, amid all the glorious sounds, the soft words, and the bold, unwinking orbs that looked and allured while they looked upon her. She rose to leave the room, but he laid his hand upon hers and quietly detained her. " Not yet, Coro," he said smilingly. " I am nervous to-night, and almost afraid to be alone. Listen while I sing to you." Te Coro had no will but to obey. He plays a low prelude, beautiful in its harmonious blending of sounds, and then in a deep, full voice begins to sing Side by side we whisper, " Who loves, loves forever," As wave upon wave to the sea runs the river, And the oar on the smoothness drops noiseless and steady, Till we start with a sigh : Was it she ? was it I ? 40 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Who first turned to look on the way we had made, Who first saw the soft tints of the garden land fade, Who first sighed, " See, the rose hue is fading already " ? This song has the effect of banishing from her mind all the latent fears felt previously. How the deep rich voice soothed her ! The song ended, he turns again towards her with a wild gleam in his look a look loaded with the power of a strong will. The Maori feels its influence and tries to break it. With a gasp as if for breath, she makes a vigorous effort to rise and flee from the chamber. Vain exertion for her, indeed ! The strong eyes before her hold her spell- bound. It is only for a moment or so that this agoniz- ing duel of the will lasts. Hilton Fernbrook raises his right hand, and, as it were, Te Coro with it, while one can count twenty, and the battle is over. Te Core's eyes slowly close ; the small shapely head, with its coronet of glossy raven hair, falls backward on the cushioned chair. The dove is at the mercy of the hawk. He sits coolly watching her, with his arms still moving to and fro before her face in slow but reg- ular passes. Whatever his design, he appears in no hurry about it. When he has satisfied himself that the Maori is thoroughly under his control, he rises and stretches his limbs, like some tired wrestler who has undergone severe exertion. Standing silently now and listening to the steady rain patter outside, he begins to mutter to himself, as if that inner man of his were a companion and a confidant. " Oh ! who shall gauge the limit of knowledge ? " he cri 1. "Who shall say that knowledge is not pow ? Let me think. Old De Roal taught me to te myself after this fashion. He told me that Mesmer .scovered a terrible force in Nature, but durst not use " Te Core's eyes slowly close, the shapely head, with its coronet of glossy raven hair, falls backward on the cushioned chair." Page 40. THE MESMERIST. 41 it for fear of the dungeon and the rack. My old tutor knew as much as Mesmer, yet was fearless. No dread of stake or gibbet could deter him. I am his pupil. I who have pitted myself against odds all my life. In every vein and fibre of my being I feel the strong current of this all-powerful electricity of vigorous life. Before I was a man, De Roal revealed to me my strength. Well, I will husband it, and use it as I please. Soft ; wake not yet, sweet Maori maid," he murmured hurriedly. " I am thy victor, but will not use a conqueror's licence to thy shame. To me thou shalt be an oracle the high-priestess of my mesmer- ism. How beautiful she is ! Were it not that I am a what matters it what I am ? Love is blind. If it be, so be it. Hist ! " he paused abruptly in his so- liloquy, and stole noiselessly, to the door and opened it suddenly but there was no one there. " What a fool I am ! " he murmured, closing the door suddenly. "Now let me to the trial." " Speak, Te Coro, if thou canst." " I am at your pleasure," came in faint tones from the voice of the sleeper. " Can trance produce visions ? " he asked with a flush on his dark face. "Even so. What wouldst thou?" she replied in clearer accents. The mesmerist stood over her in silence for a mo- ment, as if in thought, then answered : " I would fain know what is before your survey, Te Coro?" The pallid lips of the Maori writhed for utterance, but no sound came therefrom. " What see you ? " he cried. " Speak ! " " I see a long, lonely, winding road on the border of the sea coast," she answered quietly. " The road leads 42 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. into a gloomy valley, where men are at work, hewing out large blocks of stone. Beyond the valley I be- hold a dark gloomy building ringed in by a high wall, and which looks like a huge prison. There are several parties of men, in strange costumes, moving here and there. Each party are chained together like oxen, and their dress is colored blue and gray, and marked with an arrow. One party of twelve drag a heavy cart loaded with stone round a bend of the lonely road- way. On either side of these are two other men, who are not chained, and wear dark uniforms and are armed. Suddenly the gang stop, and, with one accord, rush upon the armed guard, whom they overpower in an instant. The onslaught is so unexpected that no defence is offered, save and except that one of the guns goes off in the scuffle, thus giving a signal of alarm. In a moment the gang of chained men are free ; the iron shackles about their limbs are rent asunder. Seven of the twelve are recaptured and chained to- gether again ; the other five flee and disappear." " Can you describe any of those that have es- caped?" " Yes. The one who led them appeared like unto yourself, Hilton Fernbrook." "I?" " You ! " she answered quickly. " Did I not know that you were here, I would say : Thou art he ! " " Well said, O prophetess ! Has this felon my hair, my gait, my moustache ? Come, no quibbling, Titi?" " This man has no moustache, but the face, the form, the walk, are all the same. I know them from a mil- lion, degraded as are the surroundings." " Good, my young Toho," he answered, with a THE MESMERIST. 43 strange smile. "Let that vision pass. What seest thou now ? " " Now, I behold a picture like the sea," she said, after a pause. " And lo ! there is a ship a small ship with two masts, from which the idle sails hang loosely down. There is no wind, and the sea and sky are like molten fire seen through a mist. On the deck the crew are reeling here and there in drunkenness and uttering terrible blasphemy. The liquor and the blaz- ing sun have made them mad. Everywhere there ap- pears disorder and wild debauchery. Look! Even while they sing and dance in their wild orgie, a broad flame shoots forth from the ship's hold. She is on fire. One of the crew, more insane than the rest, has set the vessel in flames. How it roars and whistles, and gleams in power ! One by one it licks up the reeling forms of the crew with its red-hot tongue, until there are but two left to battle with it. This pair fight the angry elements with cool courage and patience. But in vain. Nothing can save the doomed ship. Their only hope is in one small boat, which the flames have not yet reached, They lower this on the darkened ocean and push off from the burning mass." " You can see the faces of this pair ? " "Clearly. One is a little man, thin-visaged, but bold-looking, and, though young, still resolute." " And the other ? " "The same man who led the five prison-breakers into the bush," answered Te Coro. " Can you discern the name of the burning vessel ? " asks the mesmerist, in a low tone. " Yes ; vividly. It is Seagull.' " " Enough ! " he cries, with sudden animation. Then, seating himself at the piano, he plays a Grand March 44 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. in fullest tone. By and by Te Coro moans, sighs, rubs her eyes, and gazes about her with a bewildered look. " I fear I have been asleep," she says in an apologetic manner, looking towards the player. " Asleep, Te Coro ? Come, that is not very flattering to your humble servant," he answered, without turn- ing. " I confess it is not," she adds, with a little laugh, at the same time rising to go. "Thank you very much for your music. It has made me quite drowsy." Te Coro retires with a graceful bend of her head, and closes the door softly behind her. Out on the main corridor stands old Rita, the nurse. " Come with me to my room, child ; I have some- thing to say to you," she says, as she leads the girl away. THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 45 CHAPTER IV. THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. BEFORE the rain had ceased to rattle against the solid gables of Fernbrook Hall, all was in readiness for the performance of Massinger's fine old comedy, ' A New Way to Pay old Debts." Many objections had been set up and demolished before the dramatis personcB were fitted to their several parts. Luckily for Ralph Warne, who had taken upon himself the re- sponsibility of the affair, Alton Lyndhurst proved him- self an able stage director and manager. But with all his tact, the young author found himself at fault. No one could be found to perform the leading role. In this dilemma, two strangers arrived at the Rock, and were introduced by the master of Fernbrook to his guests. " These two gentlemen are my especial friends," he said. " On the continent of Europe and elsewhere we have sojourned together, sharing the same roof and the same table. In the name of friendship I bid them both welcome to New Zealand." The new-comers were evidently men of the world, who knew how to adapt themselves to mixed company. In a few hours they were quite at home, accepted parts in the comedy, and entered into the spirit of the fun with the zest of school-boys let out for a holiday. Neither of these personages was young. The fore- most of the twain was verging on sixty years of age ; 46 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. yet he was a man who had been well preserved a man who appeared to have taken good care of Number One above all things else. His threescore years sat upon him as lightly as forty winters upon many men. Tall, but withal slight and delicate-looking, there was not a crease or wrinkle in the man, from his nose to his toes. Beyond an undeniable military air, which clung to him like his tight-fitting frock-coat, Colonel de Roal seemed a well-bred polished gentleman, at peace with himself and with all the world. Drummond Blake, his companion, was altogether unlike the Colonel. A giant in stature, and with limbs like another Hercules, this man was both gruff and coarse in manner and in speech. Nevertheless, there was a good-humored, robust, healthy, devil-may-care hilarity about him which won him friends amongst the company. A keen observer of men would have noticed two things in the conduct and manner of Colonel de Roal and his gigantic friend : Firstly, the Colonel never lost sight, even for a moment, of the huge pro- portions of his comrade ; while Blake, on his part, in- variably took his cue from the other, sometimes by a word, but mostly by glances well understood. There were no keen observers at the Rock, however, except Hilton Fernbrook and old Rita, the Maori. Probably both were on the watch, but in different directions. " What a grand old place this is, dear Fernbrook," quoth the Colonel, adjusting his pince-nez over his cold steely blue eyes. " There has been no vulgar architect here ; this is no modern daub of ugly brick and stucco. Nature has aided the builder, or the wise fellow has taken advantage of Nature. Ma foi, what a splendid bronze ! Sallust of Pompeii, could he stalk forth from his lava tomb beside Vesuvius, would stare in wonder THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 47 at the magnificent proportions of yonder trellised bal- cony ! " Seldom had there been congregated together such a witty, laughter-loving group as that which assem- bled to witness " A New Way to Pay Old Debts." In the lofty drawing-room there is accommodation for double the number of those who sit in easy indolence before the crimson curtain hiding the stage. The gen- tlemen who are to take part in the performance are scattered through the audience, laughing and talking. An early dinner has left them ample time for gossip ere the play begins. Amongst the loungers, Alton Lyndhurst, drawn forth from his shell of reserve, is holding forth on the merits of Kit Marlowe, Jonson, Webster, Marston and a host of others who have left their mark on the British Drama. His listeners are only a group of five, but they are appreciative. One of the number is a lady, a proud, wealthy beauty, with a face and form as matchless as that of Helen of Troy. How cold and motionless she sits ! yet there is a world of meaning in the far-away look in her eyes. While the fiddles are being tuned, and the players are preparing for honest Philip Massinger's master- piece, let me take up the wand of Hermes and put back Old Father Time by six years. The world was younger and brighter for Victorine Hargrave, then only a slip of a girl, just past her eighteenth birthday a birthday at which there had been an innocent drinking of tea at Major Hargrave's cottage, on the cliff overlooking the Waitamata. Major Hargrave is a widower, and as poor as Job. He is a man who has seen much life. He has fought for Don Carlos, and derives his military title from his 48 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. service in Spain. Paris, Madrid, and London have in turn been his home. He has spent some portion of his days in South America, and is not unremembered in Mexico. But at sixty-seven he has had enough of a nomad existence. It is pleasant to remember his wan- derings and relate his adventures while he reposes at ease by his hearth ; pleasanter still to have his clever, bright, graceful daughter to minister to his wants a daughter who makes a sovereign go as far as two dis- pensed by a sullen housekeeper. His cottage at Par- nell is the pink of neatness, very small, but seeming so much the snugger for its smallness, daintily furnished with the relics of larger and more splendid abodes picked up as occasion served. Victorine is one of those active spirits who rise early. She devotes her mornings to household duties, and flits about, light of foot, with gloved hands and broad linen apron. The Major, although a soldier of fortune, has ever been an honest man. It is his boast that he has lived amidst spendthrifts and social Bo- hemians, and yet paid his way ; that no tailor re- members him with a pang ; that no time-yellowed page in a fashionable bookmaker's ledger records his dis- honor. In his retirement he amuses himself with literature, and though this pastime widens his narrow income, he has more pride in his achievements than in the re- muneration. The daughter is not so well satisfied with her surroundings. She has lived in this seaboard of Auckland for more than ten years, but she has still dim recollection of London and Paris, and other towns, which come and go in her memory like a dream of the " Arabian Nights." To be rich and powerful, that is the acme of her ambition. She often asks her father, THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 49 wonderingly, how he can exist in the dull Antipodes, after his experience of brighter worlds ? The girl knows that, with even fewer opportunities she is more accomplished than most of her wealthy neighbors ; she sings better, plays more brilliantly, has a more general capacity for learning new things, a greater deftness of finger, superior taste in dress, and more skill in making much out of little. Her father is foolishly fond, proudly indulgent, praises Yictorine's pretty looks, her sweet voice, her cleverness, graceful, winning ways, and general good management. She lives in an atmosphere of praise, rises every morning to be admired ; lies down at night pleased with her own beauty and sweetness. The Lyndhursts are the Major's nearest and dearest friends. Mother and son are as fond of Yictorine as if she were their own flesh and blood. Often, in the summer gloaming, girl and boy have climbed the cliff above the noble bay, and here have watched the ships glide to and fro like grim ghosts in the twilight. Major Hargrave is at his best as a dramatic critic. Shakespeare is a whole library to him. He has so im- bued his daughter with a love of the great dramatist, that the girl has a veritable passion for the art. She knows every word of Juliet, Queen Katharine, Rosa- lind, Lady Macbeth, Cordelia, and Beatrice. Under the Major's tuition, Victorine has become a superb elocu- tionist. By the winter's fire, while her father smoked his pipe, she has recited the whole Shakespearean round. He teaches her how the most famous actress of his day used to pause here, or linger fondly on a word there ; or rise at such a point to indignant passion. He re- members the great Siddons ; how her awful whisper went through the gloom of the theatre as if mocking 4 50 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. the evil spirits ; and Victorine hangs on his words with delight, and asks him again and again to describe that wondrous art. Alton Lyndhurst is three years Victorine's senior, and is fighting an uphill fight for a place in the world of letters. What little time he can spare from his work is devoted to Major Hargrave's daughter, for the poor penniless scribe almost worships her. It is the one gleam of sunshine in his drudging life to read Shakes- peare with her, or to play Romeo to her Juliet. There is just enough in her unlikeness to all other women to catch the fancy of the dreaming enthusiast, who is as deeply smitten with the only true, absorbing, unchang- ing, eternal passion as a young man of twenty-two can be. So on that high cliff, perched on the sea-wall, Al- ton Lyndhurst tells Major Hargrave's daughter his love. Alas for the unfortunate scribe ! With shapely hands resting on his shoulder, eyes looking into his, words coming swiftly, and with sobs borne along the eloquent voice, she tells him that if she could love any one it would be Alton. If she could for- get her terrible struggles with grim want, and resign her hope of unbounded wealth and station, it would be for Alton. But it had been the dream of her life to become rich and powerful, to emerge out of the slough of despond and poverty into the clearer light that is born of affluence. Alton Lyndhurst goes back again to his work, shuts himself up with his books, and strives as only earnest men can strive, when loves dies and ambition is born. Before the year is out Victorine Hargrave is mar- ried. Amid the fervor of Parliamentary debate, and the strong opinions quickening into life which had be- gun to agitate even these remote colonists, Alton Lynd- THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 51 hurst found relief from his sorrow. If at first his faith and belief in the purity and goodness of woman had been overthrown like some rickety temple of frailest masonry, he had emerged again from his wanderings, to the light of former guiding stars. Work had saved him hard, stern, unflinching work. The very effort to forget his mad folly and presumption had brought forth a latent power till then slumbering, and the result was fame. Victorine Hargrave obtained the gratification of her darling wish, inasmuch as she married one of the largest land-owners in the colony. In the absence of good looks, youth, and the necessary culture which lends ideal charms to love, her husband had abundance of money money, that we poor dreaming rogues rail against so bitterly ; the fetish whom we all adore, rail as we may. Ah, me! If Mrs. Gayland was not thoroughly satisfied and happy in her married life, it was perchance because she was a woman, and not the fault of her lord and master, who gratified every whim, every desire of her heart, so far as ready cash could accomplish it. Mrs. Victorine Gayland went to England, and was absent but two years, when she returned to New Zea- land a widow. Young, beautiful, accomplished and wealthy, Victorine Gayland became the fashion and the rage amongst the upper ten, who neither toil nor spin. The wives of the squatters and bankers who had, heretofore, shrugged their fair shoulders at Major Hargrave's penniless daughter, were delighted with the brilliant, captivating, rich young widow. Those who had passed her by coldly heretofore were glad to meet with a nod of recognition from the queen whose law was indisputable. 52 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FEENBROOK. She has thought of Alton Lyndhurst betimes in those two years of her married life. Comparisons have jarred upon the sensitive chords of her nature, when she has pitted him in imagination against this money-getter who calls her wife. She has thought of him very often in her solitary widowhood, wondering why he does not come ; thinking him unkind and cruel for withholding his notice and his praise, now that all the world notices and praises her. She is amongst the first to read that book which lifts his name at one bound into notoriety. Oh, how every page preaches to her of the days that are gone, of those unforgotten days when he was hers, lying at her feet in the late autumn twilight, with the broad full moon shining upon the sea. He has laid his own heart upon the dissecting table, and anatomized its every pulse. She knows now how utterly that heart was hers, how torn and wounded by her desertion. She comes face to face with him once more in those vivid pages, and the very breath of that love-day comes back to her. She reads, arid the smouldering love flames up with a brighter, stronger fire, and she knows that she loves Alton Lyndhurst better far than of old, and must so love him to the end. One day at a garden party given by the popular member for West Auckland, Alton and Victorine meet again. The belle of fashion and the rising author are both changed ; both are accomplished in the polite art of self-repression. She greets him with graceful tran- quillity ; he reciprocates with gracious candor. They talk of the old cottage by the sea-wall, of the dear, dead father. From that time the idol of society and the pop- ular author are friends but there is no word of love between them. Cast thy magic wand aside, O Hermes ! THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 53 Lift the curtain again on the group gathered round Alton Lyndhurst. The theme is still men and books. Colonel de Roal is one of the latter party ; watch him as he sits with quiet mien listening to the talker. There is one huge sneer stamped from brow to chin, but it is so subtle and refined that it appears like a benign smile on his face. " I often wonder," remarks Fenton Grey, a noted musician, who has come down to spend the winter at the Rock, " I often wonder that, among so many books written for this age, there are so few that seem calcu- lated to make people better." " My dear sir, from an aesthetic point of view, good- ness is the reverse of interesting," rejoins the Colonel, blandly. " Yet Goldsmith has ventured to depict characters that are almost faultless," answers Alton. The Colonel shrugs his shoulders. " True," he says, "but Goldsmith was a humorist, and could afford to paint virtue. Humor, with his heroes, removes the insipidity of benevolence. Faust is not good, and lago is simply execrable; but where can you match them for interest?" Alton Lyndhurst looks with more attention at the speaker than he has done hitherto. " Then you deny that there can be any interest in the kind of read- ing which may tend to raise the whole tone of one's being?" he asks. "For my part, I love Tennyson; one cannot read him without feeling better and braver." " Nay, virtue is so simple a matter that it affords few opportunities for art," responds De Roal, in the same quiet tone. " Vice and crime are many-sided, and offer infinite scope for the literary anatomist. One 54 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Cleopatra, mighty and fallen, is worth all the cold per- fection of your modern heroine." The stage bell rings as Alton is about to reply, and that puts an end to all further controversy. Those who take part in the performance haste away to dress, and the fiddles begin to tune for the overture. The most difficult part has fallen upon the mantle of the Colonel, but " Sir Giles Overreach " fits him as if he had made it a life-long study. Lady Aldworth finds a worthy representative in Mrs. Victorine Gayland ; the wealthy widow is an artist of the first order, as well as a woman of fashion. Nine o'clock p. M. Settle yourselves comfortably in your seats. " A New Way to Pay Old Debts," a play by Philip Massinger. Such a piece is just the thing for a drawing-room like this one ; and the costumes, so far as the ladies are concerned, are simply perfect. Up with the curtain. A room in Lady Aldworth's house. Boudoir, blue and gold brocade and satin-wood. The walls are painted white, carved garlands of flowers and fruit adorn the panelling. Old Venetian mirrors, reflecting dark blue delf and rare old porcelain. The Hall has been ransacked to furnish this scene. Ten o'clock. The applause is loud and long. Hilton Fernbrook, who has been lounging about, moody and silent, goes behind the scenes. " Ah, mon cher, how are you ? " cries the Colonel. "Accept my congratulations," replies the younger man, with just the faintest touch of sarcasm in his voice. " You are winning golden opinions, De Roal." The Colonel leads him aside. " My son, if some great enthusiast could suddenly spring up in our midst and raise the roofs off these people's brains, as Asrao- deus lifted the roofs off the buildings in the city of THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 55 Madrid, what strange things we should find this pleased and happy assembly pondering over ! " Close by the wing opposite stand Mrs. Gayland and Alton Lyndhurst. " This night will make you famous," he whispers. She lift her eyes to his for a moment, then replies thoughtfully, " If one did not seek to win fame, there would be no such thing as greatness." " The most lasting fame has been won by goodness rather than talent," he answers coldly, moving away. The close of the entertainment is very brilliant, and merges at length into a ball, when polkas and country dances usher in the gray dawn of day. 56 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER V. COLONEL DE KOAL. THE ball which followed close on the heels of the dramatic entertainment was at its height. From the half circular gallery above the gay throng, it seemed that the play had just begun. Those who had taken part in the mimic scenes heretofore were merged into the picture, and added tone and color to it. An old clock of antique model, standing above the balustrade stairway, chimed an hour after midnight, as Colonel de Roal passed outward with measured tread to the suite of rooms beyond assigned to his use. He had not changed one jot of his costume as Sir Giles Overreach, except the heavy wig. He entered his room, took a wet sponge, and carefully removed all traces of the dark lines which had been streaked upon his face by the costumiers, who had given to it the hard, stern aspect of the greedy, money-grubbing hero of Massin- ger's drama. This accomplished to his satisfaction, the Colonel stood before the huge mirror, and complacently stroked his large moustache for some considerable time. At the farther end of the apartment there was an old weather-beaten trunk, standing on a chair. Torn por- tions of many labels of divers colors still adhered to it, proving that it had been a great traveller in its day. Whatever might have been the subject of Colonel de Real's cogitations, they evidently had some connecting link with the valise, for, his thinking fit ended, he COLONEL DE ROAL. 57 produced a key, unlocked the portmanteau, and took therefrom some documents, together with part of an old newspaper. These he thrust into his doublet. As he was about to close the trunk, a second thought seemed to occur to him, for he plunged his hand amongst its miscellaneous contents, and drew forth a small revolver. " Gaston de Roal, you have existed in this beautiful world till you are old and gray, but your trust in hu- man nature has not been improved by time, vnon ami. " Trust no one " is a good maxim. The greatest mili- tary genius of any time trusted his friend Brutus, and Brutus stabbed Csesar. Humph ! Rest there, my friend, till wanted," he continued, in a smothered tone. " When one has to play with a skilled gamester, it is well to have more than one trump card in hand." With the same measured, soldierly tread, which ap- peared part and parcel of the man, he went out along the corridor, smiling and bowing, with courtly grace, to many who had taken possession of the grand stair- case to kiss and flirt, and ascending a small flight of stairs branching therefrom, entered a chamber situated almost at the extreme end of the building. This apart- ment was a sort of retreat or smoking-room used by Hilton Fernbrook, and on that account was held strictly private from all intrusion by that gentleman's guests. Nevertheless, the Colonel inarched in without ceremony. Hilton Fembrook was seated, conning a rough chart spread out on a table before him, while Timothy Sharpe, his man, introduced in the first chap- ter of this history as the Ferret, stood by ready equipped as for a long journey. The latter personage was evidently disturbed at the sight of the intruder, but Fernbrook rose quietly, and 58 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. bade his visitor welcome. " We will defer your de- parture, Sharpe, until the morning," he said, folding up the map and placing it in an iron box, which he locked. " Now go." " Pray don't let me disturb you, my dear Hilton," began the Colonel. " Be seated, sir ; the business is of little importance," rejoined Fernbrook, drawing an easy-chair towards the fire. " Good-night, Sharpe. Close the door." The Ferret bowed and retired, but not through the door which De Roal had entered. He drew aside a thick curtain which divided the room from a deep recess filled with useless guns, fishing-tackle, etc., and made his exit through a low doorway behind it. The Master of Fernbrook Hall and his visitor sat in silence for several minutes after the Ferret's departure. " My son, I feel inquisitive to-night," said the Colo- nel, blandly. " I'm afraid I have annoyed you by com- ing here unexpectedly." " Not at all. Colonel de Roal is quite at liberty to go where he pleases here at Fernbrook. But what are your desires ? " " What is behind that screen ? " " Nothing but old lumber, accumulated the Lord knows when or how." " And the doorway there in the recess ? " " Leads to a passage opening to the stables below ; that's all." " Humph ! This is but a poor, unattractive apart- ment, mon cher, with so many at your command very much superior in the way of embellishments." Hilton Fernbrook turned, and looked full in the face of his companion. " This room suits me," he responds slowly. " Here I am secure from intrusion. Come, COLONEL DE ROAL. 59 sir," he added more quickly. " You have not sought me in my den at two o'clock in the morning to ask silly questions?" "No, my son; certainly not. By-the-by, are you certain that we are free from intrusion ? " " As free as if we were out yonder on the ocean." " Good," cried De Roal, in his usual smooth voice. " After all, I have not come to tell of ghosts and gob- lins nor of midnight murders. Neither have I any secrets of Church or State to unfold at this witching hour. My dear boy, my sole errand is to show you a paragraph in an old newspaper, which may possibly interest you." " Thank you. What newspaper ? " " The Sydney Morning Herald, bearing date March 13, 18 " replied the Colonel. " Twelve months ago." " Exactly ! " " The news is certainly stale." " But perhaps none the less interesting for all that. Some kind of information, like old wine, is all the better for being old. Shall I read the paragraph ? " " Do so ! " De Roal drew his chair nearer to the table, on which stood a small perfumed lamp. Placing his gold eye- glass with due care and nicety, he pulled forth the paper from his doublet and began to read. Hilton Fernbrook looked at his companion with a smile, but it was the cold, habitual smile of the man of the world. Above it the eyes gleamed with a sinister expression of disdain, and the brow frowned over the eyes like an overhanging thunder-cloud. " ' It is now ascertained beyond a doubt that the burning wreck seen by the " Durham Castle " en route to New Zealand, was none 60 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBEOOK. other than the schooner " Seagull," which disappeared so mysteriously from this port some months ago. It will be remembered that the captain of the " Seagull," engaged a crew of six men for a voyage to Tonga, one of the Fiji Islands. On the way the crew mutinied, and put the skipper ashore on a small island within a day's sail of Hauti, and there left him to his fate. By a pure accident, Captain Bowlas was discovered and taken on board the ss. " Stormbird," a month afterwards, and brought on to Sydney, more dead than alive, after terrible sufferings.' " The reader paused, and, looking at his companion, said, " My son, what do you think of it ? " Hilton Fernbrook shrugged his broad shoulders. " Think of what, Colonel ? What interest can I have in the doings of such wretches ? " " Merely for study, dear boy. I know you are fond of describing the motive-power which moves the criminal class. Hear this : ' It is known that one of the mutinous crew engaged by Captain Bowlas, of the " Seagull," was, beyond doubt, a noted criminal named Victor Mauprat, an escapee from Portland Prison, England. Rumor hath it that this convict is well educated and of good birth, his father being no less a personage than M. Auguste de Mauprat, Consul at Port Royal, and his mother Berthe Pierpoint, a Creole, of good family in Jamaica. He was sentenced to seven year's penal servitude for killing a British officer in some gambling brawl, and has so far managed to elude recapture. It is also believed that another of the crew was formerly Mauprat's valet one who, under the name of the Ferret, was known to the continental police as the most brilliant card-sharper of the day. " ' Description of the escapees : Mauprat, age about COLONEL DE ROAL. 61 twenty-seven, tall and gentlemanly, military carriage, complexion very dark, but clear ; head, long ; hair, black and curly ; forehead, high ; black, piercing eyes ; well-shaped nose and mouth ; frame, strongly built ; hands and feet small. Mauprat has a peculiar jail- mark upon his shoulder, which should easily lead to the detection of this dangerous criminal.' " Does this picture remind you of anyone you are acquainted with, my dear Fernbrook?" asks the Frenchman, taking the glass from his eye. "Why should it, Colonel de Roal?" " Oblige me by looking in yonder mirror, while I re-read this description of the escaped convict, Victor Mauprat," says the Colonel, blandly. " Pshaw ! My dear sir," cried the young man, with a sharp laugh, " your jesting is ill-timed. Amuse your- self at my expense, if it so pleases you ; but pray select a more fitting model for my likeness." The Colonel fixed his glass, and looked at him with a cold stare of surprise, which had in it a subtle touch of satanic humor. " Don't be offended, my boy. You are not in a jesting humor to-night," he says, at the same time smoothing out the newspaper on the table. " If the points in the photograph of our friend Mauprat do not interest you, I will pass on to those of his fidus Achates, the Ferret : it reads : " ' Joseph Hawke, alias the Ferret, with many other aliases too numerous to mention ; height five feet five inches ; fresh complexion ; sandy hair ; small gray eyes ; prominent nose, inclining towards his left cheek ; long scar on upper lip ; frame, thin and wiry ; walks with a slight limp.' "Now, my son, if I belonged to the detective force. I should certainly be of opinion that this description 62 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. of the Ferret is most singularly like the personage who just now left this room ; but knowing, as I do, my dear Fernbrook, that any connection whatever be- tween a felon and your respectable man-servant, no matter how startling the descriptive likeness may be, is an utter absurdity, I therefore crave your pardon." Hilton Fernbrook laughs that strange laugh again as he rises to light a fresh cigar he is fond of smok- ing ; it helps him to think while the Colonel talks arid reads, and goes on with his senseless farce of simili- tude. De Roal watches him, as he whiffs the fragrant weed into small clouds of blue vapor watches him with a smile on that smooth, unfathomable face of his, where- on there is a look bordering on admiration. " You have been very dull, mon cher, in spite of the riot going on about you," quoth the Colonel, presently. " I saw you were, and I prepared the mystery of Mau- prat and the Ferret to rouse you up a bit. My poor plot has failed. My labor has been in vain. You are not interested one jot." " Nay, you are wrong ; I am filled with gratitude at your kind endeavor to amuse me," responded the other, quietly. " I confess the description of your convict what's his name? rfimporte bears a strong resem- blance to my poor self, only the picture drawn is some- what flattering. Were the rascals captured ? " "Captured! No. Men like this Victor Mauprat are not defeated on the lines laid down in the case of ordinary criminals." " Flattering again." "Nay, my son. What chimerical attraction can there possibly be between a vile prison-breaker and the rich and well-born heir of Fernbrook ? The mere COLONEL DE ROAL. 63 supposition has the stamp of insanity upon it. Fie ! Now, here is part of another copy of the same journal of later date, wherein we have the denouement of the drama. I picked this up on board the steamer ' Med- way,' on my voyage from Sydney to New Zealand, and preserved it, because it contained an account of a terrible catastrophe at sea the burning of a ship, and the loss of all the crew." " I am dull at riddles, my dear De Roal." " This is not a riddle. Mauprat, the convict, and his companions perished by fire on board the ' Seagull ' schooner, burnt at sea on December 10, eight months after their escape." " Then Victor Mauprat is dead ! " exclaimed Hilton Fernbrook, rising from his seat and confronting the Colonel. " Ay, dead ! " echoed the other, rising also, and set- ting himself face to face with his companion. " Will you read how this clever scoundrel evaded his pursuers, how he reached New South Wales, obtained money, and by an able scheme chartered the ship which he destroyed at sea, so that every vestige of his crimes might forever remain locked in the dark womb of oblivion ? Will you read ? " " No," cried the other, with solemn voice. " Enough that retribution has failed. Out of the subtle working of my mind the dread shadow has departed. From henceforth, Victor Mauprat is dead. Dead ! De Roal. Do you hear? The affinity between us twain is rent asunder. And now, the dread and likeness ay, the very double of Hilton Fernbrook being fled, Will mighty, potent, stern, unflinching Will shall assert itself." As he spoke there came into his handsome face a 64 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. look which made it almost hideous. From red to white, and from white to dull ashy paleness, and to a yet deeper tinge, rarely seen on the human countenance : the changes came and went in rapid succession over the Colonel's vis-a-vis. No famishing jungle tiger ever had eyes more fierce and glaring than this man had. The deadly cobra, reared on end to strike its victim, was not more deadly in its attraction, was not more certain in its power of fascination. And there they stood, these two men, master and pupil, both strong in the gift of mesmeric power, and in the influence of will. The Colonel noted the change in his companion and smiled. He felt the fearless eyes fix themselves, as it were, upon his own, in a wordless, bloodless duel of strength between them. Heretofore the pupil had been docile and obedient, now it was a test for the mastery. Face to face, within a step of each other they stand, their eyes fixed and steadfast, but sparkling and emit- ting rays like fire. For a time it seems as if the elder is going to vanquish. He is confident, smiling, while his opponent is frowning and savage. In less time than it takes to pen these lines, the smile has faded from the Colonel's face. He begins to feel a stronger power than his own gathering, slowly but surely, round his inclinations, his resolves, like a band of steel. As a mesmerist he has been all-powerful, unconquerable. He feels he is being subdued now, in spite of bis knowl- edge in spite of all he can do. With teeth shut hard, and breath quickened, like some spent swimmer a thought comes to him ; he moves his hand in search of the revolver hid away in his doublet. Without the faintest shadow of turning from that terrible fixed look set straight into the expanded orbs of his adversary, Hilton Fernbrook notes the movement, COLONEL DE ROAL. 65 and guesses its purport. Ere the Colonel can raise his hand, the other, swift as thought, seizes it, and thrusts something into the palm. If a sudden sword-thrust had entered the veteran's body, the shock could not have produced a more striking change in his whole manner. He reels backward, and the perspiration begins to gather on his face under the agony. Struggle as gamely as he may, he cannot reach the pistol. There is murder in his desires and at his heart, but the will to act is gone from him. He feels it going, swallowed up by the terrible creature before him, whose dreadful eye holds his every faculty in bondage. A few mo- ments more, and the strong-willed mesmerist is beaten by his own weapons. With pallid face, closed eyes, and nerveless hands clenched, Colonel de Roal falls to the floor, a senseless, inert mass. Hilton Fernbrook draws a long breath, which is almost a groan in its intensity. For a moment he stands over his fallen antagonist, then raises him and places him in a chair, unlaces the doublet to give him air, and wipes the poor face with his handkerchief. " The cub has grown stronger than the old lion," he muttered, pouring out a large goblet of strong wine, which he emptied at a draught. " This mystery of Victor Mauprat, the convict, was but a shallow pretext to work his will on me. Fool ! Am not I his pupil ? Yet he is my master no longer. Could he not have reasoned better than to deem me so weak I, whom he has schooled into a semblance of himself ? Humph ! What papers are these, Colonel, eh ! man ami ? Two letters, and a photograph. Why, how is this ? These epistles are written by one who signs himself Hilton Fernbrook. I never wrote these documents, and am not I Hilton Fernbrook? This portrait is the sem- 5 66 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. blance, verily a faithful semblance, of my own self, even in the most minute particular, but who sat for it ? Not I ; I do hereby solemnly swear." "How now, old mate?" he cried, turning to the silent form before him. " Whose letters and picture are these ? Speak, if thou canst." There was a slight quivering of the Colonel's body, but no other answer was given. "Pierre de Roal, I command thee; tell me whose portrait is this I hold in my hand ? " cried the speaker again, at the same time making several rapid passes across the sleeper's face. " Look at the back of the photograph. It is written there," muttered the other, in a low tone. Hilton Fernbrook held the card towards the light. " * Victor Mauprat ! ' " he exclaimed. " Yes, ' Victor Mauprat ! ' " echoed the sleeper, faintly. " He is dead, mon pere ! " " Ay ! he is dead ! " again murmured the pallid lips. In the gray dawn, the young Master of Fernbrook made his way through the gay dancers to a building adjoining the stables, where his man Sharpe was study- ing Grant's " Maori Made Easy." " Get up and saddle the Cardinal," he said in a husky tone. "You must reach Pukehini to-morrow night. There you will find Hoti, Tewarti, and young Rewarti, the Maori chieftains. Give them these papers, and bring their answer as soon as possible. Quick, away with you ! " " What if I am beset on the road ? " asked Sharpe, looking steadily at his master. " Idiot ! You have a revolver. Now, begone." For a moment he stands over his fallen antagonist." Page 6f. TE PAPA'S RANGEES. 67 CHAPTER VI. TE PAPA'S KANGERS. WHILE the revellers at the Rock slept off the fa- tigues of the night, the Ferret, mounted on a strong half-bred hunter, and accompanied by McKombo, the Maori guide, sped away with all despatch to execute his master's instructions. Pukehini was a Maori settlement, the stronghold of the Waikato tribes, of which the chieftains Hoti, Tewarti, and Rewarti were head and front. The position of the native hapu (village) lay alto- gether out of the track of the Pakeha and his civiliz- ing tendencies. It was the boast of these warriors that the edicts of the Colonial Legislature had no power over them, and indeed rarely had white man set his intrusive foot on this domain of the last but withal the best and the bravest of all the tribes of Maoriland. The progress of our two travellers was slow, inas- much as the country to be traversed was of the roughest to be found on the surface of the known globe. Gigantic ridges of bare rock, rent and torn in quaint shapes, resembling towers, peaks, and spires ; riven cliffs, giant trees, dells overgrown with finest drapery of ferns ; huge caverns, echoless and gloomy ; ravines, deep and dark ; hills, mountains, and dense pathless forests, where the tough tendrils of the supple-jack hung suspended from the tree-tops, like tangled ropes from the masts of a hundred wrecked fleets. 68 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Grim, bold land of the Maori ! Many a strange day- dream have I had among thy silent solitudes. As a wanderer in thy wilds, I first discovered that mighty world the mind within me. And with what shapes, what pictures did the teeming brain fill all thy weird landscapes ! Romance had never stretched its airy wings over the fairy bowers, the giant castles, guarded with moat and keep and tower, in this Eden of the ideal. Ah, me ! I prophesy that the bright vision of ro- mance shall have its place here, O Maoriland ! Adown the darkling vista of the coming ages, I see the dim shapes of scribes the willing slaves of art, who shall plant their standard in thy glens and on thy mountains. And the teeming millions yet to come on this vast continent at the Antipodes shall have rest from toil rest for the weary brain and the aching heart amongst the visions that ye shall inspire on the pages of song and story visions that shall never fade until the great trumpet sound. It was on the second morning of this journey that the Ferret and his companion encountered a party of Maoris, on the other side of the Hunna Ranges. This was a detachment, numbering thirty men of Te Papa's Rangers, a kind of guerilla force composed mostly of the tribe of the dead chief whose name they bore, and who had organized them during his feuds with the Pakeha. They were banditti, the whole corps, and hated the Pakeha and all his belongings with a hatred that often found vent in many diabolical outrages amongst the unprotected settlers. In the war of 1852 it was a well-known fact that these warriors gave no quarter to the white man, save and except those few who were known to be living amongst them. They TE PAPA'S RANGERS. C9 proved themselves to be the best fighting men on the Maori side in many a stubborn engagement ; hence the Maori Council allowed them to do pretty well as they pleased either in the hapti or in the field. The physical appearance of the men was certainly good ; they appeared straight, well limbed fellows, and were uniformed like a band of Spanish gypsies. Each warrior carried a double-barrelled fowling-piece slung across his shoulder, besides being armed with the formidable meri, or war club. The leader of these Maoris, a thick-set ugly-looking savage, halted his men, and interrogated McKombo, after which search was made upon the person of Mr. Timothy Sharpe, and a sealed paper produced, tied with a piece of raw flax. " Where are you going ? " asked the Maori, addressing his countryman. "To Pukehini." " For what purpose ? " " Our mission is to bear that letter to the chieftains Hoti, Tewarti, and Rewarti." " Who has sent you ? " " Fernbrook, the Pakeha, our master ! " The leader of Te Papa's Rangers opened wide his eyes at the name, and gave that suggestive grunt so peculiar to the Maori when in a state of doubt. After fondling the missive in his hand for a few moments he thrust it into the pocket of his tamba, and said, " We are going to Pukehini. You shall journey with us. I have spoken." After that brief sentence, McKombo knew it would be useless to appeal. In a moment they were sur- rounded by the Rangers, and the word was given to march. Whatever may have been the feelings of the Ferret 70 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. at the unexpected appearance of the Maoris, he suf- fered neither surprise nor fear to betray itself in his manner. His first thought had been resistance, but he saw that it would be hopeless against so many ; besides, it flashed across his mind that his master's letter would be sacred with these men, let its contents be what they might. For the rest, he cared nothing. With passive obedience he joined his companion and made the most of his smattering of Maori amongst the Rangers. About noon the party crossed the Tateroa Range, where a good view of the valley and the Waikato River was obtained. At first a dense fog hung over the broad expanse of waters, but this soon lifted and disclosed a large homestead some two miles distant, and situated on the bank of the river. The Maori had taken the precaution to disarm both McKombo and the Ferret, otherwise there was no re- straint placed upon them. The farm they were ap- proaching presented the appearance of a thriving little station of about one hundred and thirty acres in extent : a roomy house with garden and farm, nestled in a ring of tall kauri pines, with the river flowing between. The Maori led his men straight through the orchard into the barn, where two fine rosy children were at play. They no sooner saw the natives than they fled into the house and gave the alarm. The farmer, one Roger Gordon, a Scotchman, was at dinner with his wife, and was unaware of the arrival of his mortal enemies, until his children ran in to inform him. The poor fellow was almost paralyzed by the news, and was utterly incapable of meeting the emergency. Not so Mrs. Gordon ; the love of her little ones endowed her with a presence of mind and courage worthy a TE PAPA'S RANGERS. 71 Spartan. She well knew the merciless cruelty of her unwelcome visitors. To beg and plead with them would be useless. Help there was none. Her nearest neighbor was a dozen miles away. The province altogether was a very scattered one, being the most remote from the Northern Metropolis. Taking her husband by the arm, Mrs. Gordon led him round to the store-room ; here were stowed away amongst other goods several parcels of colored blankets, for on these outlying stations it was the usual custom to supply the hands employed at harvest time with such commodities. The farmer, assisted by his wife, trundled the goods into the barn. The Maori warriors were seated in a circle by this time, smoking and talking; they appeared quite to ignore the presence of Gordon and his helpmate. The latter without a word, however, ripped up the bale and placed a blanket at the feet of each of the Rangers. When she had completed the circle, there remained three blankets, these she laid before the chief of the party. Not by look or gesture did the savages betray any interest in the proceedings, yet they saw every- thing that was done, even to the most trifling par- ticular. Dame Gordon left the barn when she had finished distributing the blankets, but returned immediately with a plate on which was sprinkled some fine salt. She approached the chief and held the dish before him. The savage turned his bloodshot eyes for a moment towards the bent form of the woman, then to the offer- ing held out to him. By this time the children, six in number, were gathered round their mother with wonder- ing looks ; the eyes of the Maori chief wandered from the salt to the little ones ; then he rose, seized the 72 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. plate, and ate a portion of its contents ; each of his companions, save the Ferret and his guide, followed his example, and the Gordons knew that from hence- forth, war or no war, they and their belongings were sacred to the Rangers of Te Papa. Ere five minutes had elapsed the warriors gathered up their gifts and departed. They had evidently gone out of their way to destroy these poor settlers, but the tact of Dame Gordon had saved them. To the Maori salt is a pledge of friendship, which is never broken by them unless through revenge. If the Rangers had been checkmated in the desire to punish the Gordons, they evidently were not to be turned aside from their fell purpose of destruction and murder in another direction. Some distance down the river was a cattle ranche known as the "Falls," owned by a Captain Burton, a retired mariner. The house lay amid a small forest of gigantic pines ; it was a lone, wild place, and tenanted only by the Captain, who was a bachelor, and two men. The filibusters approached this domicile cautiously, and managed to get within range of it without being observed. It was a large two-storied house surrounded by a well-laid-out garden, and with all the et-caeteras of a flourishing cattle station. The Maori leader guided his men to the front door and attempted to gain an entrance ; but the door was locked, and resisted all their efforts to force it open. Baffled in their attempts to gain admittance through the door, and not wishing to disturb the inmates, one of the natives handed his gun to a companion, and scrambled up the wall by the aid of a tough creeper, so as to enter by one of the windows. The Maori, with some skill and in perfect silence, reached the upper story and laid his hand on TE PAPA'S RANGERS. 73 the ledge of the aperture, but at the same moment there was a loud report, and the savage fell headlong to the ground, a corpse. Immediately the window was thrown open, and a fierce-looking, red-faced, elderly man was seen stand- ing revolver in hand. " What do ye here, ye pack of thieves ? " he cried out hoarsely. " Curse you ! I'll rake you stem and stern if you don't sheer off ye sons of guns ! " The shot and the fall of the dead savage had been so unexpected that the murderous band fell back be- hind the trees. The chief, however, did not move. " Open the door, Pakeha," said he in his deep gut- tural tone. " I'll see you hanged first," cried the old salt defi- antly. " Why should I open my door to a plundering hound like you ? I know you for a gang of murdering wretches, in whom there is neither pity nor honor. Leave this place ! I saw your approach, and am pre- pared for you." " Will you open the door ? " repeated the chief, beckoning to his warriors to approach. " Certainly not," answered the voice of the old sailor. " This house and this land are mine ; I have paid for every stone, every rood of it with honest coin." " Ugh ! Open, I say ; we are many," cried the chief. " I don't care a brass button how many there are of you," roared the Captain. "I'm in command here, and I'll send some of you to blazes, as sure as my name's Tom Burton, if you dare to try and come aboard here." "The Pakeha shall have one minute to decide," said the chief. " If he does not open the door then we will break it down." 74 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " Here is my answer," cried the old man, bending forward and aiming at the chief. "Take that, you ruffian." The shot knocked the feather out of the leader's headgear, and striking a Maori near him full on the breast, killed him on the spot. In an instant a dozen guns belched forth their deadly contents at the window, the glass and the framework of which was shattered into a thousand fragments. For the space of five minutes there was a tremendous battering at the door, which gave way at length, and the infuriated banditti entered en masse. There was a broad staircase leading from the hall to the upper story. At the head of the stair stood Captain Burton, revolver in hand, and with a set, dogged bull-dog look upon his face, which convinced his enemies that the old Pakeha would fight it out to the death. The leader of the gang had one hand on the stair-rail, but drew back at the sight of the brave old Anglo-Saxon at bay. " Will the Pakeha surrender quietly ? " asked the chief once more. " Surrender, be hanged ! " cried old Burton, in a hoarse tone of contempt, and at the same time setting his back to the wall. "I know that surrender means with devils of your stamp. No ; old Tom Burton ain't a-going to the bottom like a swab and a lubber with- out a tussle for it. Keep back ! If there were a hun- dred more of ye I would fight it out. Curse you ! " A tall savage, less patient than his companions, made a sudden spring up the stair, but a bullet from the Captain's revolver hit him in the throat, and he rolled backward, dead. Two more made a rush in the same way and instantly met the fate of the first one. This was but the beginning of the end. Like a pack TE PAPA'S RANGERS. 75 of bloodhounds that had run their prey to earth, the Maoris were not to be balked of their victim. What could one man do against such odds ? With shouts and cries they reached the gallant old boy at length, and dragged him down the stairs. In his desperation he clung tenaciously to the rails, and, in spite of all the efforts of his foes, they could not unloose his hands, until one Maori, more cruel than the rest, severed the fingers of the unyielding hero with his tomahawk. They bound up the maimed hand in derision, and led the captive into the dining-room. The long table there- in was reared on end by them, and to it they fastened the Captain with a stout cord. "Will the Pakeha surrender now?" sneeringly in- quired the leader of the gang, with malicious triumph. " No ! Te Papa was a murderer ; his followers are murderers. Te Papa is dead. So shall perish all who love murder." " Tut ! The Pakeha rob the Maori of his land, there- fore they murder the Pakehas," said the chief. " Who can say that I have robbed or hurt one of your race ? " echoed the old man. " Humph ! The Pakehas are one race see these dead warriors ! " " Yes, I know," responded the doomed man, with a grim smile ; " life for life. Enough ! your trade is plunder and slaughter. Come, finish your diabolical purpose. I do not fear you." The old man spoke no more. He was hoisted bodily upward, with the table, and placed against the wall. Then these ruthless savages began a terrible scene, which made even the Ferret shudder with horror. 76 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER VII. THE HEIGHTS OF TOMAETU. Two days after the events recorded in the last chapter the marauders of Te Papa's Rangers reached the valley of Pukehini. Here Paul Titori, the military genius of the Maoris, had assembled every warrior that could bear arms throughout the Waikato. Tewarti and Rewarti brought ten thousand men to his banner. The treaty of Waitanga had been broken. The war which now loomed over the land had its rise in the Waitora district. Titori sold the Government some two million acres, and, after the purchase, locked up the land against those sent out to occupy it. Remonstrance was of no avail. The hot blood of the Maoris could not withstand the temptation to fight and drive the Pakehas into the sea. Amongst the young warriors there was boasting enough, if that alone could have done it. Possibly their boasting was not al- together vain. It was well known to the Government that within twelve months the Waikato chieftains had expended thirty thousand pounds in guns, lead, and caps. Well armed, with an abundant commissariat of karatea, potatoes, and wild pigs, stored in various parts of the colony, they felt confident of victory. Moreover, the leader of the rebel host knew what a valuable auxiliary he had in his women. They were an " Army Works Corps " in themselves. A Maori woman, in peace or war, can do as much work as a man. Her THE HEIGHTS OF TOMARTU. 77 arms are strong ; her will to do, right good. Strapping the flax-made basket of provender on her shoulders, this dusky Amazon will carry a fourth of the load of a mule through forests that no mule could live in, and, save in meeting the foe, she is fully as effective in the field as the warriors themselves. From the heights of Tomartu above the valley the sight was a very imposing one. On the south side of the vale the Maori warriors were mustered in three divisions, while above the dark solid mass rose the KihO) or split rock. Legend hath it that Tonga of old split this vast dome with a blow of his fist. On the crown of the mount were gathered five chieftains, the heads of the Waikato people. They were seated in a circle, in the centre of which stood Paul Titori, Hilton Fernbrook's letter in his hand. He had just read its contents, and stood leaning carelessly against the pole from which the flag of the Maoris floated on the apex of the Kiho. A handsome, devil-may-care fellow, this Titori, if the index of his features and his manner went for anything. Unlike his companions, this Maori had not a tattoo mark upon him. A clear olive com- plexion, straight-cut nose and mouth, gave him all the appearance of a Moor of Spain. His dress was wholly European save for a bright scarlet handkerchief wound about his head. " What answer shall we send to our friend at the Barrier Rock ? " he asked at length, turning to the silent circle. "He is a Pakeha. Why should he wish to fight against his race ? " replied Te Honti of Waitana. " Nay, his mother -was a Maori, and from boyhood he has been a friend to our people," responded Titori. " Here, in this letter, Fernbrook of the Rock swears 78 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. to espouse our cause to the death. The question is Shall he be admitted to our councils ? " "What guarantee have we that this man is not a traitor and a spy, who seeks our friendship only to betray us ? " demanded young Rewarti. " An excellent hostage, iny eagle," answered Paul Titori, looking again at the letter in his hand. " He says the daughter of Te Papa shall be his bondswoman; I have spoken." There was a loud murmur of approval when the name of Te Coro was announced. " My voice is for the young Pakeha," cried Te Rauga of Taranaki. " And mine, and mine," echoed the others. " Let him come, and bring the hostage with him." Paul Titori knelt down and wrote a few lines on the back of Hilton Fernbrook's letter, then he summoned McKombo and the Ferret. " Prepare to return to the Barrier at once," he said to the former in Maori. "Give this letter to your master. Twenty warriors shall accompany you to Wangatura. Go ! " McKombo turned to depart, followed by the Ferret, but, at a sign from Titori, Joe Sharpe was led back to the valley by a small escort of Te Papa's Rangers, to be kept in durance vile pending the arrival of his lord and master. And now from the high peak of the Kiho the blood- red flag was lowered and hoisted again, like the dipping of the ensign of a man-of-war in salutation. This was the signal for a commotion in the ranks of the multitude in the valley below. In the space of a few minutes the whole of the tribes formed themselves into two divisions, with a distance of about fifty yards THE HEIGHTS OF TOMARTU. 79 between them, the ranks being four deep. Many had divested themselves of tamba and toga and stood almost nude, their bodies daubed in a diabolical manner with red and white stripes. When the two columns had formed up opposite each other, Te Rauga of Taranaki descended from the hill, armed only with his meri, and placed himself between them. What was going to happen? They were going to dance the War Dance. This is a custom as old as the Maoris themselves, but only performed in time of war. Standing silently for a short time, the entire ranks squat down on the ground as if by mutual consent. Suddenly, at a given signal from the mount, the war- riors start to their feet, each balancing his weapon in his right hand. With the regularity of an army corps, each Maori elevates his right leg and the right side of his body, then the left leg and left side ; and then, like a flash of lightning, the dark division leap three feet in the air, brandishing their guns and raising such a succession of horrid shrieks as never fell upon the ears of mortal European. From frantic yells the noises terminate with one long deep-drawn sigh, accompanied with gaping mouths, inflated nostrils, distorted faces, out-hanging tongues, and fixed, staring eyes. To me is not given the power to paint in words the picture of this dread ceremony ; no one can faithfully describe it ; yet the scene is vividly before my mind's eye the strange motley ranks, the contorted, hellish faces absolutely frightful beyond the line of ugliest humanity. Again and again these movements are repeated, and time is marked by striking the left palm on the thigh 80 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. so as to produce one sound. Anon, working themselves up into a state of temporary insanity, the grim forces rush madly at each other in mimic strife. With the fury of wild beasts they yell, and grapple, and stab ; each selecting a foeman worthy of his steel. It is but a mock warfare after all. Underneath it, however, there is a subtle sign, well known to that small circle grouped on the Kiho. It means death and destruction to many a peaceful colonist, wrapped up within the fancied security of his smiling domain. It means fire, and sword, and murder to innocent men, women, and children. It means war ! war to the death, without pity and without mercy. God help us all when such a fiend is let loose to mar His handiwork ! VELIS ET REMIS. 81 CHAPTER VIII VELIS ET EEMIS. MOUNT with me upon the rosy wings of poesy. Oh, my reader, if thou art of the money-getting tribe of this dull globe, and canst not rise up to the viewless way, take thou a deep draught of the blushful Hippocrene. It hath lain long in the cool earth. Drink thou ! Fade ; dissolve ; forget the perplexities of the slow brain, and the weariness that retards one here, where youth grows pale, and leaden-eyed despair shakes the hoary head with palsy. Away ! away ! let us shake off the modern Moloch, with the double face of brass and steel. Tender is the night ; the Queen Moon, ringed in by hosts of starry fays, is shining forth from heaven to light us. Mount and away ! Land of Te Papa ! good-night to thee ! Good-night to thy rocks and chasms, bold and rugged as the hearts of thy swarthy sons, who meditate murder and call it war. Good-night ! When the morning breaks, we will return again to thy shores. Away on the wings of poesy, from the new to the older world. Swift as thought can carry us, we pass across the face of the great deep. Behold seven-hilled Rome ; Genoa, the city of palaces, with its huge piles of masonry the Great Britain of the Middle Ages. Out yonder looms Milan, within a setting of mountain peaks, blue and amethystine. Far below us shimmers the great cathedral, with its countless tapering spires, seeming only a fairy delusion of frost- 6 82 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. work under the moon. Raphael, Michael Angelo, Canova, ye live again in this your giant creation. Away over thy deep waters entrancing Como ! Dark- ness holds within her sable shroud its rich unparal- leled enchantments, that drift behind and are lost. Hi, presto ! What is this ? with its towers and domes and steeples drowsing in the pale light. It is Venice! Once, the haughty republic the autocrat of commerce the old Venice of song and story. Here, at the head of the Giant Stairway where Marino Faliero was beheaded, and where the Doges of old were crowned, we bid adieu to our winged charioteer. Au revoirJ Sweet solemn night, full of romance and of poetry, how beautiful art thou ! But more beautiful than pen can describe appeared the ancient city on the 20th day of June, 18 . It was the evening on which the greatest of its many festivals is celebrated with all that pomp and abandon peculiar to this dark-eyed race. It was the grand fUe in honor of San Spiridion, and all Venice was abroad on the waters of the Grand Canal. Right from the water's edge rose long lines of stately palaces of marble ; gondolas were gliding swiftly hither and thither, and disappearing suddenly through un- expected gates and alleys ; ponderous stone bridges threw their shadows athwart the glittering waves. Everywhere there was life and motion, with soft music over all, and yet everywhere there was a hush, a stealthy stillness, that was suggestive of secret enter- prises, of bravos and lovers who, clad half in moon- beams, half in mysterious shadows, glided near princely VELIS ET REMIS. 83 cavalier or soft-eyed patrician beauty. Venice by night ( It was dreamy beautiful picture. In the full glare of day, rags and poverty and misery were plentiful ; but under the chaste moon, her stained palaces are white again, their battered sculptures are hidden in shadows, and the old city appears crowned once more with the grandeur that was here when Shylock in gabardine, Othello, Desdemona, and lago walked its streets. Beyond the " Bridge of Sighs," in a vast space over two miles wide, were several thousand gondolas, con- taining the wealth and beauty of Venice. From every boat there hung from six to a dozen colored lanterns. As far as the eye could reach, these painted lights were merged together like a huge garden of many- colored flowers, save that the blossoms were never still. Mingling together, in a bewildering maze, they glided in and out ceaselessly, and defied your attempts to follow their pathless evolutions. Ever and anon there rose up a strong red, green, or blue glare from some huge firework, splendidly illuminating all the boats around it. There was music everywhere. Solos, choruses, string bands, and guitars wailed on until you became inspired with the spirit of the strange scene. There was one magnificent gondola, with cushions and canopy of Persian silk, whose massive golden tas- sels trailed in the water, drawn up close to the broad stairs leading to the piazza of St. Mark. Many a wist- ful look was cast towards this vessel by the passers- by. Its occupants were two young men, who by their language and their dress were evidently not Venetians. Every gondola that glided by them, with its crescent and pyramids of light, illuminated the faces of those 84 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. seated therein, and glances of curiosity, and betimes of envy, were cast at the pair of strangers. " So this is Venice ! the wonder of the old world," says one of the occupants of the gorgeous gondola, turning to his companion, and speaking excellent Eng- lish. " Ma foi, my friend Alton Lyndhurst, if your pen can describe this sight, with its light and shade, then shall the pages of your latest effort be handed down to all posterity." Alton Lyndhurst laughs, stretches his shapely legs to the fullest extent of the gilded barge, and with something between a groan and sigh replies : " The picture is certainly wonderful that has the power to charm prosaic, matter-of-fact Ralph Warne into anything warmer than a mere practical grunt of approval." " Corpo di Baccho! as they say hereabouts. You are severe upon your unfortunate friend," cried Warne, fixing his eyeglass, and pelting a handful of confectionery at a passing gondola filled with ladies. " They say poetry and all that sort of thing is as catch- ing as a malignant fever ; perhaps I have caught some- thing of your complaint." " Egad ! I hope not," cried the journalist, with sud- den but mock solemnity. " It is sufficient that one of us should be afflicted. Besides, the Muses .would have but a sorry time of it with such a lazy beggar as you are." " Oh, thank you ! But seriously, my dear boy, don't you think it would be as well if you copied me a little more in that direction ? Work is all very well in its way, as my padre used to say when he made his clerks work fifteen hours out of the twenty-four, yet all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Here have you VELIS ET REMIS. 85 been slaving at that new book of yours until you look about as brisk and as lively as an owl in the sun." " Pooh ! I was born to work," answered Lyndhurst, with a smile. " Toil to me is what indolence may be to you, mon cher. Remember, I am not a banker's son." " Hang the banker's son ! No, pardon me. I don't mean that," cried Warne, hastily correcting himself. " I hate personalities. You know, we left New Zea- land for a holiday tour of twelve months." "True." " Well, half the time has flown, and we've seen noth- ing done nothing." " You mean you have done nothing and seen nothing, save perhaps the dark eyes of a certain demoiselle of this ruined Queen of the Adriatic," said Lyndhurst, slyly. " Fiddlestick ! " cried the other, his fair face blushing crimson under his eyeglass. "Will you be serious for a minute ? " " Certainly. Hadn't we better push off into mid- stream before you unfold your love-lorn tale ? " " I'll push you neck and heels into the canal, if you don't cease your nonsense," said Warne, with a good- humored smile. " Which means, I suppose, that you'll do me the honor to marry me to the Adriatic, as did the Doges in the olden time. Pray don't attempt the ceremony with me, or I shall feel it my bounden duty to dodge you, my friend." " Be quiet, my dear Lyndhurst, and listen to me," answered Warne, gravely. " Oh, if you put on your serious cap, I'm all atten- tion," returned the other, at the same time lighting a 86 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. cigar. " Really and truly, sir, your love-lorn tale will come very opportune for the pages of my book." " Your book be " " Stop ! No bad French, if you please. There may be spies about. Better converse in our mother tongue." " I feel laden with Billingsgate." "Don't unship here, pray." And Lyndhurst burst out into one of those hearty, rib-testing guffaws so peculiar to Englishmen all the world over; which made the Venetians around shrug their shoulders up to the tips of their ears in amazement. " I suppose the fit will pass if I am patient," said Warne, resignedly. "Lend me your cigar-case. I find smoking good for many ills, even for the draw- back of unrequited friendship." " Stuff ! Don't put yourself into a poetical I mean a feverish mood. I'll be as silent as the Sphinx, if you wish it, and as serious." "Has it ever struck you why I persuaded you to join me in this trip, Lyndhurst?" inquired the other, after a pause. "No. Except, perhaps, that I had an idea you were not the darling exquisite men seem to think you. It has struck me more than once that self has had very little to do with your holiday." " Subtle flatterer ! Do you mean to imply that we are doing a tour over Europe solely on your account ? " " Not exactly. Ralph Warne wanted his friend to see some of the wonders of the world, and Mr. Warne wanted a wife." " Don't be absurd," rejoined the banker. " Putting aside my desire for your companionship, I had a two- fold object in view when I started on this journey. My father, desirous to extend his business, gave me a com- VELIS ET REMIS. 87 mission to negotiate with two houses one in London, the other here in Venice. For that object he very liberally placed the swift steamer ' Waiturea ' at my disposal, so that I might travel as I pleased, and at the same time fulfil his instructions as speedily as pos- sible. Two months after leaving New Zealand found us in the World's Metropolis. A few weeks more, and we had seen Paris, Milan, Naples, Rome, and Genoa." "Yes, and here we are in the land of mask and stiletto. Egad ! One can easily imagine the terrible secret Council of Three, and the Inquisition, with its instruments of torture. I read of these things when I was a boy, and I also pictured the old city as something quite different from what I see it now." " I think Venice is a lovely place, Lyndhurst." " Of course, Tophet would be Eden to you if it hap- pened to contain a certain enchanting lady." " You mean the daughter of our friend, the banker of Venice, Prince Roumaine?" " I do. A more beautiful lady is not to be found in Europe." " Traitor ! " responded Warne, in the same tone of banter. " What would the peerless Victorine say if she heard you ? " The smile left Alton Lyndhurst's face in an instant. " Mrs. Gayland is no more to me than yonder crone begging for alms," he said coldly. Then, changing his manner to earnest inquiry, added : "A truce to this sorry duello of words, my dear Warne. You were about to say something with respect to a second pro- ject. What is it?" Ralph Warne looked keenly at his friend for a second or so before he replied. " My object number 88 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. two lies nearer home, Lyndhurst. You remember Fernbrook of the Rock ? " "Very well, indeed. A strange fellow," answered the other. " Would it surprise you to hear that my business concerns our friend of the Barrier ? " " In what way ? Did he give you a commission ? " "No. A man so recently returned from a five years' tour round the world would scarcely need a service in that direction," replied Warne. " Did I ever tell you that this same Hilton Fernbrook and myself were schoolfellows ? " " I do not remember your saying so." " We were, though. And I may say more than that we were brothers in everything save name and blood. For thirty years the Warnes and Fernbrooks were most intimate friends. Twelve months before Hilton left New Zealand for his trip to Europe he was betrothed to my cousin, Lady Blanche Trevor. I need not tell you that it was purely a love match between them. For two years after Fernbrook's departure we had letters from him pretty regularly. To my fair kinswoman he wrote in the most endearing terms. Every vessel brought news of him and his doings. To- day he was in London, visiting all that was to be seen ; anon, he was amongst the mountains of Switzerland; and again, doing a pilgrimage up old Father Nile. Suddenly his letters ceased altogether, and for the space of a year we heard nothing of him. At the end of that time, my father, who was Fernbrook's banker, received a letter from him to the effect that an accident of a serious nature had befallen his client whilst crossing a cataract on the Nile. Hilton Fernbrook and his guides had been captured by a party of Bedouins and VELIS ET REMIS. 89 were held captive, their ransom being set down at ten thousand pounds. A short postscript requested that the money should be forwarded, and that without delay, to a town called Berber." " A rather heavy ransom." "Truly so; however, my poor Governor thought nothing of that. The money was despatched to a wealthy broker here in Venice, who had business with a house connected with the Nile, and so forwarded to its destination. Of course we waited very patiently after this for some particulars of the mishap and its consequences, but we were disappointed. Beyond a short missive to my father, acknowledging receipt of the sum for ransom, not a line reached us from the wanderer. At regular intervals, however, he wrote to the bank, asking that money might be forwarded to various places which he named. The sums demanded were always considerable. My father, though hurt and offended at what he considered a want of courtesy on the part of his young friend, responded to every demand ; but as time went on, and Fernbrook's account began to dwindle down towards zero, the Governor re- monstrated : finding that had little or no effect upon the wanton extravagance of the spendthrift, he refused point-blank to advance another shilling. In the space of two years, the heir of Fernbrook had drawn no less a sum than twenty-five thousand pounds from the bank's coffers. "The supplies cut off, our prodigal returns home again. He is changed certainly, but it is a change that is to be expected in one who has seen so much and, I may add, spent so much money. Everything is ex- plained, however ; friends forgive, and are reconciled, with two exceptions. My Lady Blanche, who cried 90 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. for a month at the departure of her sweetheart, hates him with an unaccountable loathing on his return." " That is woman-like all the world over," quietly chimes in Lyndhurst, philosophically puffing out a thin blue puff of smoke from beneath his thick mous- tache. " Pardon me, Lyndhurst, my cousin is not a bit like other women," responds the other. "There is some- thing beyond the mere outward form of this man that fills her with fear. It is the same form, the same face, the same everything about him, save that name- less something which has gone out of him manly dignity, truth, virtue, call it by what name you will." The novelist takes the cigar from between his teeth, and looks at his friend with some astonishment, not unmixed with admiration. " And the Lady Blanche will have none of him ? " he says very shortly. " I have heard her swear she will not fulfil her promise," continued Warne, gravely. " My uncle Bob is a gentleman of the old school, and would sooner lose everything he had in this world than depart one jot from his word. To be brief, a circumstance hap- pened which gave to Blanche a way out of the dif- ficulty. One night, old Rita, the Maori who, by the way, is as quiet as a cat, yet as cunning as a fox en- tered by stealth one of the rooms occupied by Colonel de Roal, Fernbrook's friend. From an old trunk which belonged to him, and which she managed to open, the Maori pilfered sundry papers, together with one or two letters, and three photographs. These she straightway took to Major Trevor, but the gallant Major being absent, they were placed in the hands of his daughter, and " VELIS ET REMIS. 91 " Why do you pause, old fellow ? " "Dear Lyndhurst, it comes hard to think one's dearest friend a villain, but, if these papers verify aught, they prove unmistakably that Hilton Fern- brook is no fit mate for my beautiful, high-spirited cousin. According to these records, the last three years of this man's life stands out in all their wicked- ness ay, wanton wickedness, for, in spite of his vast resources, he has been both dishonorable and criminal." "Criminal, Warne?" " I repeat it. An associate of swindlers. A profli- gate, nay, an escaped convict," cried the young banker, with a burst of irrepressible passion. " Dear boy, there is some huge blunder in all this business," replied Lyndhurst. " It seems to me im- possible that a man of education, and with means to gratify every whim, should fall to that extent." " But it is so, nevertheless," answered Warne. " Six months ago, when I promised to undertake this matter, and attempt to sift it to the bottom, I had my doubts, as you have. Time has given me proof absolute proof, I tell you. Hilton Fernbrook is an escaped felon a murderer ! " Horrible ! " "Acting on the instructions given me by Uncle Trevor, I no sooner reached London than I engaged the services of Dusk, one of the ablest detectives of Scotland Yard. This officer, who can speak several languages fluently, and who, besides, has a knowledge of every swindler of note on the Continent, has tracked Hilton Fernbrook through many queer labyrinths that cover part of those three later years of his travels. Beneath the assumed name of Victor Mauprat, he has 92 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. been guilty of crimes that should for ever debar him from the society of honorable men." " Has the detective furnished you with written proofs of all this?" " Conclusive proofs, Lyndhurst. Dusk is now here in Venice arrived this morning. He sent me a note, asking for an interview. If you wish you shall be admitted to our council." " Thank you, I accept. But, my dear Warne, why have you kept all these things from me ? " " Pooh ! I wanted you to enjoy your holiday," re- sponded the other, lightly. " Look, yonder come our friends, the Prince di Roumaine and his party." And, as the young man spoke, there shot through the sparkling waves a state gondola, handsomely dec- orated. Under its satin canopy ample as the folds of a gigantic balloon sat a gay party of ladies and gentlemen, while around them swallow-tailed lackeys bowed and capered in attendance. CUPID. 93 CHAPTER IX. CUPID. No man was more popular in all Venice than the banker of the Rialto, Prince Elric di Roumaine. As his name implied, he was the worthy descendant of a noble family which took root in the stirring time of the Middle Ages. By close attention to business the Prince had amassed great wealth, which some day would be left to his only child, a blushing, beautiful maiden of eighteen. Ah, me ! How shall I describe thee, my dear Vio- lante ? How paint thy many and varying charms in words ? It is expected of me that I should try, so the picture shall be brief. An oval face, radiant with innocence, and as pure as that which Canova saw when he dreamed of Eden. Hair, deep golden, with a shade of lighter hue streak- ing its luxurious braids ; complexion, a clear ivory white, and eyes that were neither blue nor black, but had a look of both at times in their lustrous depths. A noble, beautiful woman for Violante di Roumaine was already a woman both in mind and person at eighteen. When you held converse with her you did not pause to notice whether she was dark or fair. The beauty and purity of the face held you in thrall, and you for- got such small things as ladies love to criticise in each other. The banker's lovely heiress was gifted in mind 94 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. as well as in person. Her friends said that she was cleverer than most girls of her age. What many found difficult she could master directly. She could play all the hardest things of Mendelssohn, sing as sweetly and correctly as Grisi. Many a dark Venetian youth sighed and pined for love of her, but they sighed and pined in vain. Weird, yet beautiful, was this moving panorama of light and life and motion on the Grand Canal. At Prince Roumaine's request our two friends left their gondola and entered that which contained the banker and his friends. The barge had been fitted up espe- cially for the fete. Beneath its canopy were perfumed lamps, soft couches and piano. What strange, motley shadows those were which flitted to and fro over the wrinkled waters ; stalwart Turks, turbaned in every hue of the rainbow ; stately Moors, proud and silent ; Jews, Arabs, and Gentiles from every city in Europe. Save Fidele, Violante's maid, the Princess was the only lady present. She welcomed the New Zealanders with that delicate, subtle courtesy for which the Vene- tians of the upper ten are famous. At a sign, Ralph Warne seated himself on a low ottoman by her side, while his friend, the novelist, went forward to gossip with the Prince and those about him. In no country on this vast globe does the love-god strike so swiftly and so keenly as in this land of the south. The hither- to cool, self-possessed, sarcastic, drawling masher of his class the impregnable Warne actually felt him- self tremble in the presence of the banker's daughter. Beneath the battery of those lustrous eyes, wherein he saw himself photographed in miniature, how his heart began to beat and throb with a sensation he had never felt before in his whole life ! It was well they CUPID. 95 were alone, except for the maid, who gave him the benefit of a rude stare, ere she retired to perform some message for my lady. It was well the cruel, merci- less, satirical novelist could not see his tremor, his nervousness. Ralph felt thankful that it was so. And this poor exquisite this curly-pated son of the sturdy Auckland merchant why did he tremble at sight of a woman ? Through those gold- rimmed glasses perched upon his nose, he had coolly surveyed hundreds as charming and as beautiful as this one, but he had felt no pang. Only twice before had he beheld the witching Violante, and each time Cupid had driven his dart up to the very feather in the tender soul of the scoffer. The unfortunate fellow was in love in love up to his spectacles but he was quite unconscious of it. Oh, youth ! Oh, love ! Who shall say the world is full of pain and groans of agony, when thou art near ? Oh, potent magician ! what tears can quench thy burn- ing light! Aglow art thou in every human heart. Passion and sorrow may dim thy heavenly fire be- times, but charity, with her golden wings, wafts thee again into life, and light, and glory. And this pair talk. The little siren can speak Eng- lish passing well; indeed, well enough to be under- stood by her companion. The rest of the party heed them no more than if they were both figures of carved wood adorning the gondola. They talk of tastes, likes and dislikes, of eyes, hair, and what not. The New Zealander grows bold nay, eloquent upon the eyes and hair he admires in ladies. He draws a word- painted picture that has in it a startling resemblance to the Princess herself, but that lady, in her innocence, does not see it. 96 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. By and by the conversation flags, dies out, and there is silence. Ralph Warne, for want of something to do, pulls forth his cigar case, and begins to toy with it. " I see you want to smoke," says Violante, presently, watching him the while. " Pray do not stir. My padre often enjoys a cigar while chatting to me. You may smoke." Warne lights his cigar with a look at her, wherein there is expressed deep thankfulness. From the stool he glides to his full length on the soft carpet, making a cushion of that he had sat upon. She gazes down at him, dreamily watching the thin wreath of fragrant smoke rising from his cigar, and wondering why he should have been so kind and good-natured as to spend the night with her father on the Canal, when he could have enjoyed himself so much more at Madame Sar- doni's, or the Bal Masque, or the Square of St. Mark ; wondering, too, whether in that country at the Antip- odes, of which she was so ignorant, there were many men so handsome, with such bright manly eyes and beautiful fair hair. Then she remembered that he was an Englishman, and she supposed that accounted for the strange, subtle charm that surrounded him. In short, she sat and speculated and pondered about this young friend of her father's in a manner that was extremely dangerous to the peace of her innocent heart. " So you have passed the whole of your life in this old sea-girt city?" he says, lifting his eyes to her face, and at the same time giving utterance to his musings. " This is my home," she answered simply. " Yon- der, where you see the circle of light playing round the CUPID. 97 high tower, was born my great great grand-sire, Simon Vallette, the banker, who retrieved the fortunes of our house three hundred years ago. My father first saw the light from its windows, whilst I was nursed and cradled midst its gloomy corridors." " And your mother, she " "Alas! I have no mother," returned the young Venetian, quickly. " My sweet madre yielded up her life for my sake. Carissima ! It is a fearful thing to forget the sainted word ' Mother,' yet I have almost forgotten how to use it. You have a mother ? " " I have, God bless her," cried the youth, fervently ; " a dear gentle mother who would give up her life for my sake also if needs be." " Ah, carissima madre. How beautiful that is." He nods his head in sympathy, and puffs with re- newed energy at his cheroot. He feels he can go no farther in that direction, without being tempted to ask her to allow his dear madre to fill the place of the one she had lost. Of course the very unreasonableness of the proposition never crosses his thoughts for an instant. He is full of yearning compassion, of that strange force we call affinity. This lovely brunette, with her lustrous eyes and her wealth of golden hair, is his loadstone, the one attractive power in the wide world to move him to good or evil. No power of mes- merism so potent as this. No known force, visible or invisible, so strong and irresistible as this first uncon- scious dawning of Love's young dream. Try as they will, they cannot keep the conversation flowing. It is an effort to talk. Musing is much easier, much pleasanter, to both of them ; so they are silent. The ring around the banker Prince, at the other end of the gondola, are merry enough in all conscience. Con- 7 98 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. versation does not flag with them. The Prince is re- lating some anecdote concerning a distant relative of his, one Gaston de Roal. The name strikes familiarly on the ears of Warne, who rouses himself from his dreamy reverie to listen. " Yes, a second cousin, I believe, or something of that sort," says the banker, in answer to a question. "De Roal and myself were friends twenty-five years ago, and I remember him as a tall, handsome fellow. He got into a scrape in con- nection with some lady of rank in Genoa, fled to Paris, and eventually entered the army, served under Napo- leon in Italy, and then went to Algeria, and thence to Egypt." " I met a Colonel de Roal at the house of a friend in New Zealand," remarked Alton Lyndhurst. " It's the same man, in all probability," responds the Prince ; "De Roal earned his colonelcy by a dare-devil act, while with Vipont's Brigade. There is a story current that he fell in love with and married Cleo Berenice, the most beautiful Egyptian lady of her time, and a lineal descendant of the voluptuous Cleopatra. Before the lady consented to become his wife, the Colonel had to relinquish the faith of his fathers for that of the dark traditions of the mighty Pharaohs and the priests of Isis. So the story goes," continued the speaker. " De Roal was just the wild mad-brained fellow to be taken by anything weird and mystical, and where in all the annals of religious history can one find anything so strange as the passage of the im- mortal soul from one body into another ? Yet this is the faith of the Egyptians. The philosophy of old Pytha- goras called it 'Transmigration.' For ten years De Roal was not heard of by his friends. Amongst the .anoienjb ruins of the classic Nile, he wandered with bis CUPID. 99 wife, and became initiated into the secrets of that dim lore that hath the Principle of Evil for its master. One day the Colonel returned to Venice, browned and tanned by the sun of Egypt ; no one recognized him. He retired to the village of Monte, by the sea-wall, and began to practise what the venerable Padre An- selmo termed the black art of Beelzebub.' " " Which means, that our friend the Colonel tried to raise the devil," cried a stout merchant of the Rialto. " By no means, my dear Boscari," responded Prince di Roumaine, laughing. " Colonel de Roal was a ma- gician of another kind. Among the grand temples, and the colossal weather-worn statues of Egypt's gods, this man had found a secret that baffled doctors and priest- craft alike." What secret, Prince ? " " The great secret of healing," returned the banker, gravely. " Men who had thought themselves confirmed invalids were cured by him, by a simple wave of the hand. Others, again, whom the most skilful physicians had given up as past help, were restored to perfect health without nostrum or pill." " Corpo di Baccho f It is marvellous," cried another of the party. " My good Antonio, there are some things that make a man famous whether he will or no. De Roal became, for a time, the most noted person in Venice. The poor, who found relief at his hands, dubbed him a saint. The clergy impeached him as a devil. Abbe Belleville laid an information against him to the Sen- ate, and De Roal was summoned to the Hall of St. Mark. Hector Bravoli, the Captain of the Guard, went in person to arrest the offender. When the officer communicated his errand, the Colonel rose to his 100 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. feet and confronted him. ' Mio Capitano, you are a brave fellow to come here alone, to arrest one in league with Satan," he said, smiling. " Hark ! I have only to lift my voice, and yonder crowd without would rend you to pieces. However, I will not do so. See ! Look at me, Captain Hector Bravoli straight at me so ! Now, sir, we shall understand each other better.' " " Was the understanding mutual, Prince ? " " Truly so, my friend," continued the banker. " Cer- tain it is that Captain Bravoli had no sooner fixed his gaze on the eyes of his companion than he felt quite powerless to withdraw it. Something there was in the look of De Roal which held the Captain altogether in bondage. Bravoli, it may be remarked, was one of the most fearless, as well as one of the most matter-of-fact men of the time ; therefore, it appeared all the more remarkable when he was discovered afterwards fast asleep in the Colonel's arm-chair, and De Roal gone vanished through the keyhole, or up the chimney." " And they never caught him ? " " No ! The Colonel's enemies cared not a straw whither he went, so that he was gone from Venice," answered Prince di Roumaine. " I believe he re- turned to Egypt. So much for my erratic schoolfellow. But see ! Here comes the procession of the Floating Palace." A cortege of stately gondolas, with lights and banners and music, escorting a huge pile of lath, silk, and paper flowers. From every tiny peak and gable of the frail structure gleamed colored lights of every hue, while around and about there rose the jangle of a hundred guitars, and a perfect babel of tongues. Long after it had passed by, and when the noise and tumult came to them but in faint murmurs, the Princess CUPID. 101 and her companion still mused : she, of that new and pleasant love-light dawning upon her pure soul for the first time ; he, of what he had just heard concerning Gaston de Roal. All things have an ending. So with the waking fancies of Violante and her com- panion. " Are you fond of music ? " she asks, and before he can reply, she rises and moves to the piano. The groups around the Prince split up, and form again about his daughter. Violante looks round with a smile, and strikes a sweet low prelude : SONG. Oh, wooing wind ! That steals, a subtle whisper, through the woods. The shy arbutus hears, Lifting her pinky ears And blushing, on her crumpled bed reclined, When she thy meaning bold hath understood. Oh, wooing wind ! Oh, wanton wind ! That tellest love-tales to the trembling trees, And in the rose's breast Drinkest thyself to rest, And all the lily's sweetness hath divined When June's warm lips are murmuring to her bees. Oh, wanton wind ! Oh, cruel wind ! Piercing the forest with thy bloody spears I Death to each rose that grieves ; Death to the outcast leaves ; Fleeing for refuge, that they may not find Thy mocking laughter, shrilling o'er their fears Oh, cruel wind 1 102 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Oh, moaning wind ! Now are the gardens stript, the boughs are bare, For thee no weak buds blow ; Only this ghastly snow Over thy victims draws a covering kind. Well mayst thou sob and wail in vain despair, Oh, moaning wind ! " Bravo ! bravo ! Sad, but beautiful," cried Alton Lyndhurst. And the rest applaud too, and beg her to sing again. She complies. The girl has a voice match- less for purity of tone and sweetness. When she has finished the second song, the novelist, at the request of his friend, sits down to the instrument, and after a moment's meditation, sings: HEREAFTER. When all life's storms are still, And all the noises into calm have passed ; When rest and quiet come to us at last, What matters good or ill ? What matters love or hate ? Calm hands are folded o'er a quiet heart, The wearied head is pillowed in sweet rest, And sorrow comes too late. What matters wealth or fame ? The narrow grave is all the earth can give, The deathless soul in other worlds shall live, And men forget our name. What matters aught of Earth ? The passing pictures of a shadowed dream, The changing eddies of a turbid stream ; Sure these are nothing worth. CUPID. 103 Why then despond, my friend ? For thee, at least, has come at last Sweet peace and calm, when toil is past, And Death is not the End ! No applause follows Lyndhurst's song. Something in the voice of the singer more, in the words he has chosen forbids it. Yet the voice is a grand, manly voice, and one well fitted to the grave, quaint melody of the poem. Without a word, Warne crosses to his friend, and takes his hand. "Dear old boy, I understand you better now," he whispers in English. The whisper and the reply, which is half a laugh and half a sob, are unheeded. Boscari is at the instru- ment. Hark ! The theme is still Love. "ALTER EGO" When the Eastern gates are swinging Wide, to welcome in the morn ; All the happy birds seem singing Of the glad hope newly born In my heart. In sudden rapture, I a fluttering breeze would capture, And would pray it Float above you, There to whisper How I love you ! As the day's red ship moves over Stretches wide of sapphire sea, I would have a sunbeam hover Round your path to tell of me ; I would have it lay caresses. On your lips and in your tresses, Telling, as it Danced above you, 104 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. That I love you, Darling love you I When the silver stars are gleaming In the dusky dome of night, To your pure and tranquil dreaming I would send a vision bright. You would see me, darling, near you Bending low, that I might hear you Whisper to the Lips above you, ' ' Yes, I love you, Dearest love you ! " So glides the night away, until the glorious light of day illumines the swelling bosom of the Adriatic. Hark! again: Hail, balmy splendor ! There the morning breaks away From shades as tender, Shines early day ; The golden mists are rolling up The foam on morning's amber cup ; Beneath the long uprisen line The valleys quaff the wine. Beautiful the gloaming Of morn, through veiling night, Scarcely, though seeming, Clear to the sight. Yet he still the faintest sign descries, And rings a paean as he flies ; The surly hours of night are gone. Arouse ! Behold the dawn ! LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 105 CHAPTER X. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. FAIR the morning, and gay the banker and his party, as they drifted with wind and tide towards the pict- uresque suburb of Tel Delto. At Terra Fontaine, famed throughout the world for its glass, the party sep- arated. Prince di Roumaine would not hear of Warne and his friend leaving him yet awhile, but pressed them to accompany him to his villa at Del Grade, and spend a few days. The invitation was accepted with evident satisfaction by one of the twain, and none the less so by the host's fair daughter, who clapped her hands in childish glee. " Ah ! you shall see the " Bravo's Leap," and the ford where Bianca Paianzi perished, when hunted by the troops of the dreadful Inquisition. Mio padre, we will go home round by the stream ! " The Prince nods approval. " Violante is full of old legends," he adds, by way of explanation. " Bianca Paianzi and the Bravo's Leap are local fables, nothing more ; yet the scene of their exploits may interest you." They dismiss the carriage that has been sent to Fontaine to meet them, and breakfast at one of those old-fashioned roomy inns, only to be found in pictures, and around the sea-girt city of the South. It is a de- lightful meal, after their night's vigil. From the diamond-paned casement can be seen the sea for thirty miles, with scarcely a ripple on its glassy surface. It 106 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. appears a vast mirror, framed in with the distant hills of Florence and Milan, with a setting of extensive valleys that are vineyards and orange groves combined. " Gentlemen, I have an appointment at the bank this morning," says Prince Roumaine, when the breakfast is over. " I am sorry business necessitates my leaving you, even for an hour. Pray pardon me. My daughter will play the hostess during my absence, which I trust will not extend beyond the hour of lunch." Alton Lyndhurst looks across the table at the smil- ing pair, and forms a sudden resolve not to make three in company. " Prince, should I be in the way if I ac- companied you to the bank ? " he asked carelessly. " I have seen little or nothing of Venice yet." " My dear sir, I shall be delighted," replies the un- suspecting padre. " Come along, I will show you all that is really worth seeing with great pleasure." They go out. Warne casts a look at his friend that has in it a mixture of delight and fear. In five minutes the banker and the novelist are rat- tling along towards Venice as fast as a pair of mules can carry them ; while Violante and the young New Zealander pursue their way on foot towards Del Grade. The masher feels dreadfully shy and palpitating. He turns over in his brain a thousand things with which to start a conversation, but fails utterly to produce a word. Presently he has courage to hope she is not tired. " Tired ? " she says, flashing round at him one of the glances from her soft, dark eyes that twenty times this morning have made his heart leap ; " why, we have not walked a mile yet. I often go down to the promon- tory yonder and back again before dinner." " Alone ? " he asks. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 107 " Yes, of course alone. Padre would not walk so far to save his life." " Pardon me," he stammered ; " I thought perhaps that is that there might be someone else, er " She looks at him with grave surprise. " Whom else should there be?" she inquires. " I don't know," is the ambiguous reply, but he feels an inward throb of satisfaction. " My father and I are quite alone. This is the first time that I have had a companion," she adds inno- cently. He gains courage fast now, and draws a little nearer. Don't you find it dull walking alone, I mean ? " he says. " Oh, no. There is always something to amuse me, some bird to listen to ; then, besides, the trees talk to me." " Trees ? I didn't know they talked." She laughs. " Oh, yes, they do. Listen," and she halts and puts her hand on his arm, which sensation stops him as dead short as if a bullet had gone clean through his anatomy. " Don't you hear them ? That is the leaves rustling against each other in the breeze. That is what I call talking. If you and I were poets, we should understand them, and be able to tell the world what they said." Ralph Warne tilts back his hat, and looks at her. He would give something to be a poet to be an inter- preter of the trees and the running brooks, and trans- late their language for her. How he envies his friend (even that friend whom he loves and honors with his soul) for being a poet. " I am but a poor, ignorant fellow," he responds humbly ; " I am afraid the trees will never gossip with me." 108 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. His rueful face and the tone of his voice make her laugh again ; but there is an unmistakable ring of sym- pathy in it which robs it of all unpleasantness. " Why not?" she says. " Does your immortal poet Shakespeare teach in vain ? Does he not say that these dead stones have a language of their own ?" " I I think he does ; but I haven't read much, you know," he responds in his depreciating way. " I've seen Hamlet, and Romeo and Juliet. The former is certainly beyond me, but the latter is beautiful. Don't you think so ? " The Princess ponders a moment, her long lashes rest- ing on her cheek. Romeo and Juliet is a grand poem. It is a perfumed flower, with stiletto and poison hid amongst its leaves," she says. "But of your great countryman: I can hear the music of the stream. This is the ford. We shall have to cross here. Warne had been too much occupied with his com- panion to notice a river flowing between high cliffs, with stepping-stones in zigzag lines for crossing. " This is called the ' Bravo's Leap,' she says. " Oh, dear me ! " " What is the matter ? " he asks. "Why, the tide is rising; the stepping stones are almost covered." "He looks down at the crossing and nods assent. " Not half the stones are visible," he says. " We shall have to go back." "Go back?" she echoes, at the same time consulting her watch. " Nay, it will take a couple of hours to reach the inn, and one more to get a conveyance. By that time, caro padre will be distracted at my absence. We must cross," she says decidedly. " You will get wet." LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 109 " I can't help that," she cries, with a laugh, and trip- ping down the bank, she stands gazing with a perplexed look at the flowing tide brawling over the stones. He flings the remnant of his cigar into the stream walks in after it a little way, and extends to her both his hands. Violante shrinks back. " You are standing in the water," she exclaims. He laughs carelessly. Of course; what does it matter ? It won't hurt me, but you must not get wet. Put both your hands in mine and come slowly." She hesitates a moment, then puts her small hands into his strong ones, which close over them firmly, and steps on the first stone. " Now then," he says, bending halfway towards the next one, " be careful to step firmly. Don't be afraid." " I am not afraid," she answers, feeling the firm grip of his hands, which seem to swallow hers and yet to hold them so tenderly. " Bravo ! that was capital," he cried, as stone num- ber two is reached. " How deep the water is," she says ruefully, looking down at his legs, against which the tide is rushing. " How terribly wet you are ! " " Don't think of that," he responds pleadingly. " I'm used to it. Now for the next one." She manages to reach it, but no sooner has she done so than she utters a faint cry of dismay. " What's the matter ? " he asks, holding her hands tightly, and pressing nearer. " Don't you see ? " she cries, nodding in front of her. " The next stone is under water." " By Jove ! so it is," he drawls. " What's to be done?" 110 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " I don't know ; and I feel as if I were going to fall," she adds laughingly, but with a little dash of nervous color in her face. " Lean your arm on my shoulder," he says, drawing closer to her. " Lean hard ; you will feel steadier." " Thank you, you are very kind and the water is above your knees." " Never mind me," he repeats. " Now, what shall we do, advance or return ? " Even as he makes the suggestion, he knows there is no going back, as she could not possible turn round on the sloping slippery stone.' If she were his sister, he would make no more ado, but take her up in his arms arid carry her across. He could do it as easily as he could carry a baby. But he dare not think of it. It would be sacrilege. Yet what is to be done ? Every moment he feels the arm resting upon his shoulder grow unsteady. " I must go back," she says, trying to laugh, but look- ing at him with dismay in her beautiful eyes ; then she glances over her shoulder, and her face grows more troubled. " No ! I could not. I must try to wade after all, it doesn't matter." " What ! " he cries. " You wade impossible ; the water is awfully deep a little farther on, I know. Be- sides, you don't suppose I would let you." " But I must," she answers, with a sort of sobbing sound, meant for a laugh. " The tide will drown us both." " No, it won't," he adds, trying to speak carelessly ; " I I shall have to carry you." He makes the bold proposition, avoiding her eyes and looking straight be- yond her, and so does not see the wide-open surprise in hers, and the swift sudden flush of color. " ' Now then,' he says, ' be careful to step firmly. Don't be afraid.' " Page log. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. Ill " Oh, no ! " she says softly. " I'll go back, please." " Look here, he answers, with a mild courage, such as men feel who step out to lead a forlorn hope. " You can't go back ; you can't turn on this wretched stone ; and you can't wade you, a delicate lady." " I'm not delicate. I'm very strong." " I don't care," he replies, waxing valiant. " The Prince entrusted you to my care. Pretty kind of fellow I should be to allow you to get wet, catch cold, and have a dangerous illness, perhaps ! " She laughs at his eagerness, and encouraged, though she did not mean it for encouragement, he draws nearer to her, and puts his arm round her waist. Even at that moment his reverence for her almost daunts him, and he stands with a strange look in his eyes, and a sudden quiver of the lips. He has had his arm round many a lady's waist, in waltz and polka, without any of that shrinking sense of outrage which possesses him now. And she, as she feels his strong arm around her, a thrill mysterious, half pleasurable, half painful runs through her ; but she cannot shrink back, even if she would, there is not room for it. In the moment of her hesitation she looks at him, then her eyes droop, and her face grows pale. With a sudden resolution he lifts her gently, and holding her against his heart, wades towards the opposite shore. He can feel her heart beat almost against his arm, the tips of her fingers just touch his neck, the lace on her dress brushes against his lips, and for a moment the keen delight almost overpowers him. He cannot go quickly, lest by a false step he should stumble and drop her. In his heart he wishes that the stream were a mile wide. The rush of the water is ecstatic music in his 112 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. ears, for he is in that paradise which men call " First Love." Trembling, not with fear, for she feels safe in his strong arms, a rapt feeling takes possession of her, too new and mystical for her to comprehend. Deep as is the water, uncertain as is the footing, he carries her as easily as if he walked the pavement of St. Mark. She does not know that he has set his whole mind on this task, and that every step is taken warily and with the deepest consideration, and that, strong as he is, it is just as much as he can do to keep foothold at all in the middle of the river. What a whirl of wild pas- sions are at his heart, making it beat like a steam hammer, as he reaches shallow water, then dry land ! He does not set her down for a moment, but stands trying to regain self-possession, to press back a mad intense longing to draw her still closer to him, and kiss her. Honor wins, however. He bends forward so that he may set her on her feet ; but alas for honor ! At that instant a strand of golden hair, that has escaped from its coil, sweeps across his face, and catches in the pin of his scarf. With a faint awakening cry of pain, she puts up her hand to free it, her hands touch his face the mad longing, like an unseen spirit, rises within him again, and overmasters him. Ere he knows what he is about, he draws her to his bosom with a fierce embrace, and kisses her. Motionless she stands and looks down at him as some vestal might have done in the old Roman days, when the savage Vandal broke into the sanctuary and seized the sacred maidens. She says not a word, but in the wide-open eyes there is an expression of both fear and amazement. The dawning of a new life has come to her. The magic stream is crossed; from LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 113 henceforth the timid girl, innocent of the meaning of love, has vanished forever. " Forgive me, forgive me, Princess di Roumaine," he pants breathlessly. "I was mad. Pray do not look at me like that." Slowly a faint tinge of color comes back into her face. She draws her hands quickly from his grasp, and although her eyes are rilled with tears, the voice is strangely firm and steady, as she asks, " Why did you do it?" " Because because I was an unworthy brute and a coward," he cried with vehement remorse. "Please don't cry don't I can't bear it ; upbraid me, send me away with the scorn and contempt I deserve. I will go and never never see you again. Never ! " She clasps her hands tightly together and looks at him as he kneels penitently before her, in his dripping habiliments. His handsome face is full of sad, sincere contrition. She thinks swiftly of all his gentleness during the brief time she has known him, his care and consideration for her, of a hundred little trifles, looks, tones, that proclaim him a true-hearted gentleman. " Oh, why did you do it ? " she repeats, her delicate brows knit and her looks fixed on his with solemn trouble. " Why ? " he echoes, with deep-drawn breath. " Be- cause I couldn't help it ; because I love you." The words were out. For the first time in her life the banker's daughter hears that which means so much in a girl's life be she princess or parlor-maid. A vivid crimson rushes to her face and neck, and goes, leaving her pale and trembling. " It is the truth," he goes on, pleadingly. " I should 8 114 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. not have done it if I had not loved you. Ah ! Princess Violante, say you will forgive me, and let me go. I will never come back, never trouble you again. Just say, I forgive you." She scarcely heeds his pleading. Her whole soul is filled with these words, " I love you ! " She thinks of love as she has read of it in books, not understanding it by any means, but treating it as something that never could by any possibility come within the range of her experience. The young colonist watches her face, and waits. Presently she turns, and says softly, " It is but two short weeks since we saw each other for the first time." " True, only two weeks," he says. " And yet ah ! it seems impossible." "No," he rejoins, his eyes glowing with intense eagerness to convince her, " I repeat I love you ! I loved you the first moment we met. My heart seemed to go out from me. If I talked for a week I could not explain. One does not learn to love. It comes unbid- den, and in a moment. That is it." He rises and stands beside her, looking down wist- fully for some token of forgiveness to show itself in the beautiful face, that flushes and quivers in doubt and astonishment. " I have loved you from the first, else why should I have been in hourly dread of having to leave Venice and you of never seeing you again ? " She can't unravel it at all try as she will. " The first evening I spent at Del Grade, you dropped this rosebud from your robe," he says, producing a withered flower from some secret recess of his vest. " I watched this rose, and longed for it, because you LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. H5 had touched it. Take it back again ; I am unworthy to retain it." She puts forth her hand without looking at him, and takes the crushed blossom; it looks a poor sort of treasure, but she regards it thoughtfully, as if per- chance it might make the mystery more easy to her. " I could not go until I had asked you to forgive me. But I will go now," he adds firmly. " No," she answers softly. " I forgive you." " Thank you ; I do not deserve it, I know," with a pleading look in the bright blue eyes. " Shall I go now, and and may I have that rose again just as a token of your forgiveness ? " " It is withered and dead," she says, holding it to- wards him, while the tell-tale crimson mantles her face. " I shall keep it in . remembrance of my love for you. When you have quite forgotten, I shall keep this and still remember." " And you you are very sorry ? " she asks, with a quiver of her lip, and an upward look at him. " No, I am not sorry," he responds almost in a whisper. " I am only sorry that you will not let me love you." " Let you ? " she repeats, her eyelashes covering the bright eyes beneath. " Yes ; if I thought that perhaps some time in the future you you would try and and love me ! Dear Violante, don't be angry. Do you think that you could ever learn to love me just a little?" She turns her eyes up at him with religious sincerity. " I do not know," she murmurs ; " I do not know." " It would make me so much happier, and I could go away without a pang of regret. Of course, I cannot 116 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. expect you to care for me as I do for you. Why should you ? " He goes on gathering courage every moment, as a man will do when he is doing battle with a woman for love's sake. " But, see now, supposing you were never never to see me any more I mean, all your life should you be very sorry ? " She thinks of all the brightness he has brought into her life in those brief days. " Yes, I should be very sorry." " Look you," he says, kneeling on one knee, his hand touching her arm pleadingly. " Supposing it's absurd, of course but supposing you knew that I was going to be married ; should you be sorry ? " She does not answer, but her lips tremble with agitation. " I can only think of one thing else," he says softly. " In that new land to which I belong, there is war war to the death. Supposing that I never returned, and some months hence your father received a letter from mine, saying that the idle, frivolous fellow who aspired to your love had died died with a weapon in his hand and his face to the foe. Suppose " With a low cry, she turns to him, her hands held up to shut out the sight of this dreadful picture. " Oh, no, no ! " He takes her hands and pressing them against his breast, says fervently : " Violante, I think you will love me. If you cannot bear to think of me as dead, then there is hope that I am not quite indifferent to you. Oh, Violante ! dear, dear, Yiolante ! tell me the truth. May I hope that you will grow to love me ? Say you will ! " " Ah ! but I love you, now," she murmurs softly. " Oh, how you frighten me ! " for he has taken her in LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 117 his arms, and pressed her to him with passionate devotion. He kisses the silken hair, whose golden brown strands are blown across his breast. " Can it be true ? " he says, half doubtful of the fortune the gods have showered on him. " Why, only last night I was afraid to look at you you seemed so far from me in your loveliness, your gentleness. And you love me are you sure, quite sure ? " " Quite sure," she exclaims, her eyes fixed on him, with a rapt look ; " I cannot say why, but I am sure." " And you did not know this even an hour ago ? " " It was all so sudden, so strange," she murmurs. " No one ever spoke to me of love before. I had never thought of it. And then it all came to me like a flash, when you spoke of dying ! Ah, why did you do it ? " shuddering. " It was cruel, but I wanted to know if there was any hope for me," he says penitently. " I wish I could make you understand how happy I feel." " Perhaps I know," she responds shyly, her face crimson. "Violante?" "Yes." "Will you let me kiss you, now ?" She puts her palms upon his breast, and lifts her pure lips to meet his. And silence falls upon them. Save for the boisterous tide, a solemn stillness broods over the spot where the love-god reigns, and where he holds his vassals in a mysterious dream. The Princess starts up gently and pulls out her watch. Both of them had forgotten time and place, past and future. " It is past twelve, and your clothes are soaking wet," she says. " What shall we do ? " "Get to the villa as fast as we can," he rejoins, 118 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. taking her hand in his. " If you are tired, I can carry you, you know." She blushes and looks at him reproachfully. " You are not to remember that," she says chidingly. " Am I not ? Very well. I'll never speak of it but to forget it impossible." He draws the costly wrap round her as he speaks, and steals one more kiss of the golden brown tresses ; and they start for home. They do not talk much on the way, at least in words ; but every now and then his hand touches hers, and sometimes her fingers close over his with a gentle pressure. She is too innocent to hide her love. Her pure unstained soul is free to his gaze. He wonders what the Prince will say how he will take it! How Lyndhurst will look when he tells him of Violante ! The poor exquisite is afraid of both, but he is resolved to fight the battle out as he began. PETER DUSK. 119 CHAPTER XI. PETER DUSK. THERE is no lack of gloomy buildings in Venice, even at the present day. One of the most massive, and withal, dull and dreary as the outside of a jail, is the Hotel de Collotte. Its windows and balconies hang over the Grand Canal like the leaning tower of Pisa. The main approach to it is by the water-way beyond the Bridge of Sighs, world-famed in song and story. If the exterior of De Collette seemed mouldy, decayed, and time-worn, it by no means followed that its interior presented the same uninviting aspect. In- deed, all things considered, this hostelry was one of the best in the city, its host being no less a personage than a waif from the Emerald Isle, commonly known as Tim McClure, a fine upstanding fellow, six feet three in his socks, who had seen service under Wellington. How McClure came to be a publican in the centre of Italy was a question best known to mine host of the Hotel de Collotte himself ; certain it is that exile appeared to trouble him but little. He had evidently prospered and grown fat in the land of his adoption. On one of the overhanging balconies, above the canal, sat a thick-set man, lazily watching the receding autumnal sun illumining sea and sky away beyond the Adriatic. He was not a very tall man, but his sturdy limbs were stretched out in easeful indolence to their fullest extent, like one who thoroughly enjoyed a quiet 120 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. rest after severe exercise. His age might have been fifty or thirty, or anything between the two. Looking at him, you came to the conclusion at once that, what- ever might be his years, he had evidently taken good care of Number One. He was altogether a common man, with a bullet-shaped head, and two prominent bumps thereon that a prize-fighter might have envied, providing the said pugilist had combined phrenology with fistiana. A common man, indeed, with no pre- tensions to good looks ; his hands and face are the same color as his tawny beard ; the mouth and the eyes alone show the index to the man. The first exhibits pa- tience and determination to an extraordinary degree, the latter glisten with the cunning of the fox, com- mingled with that animal courage of the bull-dog order which bites to the death. Such is Peter Dusk, detective, Scotland Yard, London, as he sits smoking on the veranda of the H6tel de Collotte, awaiting a visit from his employer. He has not long to wait. Ere the sun has dipped its disc in the molten sea, mine host thrusts his gray head through the doorway : " A couple of gentlemen waiting to see you, sir." " All right ; show them up," is the laconic rejoinder. The detective flings his cigar over the balcony, goes to a small room on the opposite side to that by which the landlord made his appearance, and having locked the door, advances to meet his visitors. The veteran host retires, and Ralph Warne introduces Alton Lyndhurst to the detective. " Can I speak freely before this gentleman ? " says the latter, after a pause, during which he produced a well-worn note-book from some secret recess of his coat. " Certainly," answers Warne. " This gentleman is my PETEE DUSK. 121 friend, and, I may add, as much interested in the business you have in hand as I am myself. To save time, may I beg you will favor us with a brief account of what has been done since you took this matter in hand? I have a motive, which makes it absolutely necessary that Mr. Lyndhurst should become acquainted with the facts from yourself." Peter Dusk glances at the novelist, then opens his memoranda, and lays them on the table before him. " I shall be very brief," he says in his hard matter-of-fact voice, " and will say what I have to say in my own way." Warne, who is in the act of lighting a cigar, nods approval. " Mr. Hilton Fernbrook, a young colonist of ample means, left his home on June 21, 18 , and embarked on board the good ship ' Stormbird ' for Europe, where he intended doing a long tour. In two years he managed to see most of the chief cities of Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and France," says the detective. " On Sep- tember 11, 18 , I find he has visited London, and taken up his quarters at the Clarendon. From London he is easily traced to Paris, and from thence to an old town on the Rhine, called Kahlberg. At this place Hilton Fernbrook forms an acquaintance, in the person of Colonel de Roal, a great traveller, and an ex-officer of the French army. The colonel is a man of the world, with vast experience, but poor as a mouse. The young colonial has plenty of money, but no experience ergo, the Colonel and Mr. Fernbrook become friends. They returned to Paris together, and spent the remainder of the season in the French metropolis. I trust I make myself plain, sir?" with a quick upward glance at Lyndhurst. 122 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " Perfectly." " From a reliable source, I next discover traces of my men at Alexandria, in Egypt. At Cairo the Colonel organizes a party to proceed up the Nile as far as Sinnevett. Without doubt this adventurous trip is taken at the i ns tance of young Fernbrook. The Colon el , I repeat, is well travelled, and knows the mighty river as well as any native, therefore they need no guide save De Roal himself. " The party consists of four men our two friends and two Italian artists, together with a man-servant at- tached to the Colonel, an Arab, Rabez by name. " At the town of Ghiza, one of the Italians fell ill. His compatriot remained behind to tend him, while the Colonel and Fernbrook, accompanied by the Arab pro- ceeded onward. " Up to this point every link in the chain of evidence is as clear as noonday," continued Dusk, leaning his arms on the table and looking full at his visitors. " But I may here remark that, beyond that old Egyptian village, the information I received about my men was both perplexing and contradictory. It would be al- together out of place to detail how I discovered that Fernbrook and Colonel de Roal, together with the friendly Arab servant, had been captured by a fierce Bedouin Sheik, on whose territory they had unwittingly trespassed in crossing the second cataract of the Nile. Suffice it, I traced them to this spot, heard how they had been taken prisoners, yet, in spite of the resources at my command, I was unable to track them one step farther. " I returned to Cairo, baffled but not beaten, and went back to London. From certain information which reached me three months later, I started for Paris, PETER DUSK. 123 and from thence directed my steps to Cairo. I had not been long in the latter city ere I picked up the clue to our two friends, Mr. Fernbrook and the Colonel. I may remark that, throughout the whole of my inves- tigations hitherto, I had not heard one word to sully the honor or morality of these two men. Now, how- ever, my inquiries led me into the most objectionable places. Gaming, dissipation, and objects of more evil repute, appear to have been the daily routine in the life of the Colonel and his friend. No one in Cairo seemed to hold such an unenviable notoriety as Mr. Fernbrook, who was known only as Victor Mauprat. It was on account'of this change of name that my task became such a difficult one. My researches led me to double back to Paris and through most of the cities of Europe, until I picked up the clue at a fashionable gaming-den in the West End of London. Here, for a time, my work was clear and easy. One evening, Fern- brook, or Mauprat which you will, for they are one and the same was at play with some officers belong- ing to the th Hussars, at the aforesaid den politely termed a club. Colonel de Roal was also of the party. The play was high, and the players had been imbibing freely. " Some time after midnight a dispute arose between Captain Vipont, one of the officers who had lost con- siderably, and Mauprat. Disputation ended in blows, and a duel was the consequence. It was just at break of day when this happened, and the whole party went forth straightway from the gaming-house to the scene of the encounter. The combat was with small swords, and a most bloody combat it was. Eye-witnesses swore that it was not a duel, but a matter of deliberate .murder. I have a record of the event ; read it at jour 124 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. leisure, sir," and the detective produced an old news- paper and handed it to Warne. " Be that as it may, Victor Mauprat was arrested and placed upon his trial for killing Captain Vipont, of the th Hussars ; he was found guilty on the lesser charge of manslaughter, and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. Two of Mauprat's confed- erates were arrested with him. One, a well-known card-sharper and swindler named Sharpe, with half a dozen aliases, was convicted at the same time. Meanwhile the news comes that Mauprat and one of his associates have broken out from Portland Prison. As they were never discovered, it is believed they escaped to Australia and made their way to Sydney, and there is no doubt in my mind but that these men seized the schooner Seagull ' in Port Jackson. How they escaped from the burning wreck is the question to be solved." " Pardon me," answered Lyndhurst ; " if, as you aver, Hilton Fernbrook and Victor Mauprat are one and the same person, then I can vouch that the whole of the wretches did not perish as is supposed. Victor Mauprat, or Fernbrook, is now in New Zealand." The detective smiled. "Mr. Warne repeated the same statement to me some days ago," he said. " Is not Sharpe there also ? " " Yes, certainly. That is the name of his confiden- tial servant." " Then it is clear that Messieurs Sharpe and Mauprat escaped from the burning vessel," remarked Dusk, quietly. " Would you recognize Fernbrook's likeness, if you saw it ? " " Undoubtedly," repeated the novelist. " His is a face once seen always remembered." PETER DUSK. 125 " Humph ! Is that anything like the Master of Fernbrook ? " and the detective puts a photo into his hand. "Why, it is the man himself," cries Lyndhurst, " only the apparel is not that usually worn by gentle- men." " No, that picture was taken in prison after Mau- prat's trial." " It is a faithful likeness of the man." " Do you know this one ? " asked Dusk, producing a second photograph. " That is Colonel de Roal," exclaimed the novelist, in some surprise. " The face here seems younger, but it is more worn and haggard that when I saw the orig- inal last. It is the same, however." " Without doubt," observed the detective ; " and here we have the counterpart of the Ferret, alias Joe Sharpe." "This is a strange revelation," responded Lynd- hurst, after a pause, during which he had minutely studied each of the three photos in turn. 'I cannot refrain from expressing my admiration at your energy and tact, sir, in securing such a perfect chain of testi- mony as you have been pleased to lay before my friend and myself, concerning persons who have no right to mix with honest men. Now, may I ask what further steps you intend to take in this very strange and, I may say, disagreeable business ?" " That will depend upon Mr. Warne," responded the detective. " One thing I would ask is, that the sub- ject remain as it is for a few days. Something has happened since yesterday which has greatly surprised me." "Anything in connection with this case?" 126 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. "Yes." " Have you any objection to say what it is, sir ? " " None ; providing you gentlemen give me your word of honor that you will not interfere in any way on the strength of my communication." " We promise." " Thank you. Well, then, gentlemen, I have seen Hilton Fernbrook, alias Victor Mauprat, within the last few hours," said Dusk, gravely. " What ! here in Venice ? " cried Warne and Lynd- hurst together. " Here in Venice, gentlemen. There can be no mis- take about that," responded the other, decidedly. "The thing is impossible," answered the young banker. " I received a direct communication from my father at noon this day, in which he states that Fern- brook was at the bank, on some business, while the letter was being written. My epistle has come by a route that Mr. Fernbrook could not travel, even if he had left New Zealand at the self-same time, which is an absurd supposition." "I may have been mistaken, but I do not think so," said Dusk, with his peculiar smile. " Be good enough to leave the matter to me, gentlemen, and the day after to-morrow, at this hour, you shall have fuller informa- tion, I promise you. In the mean time, allow me to accompany you to your gondola." TRANCE SHADOWS. 127 CHAPTER XII. TRAXCE SHADOWS. SITTING here in my lonely room, out of the rush and hurry and the roar of business, I became, as it were conscious of thoughts taking definite shape, and bear- ing me away to that other and more familiar world where buying and selling, cheating and lying, cannot enter. I have been there very often, so often, indeed, that many of its far-off, hazy labyrinths are well known to me. And what mazes, what countless, inextricable windings hast thou, oh, wonderful world of the Ideal ! If I grow weary of hollow glitter, and the shams of respectable humbug, I have a safe refuge in thee! There are no wailings of injustice, nor groans of pain and want, within thy fair domains. Men of one idea will laugh and say, This is the drivel of insanity. Let them say on. Ignorance is rampant and intolerant to-day, as it has been on many u day that witnessed the envious persecution of many of God's noblest creatures. I have my talent, and I do not mean to hide it because your lordship sneers. What then ! Shall I pander to the teeming ignorance around me ? Go to ! Sitting here, with the evening gloaming gather- ing round and about me, my mind returns to that forbidden study that had its cradle in the forgotten ages: 128 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERN BROOK. The God who floats upon a lotus leaf Dreams for a thousand years ; then awaking Creates a world, and smiling at the bubble Relapses into bliss. I see a form arise whose name is " Od Force." Men call it animal magnetism, and pronounce it a profane thing. Ancient Egypt jealously guarded its secrets from the mass of the people, not because they doubted its truth, but because it served the higher priesthood, who held a power seemingly Divine. Mediaeval Germany kept its mysteries from the public eye, inasmuch as the age that burnt witches, and imprisoned poor Galileo, was obviously not a tol- erant one. From the fragmentary writings of the old mystics came Mesmer, and with him Puysegur. These men showed the strange bond existing between man and the globe on which he lives, and how much he is unwillingly influenced by his fellow-creatures. Colonel de Roal had gone beyond both Mesmer and Puysegur in the abstruse study of electro-biology and clairvoyance. Determined and daring, with a will almost unconquerable, he had taken a stand which scientists and schoolmen had attacked and stormed in vain. Be it understood, this is not a treatise on Od Force. De Roal has been cast upon these pages as the personification of the principle of a comparatively un- known and, as yet, unrecognized power in Nature. If I can make the mesmerist interesting, dear reader, my task is attained. Belief is an intellectual concession, not always agreeable to self-love. To profess disbelief conveys an impression of superior knowingness ; there is, therefore, a great deal of skepticism which has scarcely any root but vanity. TRANCE SHADOWS. 129 The Barrier Rock stands gloomily out in the declin- ing light of evening. Fernbrook's guests have de- parted, and left the old house cold and silent in its loneliness ; except for the Colonel and that uproarious giant, Drummond Blake, there is no one about the place, save the regular inmates. Within a room on the basement, whose windows face the sea, the setting sun glints upon three persons Te Coro, De Roal, and the young Master of Fern- brook. To a casual observer, nothing could be more proper and natural than the position of the trio. The Maori girl, reclining upon a soft couch, had evidently fallen asleep over the perusal of a book, which had fallen to her lap ; Hilton sat by the window, gazing out at the turbulent ocean ; De Roal occupied a sort of recess behind the couch on which Te Coro dozed. A first glance at the room and its occupants would have left the impression that a quiet afternoon had been spent in conversation and music. Not so, how- ever ; the Colonel had sat in rear of the clairvoyant Maori girl for a purpose, and that purpose he had successfully accomplished ; yet it had been executed so skilfully that had even Rita, the suspecting, lynx- eyed old nurse, been present, she could not possibly have detected anything. But Rita was not there. The hard, stern, faithful old Maori was miles away, working, after her lights, at the mystery by which she found herself surrounded. Presently the Colonel rises and approaches the win- dow. His face has lost some of its ruddy color and smoothness, and there is one long deep line about the mouth denoting pain, or maybe some stormy internal passion held in check. "My son, here is my hand ; let us be friends as here- 9 130 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. tofore," he says blandly, holding forth his white slender palm, which seemed to belong to some high-bred lady rather than to a man. The young man looks up at him and grasps the proffered hand. " My dear Colonel, I have never been unfriendly," he responds. " Tut ! Let us lay aside our everyday masks, man fils" answers De Roal, smilingly. "Years ago, you and I entered the lists together against the common foe, humbug. Shall we become recreant knights, and swear allegiance to our enemy ? " Hilton Fernbrook laughs. " Come, my son, we will clear the way to a mutual understanding," continued the other, in his cool, quiet voice. " I have travelled ten thousand miles to visit you." "And spent ten thousand pounds out of the ex- chequer of Fernbrook in doing it," chimed in the other. " Pooh ! Money is not to be weighed in the scale of relationship such as ours," says De Roal. " What is the ten thousand against liberty, against the power and the splendor of such a domain as this ? " " Colonel de Roal " " Call me pere, mon enfant,'' interrupted the Colonel. " There is a filial ring about the term which suits me. Basta ! are you not my son ? " "Truly, I am so," returned the other with fierce irony, " the son of a great pere, who has, amongst other accomplishments, inherited the art of being the first rake-hell alive." " Why not add, duellist, convict, and prison-breaker to the list?" inquired the elder man, with some grace. A strange harsh laugh broke from the lips of Hilton Fernbrook. "It would not be wise to hint such a TRANCE SHADOWS. 131 thing, dear pere" he said, with mocking sarcasm. " These latter graces belong to the son, perchance ? " " Perchance ? And why not ? Mark me, I have made humanity my chief study for thirty years : I find certain forces at work around me which baffle the keenest foresight. Man must fufil his destiny, good or bad. Victor Mauprat may have been a gambler, felon, what you will, but if he were standing here with you face to face, he might look upon you as an arrant knave and impostor." " Victor Mauprat is dead." " One cannot say so for certain, my son. Ere now, men have come back to life that had been mourned as dead. Victor Mauprat may yet turn up in the flesh." "And if he does?" " Well, why do you pause, Hilton Fernbrook ? " " Only to say that if he does, mon pere, I will not be the means of sending him back again to Portland." "Bravo! We shall understand each other pres- ently," cried the Colonel. " Now tell me ; what is the nature of all your correspondence with the Maori chief- tains ? Are you going to help them secretly to fight thePakehas?" " Why do you ask, Colonel ? " " Because I have a sword, and know how to use it." "You want employment, mon pere?" "Perhaps. Answer my question." "It is easily answered. I have joined the Maori host, and I mean to sink or swim with them." " Egad ! You are singularly brief, my son ; and I may say, to the point." "Words are empty sound. I mean to act," re- sponded the Master of the Rock, with grim earnestness. 132 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " To me the coffers of this lonely domain are drained to the dregs. I mean to replenish them. Are you answered ? " The Colonel stands and gazes at his companion in mute admiration. " Tut, tut ! my son. The thirty and odd years I have spent in contemplating the motives of my fellow-men have been altogether wasted," he says, in a reflective way. " Most of all have I studied you, mon cher, but I find I don't know you. Have you lost faith in Gaston de Koal, that you hide your hand from him ? " " I have hidden nothing," responds the young man, quickly. " What is there in joining the cause of these oppressed natives ? The land is theirs. They do but fight for their birthright. Besides, am I not their kins- man ; was not Hilton Fernbrook's mother a Maori ? " " True, my son. The idea was cleverly conceived," says the Colonel. " A rebel is a much more respectable term than convict, and who knows but Victor Mauprat may come back ? 'Tis better to fight the powers that be, with a small army at your back, than to enter the lists single-handed." " And you have positively decided to jointhe rebels ? " " I have sworn to lead them to the end, win or lose," cries the other, with uplifted arms. "Mafoi, that was finely given, my son," rejoins De Roal. At this moment, however, there is a low groan from the sleeping Te Coro, which causes the speaker to pause. " Hush ! no more of this," he says in a subdued tone. " In your presumption you have thought fit to discard my counsel and advice, and disdain my aid. But I will prove to you, Hilton Fernbrook, that I am all-power- ful yet, and that you cannot afford to lose my help." TRANCE SHADOWS. 133 "Pshaw! More juggling," returned the other, with curling lip. " Nay, you shall judge," echoes the old man, coldly. " Draw near, and place yourself beside Te Coro." " You have discovered that this girl is a powerful clairvoyant ? " " Yes. That discovery was simultaneous with your own," answers De Roal. " Moreover, I have discovered that there is affinity, strong affinity between ye both. Apart, ye are poor waifs, tossed about by every puff of air. Together ye are strong, for there is no strength like two sensitives in combination. My son, I have taught thee much, but thoti art yet only in the portal of this strange knowledge which the blind ignorance of the many term charlatanry. Sit down, I say ; and listen." Hilton Fernbrook obeyed. Approaching the Maori, Colonel de Roal passed his slender finger-tips over the girl's smooth forehead once or twice, and Te Coro sat upright. Except for the eyes, which were wide open, and had a hard meaningless stare, set and unwinking as those of a statue, the whole appearance of the face was that of one in a sound sleep. The Colonel seated himself opposite the Maori, and fixed his gaze upon the staring eyes before him. He never spoke to her once, but it was plain he held some mysterious control over her every word. Hilton Fernbrook looked from one to the other and smiled in disdain. Yet the sneer soon gave place to amazement. " This is a wonderful country I see before me," cried the Maori girl, suddenly, but with a cold and measured tone of voice. " Here are hills clothed with vines and orange-trees, and beyond these a mighty city, set in the midst of the sea. The sun is shining upon its 134 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. domes and steeples, and upon the decaying ruins of huge palaces. The people in its streets wear a strange costume, and utter a language unknown to me. Ha ! amidst the motley crowds passing to and fro I can discern one or two faces quite familiar to me ; Mr. Warne and his friend Alton Lyndhurst are there." " Did not the banker tell you that his son was in Venice?" cried the Colonel, without removing his look from the Maori. Hilton Fernbrook replied by a nod in the affirmative. "Mark you that, mon ami. What do these gay butterflies in the city of palaces ?" " Seeking a clue, perchance, to Colonel de Roal ! " responded his companion, with a sinister look. "Or to Hilton Fernbrook?" rejoins the Colonel, quietly. " Hilton Fernbrook is here, mon p$re. How can he be in Venice at the same time ? " " If you have courage to lock your hand within the palm of this Maori, you shall behold for yourself," cries the mesmerist, in his calm tone, " Courage ! " echoed the younger man, scornfully. " See, I obey you in sheer defiance," and at the same moment he took the unresisting hand of Te Coro, and locked his fingers through hers. " Come, O great magician, begin your juggling." The Maori shuddered as the strong palm of the Master of Fernbrook closed on her own, but there was no perceptible change in her ; the large black eyes were still dilated to their utmost extent, but fixed and im- movable. There was a swift change, however, seen in the man at her side. No sooner had he grasped the tiny hand than his face became colorless. Huge beads of perspiration gathered thereon, and his muscular TRANCE SHADOWS. 135 limbs worked convulsively as one in mortal agony. The Colonel noted, these things, though not for the in- finitesimal part of a second did he remove his look from Te Coro. He saw the powerful frame beside her writhe for some moments, then grow quiet and still as her own. There was a deep silence for several min- utes, and then the young man called out like one in a dream, ;< Colonel de Roal ? " " My son ! " answered the other, smilingly. " How is it we have returned again to these old haunts ? " cried the voice of the trance-seer, in earnest tones. "Tell me why we have come back again to this accursed place." " What place, mon garpon ? " "The Piazza San Marco at Venice. Are you there, mon pere f I do not see you, although I hear your voice." " I am here. Are you afraid ? " "Afraid! No. But why have you brought me here? This is the madhouse, where we imprisoned Hilton Fernbrook. Sacrt ! What is this? Mes- sieurs Warne and Lyndhurst, with a third man, ask- ing for the lunatic whom you and I, De Roal, confined long ago." A low smothered imprecation burst from between the thin compressed lips of the listener. With all his dark knowledge of the mystic power of Od Force, he evidently had not expected such important and un- welcome intelligence as came in broken gasps from the man before him. It was but for an instant, and the surprise vanished, giving place again to the set, smil- ing countenance of Colonel de Roal. " Can you hear what these men say ? " he asks, in his subdued voice. 136 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. "Plainly; Perez Andrez, the Governor, tells them that the English patient whom they seek has eluded the vigilance of his keepers. He has escaped ! " " Escaped ! How long ? " "I hear them say three days," cries the dreamer, slowly. The Colonel seats himself and clasps his small hands tightly together. He tries to revolve the circum- stances of what he has heard within his mind, but he quickly discovers that the concentration weakens his power over the clairvoyant girl, who forms the lever wherewith he moves the Master of Fernbrook. " Have they no clue to the whereabouts of the mad- man ? " says the mesmerist, after a pause. " None whatever. The trio depart, with disappoint- ment. Now they separate. The third man walks rapidly towards the Department of Police and enters." "Well?" "Now a dozen emissaries issue therefrom, and search the city. But it is a vain search." " Vain ! How ? " asks De Roal, sharply. " Because the cunning lunatic is not there, Colonel de Roal." The Colonel draws yet nearer to Te Coro. Forcing all the will in him into the focus of his eyes, he says : " Tell me if you can see the wretch whom these men seek ? " There is a pause a ptyuse so solemn and quiet that the waves without can be heard, like the sound of muffled drums beating the " Dead March in Saul." " Speak ! Hilton Fernbrook." " I behold a huge steamship entering the Mediter- ranean Sea from the Gulf of Venice," responds the trance medium. " On the deck of this vessel stands TRANCE SHADOWS. 137 the escaped lunatic. Mon Dieuf how pale and wretched are his every tone and look. Hist! he is muttering your name, mon pere, and he couples with it that of Victor Mauprat." " What is the name of this ship, mon ami f " "The'Ripon,' London." " Sauve-qui-peut /" quoth Colonel de Roal, as he threw himself back in his chair, completely nerveless and exhausted with his effort. He lies there, as much in a temporary stupor as those two who have been his victims. Te Coro has fallen back, with closed eyes, upon the couch. The trance has left her, and she sleeps. Released from the clasp of the clairvoyant, the Master of Fernbrook shivers, sighs, and, putting his hands to his throbbing temples, rises and staggers across the room like a drunken man. In upon the three comes Blake the giant, with his loud guffaw, " Ma foi, Messieurs, you seem very merry ! " 138 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XIII. MAUD CABLINGTON. THE days are gladsome days for Ralph Warne, in the beautiful August weather and in that grand ruined old city by the Adriatic. With a boldness surprising even to himself, the young colonist has told Prince di Roumaine all, even to that episode at the Bravo's Leap. The banker opens his eyes in wonder, and almost lifts his shoulder-blades to the tips of his ears in one amazing shrug ; but the Italian is a man of the world, and, though proud of his name and his race as any Spanish Don of the Alharnbra, sees that his dar- ling might do worse than marry this handsome milord Inglese, the son of his New Zealand confrere. At first the Prince assumes a stern unyielding front. It is the policy of his clique not to give way readily. Violante is very young; she may change her mind by-and-by, he argues. Besides, his young guest may find a more suitable wife amongst the fair dames of his own nation, and so on. The combined efforts of the lovers, however, soon storm the citadel. There is no rest for the poor padre, morning, noon, or night, until, in sheer despair, he cries peccavi ! It is arranged that Violante shall remain with her father one year longer. If at the end of that time all things are favorable, Prince di Roumaine will journey MAUD CARLINGTON. 139 with his daughter to Kew Zealand, where the pair shall be married. The betrothed are satisfied with this assurance, and the days and weeks go swiftly by for them, in one sweet noontide dream of happiness. In these delightful autumn days Alton Lyndhurst set himself resolutely to work. The great book that is to be his masterpiece has been advanced a stage, but it has been put aside for other work just at present. News has come to him from time to time of the many changes that have taken place in Maoriland. A war of extermination is rending the colony asunder. Men are plentiful, but the Government coffers are empty. There are no munitions of war, save those raised by a patriotic band consisting of some twenty persons, whose headquarters are situated in the City of Auck- land. Lady Blanche Trevor and Yictorine Gayland are among the foremost personages in the work. The latter has taken to the stage. Nightly, amid all the uncertainty and terror reigning throughout the land, the Princess's Theatre is crowded from roof to doors to hear Captain Hargrave's daughter. Newspapers have columns in praise of her beauty and her talent. Musing over these things, the novelist has woven together a brisk comedy for the Princess's, in which Victorine Gayland shall form the centre of attraction. He knows the kind of creation that will fit her, for, in the years gone by, he has studied her every tone and gesture. All this blue, cloudless autumn morning, the young author has been roaming restlessly about the old house at Del Grade, like a perturbed spirit. He cannot write thought within him is too fanciful. To muse, and dream, and weave airy images, without form or connection, fits his mood. He goes down to the 140 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. green hollow behind the banker's villa, a dusky dell, in whose bottom lies a shining lake of clear spring water, rush-fringed and full of deeps and shallows Standing upon the reedy margin, he begins to cast stones therein and watch the widening circles. "My friend has won a noble wife," he says to him- self, these fickle fancies of his shifting from the phan- tasmal world of polite comedy to real life and Ralph Warne. " She is just the kind of girl for good women to admire and for erring men to reverence and avoid. Tut, tut ! Alton, my man, there is no danger for thee here. Few men of letters have ever mated with your superior women. Perhaps Shelley is the only instance, and he found his happiness by a fluke." He throws another stone into the lake, smooth as the most placid mill-pond, when a well-known voice breaks in on his reverie. " Hallo ! What ails the wanderer ? Why art thou musing here alone, instead of preparing for the picnic ? " It was the voice of his friend, who came languidly forward with a mammoth cheroot in his lips. " It's infernally hot," replies Lyndhurst, peevishly. " I rather admire some people who are never content except when being baked or parboiled. To-day, I have no desire to test how much my anatomy can bear with out being absolutely grilled." " My dear fellow, you are killing yourself with hard work," says the other, in a more anxious tone. " I have scarcely seen you for two whole days." Lyndhurst laughs. " Find a Juliet for me, and you will not see me at all." Warne shifts his eyeglass with a nervous twitch. "Egad, I'll do that, if you'll only promise to play Romeo in proper form," he answered. " Do you know MAUD CARLJNGTON. 141 we are to have most of the notables in Venice at our alfresco party ? Besides, there will be our country- women, Mrs. Mason and her three daughters, together with the Carlingtons, who only arrived from London two days ago. Select a Juliet for yourself, and be happy. Our departure hence is close at hand," with a sigh. "I wish it was to-day, Warne," responds Lynd- hurst ; then, seeing a look of pain on his companion's face, he added quickly, " so far as your humble servant is concerned. I have received a letter this morning from our unhappy island, the contents of which made me long to return at once. The Maoris have over- come almost the whole of the Northern Island, and it behoves every man of us to take up arms and repel them. Dear Warne, I feel like a kicked cur, daw- dling away my time, instead of being in the van with those who are striving for the salvation of our hearths and homes." Warne sighs again, lights a cigar his third since breakfast. " Lyndhurst, if we are not shipwrecked, you and I will be at our ports in little more than a month," he responds, shaking his friend's hand. "In three days I intend to be in London. Thence, Maoriland ho ! To-day, will you join us ? " " With pleasure." Alton Lyndhurst goes back again to the house, which by this time is beginning to fill with visitors. There are voices speaking in Italian and English, and laughter, and banging of doors, interlarded with the tones of a grand piano. One of the Miss Masons is hammering out Thalberg's "Last Rose of Summer," in a manner which shows unmistakably that the young lady's musical education is altogether of the florid 142 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. school. Alton looks neither to the right nor to the left, but goes up to his own room, a large airy chamber at the back of the mansion, overlooking the lake and the wooded slopes that rise from it. Poor Violante has vied with her kind-hearted parent in making the young colonists comfortable. Lyndhurst's portable desk, a piece of furniture per- fect in its appliances, stands invitingly open by the window. Lyndhurst seats himself thereat, and begins to toy with an ivory paper-knife. Tired of that, he amuses himself opening and shutting every tiny drawer of the machine, until his eye glances upon a photo- graph in a velvet frame lying in one of them. A woman's photograph, naturally, or that thought- ful look half tenderness, half perplexity would hardly cloud his face as he contemplates it. A woman's face, delicately painted as a miniature on ivory not a common face, yet not absolutely beauti- ful ; features small and finely cut ; eyes, darkest hazel ; hair, auburn, the real auburn the rich red brown of a newly-fallen chestnut, from which the husk has just parted. And such hair! it falls over the slender figure like a mantle, almost to the knees. The woman is dressed in some loose semi-classic robe girdled at the waist, high to the throat, but sleeveless, leaving the small round arm bare to the shoulder, the tapering hand displayed to perfection. The photographer who posed the lady for this portrait must have been an artist. Alton replaces the picture with a sigh. " I ought to write my level best for her," he says to himself; "I can only think of her as Victorine Hargrave, the daughter of my Shakespeare-loving, jolly old friend not as the fine lady with a huge for- tune and a fanciful whim for the stage. Heigh-ho ! " MAUD CARLINGTON. 143 He turns over the folios of a closely-written manu- script, dips his pen in the ink : " ' Enter Cecil Ballinscote.' No ! The muse has entirely abandoned me to-day. Smiling Thalia averts her face. Nothing but the classics will suit Victoriue Gayland." The dramatist drops his pen, and looks drearily out of the window. In the matter of dreaming his Pe- gasus has a free rein, and manages to get over the ground at a brisk trot without the assistance of the Muses. " Poor Victorine ! " he. sighs, at length. " It is useless attempting work to-day ; Cecil Ballinscote and the rest of the dramatis persona^ of my modern comedy are as dumb as the Sphinx. Provoking rather, for I thought I should have dashed off my three acts in a week or so, and posted it off to the Princess, and so have redeemed my promise. Pshaw ! Why prom- ise? Why trouble myself at all about her ladyship and her freaks ? What is Mrs. Gayland to me? " It seems a knotty point to answer, considering the time he takes to ponder the question. He thinks over it as he puts away his papers, and after that little task is accomplished, instead of going in to luncheon, he lights a cigar, and saunters off into the pine-grove, re- flecting as he goes : " After all, I came on this trip purely for rest and recreation ; and I don't see why I should worry myself into a fever about a play for Mrs. Victorine Gayland to * star ' in. I'll go to the picnic." By the time he reaches the meeting-place he finds his friends have mustered for the march, the ladies in an alarming majority. " Ah, truant ; you have turned up," cries Baroni, a rising violinist and a bachelor, but with a volubility of small talk equal to six ordinary bachelors. " Cospetto I 144 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. we thought you were lost like one of the babes in the wood." Count Palquin, famed for three things viz., head, moustache, and paunch is also of the party, and plays second fiddle to Baroni admirably. The party have decided to walk. A spot among the breezy hills of Santo Carlo is their destination, and they have arranged to return by moonlight. The way they go is pleasantly situated among shady lanes banked on either side with ferns and mosses, with pine-trees rising high on the rough slopes above ; then past a group of mighty trees, beneath which recline in easy indolence a dozen or so of stalwart Bohemians halting for a mid-day rest. They have to climb steep and narrow patches of rock, ford a torrent here and there which impediments are provocative of much mirth to our pedestrians. It is long past noon when they ascend the wooded range of the Mount, " Don't look round, any of you, tiil you come to the top," cries Baroni ; whereupon everybody turns instan- taneously, and there is a simultaneous gush of admira- tion from the English party. Behind them, around them, everywhere, in the sunny distance rise the hills, dark, and brown, and barren, painted against the light and the deep blue sky. " How lovely ! " exclaim all. " You ought to have waited till you got to the brow of the hill," says the volatile Baroni, vexed that the coup d'ceil should be lost. They halt on the crest of San Carlo, and look back. The panorama is a little wider here ; they see deeper into the wooded ranges, and the valley where the broad Del Pondo winds like a long silver serpent. They gaze out at the white dots, forming the homesteads of the MAUD CARLINGTON. 145 vine-growers, scattered far apart among the hills, and beyond these, to the wide blue sea still, calm, and glittering like a vast sapphire in the distance. For a moment all of them are as ardent worshippers of Nature as Wordsworth himself. But the air blows fresh on these green heights, and hunger begins to assert its sway in such a manner that there is a unanimous call to dinner. The meal is soon spread in a shady nook with a tiny cascade of clear water close by for making tea. Cold meats, fancy bread, strawberries, and peaches are fully appreciated after that long walk. The ladies consume orange pekoe in an alarming manner, considering the paucity of tea-cups available. " It's very odd," says Alton Lyndhurst, gazing out at the undulating landscape before him, " that men can turn their backs upon Nature, and shut themselves in houses like packing-cases, breathing sewer-gas and such-like poisons, when they might have here the essence of vigorous health." " Pooh ! my dear friend," responds Count Palquin. " The Italians are gregarious animals, one and all. Nothing so attractive to us as the crowd ; and, no doubt, that is a curious indication of how small a world we possess within ourselves. Such men as Dante could afford to inhabit solitudes. He had his world within." " You speak, sir, as if thoughts and fancies were better company than men and women," says Warne, quietly. " Per bacco ! Not I. I love this scene as a picture, but I doubt my capacity for being out of the thronged city," replied the Count. " The press and conflict of life is necessary to my being. I admire the country ; 10 146 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. but its beauty and its tender tranquillity would be the death of me." " Oh, we will consider this an enchanted isle, with Count Palquin for our Caliban," whispers Baroni to Edith Mason, which remark sends that young lady into a fit of laughter just as she is about to sip her tea. They are very merry over their gypsy repast. When it is ended, the party begin to wander away in twos and threes. " Now remember, ladies and gentlemen," shouted the banker, " we all meet at this spot at eight o'clock. We shall have a full moon to accompany us home." " Delightful ! " It seems as if the Prince had ar- ranged for the moon beforehand. Alton Lyndhurst and Maud Carlington wander away adown the bed of the cascade, where clusters of white Florentine lilies border its course like fairy sentinels. There is a soft musical ripple in the air, like the fall of many fountains ; overhead, the myrtle stands out green and fragrant, and from it comes the vesper-song of many birds. The novelist has remained by the side of the young lady during the whole walk, and has played Romeo like a man who has a part quite unsuited to him. He has carried on a fusillade of small talk with- out even so much as casting a glance at her, to satisfy himself whether she is fair or dark, tall or short. When he does look at her, he is surprised at the won- drous charm and beauty of her person. To a man of Lyndhurt's enthusiastic yearning for the beautiful, a handsome woman had its attraction ; but his admiration went no farther than the mere gratification which beauty gives to the eye of an artist. In Maud Carlington, however, he found himself face to face with something loftier and nobler than simple MAUD CARLINGTON. 147 beauty. To one who imagined he had turned the world inside out like an old glove, and found nothing of fresh- ness or innocence in it for him, the sight of this fair, pure, girlish face, looking up at him in guileless enjoy- ment made him draw a deep breath of gladness, as if he felt himself in a purer atmosphere than the air of his everyday existence. The complexion is not fair, but has that fresh bloom which comes of an open-air life ; the eyes are darkest gray so dark that, till they turn and meet his own, Alton thinks them black ; the hair is likewise brown and superabundant, for the thick plaits coiled closely at the back of the head are inno- cent of padding. A franker, fairer face never smiled upon mankind. No dangerous fascination here noth- ing of the siren or the coquette in this young English maiden no " history " in her glad young life. The novelist has plenty of time to study the face of his com- panion, as they wend their way over the heights of San Carlo. As a weaver of romance, he is naturally a stu- dent of humanity. He looks at the young lady thought- fully, almost reverently. To his fancy, she seems the very spirit of rustic innocence not the innocence of the milkmaid or shepherdess, but of a damsel of lofty race, simple as Perdita, high-bred as Rosalind. She is certainly beautiful, more absolutely beautiful than he had at first thought her. The dark rich hair, which waves a little at the temples, the pencilled eye- brow, the noble modelling of the mouth and chin, might satisfy the most exacting critic. There is mind in that fair young face. "I was so pleased to hear from Mr. Warne that you are the Mr. Lyndhurst," she says somewhat slowly, "the author whose books have given us so much pleasure." 148 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. The novelist pauses, surprise depicted on every feature of his face. " I was not aware that my poor effusions had travelled so far," he responds quietly ; "lam proud to think that our antipodean ideas are deemed worthy of perusal, however." " Fame, like truth, will make its way," she answered gayly. " By the way, do you know a certain Colonel Langrove of Mount Tapea ? " " Know him ! The Colonel is one of my most in- timate friends," cries he. " He is my uncle," replies Maud Carlington. " For some years we have had our regular monthly mail from the Mount." "With all its New Zealand gossip, newspapers, magazines, et-cetera," interrupted Alton, laughing. " Truly so. Mamma, who is a tremendous reader, devours a box full of literature every mail. I know she is not fond of novels generally, but she read your ' Ferndale Holme ' twice over, and was so delighted with it that I being a woman, and having a woman's ruling vice, curiosity must needs peruse it as a matter of course." " Ah, if vanity had sway with me, I should be tempted to say that the prevailing malady of women had smit- ten me, Miss Carlington," he answered, banteringly. " Men are always curious to know I mean especially literary men what reception the airy creations of their brains may have at the hands of those who read and attempt to anatomize them." She turns a shy upward glance at him, half-serious, half-arch. " I cannot lay claim to any subtle dissection in the matter of fiction," she says quietly. " Your story is not like the majority of books I have read." MAUD CARLINGTON. 149 " Why, pray ? " " Because the characters appear so real and life-like. Men and women who have suffered and sinned, and the tales of sinning and suffering, with brief gleams of sunshine, are so vivid, that when you have reached the end of all you lay down the book, and wonder whether this can be purely fiction." Alton Lyndhurst opens wide his eyes in astonish- ment. Were it not for the glad, girlish expression on her fresh young face, he would accept her words as the grossest flattery. "I did not know that young ladies of the present day with their schools, their village poor, their housekeeping, gardening, church- going, operas, and what not, had time to study modern romance," he answers, after a pause. "Perhaps it is because of one's numerous duties that a quiet hour's reading is all the more enjoyable," she responds. " Ah ! Miss Carlington, you live only to do good to others. My ambition is but to win a shred of fame for myself. How sorry a business mine is in compar- ison," he says, with a profound sigh. No surer, straighter way to a woman's heart than self -depreciation. Maud Carlington turns a look at his thoughtful face. From that moment she is inter- ested in him. " Fame has been, and ever will be, the noblest ambi- tion of man," she responds, with just the faintest tinge of a blush rising to her face. "Who can be great amongst the mass, save those who have aspired to fame?" " True ; yet there is no higher name than Grace Darling's among English women. That lady owes her renown to heroic acts, not to genius. Come," said 150 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. he, with a bitter laugh, " you were praising my book just now. Would you like to have written it ?" " Nay ! " she answers, raising her candid eyes to his. " To have written such a book, I must have suffered must have know the agony and the throes of some great sorrow. Providence has given me a happy life, among good people. I would not have your genius, at the cost of your experience." Alton Lyndhurst laughs outright. " To be a good delineator of human nature, one must know the worst side of it ? " he asks evasively. " A painter must first receive the impression of his picture, ere his brush translate it on the canvas. It is the same in letters as in art," she answers. " Then, you do leave a margin for the imagination ? " " Yes ; but I ever bear in mind the old adage that * Truth is stranger than fiction.' Your work of pure imagery is as a body without a soul a lamp without light." " I am amazed, Miss Carlington," he says, with a smile. "Do you believe Tennyson really felt the terrible depths of sorrow depicted in his weird 'In Memoriam ' ? " " Why not ? " she asks, with a frank look upon her face. " Who shall measure the petulant grief , even of a child ? The reason why I love to read Tennyson is because I feel better and braver after it, for he raises the whole tone of one's being. I believe the greatest aid to his genius must have been his sympathetic suffer- ing with mankind." Alton sighs and is silent. In abstracted mood he follows his fair companion wherever she may lead. They go slowly downward into a verdant hollow, where the ruins of an old temple, darkened with lichens and MAUD C ARLINGTON. 151 mosses and ferns, hides its mouldering stones. By the ruined column they cross a rustic bridge and stray along the banks of a water-course, yellow with rushes, water-lilies, and a profusion of forget-ine-uots. Here they talk of many things of books, pictures, eminent men, beautiful women, and lastly, of Maud Carlington herself. She is an only child, the last of a race who own Heath Grange, an old place away in the West Riding of Yorkshire, half monastery, half castle. The great Gothic pile is like a royal palace shut in by dense forest lands, which shelter in their recesses the dun deer and the gray heron by its pools. Around its ancient walls the rents made by the petro- nels of the Ironsides are still visible. Before the Plantagenets the Carlingtons of Heath Grange held high office in the State. In those olden days the Grange had borne the storm and basked in the sun- shine of the ever- revolving wheel of Fortune. High nobles had made it the audience hall for kings. One of its rooms had held the captive queen, Mary Stuart. It had been the favorite haunt of Court beauties, where they had read and laughed over the last bon-mot of my Lord Rochester. The late descendant of the Norman family, Cecil Carlington, was a colonel of the Lancers, and the best swordsman in the British Army ; he perished in Scinde at the head of his regiment, while Maud was only an infant in long clothes. The old Grange had been deeply mortgaged before Colonel Carlington's time, and was now about to pass away forever into the hands of strangers. " And the old place will see you no more? " says the novelist. " No more ! " echoes the girl, with a far-off look in 152 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. her dark eyes. " From henceforth New Zealand is to be our home. My mother has given a promise to join her brother at Mount Tapea." " Do you go at once ? " asks Alton. " Not yet ; my uncle will join us at Naples. We are journeying there to await him," she replies. They are interrupted by another bevy of the party, who join them, and the whole party made their way to the place appointed as the rendezvous. By the time they have had another refresher of tea it is quite dark, but up comes the round full moon, as the Prince had foretold, to light them home. The walk is delight- ful ! The old gables of Del Grade appear in view much too soon for some of them. " Good-night, Mr. Lyndhurst." " Good-night, Miss Carlington." Lyndhurst is tired, but he does not retire to rest. The morning found him musing pondering still. He will see her again Maud of the rose garden with her clear-cut face, not proud, but sweet. He can fancy such a face growing hardened with pride grow- ing fixed as marble, were her mind outraged, the strong sense of right assailed, or the contempt for meanness once aroused within her. He has been with her but half a dozen short hours nay, not so much. Yet the knowledge of her character has entered into his inmost heart, to be there rooted as if he had known her all his life. AT LAST. 153 CHAPTER XIV. AT LAST. PETER DUSK, the detective, sat in his room overlook- ing the Grand Canal, and smoked until he had en- veloped himself as in a thick mist. It was his invari- able practice to smoke furiously while working out any mental problem. It must have been a knotty point at issue, for though it was early morning he had consumed several manillas over the subject and that subject was none other than the escape of a madman from the asylum of a private madhouse in this city. By that queer method, known best to his class, of tracking crime and its perpetrators through their manifold labyrinth, Peter Dusk had found his man, only to lose him the next day. It seemed strange indeed that Fernbook, Mauprat, or whatever name the Master of the Barrier Rock was known by, should be discovered in a madhouse in Venice. But so it was. The detective had given no explanation as to how he gained the clue that led his steps to the asylum. It was sufficient for him that one of the lunatics therein was the person he had tracked half round the known globe. There was no mistaking the original of the photograph, which had guided the officer all through the long, patient search ; the simplest noodle would have recognized the likeness in an instant. The poor imbecile, with his great black eyes ablaze, 154 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. pleaded hard with his countryman to set him free, but Dusk only shook his head in affected pity. Once without the walls of the asylum, Dusk hugged himself in momentary triumph. At last he had run his man to earth had him safe under lock and key. To-morrow his employers should see Fernbrook for themselves. They went on the morrow ; Warne, Lyndhurst, and the smiling limb of the law. But he they went to see had gone escaped, and had not left the ghost of a clue behind him. The sceptical novelist laughed at the whole affair. " I'm afraid you've been working too hard in this case, my friend," he said in a kind way to the crestfallen runner from Scotland Yard. "I cannot but admire the tact and skill displayed by you in tracing the do- ings of Fernbrook and his friends, but when you affirm that he is here in a lunatic retreat in Venice, I beg to differ with you. Unless Hilton Fernbrook has the power of Asmodeus at his back, and can transfer him- self from one hemisphere to another with the speed of thought, I cannot see how it is possible he can be in this city. Besides, did not the proprietor of the estab- lishment say that this same lunatic had been confined there for over three years? How can you reconcile that statement with your conclusion that this poor wretch is the owner of the Barrier domain ! " Peter Dusk disdained to argue, but he ransacked the whole city of the Doges from St. Mark to El Perdo for the escapee. It was of no avail ; there was no more trace of him than if the earth had gaped and swallowed him in the abyss. When all the questioning and searching was ended, Peter Dusk had gone over to Del Grade for further AT LAST. 155 orders ; but Warne and his companion had departed for London. So the detective smoked and reflected, and the more he smoked and cogitated the more puzzled he became over the whole affair. " That Mr. Lyndhurst was per- haps right, after all," he muttered, apostrophizing the table. " I don't see how a man can possibly be in two places at the same time. They say this Hilton Fern- brook is still hi New Zealand was at the Opera, only a matter of six weeks ago. How, then, can the man whom I saw in the madhouse be he ? Yet, if this is not a striking likeness of the man I was sent after, I'm blowed ! I'll swear the escaped lunatic is either the devil, or the convict Mauprat. Humph! Let me think ! " There was no one to hinder him thinking out the question in all its subtle bearings, and it took him some time ere he was weary of it. The little marble clock chiming noon roused him. " Ah, well, I can't see my way now," he resumed in that quaint fashion of talking to himself. " I'll not give in, though, not I. If that madman be alive and above ground, I'll find him though I don't believe he's a bit mad. A crazy fellow would not have acted nor spoken as he did. It's no use staying here. The fellow is an Englishman, and he'll make for London ; all sorts and conditions of men hide themselves either there or in Paris. If he goes to one or the other, I'm certain to hunt him out. I'll pack up and be off, and try London first." It does not take him long to put his decision into execution. A steamer is found ready for sailing, and Peter Dusk takes a passage in her. It is a cold, windy evening that finds him on the pavement of the Strand. 156 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Instead of wending his way to the office in the Mino- ries, the detective goes to his lodgings on Ludgate Hill, and comes forth again within the hour, quite trans- formed in outward appearance. Calling a cab, he drives back to the Strand. "If this man is in London, he'll have a peep at the theatre," he says to himself. " Rogues or lunatics, it's all the same. As soon as they're let out of the cage, they are drawn to the play- house, as if by magic. I'll begin with the theatres." Dismissing the cab, he enters the doors of the Adel- phi and paying his shilling, ascends to the gallery, where he can see almost every person in the house. A few minutes suffice to convince him that the escaped madman is not amongst the audience there. From the Adelphi, Dusk goes to Drury Lane. In- stead of mounting to the gallery, he takes a seat in the dress circle, and looks round at the vast sea of heads and faces crowding the place. Away out yonder, near the stage, in the pit, the detective suddenly sees the man he is looking for. There is no mistaking that proud, dark, Spanish-like face, with the short cropped black hair and moustache. The man is leaning indo- lently against the stage-box, yet deeply intent upon the performance, and is dressed in a suit of sober tweed. Before the scene is concluded, Peter Dusk has taken a seat beside the man in the pit, and has satisfied him- self beyond the smallest shadow of a doubt that he is the escapee from Venice. " Fine play, my friend ! " The man turns and looks the speaker full in the face. " It is a grand performance," he responds slowly and in a rich manly voice, that had a tone of melancholy in it; "but it is badly mounted. In France they attend to those things more so than in England." AT LAST. 157 " You are not a Frenchman, sir ? " "No," replied the stranger, smiling; "nor yet an Englishman. I may say that I am a cosmopolitan, having ' travelled some,' as they say in America." " Are you an American ? " " You are curious, my friend," said the other, good- humoredly. " In France, and even in the United States, they have a rule in society called etiquette, which means that rude questions are deserving of rude an- swers. If you are inclined to learn my nationality, I may tell you that I have none. I repeat, I am a cos- mopolitan." " Beg pardon," said the detective, hastily. " It struck me I had seen you before somewhere." " You were a stricken deer, my friend, for thinking so ; we cannot possibly have met before." " I think we have," cried the detective. There was a swift flash in the black eyes, as they turned with sudden and suspicious look to the face of the speaker. " Indeed ! Where ? " he asked quickly. " Have you courage to accompany me to the vesti- bule, and I will tell you ? " " Why not tell me here ? " replied the other, with some disdain. " I have a reason, which I will give you also, if you will adjourn with me." " Pray lead the way ; I am at your service." Not another word was spoken, until the pair reached a small room adjoining the saloon bar. " Now, sir," said the stranger, seating himself, "tell me where you and I have met." "At the Del Madilino, in the city of Venice," said Dusk. If a pistol bullet had gone through the body of the 158 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. man then and there, he could not have evinced greater surprise. He stared at the detective in blank amaze- ment for fully a minute. "Pray, who are you?" he said at length. " I may answer after your fashion, and reply, I'm a cosmopolitan." "You saw me in a madhouse in Venice?" asked the other, in a vacant way. " Yes, the Del Madilino, a private asylum governed by one Dr. Nicolini." The other made no reply, but gripped the back of his chair with a convulsive clutch. "It is not many days since I was in Venice on busi- ness. I had occasion to visit Dr. Nicolini's establish- ment. I saw you there." " I remember you now," responded the other, after a pause in which he had recovered from his surprise. " You have disguised yourself, but I recognize your voice." " I am glad of that," said the detective, coolly. " Now tell me how you escaped from the asylum." The man laughed. " Still inquisitive ! " he said, with mild irony in his tone. " Are you interested, my friend?" " Perhaps." " Well, the story is too long, and I'm not in the humor to talk much." " How if I land you in jail, and send you back again to Venice ? " "My good sir, you are evidently in a fog respecting the law of England concerning lunatics," answered the stranger, with a smile. " First, you will have to prove that I am insane; secondly, that I escaped from a mad- house." AT LAST. 159 " Did you not escape ? " " That is another question, my friend." Peter Dusk reflected a moment. He felt that he had no lunatic to deal with in the person of the stranger. " What if I send for Dr. Nicolini and prove your iden- tity ? " said the detective. " The doctor cannot prove my identity. Besides, he dare not set foot in London." Dare not ? " " I repeat dare not ! " " Why, pray ? " inquired Dusk. " My friend, questions seem to be your forte, but I am not inclined to answer them. If you have any business with me, pray come to it at once, for I wish to see the play out." " Do not be in a hurry," said Dusk, placing his back to the door. " Do you know who I am ? " " No ; nor do I care." " I am Dusk, from Scotland Yard." "Indeed! and pray, Mr. Dusk, what is that to me?" " Do you know this photograph ?" replied the other, handing him a carte-de-visite portrait. The stranger looked at it, holding it to the light. Peter Dusk watched his face as a cat watches its prey. " Well, what do you think of it ? " he said. " It is certainly my photo," answered the stranger, gravely. " The back of the card is marked Paris. I never had my likeness taken in Paris." " It may be a copy from London," suggested Dusk. " Nay ; I have had no photograph taken in Europe at all." " Here is another of the same personage," quoth the detective, producing a second picture. " You see, that 160 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. was taken at Portland Prison. Perhaps you never saw the convict establishment ? " " Never, upon my honor," answered the man, with a gay laugh. " Of course you haven't ! " sneered Dusk. " Such a name as Victor Mauprat, for instance, has never been on your visiting-card. You have never heard of Sharpe, alias the Ferret. Nor do you know anything of Captain Vipont, or the Salon des Dames at Nice. Oh, dear, no!" Again the man stared at the officer with a perplexed look. " I think, my friend, it is you who have broken out of some lunatic asylum in the vicinity, if one may form an opinion by what you say. It is the particular craze of the lunatic to dub the remainder of the world insane." " Your cunning rejoinder will not serve you," replied the detective. " You are Victor Mauprat, swindler and convict, who escaped from Portland Prison two years ago." " You are certainly mad, my man ; there is no mis- take about it," muttered the stranger, at the same time keeping his gaze fixed on that of his companion. " Poor devil ! it would be a pity to harm him. I might have guessed it, after all my terrible experiences in that living hell in Venice. Look here," he cried aloud to Dusk, " ring the bell and let us have a bottle of wine." " Don't try to gammon me," said the detective, with a fierce oath. " I'm Peter Dusk, and I mean to arrest you, Victor Mauprat." " Are you serious ? " " Certainly ! I haven't followed you half over the continent of Europe and through Egypt to let you slip out of my hands now." " The stranger sat down and pressed his- hands tightly over his face for the space of a minute." Pao-e 161. AT LAST. 161 "I swear to you that I never heard the name of Victor Mauprat in my life till this moment," cried the other, with such earnest emphasis that the officer paused irresolute. " Do you mean to tell me that you're not the man who kept the gaming-hell at Cairo ? " he said. ' No." "Nor the monte table at Nice?" " No, I say ! Why do you accuse me of these things ? " " You are a study, my fine fellow," responded the detective, with gentle sarcasm. " It won't do with me, let me tell you. I've seen too many of your sort in my time. Answer me one thing: where did you get to when you and Sharpe burnt the ' Seagull ' ? " " ' The ' Seagull ' ! " cried the other, looking at his inveterate questioner with a vague idea as to his sanity depicted on every feature of his pale, handsome face. " Are you really crazy, after all ? " " You'll find that out presently ! " responded Dusk, with a grim smile. " I ask you again : how many of the jail-birds escaped the burning wreck besides the Ferret and yourself ? " " Who's the Ferret, pray ? " " Your sham valet, and the biggest rogue in Europe," said Dusk, with a sigh of impatience. " Come, sir, you can gain no purpose by playing innocence with me. The game is up, I tell you." The stranger sat down and pressed his hands tightly over his face for the space of a minute. Raising his head at length, and looking the detective full in the face, he said : " My worthy fellow, you are evidently insane. Otherwise, you have made one of the most stupid blunders on record. You say my name is Victor ii 162 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Mauprat, and that I am an escaped convict, accused of innumerable crimes." "That's it." " Will you have the goodness to make things a little clearer as to my implication in these things ; also my identification with Victor Mauprat. I confess, you know, you have some ground for suspicion if the photograph is a faithful picture of the man you seek," " I have found him." " Very well ; I am satisfied if you will be good enough to explain." Peter Dusk rang a bell on the table. " Bring a bottle of wine," he said to the waiter. When the man ap- peared with the liquor, he handed him a half-sovereign and a scrap of paper. " Let that note be taken to Bow Street at once," he said. And the waiter nodded and withdrew. " It's rather dry work, talking," continued the detective. " I'm not a dab at it at any time ; how- ever, I don't mind telling you that I've been after you these last twelve months, and as I mean to be brief in explaining, oblige me by filling the glasses." With his elbows on the table, propping up his hard, stern, sunburnt face, and his unwinking eyes fixed on those of the man opposite with lynx-like watchfulness, Peter Dusk recounted all the points in the life of Hilton Fernbrook, from his leaving New Zealand to his escape from the burning ship, the " Seagull." It would be impossible to describe the changes that came and went over the man's face as he listened. Now fierce and frowning, with spasmodic clutching of the strong hands; anon smiling in absolute disdain and withering contempt. " And now," said the detective, when he had con- AT LAST. 163 eluded, " what you to reply ? You are the man now, aren't you ? " " I am Hilton Fernbrook, and Colonel de Roal was my friend. That is my reply at present," answered the stranger, slowly. " You will have to accompany me to jail." " I am ready." And the pair went out into the darkness of the night. 164 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XV. THE BANDOLINE. And now the world is winterly, The first love fades, too ; none will see, When April warms the world anew, The place wherein love grew. THE great round globe has one more year added to its hoary age. So much the more of blossoming in what was once a wilderness in the far-away Southern Hemisphere, where the emigrant and the squatter have set the fresh print of their civilizing feet. Fair and pleasant New Zealand ! How many fair and lovely places within thy bright domain have suffered wreck and pillage at the beck of the angry War-god ! How many blackened ruins yet smoulder, that had been happy, smiling homes ! North, South, East, and West, the ravages of strife are everywhere visible. An autumnal evening, soft, gray, and misty in the country, as if thick with the smoke of burning home- steads. A pitched battle has been fought on the banks of the Waikato, between Titori and the colonists, and Titori and his hosts of dusky warriors have suffered a signal defeat. The city of Auckland is jubilant, the citizens are en fete over the battle won. Many of those grouped together in the streets are poor, unhappy people, who have been driven from their tenements in the surrounding district by the rebel hordes, and have had to take refuge in the city. THE BANDOLINE. 165 It is the last night of August, and the first night of Alton Lyndhurst's new and original comedy, " Love's Test." Spite of the excitement and the depressed influence of war, spite of the sanguinary conflict being waged almost within the precincts of the city, this was to be altogether a great night in the dramatic world. The old Princess's in Queen's Street, had been demolished at the nod of one Amos Ward, a large mill-owner and Mayor elect, and in its stead had risen the stately Bandoline, capable of seating three thousand people. The new theatre had cost the Mayor of Auckland thirty thousand pounds, but what of that ? Amos Ward is rich, a bachelor, and at forty is head over heels in love with the popular and universally admired Victorine Gayland. Save for that terrible engagement on Drury's Plains, whereon so many Pakehas and Maoris lie side by side in death, the Bandoline and the beautiful young actress have constituted the sole topic of con- versation. The St. James's, Liberal, Bohemian, and other clubs have discussed, with that after-dinner assumption of conscious ignorance which distinguishes the dramatic Sir Oracle, the artificial mode and the ex- travagances of toilet which astonish and delight the multitude. Even the terms with which the favorite actress has consented to remain on the boards for an- other season have been stated with an exactness which passes current for accuracy. Victorine Gayland is something more than a mere favorite with the play-going public of Auckland. Her patriotic whim has been bruited about, and it is a matter to be counted upon that, whenever she appears, the seats from gallery to private boxes are at a premium. The all-important night of a new play has come. At 166 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. a quarter before eight the dainty theatre is packed as closely as if it were a bon-bon box filled with chocolate creams. The critics are there in full phalanx, some of them with handsome wives at their elbows to assist them iii forming their opinions, or at least to expound the merits of Mrs. Gayland's dresses. The general public is here in full force, having paid its money, eager for the favorite's triumph ; but that particular public of literature and art which, in many cases, has not paid for admittance, is the most notice- able. All these critical gentlemen display a lively in- terest in the event of the night, and have such a good- natured air that it is hard to believe that gall may flow from their pens instead of honey. The private boxes are all occupied ; pretty faces and bright dresses line the theatre. It has been so artfully designed that the gallery, though a fair place for seeing from, is almost in- visible to the parterre and boxes, being, as it were, effaced by a dome of gilded lattice, the most noticeable feature in the house, which screens the sun-burner, and tempers its effulgence. Above this perforated dome there are large skylights which open to the cool night, so that in warm and fine weather the Bandoline may be made almost an open-air theatre. The one private box which is not well filled is the stage-box on the left of the proscenium. Here sits a gentleman in solitary state a gentleman of about forty, in faultless evening dress. His hair, moustache, and beard are of that rich brown which marks the type of the handsome and stalwart Anglo- Saxon breed all the world over. Seated on a stool out- side the box but with his head above the cushioned partition, so that he can see his master Phil Brock waits upon his master. THE BANDOLINE. 167 Phil is an Irishman of the old school, fifty years of age or thereabouts, but as hardy and as supple in mind and limb as an athlete of half his years. Hot-tem- pered and passionate, almost to the verge of insanity, when fairly crossed, yet Phil is one of the most kind- hearted and faithful fellows alive. For fifteen years he has followed the varied fortunes of his master, during which time master and man have become so accustomed to and dependent on each other, that the old confidential servant does and says almost what he pleases with the Mayor of Auckland. In personal appearance Phil is not elegant or beautiful, but he is scrupulously neat in his attire, and carries his short- cropped head high in the air, like a man who feels the importance of his position. " There's Ward already in his den," says Captain Jack Hemmington, of Pye's Horse. " I wonder how he feels now the builder's bill has come in." " Pshaw ! " grunts his companion, Colonel Howe, a chemist by profession, but who has been obliged to take up arms in defence of hearth and home. " Amos Ward thinks no more of settling for a building like this than you would of paying for a bottle of fizz at the Albion. He has more saw-mills than I have boots." Opera-glasses are directed to the solitary gentleman, by this time, by many a marriageable miss and design- ing mamma. It is pretty well known that Amos Ward's money is to pay for the building, that it is his venture. Of course, Mrs. Gay land has taken the les- seeship in good faith, and will pay her five hundred pounds rent for the season; but the straw-colored quilted satin, the amethyst velvet cushions, chair- covers, curtains, the crystal girandoles, with clusters 168 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. of Parian candles ; the cloak-rooms with their luxu- rious appliances, the smoking divan opening on a wide stone balcony overhanging the street, where smokers may sit on warm nights these and a hundred other details the bachelor Mayor of Auckland must pay for. There is excitement everywhere on this the opening night of the Bandoline. But excitement the most in- tense because the most suppressed reigns in Victorine Gayland's dressing-room, an exquisite apartment in which is concentrated the costliness and taste of the whole building. Amos Ward had said to the archi- tect : " Let this one dressing-room be as perfect as art can make it simply that ; if you do not succeed, I shall consider the whole design a failure." According to his light, and the material at command, the architect has obeyed. The Duchess of Marl- borough, in the plenitude of her power, had not rooms more elegant or costly. Victorine Gayland stands before the cheval glass dressed for her part. The long, straight robe, of white cashmere, rather improves than hides her slender figure. Each round, thin arm is clasped with a golden serpent, and a golden serpent binds her glossy hair. These are her sole ornaments. In an easy-chair by the fireplace sits Alton Lyndhurst, who has just been admitted to an audience, being altogether a privileged person, this evening ; he sees the magnificent dressing- room to-night for the first time, and is warm in his praise of its beauty. " Beatrice Carson could have nothing better," he says. "The place is worthy the heroine of 'Love's Test.' " Mrs. Gayland shrugs her slim shoulders with a de- precating air. " How much more useful the money THE BANDOLINE. 169 this room cost would have been to the Patriotic Fund ! " she replied. "No doubt; but his Worship the Mayor of Auck- land is not so imbued with the spirit of patriotism as yourself. People say he has built this room as a trib- ute to your genius." Victorine's dark eyes flash upon him angrily for a moment, and then grow grave even to gloom. " People must have something to say. I suppose every puppy of the club thinks it the thing to scandalize a lady," she replies, looking down at the folds of her drapery. " You did not expect to escape when you allowed Mr. Amos Ward to erect this theatre for you ? " "The Mayor of Auckland built this house as a speculation," she says proudly. "I am in no way con- cerned if he squandered his money upon this foolish room. I take it the place was not built absolutely on my account." "Pardon me," he says in a quiet tone. "The dress- ing-room is an honor to his worship's good taste. And now, honestly, do you feel that you are going to make my poor effort a success ? " " I feel as if I were going to break down ; my head is burning and my hands are like ice." She gives him her small slender hand, stone cold and trembling. " You will not fail," he says decisively. " The play will be a hit." He knows that, with her highly-strung nature, she is sure to be greatest when she suffers most. " Oh ! I have never acted in a play of yours before ; think of that ! " " And never shall I have a character of mine so in- terpreted. You will breathe a soul into my mould of clay," he answers warmly. 170 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. She gives him a look which glorifies her pale face, very pale indeed now. "Say one word to me, Alton, before you go," srie pleads with tenderest saddest beseeching in her voice. He comes to her slowly, takes the smajl braided head between his hands and kisses her forehead. So might a father or brother have kissed her in some solemn crisis of her life. He is so utterly an artist, that he understands every shade of the subtle feeling of art by which they are allied, that this hazard of suc- cess seems to him a solemn crisis. Victorine Gayland is not thinking of the play. There comes to her a picture of a green lane in sum- mer time. The warm glowing tints of late summer, a steep grassy bank on which wild ferns grow tall ; and two figures, her own and that of the man standing near her now; they are clasped hand in hand, her head upon his shoulder, her eyes looking up at him proudly, fondly as a girl's eyes turn to her first lover ; but the picture is over six years old, and Victorine Gayland's thoughts and feelings have gone through many a change within the compass of these years. She has changed her standard of value, and that which she then longed for, she now loathes as basest dross. All that she has of worldly wealth, all praise and homage that she has now, she would give in exchange for his honest love again. " How much you have altered since last year! " she says thoughtfully. " For the worse, perhaps ? " " Nay ; I mean, you have grown serious sternly serious." " May not a man be in earnest now and then ? " Perhaps." THE BANDOLINE. Alton Lyndhurst finds they are drifting away on to dangerous ground ; he therefore takes up his hat to depart. "I have invited some friends to witness the per- formance, and must join them," he says. " Before I go, let me take this opportunity to thank you for the kind and friendly interest you have shown in the production of my play." A sudden feverish light comes into her dark hazel eyes. " How can you talk of kindness and friendliness from me to you ? Alton, do you think I have forgotten can you have so utterly ignored the past as to believe it possible for me to forget ? " With passionate tears, which she tries in vain to suppress, she cries, " I threw away your love when it was mine foolish, ignorant of my own heart. Oh, Alton, can it never be mine again ? Can the dear old days never come back ? I was little better than a shameful huckster when I wronged you, but the wrong was based upon the outcome of biting necessity, not upon the knowledge of your worth. I have been educated in sorrow to a clearer view of things, and my love has grown with my growth ; can I never win back what I lost ? Am I so worthless a creature, I whom the world praises, that my penitence and my love count for nothing with you, Alton ? " she asks with piteous pleading. It is in vain for her to plead now ! Five minutes ago, and to Victorine Gayland the con- fession would have seemed of all things the most impos- sible. The words have burst from her in a gust of passion, sudden as a stormy blast rushing in at a rashly- opened casement. After that last question she bows her head upon the mantelpiece to hide her crimson, tearful face. 172 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. He approaches her, takes her hand in his hand ever so gently, and with grave tenderness replies, " Victorine, the age of miracles is past, and in our days the dead do not come back to life. I shall be your friend always ; your lover, never again ! " " LOVE'S TEST." 173 CHAPTER XVI. " LOVE'S TEST." She did not weep, But o'er her brightness came a happy mist Like that which kept the heart of Eden green, Before the useful trouble of the rain. IN most colonists' lives there comes an Australian spring. Ere that trip to Europe was begun, Alton Lyndhurst's favorite complaint was that he had lived his life ; that dreams and desires and even ambition had come to an end for him ; that he had no expectation of ever doing better work, or winning wider renown, or of being in any wise better or happier for the passage of the coming years. Yet to-night he feels the soft, gentle, fragrant spring within and without his whole being, as if a new world had opened its portal to him. In a word, he is in love in love with a good woman, in whose faith and constancy he has no shadow of doubt. Within a month of his return to New Zealand, the young novelist renews his acquaintance with the Car- lingtons, who had already arrived with their kinsman, and had taken up their abode at the Mount. He has not much time for playing the gallant, inasmuch as he is busy with the publication of his new book, a story in which he has squandered the spare hours of his long holiday, and in which he has earnestly striven to rise out of the old conventional groove into something 174 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. higher and better. Maud Carlington, who has been but as a passing sunbeam across his life, has deeply influenced his thoughts unawares, perhaps, but none the less influenced the entire work, which he, in his heart of hearts, has dedicated to her. Alas for thy towering aspirations, poor scribe ! The book is a failure. Kindly critics recognize the intention of the writer, applaud the idyllic simplicity of the story, the purity of the sentiment, and give their readers a general impression of weakness and of a half-realized design ; in short, damn the whole thing with faint praise. The " Thunderer," ruthless as Jeffrey in his attack upon Wordsworth, says : " Extract the acid cynicism and the half- veiled immorality from Mr. Lyndhurst's style, and the result is about as palatable as lemonade without lemon or sugar ; " and the great journal summing-up with that grand air of papal infallibility, continues : " We advise the author to stick to the tinsel with which he has achieved some rather brilliant effects, and not waste his labor in deep- sinking operations upon an im- agination which does not abound in gold." No voice in the land higher or mightier than that of the infallible "Thunderer," though opinions vary in their estimate of that journal's wisdom and strict no- tions of fair play. The review wounds Lyndhurst as keenly as if the people of New Zealand with one voice had acknowledged the critic's judgment as unassailable. His book is the expression of all that was best and truest in his mind and lo, the result ! His publishers politely regret that the book has not been quite so successful in the way of sale as his previous work, and gently hint that, having succeeded in one line, it is hazardous to attempt another. " Thanks for the friendly caution," says the poor "LOVE'S TEST." 175 author, with a forced smile ; " but I don't believe honest work can ever be thrown away. If my next should also prove a failure, the labor I shall have given it will not be the less helpful to me as an artist. There are books which a man writes which are like the solfeggi that make a singer's voice flexible ; there may be noth- ing in the solfeggi, but when that voice attacks a real melody, the strength of past labor is its glory. I am ready to accept my failures as education." In the midst of all this turmoil of criticism, the author received a note from Colonel Langrove, inform- ing him that the Carlingtons were in town, and would be glad to see him. They had accepted an invitation from the Honorable Bob Trevor, and were staying at his house, Shortland Crescent. He finds the Colonel and the Honorable Mrs. Carlington full of his new work. "We have been delighted over your pages," says the widow ; and that we is very precious to Lyndhurst, because he knows that Colonel Langrove, her brother, is not a reader, and therefore is not included. " We feel as if this book had made you indeed our friend. All that was hard and cynical, all that had a false ring in your former works pray forgive me if I am too candid is absent here. The heart of the writer throbs in every page, and it is a noble heart. The book is full of truth and earnestness and faith in good things ; and I have no judgment of books or men if it is not ultimately the most popular of all your stories, and that to which you will owe enduring fame." " Let the * Thunderer ' go hang," thinks the novelist, philosophically. " One true woman's heart has been moved by my work, one pure mind has recognized its worth. A fig for their praise or censure. Orpheus 176 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. braved the burning blasts of Tartarus in quest of his love, and shall I do less for ray art?" Philosopher and student of human nature as he is, Alton Lyndhurst is in love ! Man of the world, anato- mizer, he cannot mistake the signs in himself. One single word of praise has outweighed all the studied and labored thrusts of the " Thunderer " ; he forgets everything, from the C sharp minor of reprobation to the E flat major of mild approval of its contemporaries. Maud Caiiington has lived in him and with him through all the varied stages of that twin world, the real and the ideal, accessible only to the true artist. She has been his model, around which he has woven his airy fancies, until they have stood forth fancies no longer, but living breathing humanity. While the last finishing touches are being put upon the Bandoline, he lives his life as of old, dines at his club, or at other men's tables, flirts betimes, and says clever things, or is supposed to say them. Hampton House, on the Crescent, is the resort of the notables of the Northern Island, as its owner is, without doubt, the most popular man in the country. Alton Lyndhurst is a constant visitor. The grounds attached to the house are worthy an old English Baron's domain in the feudal days of King John. The Kauri Parade, a strip of turf a quarter of a mile long, bor- dered by giant kauri pines, which meet overhead in one unbroken leafy arcade, is the favorite walk of Major Trevor's guests. Actors have studied their parts beneath its sheltered canopy, and greater actors on the real stage of life have rehearsed their parts here. One lovely afternoon, Maud Carlington and Alton Lyndhurst find themselves alone together on the Kauri Promenade : alone as Adam and Eve in Eden, and as " LOVE'S TEST." 177 forgetful of the rest of the world as if they had verily been the first people. There is silence between them, but overhead the ki-ki is pouring forth his parting song to the fading day. They are alone amongst vague fancies which are growing to strongest love. " Maud, you wear that flower for my sake. Does it mean that you will wear the orange blossom for me ? Answer, Maud ; say yes for none but me, all unworthy of your love, but chosen because I love so well. Look at me, dear answer. My happiest thought in looking forward to this day was the thought that we might be alone for one brief moment, as we are now." She cannot answer him just yet. One little hand plays nervously with the spray of fern, her eyelids droop over the soft violet eyes. He sees the dark lashes tremble on the rich bloom of her cheek before that lovely blush dies away and leaves her pale. " Maud, are you angry with me for having dared to hope ? I know I am not worthy of you, that I am your inferior in all that is highest and best in mind and heart. I have known that from the day we met, that happy summer day on Santo Carlo, when we sat by the lily-fringed brooklet, and you spoke to me of my profession, with that sweet serious air of yours which made me think of Hypatia. But I love you, darling ; and true love must stand for the virtues I have not. I will love and honor you all the days of my life, and my nature shall be exalted by its union with yours. Love, will you take my life into your hands, be my teacher and the guide of my thoughts ? That wide word wife includes all the rest. Will you be my wife, Maud ? " He has taken the hand he has yearned to take for 12 178 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. months past, taken possession of it utterly, as if it were his own property. " If I thought your life would be better or happier n she falters, only able to approach the awful question in a lateral direction. " It will be happier, better, brighter, and ever so much longer. If you were to deny me, Maud, the remnant of my wretched existence would be squandered on riotous nights, sleeplessness, and brandy. You mean yes, darling. I shall see the waxen orange flowers in your dark hair worn for me. You will take me, faulty as I am, believe in me and in my future, and trust me with your young life. If truth and honor and ambition can brighten it, then it shall be bright for your dear sake." His arm is around her, and she is drawn to his breast in that sweet summer solitude. Her head lies there for one blessed moment, while his lips seal their betrothal the first masculine lips, save her father's, that have kissed her since she was a child a kiss of sacred promise, never to be forgotten, sealing her for his own. Side by side they walk between the stately kauris, her hand drawn through his arm, and held there as if it were never to be released from that strong grasp. Silence is dead and buried between them, and the melodious life around them is unheeded. "Alton," Maud says gravely, coming to that one dread question which no woman refrains from asking, " did you ever care for any one else ? Your first love to whom was that given, and why did it not end happily?" " First love, Maud, is the offspring of fancy, and has its source in the brain rather than in the heart. Mine " LOVE'S TEST." 179 came to a very prosaic end. The lady jilted me with- out a day's warning." " Then, surely she must have been unworthy of you ? n "Not unworthy of me, perhaps, but unworthy of my regret. I was wise enough to discover that, and therefore wasted no more upon her," adds Alton, care- lessly. Maud is grateful to him for his candor, and yet a little disappointed. "Were you very much in love with the lady ? " she asks. * "Over head and ears ; but I must repeat, first love is like one's first champagne, a transient intoxication. The girl was accomplished, clever, and, though not absolutely beautiful, graceful beyond compare. I thought her the most charming creature in the world. We had known each other from childhood." " Ah ! she must have loved you ! Perhaps she was influenced by the wealth of some less worthy suitor ? " hazards Maud, slow to believe that anyone could voluntarily play him false. " Possibly." " Did she marry for money ? " The frank countenance of the novelist darkens for one brief moment as with a spasm of pain. " The man she married was one of the richest men in this country," he answers slowly. " He died two years after his marriage, and left his widow two hundred thousand pounds in hard cash." " Have you ever seen her since then, Alton ? " Alton whirls the twig of fern he has been carrying away across the Kauri Parade. This is trying, but he endeavors to look unconcerned: "Yes, I have met her in society." "But not of ten?" 180 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " No, our lives lie far apart, Maud dearest," solemnly looking upon her clouded face ; " have no jealous fear, either of the past or the future. No rival can ever come between us two." " Are you quite sure of that, Alton ? " " As sure as that I live and hold you in my arms," he answers, clasping her fondly. " Because, if there is the shadow of a doubt in your heart, leave me my old life. When we are married, all those for whom I have lived and loved I shall for- sake for your love. I shall want your whole heart, Alton." " It is absolutely yours, Maud. It went forth to you gladly, as a bird flies to meet the summer. It is yours for ever the ever of man's brief span." " Mine for ever, I trust," she answers solemnly. " There is no heaven for you and me in which we shall not know and love, dear Alton." On this August evening, in the glow of the golden sunset, the Bandoline is looking its brightest. The author's friends are waiting for him Maud Carling- ton, in palest gray silk, a crimson rose in her hair ; the Hon. Mrs. Carlington, and the Hon. Bob Trevor, with Colonel Langrove as aide-de-camp. They have a box, one of the best in the new theatre, all to themselves. Lyndhurst had arranged that a week before. The little party manage to get into their places in time to see the curtain rise on a scene as perfect as any which our realistic stage has ever offered to the public. Maud Carlington rests her round, white arm, half veiled by a Malines ruffle, on the crimson cushion, and fixes her eyes on the stage with that absorbed at- tention only known to those who have not done a season " LOVE'S TEST." 181 in the metropolis. Alton Lyndhurst, standing behind her chair, feels as if all the audience were as nothing compared with one spectator. " Love's Test " is no adaptation from the French, but an original comedy, full of strong dramatic in- terest. The text is vigorous, powerful, and replete with smart repartee, with keen and sudden touches of irony, so that the vast audience is soon roused into storm after storm of applause. Victorine Gayland's part is one of the finest she has ever performed. The author must have known for whom he created the part ; the actress, how to enlarge his idea, and give it living, breathing form. Presently she enters, and while the audience applaud, those swift, dark eyes of hers glance round the house, She sees Alton standing behind Maud's chair sees him, and one little agitated movement indicates that she has seen him. The popular actress is in her best form at that mo- ment ; every nerve braced like those of the gladiator who knows that the greatest of Rome are witnessing his efforts. More than once in the course of the play the keen, dark eyes glance at Major Trevor's box, and mark the fair freshness of the strange beauty. She stands at the wing, unseen, and gazes her fill at Maud. The nobility of the girl's face impresses her, just as it impressed Alton at Venice. Who is she ? Some mere acquaintance of the hour, perhaps, to whom it is necessary for the rising dramatist to be civil. Yet how he bends over her chair, what a tender look steals over his countenance, as he stoops to hear her half-whispered praise of the acting of the play. Victorine Gayland turns from the sight sick at heart. She has not yet taught herself to despair of winning 182 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. him again, despite those calm deliberate words which pronounced the doom of a dead love. She will not admit to herself that she has failed. He is proud, he is resentful ; but in his inmost heart the old love lives yet. The sight of this fair, new face has kindled a fire in her breast. She acts with a force which is new even to Alton. " How natural, how wonderful she is ! " whispers Maud, tears shining in her eyes. " She is a great creature ! " cries Alton, as the cur- tain falls. Bouquets shoot rocket-like through the air whence, none can discover. " Love's Test " is a triumphant success. Midnight finds Victorine Gayland sitting before her dressing-table, looking at her haggard face in the glass. She has changed her stage costume for a cashmere gown made with puritan simplicity. Rigid and pale looks the small face, with its delicate features a face that will assuredly soon age. Dark and threatening is the fixed gaze of the large hazel eyes, staring into the dimly-lighted mirror and seeing nothing. " If he should love her," she mutters, as if to some listening spirit, " my hatred will be fatal to her ! " BEHOLD THE MAN. 183 CHAPTER XVII. BEHOLD THE MAN. NIGHT over all things, sweet, mystic night ! Around the Barrier Rock the waves laving its rugged sides were jewelled with the mirrored stars. What a sooth- ing lullaby sings the sea in its night vigil ! In the terrace chamber overlooking the expanse of ocean sits the master of the lovely domain. He hears not the sea's song, though the doors are wide open to admit the fragrant breeze and the soft music of the waves. He is quite alone in the old place, save for the Maori nurse, Rita. This woman has dogged his steps almost night and day for months, showing a face neither menacing nor friendly towards him, but ever on the watch, like a sleek tiger-cat waiting for a spring. A huge volume is open before him on the table, the con- tents of which completely absorb his attention. The book happens to be an exhaustive work on the various forms of madness, by an eminent Spaniard a subtle, terrible book to peruse, inasmuch as the pages bristle with the devilish acts of cruelty perpetrated on inno- cent and inoffensive creatures who have falsely or other- wise been placed under the ban of lunacy. Spite of its repulsive contents, Fernbrook is held as by a spell to his reading. Had he been less preoccupied, perchance he would have observed the entrance of a strange man, who strode quietly into the radius of the light, and then stood with folded arms, observing him. 184 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. To many of us there is an indescribable feeling that warns us of the presence of an enemy, although we see him not with our eyes. In this case we feel rather than see that it is so. Sudden as the lightning flash, the student felt the presence of the intruder. Still and passive he sat, staring at the open page, from which all interest had abruptly gone ; though he lifted not his eyes, he knew someone stood there, stern and silent as Nemesis. The Master of Fernbrook lifted his eyes at length, and lo ! he beheld a strange and exact likeness of him- self in every detail height, complexion, features, hair, look. The stranger stood there, his very counter- part shape and shadow. If Hilton Fernbrook could have known fear, then must the sight of this silent wraith of himself have made him tremble. Not fear indeed, but the greater dread, terror, took possession of him for one brief mo- ment, and made him gasp for breath. Save for the garb he wore, the intruder was Hilton Fernbrook, as much as he who sat and stared in unspeakable amaze- ment. If, as some subtle thinkers affirm, it be possible to give the soul a glance at the body that encrusts it while that casing is under the influence of trance, then was he whom the world knew as the Master of Fernbrook entranced, for there he beheld all that was of him in resemblance of bodily form standing before him. For a moment only that trance lasted. The strong will of the man soon asserted itself with a potent sway over every other feeling. "How came you hither?" he said to the stranger, and the stranger replied, " The doors are open. In the absence of servants I entered unannounced, and by the door, of course." BEHOLD THE MAN. 185 It was only in the tone of voice that the great and striking likeness between the two men diverged. Yet even that might be accounted for, inasmuch as the stranger spoke coolly and with great self-posses- sion, while Fernbrook was hoarse with suppressed emotion. " It is not usual for gentlemen to walk into one's private chamber without even so much as a prepara- tory cough," said the latter, regaining fast that savoir faire et dire which was habitual to him. " True. But there was no reason why I should announce myself. I am native here, and belong to the place," replied he. " What insolence is this ? Who are you, and what is your business?" cried Fernbrook. "My friend, you ask questions which cannot be answered in a breath. I have done myself the honor to return to Fernbrook, after a long and, I may add, weary absence." " Indeed ! " " A man has surely a just right to enter his own house when and how he pleases," said the stranger, not heeding the interjection. " I should have been in New Zealand some few years ago, had I not been involun- tarily detained." " Ah ! against your will, eh ? " " Certainly, as you say against my will." Hilton Fernbrook stares at the intruder, then rises and closes the doors and windows, which he fastens securely on the inside. This done, he mounts a chair and severs the bell-rope beyond reach. The stranger watches him with indifference. Lighting a cigar, he walks quietly to the fireplace, and places his back thereto. 186 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " I trust you do not object to my weed. ? " he says to the other, who has seated himself on the further side of the room, near a large writing-desk, the drawer of which he opens with a key. " No, I cannot object to anything a lunatic may do. Madmen are not answerable for their actions." " Madmen ? Oh, I see, your thoughts are running on the book you have been reading. The study of madness is not a very pleasant one, I take it." " It will be beneficial in this case. My reading may enable me to understand you." " I doubt it, my friend," said the stranger. " The truly insane have one remarkable quality." "What is that?" " The first and last idea of your lunatic is that all mankind is crazy except himself." " That is your idea, is it not ? " " No. I am addressing one who has the cunning of fifty madmen without their insanity. That should be sufficient illustration to convince you." " If you are not insane, I ask again what brings you here ? " cried Fernbrook, in rising anger. " Corpo di Bacco ! as they say in Venice. Have I not said that I have returned to Fernbrook after an unavoidable absence ? " " Who are you ? " the question was hissed rather than spoken. The stranger took the cigar from between his lips, and, blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke upwards, said : " I am an unfortunate fellow, one Hilton Fernbrook, at your service." " You are a madman ! " rejoined the other, after a brief pause. " Tut ! You forget my simile," said the stranger, BEHOLD THE MAN. 187 regarding his companion fixedly. " Let me repeat, my name is Hilton Fernbrook." " There are two of the same name, then ? " " Not so. There is only one man of that name in New Zealand, and I am he." " Then who am I, pray ? " "I know not. There is a species of base metal known as Brummagem ware ; sometimes it is difficult to distinguish it from gold. You may be a descendant of the Roman Cato, or you may be the common hang- man. Who, in these times, can truly judge a man by what he seems ? " " Sir, you are not complimentary." " No ; truth has strangled courtesy." He who had been called the Master of Fernbrook rose to his feet. " Look here, my fine fellow," he said, with a deadly smile ; " I have humored your non- sense long enough. If you have any business with me, be kind enough to state it as briefly as possible, else I shall begin to think you are here for some sinis- ter purpose." " Well, you may think what you please. I am here for a purpose." " Burglary, no doubt," added Fernbrook. "Wrong, my friend. There is not even the good name of the place left." " You are insolent ! " " Again I must plead truth as my excuse," rejoined the man, in his cool cynical tone, which never changed one jot in its irritating smoothness. " Perchance you have heard the story of the ass who put on a lion's skin, and, it not being sufficient to hide his ears, he eked it out with the covering of a fox ? " " I am not good at fables. Speak plain." 188 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. "Listen, then, to plain English," rejoined the stranger. "One fine day the unhappy lord of this poor manor went to Europe for a holiday. During his wanderings he made a friend and companion of one Colonel de Roal. The Colonel was a man of the world. Wise, polished, and well versed in all the arts of di- plomacy, he had travelled much and knew everyone of note ; such a man soon made himself master of all that had happened in the simple life of his young compan- ion. They travelled together had one purse. In short, Hilton Fernbrook treated and trusted this man as if he had been his father. Mark what follows. There came a day, out in the Soudan, when the younger of these twain was stricken down with sunstroke. While watching by his delirous companion, there came a thought into the heart of Colonel de Roal." "What thought?" " To substitute Victor Mauprat, a convict, for the real owner of Fernbrook. The idea was promptly carried out, and succeeded. The sick man, raving in the throes of his disorder, was quietly conveyed to a lunatic asylum; while the criminal, assisted by his confederate the Colonel, managed to break his prison bonds, and they came here in company to reap the fruits of their crime." " More fables ! " "Is it so, Victor Mauprat?" responded the real Master of Fernbrook, with a sudden gesture of his arm. " Stand up. Place yourself shoulder to shoulder with me, here." And Fernbrook turned suddenly to the huge mirror opposite, and beckoning his compan- ion to follow his example, the two men stood looking at each other for several seconds. "You see how minutely we resemble each other. BEHOLD THE MAN. 189 How easy for the criminal to step into the shoes of the honest man ! Why, one's bosom friends would be at a loss to say positively which was the thief and which the gentleman under the circumstances." " You are right," returned Victor Mauprat. " I see the advantage the convict may derive from his won- derful likeness to, shall I say, myself? Luckily, I am in possession, and that in itself is an advantage against usurpation." Fernbrook smiled. " Ah, the fox peeped out then ! The lion's skin will not serve at all times, Victor Mau- prat ; you have had a long innings, but you are stumped at last." The convict sat down with a dull thud, and his face worked convulsively. " You ruffian," he said hoarsely ; at the same time his hand wandered to the drawer in search of something hid there. " Your game is a bold one, but it is also perilous. Begone at once from this place, or I will denounce you to the police. You would saddle your name and your crimes upon me, eh ! You will find the hide of the ass covering the lion if you try any of such villainy upon me." " Humbug ! " said Fernbrook, quietly. " The fox is apparent again. Look here; I have another trump- card. It is I who will hand you over to justice when I have done with you." Mauprat laughed. "My good fellow, your impu- dence is really refreshing," he said. " Do you forget that I am master here ? Although you are as like me as one pea is to another, how will you prove that I am not Hilton Fernbrook?" "Easily enough," responded Fernbrook, with his impenetrable coolness. "Victor Mauprat, while at Portland, was branded on the shoulder with the letters 190 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. D. C., for attempting the life of a warder. This brand the convict will carry to his grave, for it cannot be effaced. Ha, ha ! Does the ace beat the knave ? " With an oath, Mauprat pulled forth a revolver from the desk, but ere he could raise it to take aim, Fern- brook, who had been keenly watching his companion's movements, quickly drew forth a similar weapon, and covered his adversary. " Put down your hands," he said, in a tone that was unmistakable. " If you raise your finger I will shoot you like a dog. Do not imagine me such a goose as to venture into the hole of the fox without due pre- caution ! " Mauprat laughed again, a harsh discordant laugh, with not a particle of mirth in it. " I am a fool to quarrel with him," he said, more to himself than to Fernbrook. " What says your worldly sage : ' The true way to success is to smooth down all obstacles ' Ay, that is it, sir," addressing Fernbrook, who watched his every movement, and still held his revolver ready for use. " Let us shake hands, and talk over this matter in a friendly spirit." "No, not one step nearer, Victor Mauprat," cried Fernbrook, sternly. "I have prevented you using your pistol. I will also checkmate you in your design to mesmerize me." A wild look, like that of a savage beast suddenly caught, came into the man's eyes. Presently he sat down and said, " You have a final motive in coming here?" "Yes. A man needs no excuse for taking posses- sion of his own. With reference to yourself, I beg that you will favor me with your attention for a moment. Victor Mauprat, you have committed many crimes, but " Fernbrook quickly drew forth a similar weapon and covered his adversary." Page 190. BEHOLD THE MAN. 191 the last on your list is the greatest of them all. I am not going to judge you, nor yet give you up to that justice which is clamoring for you, if you do my bid- ding." "What is your will?" " In that small trunk," continued Fernbrook, point- ing to a bag he had brought with him into the room, " you will find a disguise beard, wig, hat, and coat. Go into that closet to the right you see I know the place well and put these things on. Stop one mo- ment; I will relieve you of this dangerous thing," taking up the revolver. " You shall have ten minutes to dress, sir." The man who had been known as the Master of Fernbrook for the last few years walked slowly across the room, and taking up the trunk, went towards the recess to which Hilton Fernbrook pointed. At the threshold he turned, and as he did so, his face was like that of a fallen angel. "Where shall I go with my masquerade?" he said. " Out into the silent night," responded Fernbrook, solemnly. " Out where the stars look down on the good and the bad. If you are not the convict Mauprat, what have you to fear ? Cling to that disguise if you are he, for I hold the hounds of the law in leash, and I swear to you I will slip them on your track with the first gray streak of the coining day. Go ! " Slowly the tall form receded within the closet. In the space of five minutes there came forth a rough- hewn fellow, the picture of a coasting skipper. " Ah ! my friend Bluff ! Glad to see you," cried Hilton, as if he had only seen the man for the first time. " I trust you will have a pleasant trip on your 192 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. return journey I will tie the severed bell-rope and ring for some one to show you over the Devil's Grip." He tied the rope and rang. Presently Bosco, the Maori, came stumbling into the room with his gun over his shoulder. " Bosco, my good fellow, Captain Bluff wants you to conduct him safely over the Grip." The Maori paused, looked at the Captain, then at his master. Rubbing his eyes like one who has just awakened out of a long sleep, he walked up to where the latter was standing, and kneeling down, kissed his hand passionately. " Bosco is ready," he said, rising, and with his gaze fixed upon the Captain. "Enough. A pleasant trip, Captain." A moment, and Hilton Fernbrook stood alone. He listened to the retreating footsteps of the Maori and his companion, then turned and threw open the window. A glorious prospect to feast his gaze upon : sea and land under the soft subdued light of moon and stars. Long and weary days had passed for him since last he had looked upon that picture a picture lovely indeed, but it was the wild grandeur of frowning Nature : the rugged peak, with its uncouth forms ; the sombre ravines, and the restless cataract that dashed between. The scene before him was doubtless in unison with his mind, for he stood there long in musing mood. " Dis- parities of life everywhere," he muttered. " The liar and the thief has his place, while he who would aspire to be good goes to the wall. Throughout all humanity it is the same. Yonder wretch has not one spark of remorse for his act. Nay, he will still seek to add crime upon crime. Disparity again ! The strong physical will backed up by the intellectual, but without BEHOLD THE MAN. 193 one touch of moral power. It seems an impossible condition that man shall be just to his fellow. Humph ! Jasper or Gaston de Roal, this man is thy pupil : thou, the deep and subtle scholar of Europe; thou, who didst daringly venture into the boasted secrets of the old Chaldeans, and wrest therefrom the wisdom that subjugates the senses and holds the will of others in thrall. Disciple of the abstruse Jean Bringeret, thou hast mastered the art of magic ; but thou hast ignored that grander art of the mind, which brings religious faith and love and hope. Who's there ? " " It is I Rita," responded a quiet voice, and turning, he beheld the Maori housekeeper. With a slow noise- less step the woman crossed the room without a glance at him ; in her hand she carried a tray with wine. " I have obeyed the master's behests ; you ordered wine to be brought ere I retired to rest," she said. " I am the servant of the master, and await his orders." Fernbrook's dark face softened wonderfully as he looked at the erect form of the old Maori. Without a word he approached her, and putting his arms about her neck, kissed her passionately. Rita drew back, surprise depicted in every line of her strongly-marked countenance. Rubbing her eyes, as Bosco had done, she looked at him with a long and searching gaze. " Old Rita's eyes are not good, or the evil spirit Te Torva has cast his wicked spell about her," she muttered, with her look fixed on Hilton's face. " What dark trick is this ? Have I slept and dreamed a dream of years? Who has changed the smooth lying devil that was here an hour ago into my heart's pride, my gentle son, my young king, my Hil- ton, whom I suckled for his dead mother?" Over the careworn withered face there comes a 194 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. pallor as of death, and a trembling of the tall stately frame, which shook her like a reed in the wind. " Dear Rita, my more than mother, it is I Hilton Fernbrook ! none other, believe me," he cries, in ten- derest accents. " Why, so you are ! " she cried, clinging to him with a vague terror in her look and voice. " Sometimes the arch-devil Te Torva will change a good man into the semblance of himself. For a long time I have seen you here beside me, my boy whom I loved ; and you not ray son, for when I looked at you, the love went from my soul. Yesterday I felt I hated you with a lasting hate. To-night the love and tenderness of years is in my heart. Oh, say, why is this ? Is poor old Rita mad?" " Not mad, Rita. Come, sit down, and take a little of this wine," he said. " Why did you not speak to me with that voice, with that look, through all the long moons that have gone ? " she asked, not heeding his words. " I thought travel had made your heart hard and cruel, and I said to myself, This is not my boy, but some wicked thing in his form and likeness sent by the powerful Te Torva, to punish me for my great love for you." " Pray sit down ; you are ill," he said softly. " It is very strange how I should have hated you," she said, still unheeding what he said. " I have watched and followed you, as only a Maori tracks his foe. I was near you when when you betrayed the English officer to the rebel Paul Titori in the valley of Pukehini. Again I stood by you when you gambled away half your fortune in one night at that devil's pit in the city. And again I saw that dreadful " " No more, dear Rita," he cried, with uplifted hands. BEHOLD THE MAN. 195 "The past years are but a horrid dream, which we must forget. Man is full of arrogance and vanity, and betimes there conies a fierce storm into his life which purges it of much that was foolish and frivolous. It was not I who betrayed Colonel Chesterton and his men ; I am not a gambler ; but because I was proud and selfish a devil sprang up here at Fernbrook to punish me as well as you, my more than mother." " Why did the evil spirit take your shape, you who have ever been kind and good ? " she asked, with her gaze still riveted on his face. " Do not ask me now ; to-morrow perhaps I will ex- plain. Pray take a glass of wine." " Nay, I want it not, my dear son ; old Rita is tired, that is all," she responded. "'Tis well I have you here again beside me. One word more, my son: I have some papers and letters which I took from the trunk of a man who calls himself Colonel de Roal." De Roal?" "Ay, so they name him. My act may seem a strange one, but remember I am a Maori, and I felt that this man was your foe." " Have you these papers, Rita ? " " They are here, Hilton," she answered, taking from her tamba a small packet, tied with a piece of black ribbon, and handing it to him. " I have tried to under- stand these things, but they are all a mystery with the rest. Now I will seek peace in sleep. Good- night." Hilton Fernbrook led the stately old Maori retainer to the door, and pressed his lips to her wrinkled brow with reverential love. " Good-night ! " he echoed, looking after her as she descended the stair. " Good- 196 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. night ! thou brave, faithful servant." Closing the door noiselessly, he went back to where the book on mad- ness still lay on the table, and spreading open the packet of papers the nurse had given him, he was soon absorbed in their thrilling contents. THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. 197 CHAPTER XVIII. THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. THE dark hours of night move slowly but surely round the dial of the great clock at Fernbrook. The chimes of one o'clock A. M. rouse the solitary occupant of the turret chamber from his study of those papers given him by old Rita. There is a smile of satisfac- tion on his resolute face as he rises and thrusts the documents into a secure pocket within his robe. " Egad ! The business on the whole would be most farcical if it were not for the tragical, which must surely follow as a natural consequence," he mutters, stretching his limbs with a sigh of relief. " And now I must try and put this disordered house into some- thing like its wonted groove. How shall I begin ? The whole place is a chaos. Victor Mauprat, my friend, you have acted your part admirably, but you have played the devil with my property. Ah, well ! Life is a mystery, and this little episode here at Fernbrook is part and parcel of it, I suppose." The soliloquizer pauses a moment, and catches a reflection of himself in the mirror opposite. " Ha ! there you are, Hilton Fernbrook, mon anri" cries he, apostrophizing it, " the real Simon Pure, who must needs confess that he had not brains enough to carry him through a holiday tour without falling among thieves and such rogues ! De Roal and Mauprat, ye are the princes of your pro- fession ! I have been your pigeon your turtle-dove. 198 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Ah ! mes poulets, the talons of the hawk have grown upon the dove. Why these idle musings ? Let me to work ! " He descends by a private stairway to a small room on the ground floor, and looks around it with a rapid survey. "Everything here almost as I left it," he says, seating himself. " Five years is not much in a man's life, yet five years nay, five months may be lengthened into as many centuries with many of us. Tut! tut! I have made a vow to blot out the past from every nook and cranny of my memory. I will think, with my faithful nurse, that I have slept and dreamed. Hi, presto ! Yonder stands my couch with its snowy covering, its chaste and pure surroundings, even as when my dear mother used to fold her loving arms around me in prayer. Heigho ! so be it ! Now to business. I will write to my old friend Trevor, and also to my banker, explain matters, then seek their advice." Hilton has not completed his first letter ere he is interrupted by the entrance of Bosco. " The master will pardon the Maori for disturbing him ?" says the native, in his quiet way. " Of course, Bosco," replies the other. "You have called to say that Captain Bluff has got over the Grip in safety." "Nay," replied the Maori, "the Pakeha was some- what obstinate. He would go no other way but over the ledge that leads into the valley of Tilore. He said some of his men would be waiting for him at Puke- hini Point with a boat." " So he went that way ? " "Ay." " Said he anything at parting, Bosco ? " THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. 199 " No ; only that he trusted to meet the master soon, when he would repay a little of the kindness and con- sideration shown to him at Fernbrook," replied the Maori. " See, he gave me these three golden sover- eigns for my old shot-gun and pouch. Copi! the Pakeha is generous." Hilton Fernbrook reflected a moment. " Bosco, is your boat in good trim ?" "Boat? The master forgets that it was lent to Colonel de Roal and his friend for a fishing excursion, three days ago," replied Bosco. " How stupid of me not to have remembered ! " said Fernbrook, quickly. " The Colonel has not returned, then?" " No, they have taken provisions for a week." " Humph ! Where have they gone fishing, good Bosco ? " The Maori hesitated. " The Pakehas said they in- tended going to Kauri Island, but Te Kiti of Whieroa, who passed Pukehini Point in his skiff the day before yesterday, told me he saw the Colonel and his friends with the rebel Maoris at Titore." " Ah ! I see ; Colonel de Roal is much interested in your countrymen, Bosco," said the young man, after a thoughtful pause. " So we haven't a boat about the place, eh?" " Not one except the master's cutter," answered the Maori. " The cutter will do, Bosco. She is a swift sailer ? " ' As swift as the Toho.' " "Good! How long will it take you to reach the city ? " " If this breeze holds, I can be in Auckland by the evening of to-day," answered the Maori. 200 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. My good fellow, get the boat ready without delay ; then return to me, and I will give you some letters I want you to deliver." " I am ready to do the master's pleasure," said the old man, going out ; but he came back presently and stood in the doorway. " Well, Bosco ! forgotten something ? " asked Ferri- brook, looking up. " No, Bosco never forget," he said in his deep gut- tural tones. " When the master was a rapi and no higher than my knee, Rita bade me mark the eagle of the Maori on his fair bosom." Fernbrook laughs. " I remember," he says, looking at the man curiously ; " I have heard my father relate how he horsewhipped you for your pains, my faithful friend." " Will the master show me if the eagle of Te Papa is still upon his breast ? " Hilton Fernbrook rises and lays bare his muscular chest, on which can be seen the outline of a bird tat- tooed. " See, there is your handiwork, sir," he rejoins? with another laugh. " By my faith, none but a Maori would ask a man to show the marks upon his person, as if forsooth he were no more than a stray bullock, or a horse sold out of the pound. Now say, sirrah, why you have dared to take such a liberty ? " The voice is smooth and soft, but there is a strange gleam in the eyes the while. " I am a Maori of the tribe of Te Papa," responded old Bosco, with something of pride in his tone. " Rita is my kinswoman. Yesterday Rita bade me load my gun, go out, and lie in wait for you then kill you ! " " Wherefore, good Bosco ? " THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. 201 " ' Because,' she said, ' you were not the master she had suckled, but a devil,' " he replies. " Humph ! pleasant, rather," muttered the young man, looking askance at the sturdy figure before him. " So you intend to do Rita's bidding?" he asks. " No I How could I hurt the master who has been a father to the Maori through all these years ? Bosco has seen the eagle ; Bosco is the master's slave unto death. I have spoken." " Go down and prepare the cutter. When the let- ters are ready, I will send them to you with my in- structions." The Maori went out without a word, and closed the door noiselessly. " Victor Mauprat, you have departed none too soon, man ami" says Hilton to himself. " None so determined, so ruthlessly cruel to their enemies as these Maoris of TePapa, be they male or female. Yet, how faithful and self-sacrificing are they to those they love ! Had my faithful henchman de- sired to see Te Papa's eagle on your person, my clever Victor, faith, I would not have given the nib of this pen for your life ! " He sets himself earnestly to work with his letters, and writes like a man who has decided as to their con- tents. By the time he has finished, the faint sign of dawn begins to appear on the horizon away seaward. He sits listlessly watching the dark gray streaks changing to lines of brown and pink and golden azure, and then a blending of more glorious hues, heralding the god of day. Presently there is a noise of feet out- side a knock and Peter Dusk, the detective from Scotland Yard, enters, accompanied by a brace of tall fellows from the ranks of the Auckland police. " You have stolen a march on me, sir, " says Dusk, shaking the young man by the hand. "We should 202 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. have landed here at midnight but for an accident to our sail. My lads, this gentleman is Mr. Fernbrook. Now get the things out of the lugger, and I'll join you presently with our orders." Ere the retreating foot-sounds of men had died away, the detective approached his companion, and said : " You have caged the bird ? Where is he ? " "He! who?" " Victor Mauprat the escaped felon the man who placed you in a madhouse the other side of the globe ; then found his way to your domain here to squander your inheritance and wreck your name. Who? by Jove ! " and Dusk's red eyes glowed like those of a tiger-cat. My good friend, you are heated with your journey. Sit down and take a little wine," said Hilton Fern- brook. "Well, I like your cool way of taking things, sir; but business is business, you know. Safe bind safe find you know the adage. If the man is here, I'll put the darbies on him at once with your permis- sion." " Victor Mauprat is not here, if that is whom you mean," said Fernbrook. " Not here ? " cried the detective, with unutterable disgust. " Have you allowed him to escape ? Why, surely, Mr. Fernbrook, you have not been mad enough to let the wretch go ?" " Truly, my friend, I have," returned the other, with provoking coolness. " It seems I was mad enough, as you term it, to be kept in durance vile, while this man revelled here in my stead ; but I am not a policeman, remember. That is your role, my good fellow." Dusk looks at him, and begins to scratch his head THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. 203 with a perplexed air. I should have thought, after all you have suffered through this man, that you would have been glad to punish him as he deserves," says he, presently. " Possibly ; but you see I may have a motive in allow- ing this man to depart. It is your business to bring Mauprat to justice, and I have an opinion the work will give you pleasure." " You're a queer gentleman altogether," answers the detective. " However, if the bird has flown, it will be better to be after him at once. Now, how and when did he go?" " Victor Mauprat left here a little before midnight. At my suggestion, he disguised himself in that self -same costume you kindly lent me to play Captain Bluff, of the clipper barque ' Sarah Blake,' in, during our jour- ney to the metropolis." There is something in the mere mention of this inci- dent which causes the grim Dusk to suddenly roar with laughter, spite of his apparent annoyance. Fernbrook, not heeding the interruption, continues : " There is evidently a little plot amongst your friends De Roal and his confederates. It is evident to me that they were aware of the danger threatening them, but did not absolutely know that it was so near. Three days ago the Colonel and his double, Blake, together with the Ferret, departed from Fernbrook bag and bag- gage." " Which way ? " " Oh, by water, of course, and in a good sound fish- ing yawl." " But they are not such fools as to put to sea in such a frail vessel ? " said Dusk. " My good sir, Colonel de Roal is well, a bad man, 204 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. if you will, but one of the first strategists of our day. I have had ample proof that to cope with him one must not trust to follow the same lines as in ordinary cases. The Colonel gave out that they were going fishing. 1 know for certain that they have joined the rebel Maoris under Paul Titori in Pukehini Valley." " Whew ! " whistled the detective, with mouth awry. " That's their game, eh ? And you let this man, the chief of the quartette, quietly depart to join his pals?" " Even so," said Fernbrook, in his cool way. " I have my way in the management of my own affairs ; you have yours. So has every man. Victor Mauprat has been gone only a few hours. He took the road by the coast leading to Pukehini. If you can capture him, I will give you five hundred pounds. But, understand me fully, Colonel de Roal is the man I want to stand face to face with." " Why the Colonel, sir ? It seems to me the Colonel is not the man wanted in this case." " Tut ! You are mistaken," cried Hilton, sternly. " The convict Mauprat, whom I saw for the first time last night, may have spent my money, ruined my credit, and perchance sullied my good name ; yet, after all, he has been but the tool in the hands of a more designing and accomplished scoundrel." " Humph ! What are your orders in this matter ? " asked Dusk, after a pause. " I have none, save that you will refresh yourself and extend the same courtesy to your men ; I will not hamper you in any way. Act as you think best, and rely upon my influence and my purse to aid you." " Enough ! " cries the officer, rising and extending his hand. " I will leave you, sir, to try and set this dis- ordered property of yours in order, if you can. For THE BIRD HAS FLOWN. 205 myself, I mean to capture these fellows and bring them to book, even if I have to fetch them out of the midst of the rebel Maori camp." The morning glides on into noon, and night falls again over Fernbrook. Dusk and his men have departed no one knows whither ; while the distant sail of Bosco's boat seems but as the wing of a gull. The days go slowly by with old Rita. It is true the keen wrathful suspicion has left her face, and she move* with a lighter step than heretofore, yet the puzzled look is still in her eyes when they chance to fall upon the person of her young master. The fourth day sees the return of Bosco, accom- panied by the Hon. Bob Trevor, John Warne the banker, and Cecil Payne, Q. C., one of the soundest lawyers in the colony. The party are conducted straightway to Hilton Fernbrook's private sitting-room, where stands the young man himself, ready to receive them ; and here the four gentlemen hold council, which lasts for many hours. 306 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XIX. FENCING. THE fashionable world of New Zealand were assem- bled in Shortlaud Crescent. War and rumors of war made no impression on the upper ten, who congregated in the season at the Crescent the West End of the Metropolis of Maoriland. Paul Titori might be at the gates of Auckland with his warriors, for anything the fashionable world cared. To them the motto, " Eat, drink, and be merry," was the whole of life. The mansion of the Hon. Bob Trevor is all ablaze with light. To-night is one of the "At Homes," and the cards which admitted to it bore the magic word " Dancing " in one corner. It was a special night. The leaders of bon-ton had heard of Hilton Fernbrook's strange adventures, and were assembled to welcome him back to the social ranks. The spacious rooms of the great town house are filled to overflowing for the occasion, and Lady Blanche is playing hostess. Near her stands Victorine Gayland, dressed in a silk grenadine, with a dash of vivid crim- son about it, a diamond pendant rising and falling upon her white neck, and on her shapely arm a diamond ser- pent glittering like a circle of living fire. Beyond the fair hostess and her friend stands the Maori girl, Te Coro ; around her are gathered a circle composed, for the most part, of officers of Pye's Horse, in full regi- FENCING. 207 mentals. A ruby-colored tamba,whose collar is thickly studded with seed-pearls, fits her lithe exquisite figure to perfection. Her beauty, dark and magnificent as any Spanish Donna, is all the more attractive in con- trast to that of the lovely women around her. From the shy, modest maiden, the daughter of Te Ranga seems to have developed into the cold self-possessed woman of the world at a bound. Watching her as she converses with these men, one can see that the great black eyes note every personage and every object pass- ing with minute scrutiny. " Who is that beautiful Maori ? " asks Colonel Ches- terton, a young and distinguished commander of a local brigade whose name has been on everybody's lips for some daring act against the rebels at Waitamata Pah. " That is the heiress of the old chief, Te Papa, who bequeathed the lady and her dowry to his sister, the Maori Rita of Fernbrook," says Captain Hayward, of the Waikato Rifles. " What a splendid girl or woman, I should say Hayward ! She seems to me like a lovely picture of one of the old Castilian race, which has taken the lib- erty of walking out of its frame." The Captain laughs behind his open palm. " Take care, Colonel ; her ladyship of Oakland is watching you. The eyes of love are sharp to detect a rival. Certainly, Mademoiselle Te Coro is charming enough to cause the Lady Alice some uneasiness, if she could hear your praises of her Maori friend." The Lady Alice Morton, of Oakland House, only daughter of a millionaire, a lively blonde, not yet twenty, is at the other end of the crowded reception- room, flirting with a small circle of admirers, amongst 208 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. whom are young Warne, the yet handsome host, with a sprinkling of good-looking young fellows in dark blue uniforms. " Who is that fellow leaning against the wall ? " asks the Colonel again of his aide, fixing his glass to his eye at the same time for a tour of inspection. " Oh, do you mean the tall, dark man, talking to the old banker ? " " Yes," replied the hero of Titore ; " quiet-looking, clean-cut face. He should be somebody." " My dear Colonel, that is the guest of the evening Fernbrook, of the Barrier Rock." " By Jove ! the fellow who was caged in a mad- house," cries the other, pulling at his moustache. " He doesn't look like a man to be easily taken in that way ! What's the gist of the matter, Hay ward?" "A clever rascal one De Roal who made Fern- brook's acquaintance somewhere on the Continent, hap- pened to have a relation, or confederate, the very image of our friend yonder and about the same age. The Frenchman had made himself pretty well master of Fernbrook's affairs while they were travelling together. Somewhere on the Nile, Fernbrook has an attack of sunstroke, and De Roal, who had evidently well con- ceived his scheme, has the patient conveyed to a pri- vate lunatic asylum. Poor Fernbrook once out of the way, the confederate assumes the name of Hilton Fern- brook, betakes himself to New Zealand, and at once takes possession of the Barrier Rock Estate." "The whole thing is as sensational as one of Mrs. Wood's novels," says the Colonel. " It is true. I had the details of the matter from my friend Lyndhurst," responds Hay ward. " And the impostor who is he ? " FENCING. 209 " An escaped convict ; Victor Mauprat by name." " Also a Frenchman ? " "I believe so. The subtle rogue has made ducks and drakes of Fernbrook's money, I hear. Ah, Lynd- hurst, my dear fellow, how are you ? " cried Hay ward, breaking off the narration abruptly, to shake hands with the new-comer. "Where is Mrs. Lyndhurst? I am dying to be introduced. Colonel, allow me to present to you the coming literary Nestor of the Antipodes." " Glad to know you personally, Lyndhurst, though I have made your acquaintance before," answers the military magnate, with an affable smile. " I'm not much of a bookworm no time for that, you know ; but I've read your last work with a considerable amount of pleasure. Ah ! Glenvale, how do, dear boy ? What a devil of a crush ! " The small talk becomes general and incessant, and upon all manner of subjects. There is a perfect babel of tongues, in which queer sentences and abrupt ex- clamations burst on the ear in confused and unintelli- gible jargon. Alton Lyndhurst moves away towards a group of ladies, amongst whom is his beautiful wife. This is her first public appearance since their marriage, three months ago. The novelist and his bride have spent a happy honeymoon at the Mount, and have returned to begin the hard stern business of life in a small but pretty villa overlooking the Waitamata. The first to wish the newly-married pair congratulations is Mrs. Gayland. All traces of the fierce passion that marked her last meeting with her old love have vanished from the charming attractive face, which now smiles in witching fondness on the woman who has supplanted her. 14 210 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Masks and faces make up the tout ensemble of the crowd, but I fear the masks are in the majority. If one gifted with the power of Asmodeus could for a brief moment lift the subtle covering of the mind and heart from such a congregation, how astonished he would be! What pain arid doubt and despair, hid away beneath the gentle word, the soft smile ! Amos Ward, Mayor of Auckland, stands solitary, watching but one figure in the vast assembly. He has been standing in the same place, with his eyes fixed on the same woman, for the last half-hour. There are so many notables present that his worship is altogether nobody on the occasion. If there be power of attrac- tion in one person looking intently at another, then must Victorine Gayland have felt that power, and have beheld him who watched her with such absorbed at- tention. Alas ! the charming Queen of Society saw nothing beyond the person of Maud Lyndhurst. Even in a crowd a man cannot remain in one position long without being observed in turn. Designing mammas, who would have welcomed the rich plebeian as a son-in-law, shrug their bare shoul- ders and smile behind their fans as they note him. " The man is a born fool to be so enthralled by a conceited puss who cares no more for him than the man in the moon," they whisper. " Ah ! there's Ward mooning over the fair widow again," says Captain Fop- top to Gus Playfair, his friend. By-and-by the crowd extend over the roomy mansion, some to play, others to drink and talk, many to dance for, in spite of the high-caste gathering, dancing is evidently not beneath the dignity of the elite. If Amos Ward had been invited to occupy that post by the window and do nothing else, he could not have FENCING. 211 performed the duty with more patient zeal. Beautiful women and handsome men whirled here and there, and flitted by in the soft mazes of waltz and polka. Yet he stirred not. Marriageable girls would have dis- lodged him hours ago, but they knew his secret their labor would have been in vain. Twelve o'clock midnight, and the young widow is wafted near him, with Colonel Chesterton for her partner. Almost by his side they stop, with an excla- mation from the lady. " I've torn my dress, Colonel," said Victorine, petulantly. "Eh? What?" panted the gallant son of Mars, putting his glass up with a jerk. " What's to be done ? " "I must get a pin," she responds, with a smile. " Have you one, Colonel Chesterton ? " " No ; but I'll get you one," he replies. " Thank you ! " The officer goes. Victorine looks up, and meets the gaze of Amos Ward. "Mr. Ward," she cries, "when did you arrive? Why do you not dance? " He looked at the slim figure a moment in silence. His eyes were fine, and he could venture to perform the experiment without giving offence. "Alas ! I have no dress to tear," he responds, still looking at her. Victorine let her flowers fall, and turned the brace- let on her arm, and so they stood for a time in perfect silence, until, looking up, she met his fixed gaze with her lustrous eyes. "You have not answered my question," she says, with a faint smile on her delicate lips. " I was just wondering whether you really wished me to answer it," he said coolly. " I mean truthfully, of course. I know that any commonplace excuse would do ; but do you want the truth ? " 212 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " Oh, please, let me have the truth, by all means, she cries, with an arch lifting of her eyelids. " Well," he says slowly, " I do not dance, because there is only one lady in the room I care to dance with, and I am quite aware that I stand no chance of secur- ing her for a partner." She did not pretend to be ignorant of what he meant. Victorine Gayland was too clever, too superb a creature for small affectations. " You mean me ? " "I mean you," he responds, inclining his head. " And how did you know that you could not dance with me, O most potent seer ? " she retorts, forced a little nearer to him by the onrush of a dragoon and his partner. " By experience," he replies. Then adds hastily : " Take care, or you will be crushed to death." And he drew aside to make room for her in a little recess, which, when there was no dancing about, sheltered a marble statuette. So they stood close together so close, that the faint fragrance of some perfume in her hair, or on her face, rose and surrounded him, making his heart beat as assuredly nothing else in all the wide world could make it beat. " By experience," he resumed, just glancing down at her, and then speaking with his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, so that any watcher could scarcely have noticed that he had been speaking at all. " Last night at Colborne's, although I lost my dinner to be amongst the first-comers, I waited for you, and found that your card was full you filled it, I presume, on the stair ? The Thursday previous, at Madame Vipont's, you were too tired to dance with me. Not caring to woo a refusal and another disappointment to-night, here I FENCING. 213 stand, like a modern Diogenes, and watch the world dancing, while I amuse myself by eating my heart out with envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness ! " "You must be enjoying yourself," she answers in a low tone, into which she manages to infuse a subtle intonation, which makes for him, as it had made for others, a strange and mystic attraction. " I enjoy myself after my own fashion," he says, with smiling irony. " You dance so exquisitely as you do every thing else that it is a keen enjoyment to see you waltzing with other men, and to know that there is no chance for me." The gleaming serpent upon her arm flashed shafts of rose, green, and azure blue, as she took up the ele- gant ball programme and looked down it musingly. " Here is one dance vacant that which you covet so bitterly. You do not deserve it, because you have not asked for it." " The wretch who is found dead on the pavement for want of a meal doesn't deserve to live because he has not asked Sir Thomas Morton to take him home to dinner. Well ! " " Ah ! I have been quite mistaken. I have no dance disengaged. My card is full quite full," she says in the same low voice. "Of course; I knew that," he exclaimed, with a laugh. "Better let me go in search of the gallant Colonel ! " 214 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XX. VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. " BETTER let me find the gallant Colonel and bring him back to you," he went on. "Then I will go home and bless the fate that has ordained me -to be a specta- tor of other people's enjoyments, and have none of my own." His irony brings a proud flush to Victorine Gayland's pale face ; but she smiles, and answers quietly : " What a pity it is that I could not keep my card empty for you all night ! It would have been the very acme of good breeding to meet every gentleman who asked me to dance with the reply, 'Pardon me, sir, I am waiting for his Worship the Mayor of Auckland to select the first waltz, &c.' " He looks down at her, admiration for her beauty shining fiercely in his eyes. "Well," he says, "will you or will you not ? " "Ah! my money or my life!" she retorts, in fine mockery of his tone ; " you are bitter and unjust, your Worship, and do not deserve consideration. Let me see : you shall put your pencil through young Dash- wood's name, and write your own in its place. As an old friend, he will pardon the liberty we take with his name." His broad strong face lights up, and for the first time a dash of color spreads over it as he offers her his arm. " You are right," he whispers in her ear ; " I am VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 215 bitter and angry, I know, but I have a plea for it all. Let me ask you to put yourself in my place " " If your place is where you have been standing all the evening, I had rather not, thanks ! " It was her way to adopt this style of matchless fence, when Vic- torine Gayland wished to disarm her adversary with- out absolutely giving the covp-de-grace. "Will you ever be serious with me?" he asked, pleadingly. " Am I always to be a target for your banter?" She laughs pleasantly. " Your Worship," she cries, mockingly, " life is one huge stage for folly, and what you please to term banter is the only garb in which its votaries clothe themselves. Your wisest sages say : ' 'Tis better to smile than to frown.' To be serious is to pull the button from the foil of your friendly an- tagonist, and, while your arm but marks the spot where the point has been upon his body, his weapon pierces the heart!" " I know nothing of fencing," he answers, gravely. " Become an actor, and you will soon learn the use of foils," she says, with another laugh that has a sound as of the rippling of some cool rivulet. "And join the corps at the Bandoline ? " he adds. " No ; that is not necessary, Mr. Ward. There are far cleverer players off the mimic stage than on it. To be an actor, one needs only to study mankind as we meet them day by day. The stage is but a poor grotesque cartoon of its great archetype, the world that is all ! " " Is it ? Probably it may be as you say, but in my case the world has been real enough with me. I shall never be an actor, inasmuch as I know that you " 216 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. With a quick raising of her bright eyes, she uses her foil again. " I know that all the rest of the people are dancing, and we are standing still," she interrupts. " Really, I do not think you were half as anxious as you pretended to be." He takes her hand in his, long and slender and supple in its sheath of soft kid, and they mingle in one of Pizar's dreamy waltzes. There are no better dancers in the room amongst her sex than Yictorine Gayland ; and Amos Ward, though he is a self-made man, and somewhat large in person, is fairly in unison and sympathy with time and music, which alone make proper dancing. The flush on his cheeks grows deeper and his eyes glow as he bends over her, but her face is cold and passionless as the marble bust of Pallas. The dance over, he leads her out of the crowd. "There is Dash wood, the man you have robbed," she says, pointing with her fan towards a tall youth in uniform. " I see him approach, to cover me with shame and confusion. Pray stand between me and his just wrath." " I will fling the puppy out of the window, if you like," he says, absently. " Poor boy ! Deprive him of his life as well as his dance ? " she replies, smiling. " And now you will go and make yourself pleasant to some one, please. There is a pretty little thing in turquoise blue ; let me in- troduce you." " I shall go home now," he answers, in his clear low voice, as calmly as if he had declined a glass of wine. " I have had my one dance, and am very grateful to you. I can guess how much it has cost you to humor me, for I have seen more than one pair of eyes look- VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 217 ing your way reproachfully. I will say good-night, and take you to your next partner. Who is it?" And he takes the card hanging by a silken cord to her waist. " You are certainly not very gallant, and I can see vou are in a hurry to be rid of me. Why should you go now ? " " Because I cannot endure to see you play the Lady Beautiful with these others." And his cold gaze swept the room with bitter disdain. " You are unjust, and decidedly unpleasant ! " she remarks, with her thin lips arched in scorn. " Perhaps ; it seems to me an utter impossibility to be pleasant when I am by your side," he says. " I feel that the airy fool's talk that comes so easy when I am in the company of other women, falters and falls dead when I draw near you. There is only one thing I can ever say to you only one speech my lips can frame with truth and honor." The fair lovely face beneath his ardent gaze grows suddenly hard, and almost stern in every line, while the eyes glow with a strange unearthly brilliancy. " I regret you have neglected the art of fence," she an- swers. " A gentleman in these days is but half- educated who has left it out of his accomplishments. Come, give me your arm, out of the reach of the eyes and ears around us." Close by, there is a wide alcove of ferns and tall shrubs, with a fountain in the midst, whose cooling spray, spouting upward, falls with a thousand rays of parti-colored light beneath. Amos Ward and his companion move into the arbor. Here they can see all that is going on, but they are out of earshot. " The one speech that has been upon my tongue and in my 218 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. heart for years you will not let me speak," he says presently. She looks up at him now with not a trace of emotion in her proud face. " From Adam downward, men have always had some absurd idea," she responds slowly. " Pray, what is this impossible crotchet which disturbs you ? " He inclines his head with the lips drawn tightly to- gether. " Ah ! I feel that which you term a crotchet is an utter impossibility," he answers presently, but in an altered tone. " I have read somewhere that love is only another name for selfishness." " Love ! " she added mockingly. " What has love to do with us?" " Everything with one of us, at least," he cried pas- sionately. " Victorine, I love you better than I have ever loved anything upon this earth." " Pooh, sir ! Is this the one little speech you were forbidden to say ? " she responded in cold, sarcastic tones. " You forget how many times you have uttered it in the past." " Victorine, do not drive me altogether mad," he pleaded. " I should be sorry to do so, sir ; but if you raise your voice like that, I must leave you." " Not yet," he cried. " If I ever pleaded for that which is more dear to me than my worthless life, I must do it now." She laid her hand upon his arm, and stopped the torrent of his words. " Amos Ward, you have been a true friend almost a brother to me," she said softly, and looking at him with her magnetic eyes. "For over a year I have seen the silent growth of this in- fatuation in you, and I have prepared myself for this mo- VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 219 ment. Nay, be silent and listen. I am not callous or heartless, but I can never be to you other than a friend and sister. You are a man of the world, and can under- stand when one like myself takes off her daily mask to speak the simple truth." .He stood staring at her without uttering a word, the perspiration standing on his brow in glistening beads. Voices approaching at length roused him. " So, this is the end of it ! " he muttered, with some- thing like a groan of pain, that seemed to find an in- stant echo in the heart of the woman at his side. She took his strong hand in her soft gloved palms. " I am truly sorry to see you suffer. If my poor exist- ence could atone, and bring you back to what you were before you knew me, I would freely lay it down this moment." He looked at her a moment ; then, yielding to some uncontrollable emotion, drew her soft form to his breast and implanted a kiss on her smooth white brow. " God help us both ! " he said. " I see it all now all, all, my poor child! From henceforth I will be your brother in earnest, to watch over you to help you for I feel my love has that in it which will con- quer all the baser dross which encrusts worldly affec- tion. To-morrow, or next day, or next week, I shall have found means to ease the nameless pain here at my heart." " And we shall be friends as of old ? " " Ay, closer than of old, my girl. And now I will say good-night ! " There is a short firm grip of the delicate hand, which almost crushes the slender bones together, and Amos Ward has vanished out of the maze and whirl of noted men and beautiful women out under the stars. 220 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Phil Brock, valet and confidential man to his Wor- ship, notes the sudden exit of his master, and flies after him down the silent street. " What the devil does your honor mane by going home widout the carriage ? " cries Phil, in his inelegant way, running breathlessly after his master. Amos Ward turns and sees his faithful factotum : " Oh, I had forgotten all about the trap, Phil." " In coorse ; ye'll be forgetting all about yerself nixt," grumbled Phil. "Go back and tell Thompson to take the carriage home ; I shall not want it. I am going to walk." " Arrah ! walk is it ? An' this time o' night ? Indade, ye'll do no such thing. Hear that now ! " cried Phil. "It will be laid up wid influenza ye'll be, an' the devil of a foine time I'll be having of it nursing you." The Mayor of Auckland burst out laughing. "Troth, it's a fine thing to be laughing at a poor spalpeen whose ould legs is aching all over waiting for ye," cried Brock. " Not a bite or sup has gone down my throttle this blessed night. Bad cess to the whole box and dice of them, I say." " Go back and ride home with Thompson, Phil. At home you can help yourself." " Och, the devil a toe I'll go back," retorted the old fellow, hotly. " It's dressing me up like a flunkey ye'll be doing nixt, an' sticking me on a boord behind, like a stuffed pay cock. I'll not go back. Mind, now ! " " Oh, very well," replied the Mayor, good-humoredly. "If you won't, Avell, I must, that's all. The horses can't stay out all night." " Just hear him ! " cried Phil, appealing to the moon. "Here's an ungrateful omadhaun for ye! Thinking more of a poor brute baste than of the unfortunate VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 221 craythur that nursed him when he was a snivelling bit of a devil no bigger than my arrin ! " " Be quiet, Phil." " I will not ; ye were a snivelling devil, an' what's more, the ugliest baby man ever saw, or woman either, for the matter of that. Shure, you were the color of a brick." The Mayor of Auckland burst out laughing, spite of his annoyance. " You have an excellent memory, Phil," he said, looking at his henchman in perplexity. " Have I, now ? Well, the devil thank me for that same. It's a good score of reckonin' I have agin' some people. Now go on ; take your walk in pace. But, mind now, if you're rnurthered on the way, don't be coming home an' blaming me, that's all. An' now I'll just tell that great stupid spalpeen of a coachman what I think of him," muttered Phil Brock, wheeling round and retracing his steps the way he had come. Amos Ward goes his way through the silent night. That fair picture of Victorine Gayland thrust out all baser matter from his brain. He yet feels the dainty perfume floating about him, feels the soft strange eyes reflected on his innermost heart. It is something to have felt her breath on his hair to have held for one brief second of time the yielding graceful form in his arms. The last guest has departed. The lights are out in the large ball-room. Silence reigns around. Victorine Gayland sits alone in that one little room in her magni- ficent house at Parnell, which is to her a sort of study, and far from the noise and clatter of the street. An hour ago she was interpreting Beethoven to an admir- ing circle; now she is drooping and pale, with that 222 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. ivory whiteness in her face which is only seen on the faces of those who are hand-in-hand, with death. There has come to her within the hour a gradual but appalling change. The small mouth is set hard with firm resolve; the magnificent eyes are dull and weary, the white arms listless like pieces of carved marble in her dark dressing gown. The maid enters to brush her mistress's hair. "I shan't want you to-night, Sheldon," she says, without looking up, " I am tired ; see that no one disturbs me." The maid goes out without a word, and closes the door noiselessly. Presently the little silver clock on the mantel chimes two. " Tempus fugit" mutters Mrs. Gayland, rising with almost a stagger in her gait, and a perceptible shudder which shakes her slender frame. " Must I do it, after all ? Must I die ? It is the only thought of the unhappy. We fly to death for relief and oblivion. Ah, me ! alas ! " There is an exquisite piece of furniture, in the shape of a French writing-desk inlaid with mother-of-pearl, near the window, which she unlocks with a small gold key, fastened to her girdle. Within it lie costly gems and trinkets in careless profusion. From a recess hid away in one corner of the cabinet, which opens with a spring, she takes out a letter, already addressed, together with a tiny phial containing about a table- spoonful of a dark thick fluid. She places these on the table, and stands with her hands clasped before her. " And I had prepared this for my rival," she con- tinues, looking at the phial with another shudder, " for the pure and innocent wife his wife ! Faugh ! That was a cowardly thought. If I cannot have his love, I will have death for there is no remembrance VICf ORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 223 there. Who who shall say that Victorine Hargrave was a murderess? Nay, it were better a thousand times to be a suicide. Heaven forgive me ! " There was no mistaking the fierce temporary in- sanity that had taken possession of the unfortunate woman. In everything about, even to the writing of the sealed letter on the table, which bore the address of her old lover, Alton Lyndhurst, there were traces of a calm, deliberate plan for self-destruction. The idea had not come to her suddenly. It was the growth of many weeks, in which morbid fancy had held sway within her. Her first thought was to steal from her home, disguised in humble garb, and cast herself into the broad waters of the Waitamata. They would not miss her for hours, perchance days, and in that time the sea would have hid her forever. In the evil spirit of her madness she had sallied forth on her dread errand. Silently she had passed through the entrance- hall, down the flight of steps, and into the park beyond. She walked as quickly as she could, but her disguise was ill-fitting and clumsy. She became exhausted, and sat down to rest. The night was beautiful, and as she sat, there came to her a dream of the old cottage on the cliff. She saw it in all its charming beauty of site and garden, where the waves rang out their artillery at the base. She seemed to see the setting sun over the noble bay, with ships passing to and fro upon its bosom, while overhead a sea of great crimson clouds rolled, lurid with gold, whose light lay upon the grand old trees and the grass. She sees all this again to-night. Nay, more ! She sees the tall gaunt form of a man walking the long pier, whereby she is balked in her fell purpose. She cannot live with her broken heart. If by going 224 THfi SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. forth and lying on the dewy ground she could yield up her life, it would be well with her. She would lie down with a smile upon her lips. Not of to-day nor yesterday, this terrible thought of self-destruction : with the bells that had rung on Alton Lyndhurst's wedding morning the thought had come like a lurking devil, only biding his time to enter. This subtle principle of evil was there while she fenced and foiled, and sang and charmed heightening her resplendent beauty that attracted the gilded moths who dreamed not of the fearful thing peeping out of every smile and dimple. She takes up the phial coolly, calmly, as one would lift a glass of rare old wine, and holds it for a moment between her and the light. She knows something of drugs. She knows that each drop in that frail china jar will freeze and chill the blood in her veins nay, will clutch her heart with an iron grip, and still its beating forever. As the unhappy lady stands contemplating her doom, there comes a gentle tap at the door, a tap so faint and timid that Victorine Gayland does not hear it till it is repeated in a louder tone. Like some midnight thief caught red-handed with his spoil, there comes a strange look into her eyes, and over her whole countenance. An instant, and it is gone. " Who's there ? " she cries, and a soft voice replies It is I only I Te Coro." With a stifled cry that has in it more of despair than anger, Victorine admits her friend, and sinks down before her on the floor with a great sob. " Te Coro, how you frightened me ! " Te Coro does not heed the white lie, but glances quickly from the table to the crouching form at her feet. VICTORINE GAYLAND'S AGONY. 225 " You are not well to-night," she says softly, bending down and drawing the hot throbbing head towards her. " Ah ! it is cruel to work you so much to make you play and sing and talk until you are weary and tired unto death! Say it is not poor Te Coro who has frightened you you, who are so fearless and brave ! " No answer save another sob, which cannot be re- pressed, and a nestling of the fair head as if it would hide itself in the Maori's bosom. Te Coro puts back the luxuriant hair from the troubled brow, and kissing it, continues : " I have been three weeks your guest three happy, pleasant weeks for the Maori girl. Peace has fallen upon my eyes and upon my senses every night I have been beneath your roof ; and I have slept, as the dead only sleep, in serene and utter forgetfulness. To-night I could not close my eyes. Sleep would not come to me, try as best I could. While I sat and pondered on the cause of my wakefulness, lo! there came a vision of this chamber so minute in every particular, that I was certain I was standing on this spot rather than sitting in my own room. I saw you there by the table, dearest, with your face like the face of one who is dying, but is not dead. Oh, it was terrible ! I saw your pale lips move, but I could not hear what you said. Once you stretched forth your arms in mute despair, and then sank down as if to hide yourself within the bowels of the senseless ground. When you rose up, the agony I read in your look was fearful. Ah, me ! I beheld you at the cabinet, from whose secret recesses you took a letter that one there on the table and with it some- thing glittering as the deadly adder's fangs. Nay, let your troubled head rest here awhile," she continues. I am but a Maori, yet the Maori loves her friend. 226 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Give me your hand. Ah ! what is this ? It is the tempt- ing toi-toi poison. Unclose your fingers. So my vision was not all a fable ! " Quick as a juggler in some trick that defies the sight, the Maori girl, with a backward sweep of her hand, dashed the phial against the iron grate, where it was shattered into a hundred fragments. It was a strange picture this enacted in the deep stillness of the summer night. Here the proud, brilliant beauty, hitherto invincible, bowed down to the dust in all the abandonment of her pain and shame, pensively silent ; there the Maori, no less beautiful, no less proud pleading and battling with the spirit of evil which would not depart without a tussle from the heart and soul of Victorine Gayland. " I know your secret, dearest ; I have known it long," said Te Coro after a time, in which the sullen anguish of the sufferer had given place to a passionate fit of tears that shook her as the wind and waves play with a ship at sea. " You must suffer as you have suffered, but your whole life need not be wrecked because of this heartache this sense of desolation. It may be years before you forget, but you will forget. You will live to become a noble, useful woman all the more noble because of your suffering." Morning dawns dawns fair and lovely. The sun glints in upon the two women and the appointments of the luxurious apartment. Victorine Gayland is stretched upon a sofa, with closed eyes, but she is moaning as if in great agony. Te Coro steals across the room on tip-toe and meets the maid at the door. " Sheldon," she says, " tell Marks to saddle Firefly, and .bid him haste to Dr. Townely. Your mistress is ill" THE BLOCK PAH. 227 CHAPTER XXI. THE BLOCK PAH. DETECTIVE DUSK had set himself no easy task in tracking Victor Mauprat and his confederates. From the outset difficulties beset him which made progress slow if sure. In the whirl and tumult of civilized life, the man-hunter would have hunted down his prey with the sure and swift scent of a bloodhound ; but here, in the very thick of Nature's wildest scenes, the conditions were altered. Beyond Omera his two companions were taken ill, and had to be sent back to the city. At Havelock, however, Dusk managed to secure the services of a friendly Maori, by name Taperia, otherwise the " Wolf." This man had done the State some service in several capacities. He had been interpreter, spy, a delegate from the Government to the Rebels, etc. The fellow could speak English remarkably well, and had a thorough knowledge of the country. At first the detective was suspicious of his companion, but the latter soon convinced Dusk that he was trustworthy. "It is to my interest to serve the stronger party faithfully, because they pay me well, and they will surely win in the end." Excellent reasons, and quite satisfactory to the man- hunter, who looked upon the Maori, as a clever speci- men of the race. The Wolf was very useful. When Dusk became despondent and quite at fault in gather- 228 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FEENBROOK. ing up a clue, his companion came to the rescue, scented the lost trail of the Pakehas, and followed it with the tenacity of the Scotland Yard runner himself. With one less qualified than Taperia the work could not have been accomplished at all. Up the Fire Mountain, across Lake Kiteara, over the Hunna Ranges, and down into the wide valley of Pukehini, he followed the Pakehas, step by step, with that unerring faculty which only a New Zealander can attain. From the Hunna Ranges the track was not that of one or two persons only, but of a smaU army. One night, when they had lit a fire and were enjoy- ing their supper, the Wolf picked up a small shell, with a hole in it, lying at his feet. " See here," he said. " The warriors of Te Papa have passed this way. If the Pakehas have gone to join Paul Titori and his men, then they are not far away, for where Te Papa's warriors are there is the Rebel Chief." " You are not afraid, Taperia ? " " No, Paul Titori has nothing against me ; but with you it is different. He will surely have your life, if he finds you." " I must take my chance of that with all the rest," responds Peter Dusk, filling his pipe. The next day, at noon or thereabouts, our two worthies emerge out of the thick forest range by way of Tonga's Peak. This peak is nothing more than a lofty ridge, steep and bare of vegetation, but from its summit can be seen the bold and irregular landscape beneath, for several miles round. Away, beyond the swamps and thick patches of bushland, Taurauga nestles cosily on the very edge of the Bay of Plenty. To the right is the Rebel village, Judea, joining the THE BLOCK PAH. 229 coast wall, which latter looms up to the sight like a gigantic fort. The eyes of Peter Dusk rest upon this spot with absorbed attention. Right on the apex of the sea wall, which here presents a flat surface, the Rebels have eracted ajt?A, the native name for fortress. Encircling the outer rim, even where the solid wall of rock looks sheer below into the sea, there have been erected gabions of sand-bags, five feet high, with numerous loopholes, to sight an approaching enemy. Within the enclosed space are rings of posts, inter- laced with a hard, tough creeper, called supple-jack, whose octopus-like limbs entangle and retard like a spider's web. Everywhere within the stronghold rifle- pits cut cross- wise are to be seen. It has taken the allies of Paul Titori three years to build the " Block Pah " ; and when it is finished, the Maori Rebel Leader has taken possession of it with six thousand men, and has defied the Pakeha to dislodge him from it. Peter Dusk, looking down upon the crowd of dusky forms moving here and there in the place like a swarm of huge ants, knows little or nothing of Paul Titori or his warriors. All he knows, or cares to know, is the one fact Victor Mauprat, the Ferret, Colonel de Roal, and the giant Blake, have been traced to the spot. If they have joined the Rebel Chieftain and he has re- liable information that such is the case then they are thus caged, and the only question for him to decide is how he is going to capture his men without being captured in turn. The position is a strong one, there is no doubt on that head ; on one side looms the coast-line, steep and slippery, with no foothold even for a mountain goat. To the left, and far out, is a deep swamp, overgrown 230 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. with tall coarse rushes, where a body of men could not force a passage without being entirely lost. There is only one way to the place, and that is by way of the hapu, or village, and here it is but a narrow ledge of rock little more than a dozen feet wide. Once over this, however, there is plenty of room right under the breastwork, where a body of resolute men may re-form and make their attempt. If this man from Scotland Yard could, by any pos- sible means, have known the series of events taking place within the area of his vision, as he stood upon Tonga's Peak, then he would have seen, away beyond the hapu at Judea, a dark line of armed men moving in the direction of the Block Pah. With keener eyes than his companion, the Wolf saw them, and, pointing with his finger, said : " Look ! those are Pakehas going to storm Paul Titori out of his den." And the Maori was right. Colonel Chesterton, the military genius of the hour in New Zealand, was marching with eighteen hundred men volunteers all to attack the Rebel Chief in his stronghold. Paul Titori and Colonel Chesterton had encountered each other often, ere the former was driven out of the Wai- kato. And now the gallant Colonel was about to meet his enemy again. From the hill-top the detective immediately under- stood the scene beneath his ken. The commotion inside the pah, and the steady column moving as one man to the assault, were as a chess-board situated at his feet, wherein every individual movement of the besiegers and the besieged was plainly discernible. " Te haki e hina" cries the Maori, "we are just in time to see the fun." Peter Dusk looks at his com- panion, and, without reply, seats himself on a ledge of THE BLOCK PAH. 231 rock with his rifle between his knees, and lights his pipe. Not one man in a million has such a picture before him as this scene of the valley of Taurauga. Meanwhile the volunteers have sighted the pah, and here they halt while a small body of officers go for- ward to reconnoitre the Maori position. In half an hour two guns, the whole artillery of the attacking force, take up a position, and soon reduce the Tiapu to a heap of ruins. What few warriors there are retire into the pah, from which issue yells of defiance. Moving forward quickly, Colonel Chesterton divides his force into two lines. One takes up a position on a range to the right of the pah, accompanied by the guns, which open fire on the front face of the stronghold. Here there is a strong trellis of stout saplings inter- laced with the supple-jack. It is the only weak point about the fort, but it has a wonderful power of resist- ance. Again and again, with increasing precision, the gunners hit the pliant wall of fence full in front ; the tremendous force of the shot bearing down the whole breastwork. But so flexible and tenacious are the materials of which it is composed, that instantly the missile rebounds, and the whole mass springs back to its original position. At every shot there is a roar of defiance, followed by a sharp volley of musketry from the Rebels. The gunners stick to their work, but the guns get hot and have to be abandoned for a time. At this point the line of reserve is brought to the iront, and formed into close column of companies. They deploy four deep down the hill, as if to cross the swamp at the base of the pah. The Rebels, believing that they are about to be assaulted from this point, leave their rifle-pits and crowd the ramparts of the Northern Wall. The manoeuvre is only a ruse, but it 232 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. is successful. Suddenly, at the blast of a bugle, the whole body turn and race for the pathway of the pah, gain it, and are on the broad ledge, hewing down an opening in the fa9ade, ere the astonished Maoris can return to oppose them. Hurrah! They have gained an entrance but the Rebels return to this point in overwhelming numbers, and there begins a dogged hand-to-hand butchery, that has in it the very elements of hell and nought of mercy. The first rush of the Maoris is repulsed, and they are driven back upon a body of Te Papa's men. These are led by Paul Titori, and fight coolly and bravely. The deadly weapons of the volunteers make gaps in their ranks, but they are filled up again, and roll on- ward like an avalanche, bearing the hated Pakeha slowly but steadily backward through the rents in the line of defence. Colonel Chesterton, standing by the guns, draws his sword. " My men," he says, turning to the second column, who are impatient to join the mdlee, " I am determined to have the Block Pah. All of you who may be of my opinion, follow me ! " There is a cheer and a rush, and those of the first party who are striving against great odds take heart as they are joined by their comrades. Peter Dusk, on the hill-top, sits and smokes his pipe. He views the fierce and bloody contest with strained muscles and staring eyeballs. He sees that superb ring of tall, sable warriors reel and totter, and fall around their leader, the Rebel Chief. He sees the black seething mass, beaten but still fighting forced rearward, to that high black wall forming the coastline. Here the scattered groups concentrate into a close, solid square, for what appears a last united effort to dislodge the foe. To the eyes of the two solitary THE BLOCK PAH. , 233 spectators on the hill, the Rebels must certainly perish where they stand, or be borne over the abyss into the sea. But even while they look, lo ! a huge mass of the rock swings suddenly backward, forming a gaping passage, through which the remnant of the Maori column precipitate themselves en masse. Before the stormers can get near, the rock rolls back again with a noise like thunder, and they are baffled of their prey, after all. Some call loudly for the guns, but the artillery can- not be brought along that narrow pathway. The Block Pah is not, however, the strongest of these Maori redoubts. Peter Dusk knocks the ashes out of his pipe, and rises. " I'm going to the pah, Taperia," he says. " Is there a near cut to it ? " " Yes," answers the Wolf ; " come with me." SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XXII. BEARDING THE LION. No sight so inglorious and sad as a battle-field when the conflict is over. The interior of the conquered pah presented a ghastly picture dead and dying heaped together, amongst the debris of broken weapons. Pursuit of the retreating enemy was not thought of under the circumstances. Indeed, Colonel Chesterton could find no clue to the phenomenon of the rock which had suddenly opened its ponderous jaws before him, and swallowed up the Rebels to a man. Days afterwards, the secret was found out, but it was then too late to give chase. For years " the Moving Rock of Pukina " had been known to the Maoris. A vast mass of solid stone, which formed part of the higher wall on the coast- line, had become by some freak of Nature bedded on a pivot below. A child, knowing the secret, could have swung the stupendous boulder round with a touch of its hand. Without the secret, no known power of leverage could have moved it. The designer of the Block Pah, taking advantage of the " Moving Rock," excavated a broad terrace of steps beneath its opening, which led to the shore beneath. Before the attack on the stronghold, every precau- tion had been taken by the Rebel Chief for a safe retreat through this passage in case of defeat. BEARDING THE LION. 235 fr When Dusk and his companion reached the pah, everything was in a state of confusion. " Who are you, sir ? " asked the commander of the force, eyeing the detective suspiciously. " I am travelling in the interests of the Auckland Times" replied he, boldly, and with -great readiness. " We had information that the pah was to be attacked, and I with a guide, the Maori here, was despatched at once for the scene." " Hem ! How or from whom came the information anent my movements ? " asked the Colonel. " I cannot say." "Which way did you come by the Fire Mount- ain?" "Yes. We had reached Tonga's Peak when you began the attack." " That was an excellent point from which to witness an engagement of this sort," said Colonel Chesterton. " Kindly favor me with your name?" The detective paused a moment ere he answered, " My name is Dusk Peter Dusk." " Representative of the Times ? " " Exactly, Colonel Chesterton." " Very well ; I shall be glad to furnish you with any details for your report. Be good enough to report yourself to my aide-de-camp, Captain Hayward, who will provide you with a stool at the mess this evening. Au revoir ! " The Colonel walked away to give orders for the care of the wounded, to collect the spare arms, and to bury the dead. Dusk took the Wolf aside. " Look here, I mean to follow Titori, if you have the courage to lead the way." 236 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " It is madness," replied the Maori. " The Rebels, enraged at their defeat, will kill you at sight." " Have no fear on my account, my good Taperia," replied Dusk, coolly. " Place me in sight of the Rebel Chief's camp, then leave me. That is all I ask." " You are mad ! " said the courteous Wolf. " How can I know where Titori has gone ? He may be fall- ing back on Taurauga, to join his battered warriors with the band of Te Rauga of Taranaki." " Look here, the Rebels are not far away," said Dusk, quietly. " Titori is much stronger than Colonel Ches- terton, and he will have another fight for it. That's my opinion. I have a sovereign here, which I shall not require. Just say where you think the Maoris have retreated to, and the money is yours." The Wolfs dark eyes glistened greedily at the sight of the coin held out to him. " I think Paul Titori will go to the pah at Judea," he replied, after a pause. " And where is Judea, Taperia ? " " A Maori settlement on the line of coast, about ten miles distant." " Do you know a way to this place I mean an easy way whereby we could reach it before morning?" asked Dusk. " I think so, but " "That'll do," interrupted the other. "Take the money and pay attention to what I say. When it is dark, we will start for Judea. I will put on volunteer uniform." " How ? " questioned Wolf. " Very easy, my friend ; are there not plenty to select from among the slain ? This poor fellow lying here is just my height and build. You see, be has an extra suit strapped to his back. What harm to take BEARDING THE LION. 237 it? He'll never require his uniform again in this world." The Wolf shuddered. "It is terrible to rob the dead," said he. " Perhaps ; but needs must when the devil drives. I have everything staked on the issue of this business, and to draw back means ruin to me. No, the work, I can see, is perilous in the extreme, but I mean to try it, and win if I can." The Maori looked at his companion with something like admiration in his bloodshot eyes. " A madman would scarcely venture into the clutches of Titori at this juncture ; but I suppose you know your own affairs best. I am quite ready to show you the way to Judea, but I will not accompany you within the hapu. Is that understood?" " Quite," returned the detective. " Now, what will you do ? Go back to town, Taperia ?" " I will cross over to Taurauga and await your fate," answered the "Wolf. Darkness fell apace. The wounded had been gathered together and their wants attended to, so far as it was possible under the conditions. Fatigue par- ties had been told off to bury the dead, but this proved to be a work of no small magnitude, considering that friend and foe had to be provided with this last accom- modation. Within the pah a huge bonfire had been made which lighted the men while performing their ghastly work. Some there were, seated in a circle, partaking dinner, for the Rebels had left an ample stock of dried fish and potatoes behind them. In the midst of these Taperia was a guest. Only two or three of the officers assembled at the 238 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. mess, and these were compelled to snatch a hasty meal, and hurry off to their urgent duties. Peter Dusk ate his dinner quietly, but with a thoughtful face. It had been previously arranged that he should meet the Wolf at the ruined hapu with- out the pah, as soon as the meal was over. Although there was little to fear from a night attack by the Rebels, Colonel Chesterton had gathered his forces within the stronghold, and had posted a chain of sentries round it. The difficulty was to get through the outpost. But this was overcome in a manner quite unexpected. Several men had been killed at the hapu outside the fort, and a party was sent out to bury them. Dusk, who had found time to change his costume, formed up with the party in the semi-darkness, and marched out in their ranks. It had been previously arranged between the detec- tive and Wolf that each should seek his own way out of the pah, and that a giant kauri pine, standing away on the right of the ruined Maori settlement, should be the rendezvous. While the burying party were busy with their work, Dusk slipped quietly away, and easily found the tree, where he sat down to await the coming of the Maori. Peter Dusk was hardy of frame, and had a will of iron to back it ; but the day had been a long one, at the end of many long days before it, and he began to feel tired and drowsy. It appeared to him a long time, waiting and watching alone, and in the darkness. Of course, he had waited and watched before, but under different conditions. A man never feels alone in the heart of London. Here, in the wild grandeur of these looming rocks, which appeared to take gigantic shapes, and nod and gibber at him, he felt a kind of awe BEARDING THE LION. 239^ which made him shut his eyes and shiver, he knew not why. In the midst of his reflections, there came at length upon nfl ears a strange noise, like the call of the " toho," the night bird of Maoriland. He listened attentively, and the cry was repeated, but much nearer than before. Presently, a dark form presented itself almost at his side. - " Who's that ? Speak ! " "It is I the Wolf." " What the deuce kept you so long ! " cried Dusk. " Hi ti, moi tara. A man can't assume the shape of the devil at all times. I had no desire to be shot, so I waited for an opportunity to drop down into the swamp, where there is no watch set, and here I am." " What is the time ? " "Midnight or thereabouts; but I say, my friend, where are your arms your belt and pouch ? " Dusk laughed a low chuckling laugh. " I believe I am running risk sufficient already, without venturing into the Rebel camp armed to the teeth," said he. " My plan is to go Titori empty-handed, tell him I am a deserter from the volunteers, and ask him to let me serve under him." " Will he believe you ? " " I do not know, but I will try, my good Taperia. The worst that can befall me overtakes one or other of us every day of our lives. Come, let us move. Which is the route ? " " Follow, and make no noise," answered the other, striking back again through the old dilapidated hapu. " We shall have to pass near the chain of sentries, on the south side of the pah, and from thence to the coast- line." 240 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Not a word was spoken as the two men threaded their way, cautiously but at a swift pace, down a long ravine, which divided the path from the Tonga Valley. For over an hour they toiled on now over huge boulders, now through soft, swampy peat, which so exhausted them that when the sandy shore of the coast was reached they were fain to throw themselves down full length, to rest and breathe awhile. " Got any tobaccy ? " said Taperia. " Plenty," replied Dusk ; " but will it be safe to strike a light here?" " Why not ? We are a long way from the pah, now." When the Maori had lit his short black cutty, they started on again up the coast-line, which led them round inlets and small bays, and along a stretch of smooth sand, as straight and level as a macadamized road. Here again, farther on, rose the steep cliffs of the coast- wall, as at the Block Pah. It was breaking day now, and the Wolf, pointing with his finger, said : " Yonder lies Judea. Half a mile from the high peak to the left is situated the settle- ment. I will accompany you to the foot of the cliff, but no farther. I have spoken." Under the shade of the overhanging ledge of which the Maori had spoken, the two men sat down. Briefly the Wolf directed his companion how to proceed : " Wait until it is broad day," he said, in conclusion ; " then ascend the range boldly ; the Maori scouts may have a shot at you, but they are not very good marks- men at a distance. Good luck ! and I hope you will come safe out of it." "I have little fear on that head," replied Dusk; " however, one never knows what may happen. Look ! BEARDING THE LION. 241 here is a small packet of papers. They are addressed to Mr. Hilton Fernbrook of the Barrier Rock ; I want you to post these for me when you reach Taurauga." " It shall be done," cried the Wolf, taking the packet and hiding it in his tamba. " Anything else I can do for you ? " " No, except this my last coin ! " replied Dusk, laughing and handing it to the Maori. "I guess I shan't want money in the camp at Judea. Now, good- bye ! Don't forget the packet." Peter Dusk stood and watched the retreating form of his faithful friend, until a bend of the coast hid him from his view. Then, from a secret pocket, hid away down below the knee of his trousers, he drew forth the smallest of revolvers. The miniature wea- pon had six chambers, every one of which was war- ranted to kill. He examined the toy carefully, ere he put it again in its hiding-place. Ascending the cliff, as directed by the Maori, Dusk came to a deep gorge cut through the hill-top. It was quite dry, and there was a well-worn footpath leading upwards. It took the intrepid officer some time to reach the summit; but this once reached, Judea and the surrounding country lay at his feet like a map. To the right he saw a large valley under cultivation, shut in by ridges, hills, and mountains, rising one above the other in the misty distance, with the blue sky for a background. Away to the left stood the settlement, the whares, or huts, clustered together in ten or a dozen rows, like diggers' tents. Much nearer to where he stood loomed a rock, like a sugar-loaf with the top cut off, and upon this stood the pah of Judea stronger, larger, and far more difficult to attack than the Block Pah of Tonga Valley. 16 242 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. As Dusk stood and gazed about him, a musket-ball whizzed in close proximity to his head, and before he had time to notice from whence the report which followed came, he was seized from behind and dragged to the ground. " Te hini TeJce PaJceha" cried a gruff voice in his ear. Dusk help up the thumb of his left hand, a sign that he did not understand Maori. There was a mur- mur of voices at this, and a call to some one on the ridge below, who quickly clambered up. He was a Pakeha, tall and big. At the first sound of his voice, Dusk turned to look at him, and beheld Drummond Blake. " Who the devil are you, and how did you get here ? " he said, waving the Maoris back. Dusk had his story ready, and told it briefly. He had been unfortunate, got tipsy while on duty, had been tried and sentenced to be flogged escaped and wished to fight with the Maoris if they would receive him as a comrade. There was quite a ring of warriors around him now, who seemed to spring up out of the ground, or from the rocks around. " I can do nothing," said Blake, gruffly. " You will have to go before Paul Titori." COLONEL DE ROAL'S THEORY. 243 CHAPTER XXIII. COLONEL DE EOAL's THEORY. PETEB DUSK was led away by his captors in complete silence. There was a narrow, well-worn pathway down into a deep gorge, whose luxuriant foliage almost shut out the light of day, into which they led him. Halting for a moment here, the Maoris searched his pockets and took the contents into their keeping. The prisoner was then blindfolded and led onward over a very rough road in an upward direction. In half an hour or thereabouts, but which had ap- peared to the mock deserter a whole revolution of the clock, the escort came to a halt, and the bandage was removed from the prisoner's eyes. Peter Dusk, looking about him, found himself within a large circle, walled in by a triple bank of earthworks thrown up to a height of six or seven feet, with loopholes some eight inches to a foot wide, and extending round the whole of the breastwork. Around on every side were parallel lines between the earthworks, excavated out of the solid rock and forming a communication from the outer to the inner line of defence, while innu- merable rifle-pits crossed and recrossed each other round the length and breadth of the enclosure. Two big guns of heavy calibre were run out upon wide platforms overlooking the gorge seaward, and their embrasures formed a bomb-proof shelter to the warriors who manned them. 244 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Not at once did the prisoner note all these things, for as soon as the bandage was removed from his eyes he was led away through one of the passages, and down a flight of rugged stairs, into a kind of square chamber hewn out of the cliff. This place, which was lighted by two Maori whale-oil lamps, revealed three persons seated at a table, and two others reclining on a couch of skins and rugs at the upper end of the chamber. Two of the personages at the table were Maoris Paul Titori, the Rebel Leader himself, and his aide Honti, Chief of the Waitauri. Titori had a bloody cloth about his temples, which imparted to his face a ghastly look. Between the giant Honti and Titori sat a Pakeha, with his arm encased in a rude sling. On his head was a cap, with flaps made from the skin of the New Zealand beaver ; a tight-fitting coat, which had once been a toga, lined with soft mica flax, was buttoned up to his chin and fastened at the middle with a belt containing a revolver. One glance at this man revealed to the watchful eyes of the sham deserter Colonel de Roal. The fourth of the group rose from his recumbent position at the entrance of Dusk and his guard. For one moment, it took all the strength of his self-will to repress a cry of surprise from the detective, as his gaze fell on the features of this man. Had it not been that he was fully prepared to find a strong resemblance between Victor Mauprat, the escaped convict, and the Heir of Fernbrook nay, more than a striking likeness, a very facsimile it is just possible that he, the veteran, cool-headed, daring fox, might have betrayed himself and forfeited his commission and his life on the spot. As it was and he had schooled himself for a surprise it was some moments ere Dusk could believe but that COLONEL DE ROAL'S THEORY. 245 he was looking at his companion and employer, Hilton Fernbrook. Man of the world, and practical to the paring of a nail, Dusk had, like the majority of his class, no belief in anything except that which could be clearly demon- strated on the spot. The adage setting forth that " No two men are alike " he had held as a truism which until now had been verified in his experience. But here was the exception to the rule. Just the same man height, form, age, complexion, gesture, features, everything, even to the most minute particular that he, Dusk, had seen in the man at Drury Lane Theatre the escapee from the Del Madilino, Venice. For a second, a strange thought crossed the brain of the detective. What, after all, if he had been outwitted by the man who called himself Hilton Fernbrook ? Might this so-called Fernbrook, the man he had journeyed with from England, be the man wanted the other only a myth ? While this idea held possession of Dusk, the man rose from his couch and seated himself at the table. He folded his arms and indulged the prisoner with a long stare. " Whom have we here ? " he asked after a pause. A tall muscular Maori stood forward and replied in good English, " We caught this Pakeha prowling about the cliff at daybreak." The four men at the table looked at the prisoner, and then held a brief whispered conference. " Was he armed ? " asked Colonel de Roal. " No ; he had nothing but these," and as he spoke the Maori advanced to the table, and deposited thereon a knife, some tobacco, three or four copper coins, and a piece of linen in the form of a bandage. 246 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. "Let the warriors wait outside, Tonga," said the Rebel Chieftain, waving the escort away. As soon as they were gone, Titori lifted his blood- stained face to the prisoner, and said : " Now, why did the Pakeha come into the hands of his enemies ? Speak." The tale was brief enough, and Dusk had it ready rehearsed. He was on duty the night before the battle at the Block Pah. It was a chilly night, and raining. A comrade gave him some rum, and he became drowsy and fell asleep on his post. He was found out, and sentenced to be flogged. Death was preferable to the cat-o'-nine tails, so he had run the gauntlet of the guard and pickets, and escaped. " Why did you come here to seek death ? " inquired de Roal. "No; I knew not where my wandering steps led me," replied Dusk. " My chief desire was to get as far away as possible from the camp of Captain Chesterton and his dreadful punishment." " Humph ! " and De Roal rested his wounded limb in an easy position on the table, and looked hard at the solid face of the detective. " What is your name ? " said he. "Peter Dusk." Victor Mauprat raised his head quickly, and con- tracted his brows like a man who is tryiug to remember. " Dusk ? Queer name," answered the Colonel, re- flecting. " Are you an Englishman ? " " Yes, that is, my parents were," said the prisoner, correcting himself. " Ah, born in the colony ? " " Yes," after a slight pause. " What is your corps ? " COLONEL DE ROAL'S THEORY. 247 " South Auckland Defence Force," replied Dusk. " And that is their uniform you are wearing ? " It is." " What are their arms ? " " Rifle and bayonet." " Will you say how many men Colonel Chesterton had with him at the attack of the pah ? " " Two thousand, all told," replied Dusk, at haphaz- ard. "Are there any reinforcements on the way from Taurauga ? " " I do not know." There was ominous silence for a while, then Titori asked : " How many Maori warriors are wounded at the pah?" About forty." ' And what has been done with them? " " They are placed with the wounded Pakehas, under care of the doctor," anwered Dusk, readily. " One word more, my friend," said the Colonel, smil- ing and clapping his hands together. At the sum- mons, Tonga and his escort appeared. " Take away the Pakeha and guard him well," he said. Mauprat yawned indolently. " The poor devil is no doubt a deserter. I vote we give him a weapon and make him fight for us." " But a man who will desert his comrades will also betray them," put in the Maori leader, quickly. " If we trust this traitor Pakeha, what guarantee have we that he will not turn traitor a second time, when opportunity offers ? After all, he may be a spy from Colonel Chesterton." " Humph ! Titori is a renowned chief,* and what he says may be true," responded Victor Mauprat. " Let 248 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. the Pakeha have short shrift give him a bullet for breakfast. It will be the surest way out of the diffi- pulty." " Nay, a Pakeha is best fitted to judge a Pakeha," said Titori, rising and beckoning to his lieutenant, Honti. " I am satisfied to leave this haki (rogue) to the wisdom of my friends. Titori is a warrior, not a judge nor an executioner. I have spoken." Saying which he went out, followed by the herculean Honti. De Roal and his companion sat silent for some time, each busied with a new current of reflections, caused by the appearance of the sham deserter in their midst. The force of circumstances had driven these renegades into their present position. With the rightful Heir of Fernbrook returned to New Zealand, they saw the game was up that everything would be discovered, and all parts of the vast machinery of the law set in motion to capture them. De Roal was not a man to sit down quietly in de- spair when danger menaced him. On the contrary, the greater the peril pending, the higher rose that self- satisfied impudence and will-power within him to meet it at all points. At a glance he saw that the only chance of escape for himself and his comrades, lay in making common cause with the Rebel Maoris. Once identified with the Maori chieftains and their hosts, they could defy the law. With the aid of Te Papa's daughter, who in her heart of hearts fully believed that the usurper Mauprat was what he pre- tended to be, and at his solicitation, Te Coro used all her influence to bring about the desired friendship be- tween these Pakehas and Paul Titori, which appeal was successful. De Roal, with Drummond Blake and the Ferret, joined the Rebels at Wiparia, and in the san- COLONEL DE ROAL'S THEORY. 249 guinary engagement which followed some days after at Te Muna, between Titori and the force under Major Den- ton, the three white men gave ample proof of their sin- cerity for the side they had espoused. Paul Titori, who shared the opinion of Te Coro, that Victor Mauprat was the bona fide Fernbrook, wondered why he re- mained absent from their ranks. It was on his behalf that the chieftain had accepted service from the others. Through the clairvoyant Maori girl, the Colonel saw what would happen, and used all his persuasive powers to induce Mauprat to leave the Rock, but in vain. The convict remained to fight out the battle to the bitter end, as we have seen. The two men sat silent until Mauprat, lifting his head and looking full at the ci-devant Colonel, broke the silence : " What is your opinion of this fellow, mon pb-e?" De Roal stroked his grizzly moustache. " My son," said he, " an old French writer has set forth a text which has been learned by many a clever man since it was written. This is it ; ' Suspect what seems im- probable, to be true; that which is probable, to be false.' We will apply the rnaxim to the prisoner. At daybreak this man is caught prowling round the cliff yonder. He is in uniform, but has nothing about him in the way of a weapon of defence, not even so much as a shot or pouch belt. He tells us that he was under the sentence of a court-martial for being asleep on sen- try duty, and he deserted, dreading the punishment to follow. This is all most probable ; I have known men who would rather brave certain destruction than suffer the degradation of the lash, and certainly this fellow has the look of a man of that stamp. I say that the probabilities are that our prisoner is what he says he 250 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. is ; but, falling back on the French adage, I do not be. lieve it." Mauprat nodded, but did not speak. " The improbabilities take shape in this way," con- tinued De Roal. " Throughout the whole human race black, white, or red two or three leading charac- teristics are indexed upon the face, but it is only by the initiated that such traits can be deciphered aright. Mark me ; this man has eyes that would not wink upon his post. Did you mark with what a keen inquisitive look he took in the whole bearings of this chamber and its occupants ? Not a nook, nor an article, to the most infinitesimal measurement, escaped his cool, calculat- ing vision. Bah ! Your ordinary fellow would have had no eyes, no thought but of self, under the circum- stances. Men with such a bold space between the eyes, with such a massive jaw, and long, obstinate, firm-set lips, are not easily tempted to drink while on duty. My opinion is, our friend could not be turned from his duty not by the possibility of the lash, or death it- self!" Victor Mauprat uttered a low chuckle. " These are improbabilities, man pere" " Nothing more, my son," he cried, moving his wounded arm into an easier position. "Man's reason becomes sharpened as danger gathers about him. Every thought of the brain centres upon any given point with that subtle endeavor to sift and analyze, so that even improbabilities are cited for the chance of discovering a glimmer of the truth." " Theories ! nothing more, De Roal." " Cher ami" responded the other, with a peculiar smile, " theory is the parent of discovery. It is said that Fouch6 spent the best part of his youth watching COLONEL DE ROAL'S THEORY. 251 the antics of insects beneath the lens of a powerful raircoscope. His great theory of the by-ways of man- kind was inaugurated by this study. It is improbable that our friend yonder is an Englishman, for he said he was born in the colony; yet the boots he is wearing were never made in New Zealand. No, nor were they served out to him as part of his kit. Nicholson, of London, measured the feet for the boots. I know the make all the world over. Besides, your volunteer has his hair cut short, and sports a moustache ; this man is shorn like a priest, and has a head on him like that of a poet out at elbows." " Sacre bleu! Who the devil is the man?" cried Mauprat, starting to his feet. "Nay, my son; sit down. I mean to test these improbabilities of mine e'er the sun dips behind the Tonga Peak. Si vis pacem, para bettum." 252 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. CHAPTER XXIV. POOR TB COKO. THE Auckland Times is a purely Conservative organ and its chief delight is to chronicle the doings of the Upper Ten. Under the heading of "Distinguished Visitors," it devotes a column and a half to the arrival of Prince di Roumaine and his lovely daughter, the Lady Violante, together with their suite. In a purely Radical community (the Times notwithstanding), it is a red-letter day to have a real live Prince amongst them. Moreover, the interest in Prince di Roumaine and his belongings is considerably augmented by a full and particular account of that romance of love at Venice between the fair Violante and young Warne, the banker's heir, occupying something like two columns more in the same journal. The clubs or rather the youthful members thereof are dying for an introduc- tion to the charming bride-elect, whilst some of the elders, self-made men with money, strive and vie with each other for the honor of presentation to " His High- ness." Lady Blanche Trevor, who has taken the beautiful Italian under her special care, is charmed with the simplicity and sweetness of her charge. The days go by very pleasantly for both father and daughter, in the new land at the Antipodes. The for- mer wonders within himself at the stupendous growth of the young giant. Here he sees men completely freed 1>OOR TE CORO. 253 from the fetters that hamper and retard older and more civilized peoples, men with the thews and sinews and will to transform, with the wand of a Prospero, a wilderness into a mighty nation. The tide of war has rolled backward, and left Society free to pursue its balls, its parties, and its pleasures at will. For Violante there is but one endless round of that butterfly existence which the votaries of Fashion call gayety ; but although she is the belle and the petted darling of the most select set in New Zealand, their adulation does not spoil the innate gentleness of her disposition, or mar the kindliness of her nature or the purity of her mind. Prince di Roumaine, prince though he be, has kept his word with the plebeian lover. He has brought his child twelve thouasnd miles to give her in marriage to one whom he believes will make her happy. It is a grand wedding : no gaudy show to please the eyes of the vulgar here, but a quiet select gathering where each personage present is a somebody each lady as beautiful and accomplished as the bride herself, The world goes on much the same when the bride and bridegroom emerge into it as one only it seems a new world to them, and filled with brighter shapes than are seen by those whose first romance of love has gone for evermore. The Italian patrician goes back again to his ances- tral halls by the sunny shores of the Adriatic, and Violante begins to lead a life of usefulness and love. At the Barrier Rock the wheel of life moves its round of dull monotony, one fine day the image of its fellow. Every city mail brings invitations from the fashionable world to Hilton Fernbrook, but the Master of the Rock has no time for idleness and frivolity. His estate is 254 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. on the threshold of bankruptcy, and he must work to retrieve his losses. " It is a fight with Fate," he says, with a laugh, " and I mean to cheat the jade." His strange story has been a nine-days' wonder, and then has given place to some other wonder, as all things must in this bustling sphere. Friends have offered their congratulations in scores, and a few of them practical help ; yet neither good wishes nor the ready sympathy of amicable neighbors was half as sweet to him as the shy look of welcome from the haughty Blanche Trevor. To him there was a whole- souled interest in her every look and word. " The usurper has fled, and left you an empty coffer as a memento of his cleverness," she said. " Oh, I care not, so long as he did not rob me of your love ! " And my lady sighs and blushes like a school- .girl, under the glance of his eloquent, pleading eyes. To Rita the wheel revolves as was its wont when her young master came home for his first holiday. The watchful, suspicious look has vanished from her face now, and she moves about less cat-like. The old house- keeper cannot comprehend how one man can so closely resemble another as to defy detection, though Hilton has tried to impress the fact upon her a hundred times. The incredulous Maori goes her way muttering, " How can it be ? Who shall stand in the young Eaglet's place and deceive me ? No one can be in two places at the same time unless he is aided by the dread fiend Te Torva. Ah, my master ! I am glad to look at your face again, now the devil has gone." Te Coro heard the story of Hilton Fernbrook's return with infinite amazement. To her it came like revela- tion of some deed perpetrated under the influence of a powerful opiate. What had she done? given her POOR TE CORO. 255 virgin love to a felon and a murderer ! Alas ! it was so. Whatever extenuation there might be for her under the circumstances, the degradation and shame were none the less for her. She the daughter of New Zealand's proudest chieftain, to be so entrapped and dishonored ! Bah ! Te Papa's blood was in her veins and his courage in her heart. Though she was but a woman and a Maori, she vowed silently to find this man, and kill him, without the faintest shadow of turn- ing from her fell purpose. To resolve was to act as speedily with Te Coro, but with caution, as became the instincts of her race. She remembered how this man had wished to espouse the Maori cause against the Government ; how to that end she had brought about a meeting between him and the Rebel Titori. Wher- ever was the Rebel encampment, there she would find the pretender. That same evening she began her task. Fernbrook was in the library after tea, looking over his file of newspapers received from Auckland. A tap at the door. " Come in." " It is only I," says Te Coro, peeping through the doorway. " Truant ! When did you return ? " cries the young man, with a friendly nod and a smile. " Take a seat, and tell me what good fortune has wafted you back again to this dull abode ? " " There now, my good relative, dear old Rita, would have me believe that this same " dull abode," as you term it, has been an Eden during my absence," replies the girl, with a merry laugh. " By the way, Mrs. Gay- land has been very ill." " Yes ; I saw mention of it in the Times. The lady has had excellent nursing." " I thank you. Is that a compliment ? " 256 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " I trust you do not think me so ungallant as to mean it in any other sense, my dear Te Coro," he says, at the same time handing her a chair. " Oh, it only seems yesterday, as it were, since you and I used to romp below on yonder green," she says, seating herself, and looking steadfastly at him. " Now, it is my dear Te Coro and Miss Te Coro and what not." The young man laughs. " Well," he says, "I only hope the usurper was as temperate in his conversation, my Puni Peko." A sudden frown wrinkles the girl's face, and makes its beauty almost hideous. " Bah ! Do not mention the monster," she says, in a low tone. " Why did you suffer him to depart ? Had I been in your place, I would have shot the villain dead on the spot." " Humph ! Have you seen the papers ? The Times reports that my worthy representative and his friends are with Paul Titori at the Block Pah, on the Wairoa ! " " I have not seen the papers," she adds, with a smile. " Of, course, I forgot ; ladies are not interested in these things." " Pardon me, I am concerned in everything connected with my poor misguided race," she answers quietly. "It is to be regretted that Maori and Pakeha cannot live in peace," he replies. "Colonel Chesterton has crossed over into Taurauga with three regiments to attack Titori in his stronghold at Judea. Perchance a stray bullet from a volunteer may end the career of Victor Mauprat, the convict, and his confederates." Te Coro did not reply. Taking out a book from her embroidered tamba, she began to write therein. Hilton Fernbrook watched her with some curiosity. POOR TE CORO. 257 " I am only jotting down the name of the usurper," she says, in reply to his look of interrogation. " I have never heard it till this moment. And now, I must say good-bye." " Are you going away again, Te Coro ? " " Yes, I am sorry to say, for I had been looking for- ward for a quiet rest in this dear, dull, gloomy, sea- bound prison, where you and I were cradled, Hilton Fernbrook, and where I intend listening to your won- derful experiences in other lands. Kiki tuio mart. I must postpone my pleasures for a more convenient season." " Why, pray ? " " Mrs. Gayland is my patient. The physician did me the honor to ascribe my friend's recovery to my excellent nursing rather than to his skill. Compliment- ary, rather but scarcely true. We are ordered a change of scene, and I am pledged to accompany my friend. I must go, sir. Ta-ta ! " " Where do you intend going ? " " To the Wonderland of this wonderful country the hot springs at Wairoa," she replies, laughing. " For some months we intend to throw off the usages of civilization, and become wanderers and pilgrims round Rotomahana. We shall scale the Fire Mount, Rotorua ; and bask in the sunny ripples of Lake Tara- wera. Our eyes shall behold the Maori War-god, who stands with his flaming meri at the rugged gates of the Pink and White Terraces, the wonder and envy of the great round world the " " Pray pause and take breath," he interjects. " Sir, you will have to do penance for interrupting me," she cries. " I want a boon." " Ask, and it is granted, Te Coro," 258 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " You are not wise." " Why so, Uhi Titif (My darling). "Because I am a woman, and I may want the moon." " Say, rather, the man in it, Te Coro ! " he rejoins gayly. " That is certainly nearer to my request, sir. Bosco the Maori, was my father's foster-brother. Cau Bosco accompany me to Wairoa ? " " Certainly." " Then, I will say good-bye," she responds, rising. "I see you are impatient to get back again to the Times." "One moment that reminds me. This struggle between the Rebels and our men appears to be drifting round to the vicinity of Rotomahana. Will your trip be free from danger ? " There is a flash from the girl's magnificent black eyes. "Tut!" she says. "Am I not a Maori the daughter of Te Papa?" Fernbrook smiles. "Well, then, I hope you will return soon. Be good enough to tender my regards to your fair friend, and a wish for her speedy recovery." Te Coro has her hand on the door, when her com- panion remembers something he had to say : " Did I mention to you that a gentleman named Dusk ac- companied me from England here ? " he asks. " No." "Write the name in your book, beside that of a Victor Mauprat, Mr. Dusk is somewhere in the neighborhood of Mount Tarawera, and you may possibly meet." Te Coro obeys. " Has your friend decided to view the wonders of Maoriland ? " she asks, POOR TE COEO. 259 " I think not. The man is a detective. His mission is to find our friend the convict, and take him back again to jail." Te Coro shudders and retires noiselessly. The great wheel of life moves round slowly for Victorine Gayland. Each revolution has its pain and its tears for her, spite of all her pride and her phi- losophy. The elite wend the even tenor of their way as heretofore, and do not miss their leader. They marry and are given in marriage, and dance, and jig, and amble, and lisp, and nickname one another, just the same as if the poor, weak, suffering worm of Fashion had never queened it over them. Poor Victorine Gayland ! rest thy sorrowing head upon the soft bosom of Te Coro faithful until death for thee. Let the lights gleam upon fair women and handsome men. Let diamonds sparkle and soft music roll amidst all the splendor that money can produce. It is only Dead Sea fruit, after all a hollow sham ! Amos Ward calls often to see the patient, but he knows now there is no hope for him beyond her friend- ship. Love is dead within the soul of Major Hargrave's daughter. Ah ! how she longs and yearns for her old life again, in that poor cottage on the sea wall. The needy griping penury that made her sour and dis- satisfied would be thrice welcome now, if it could bring with it her dead father, and that one love which was lost to her forever. She had prayed for riches, and lo ! they were hers in abundance. Heaven help her how powerless they were! Save Te Coro, no one knew or would ever know, for the matter of that how near this woman of the world had been to self-destruction. From the con- templation of the awful act the unhappy Victorine re- 260 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. coiled with horror. Henceforth she would think of it no more, nor of the cause thereof. Out of the dark- ness had come to her a glimmer of light and hope the hope which often stimulates the world-weary, who have discovered that all which glitters is riot gold. Not at the shrine of Saint or the footstool of Priest, but to " Our Father, which art in Heaven," did Victorine Gayland vow to devote the remainder of her life. The poor were to be her field ; and her mission charity. Get well quickly, dear lady, and enter upon thy good work I WAKD'S KIFLES. 261 CHAPTER XXV. WARD'S KIFLES. ROUND and round turns the wheel of life, with many a mad revolution for Amos Ward. He is a man of energetic and combative temperament, one of that obstinate, hard-headed breed which is the strength of the Greater Britain which is surely rising at the An- tipodes. To sit down and bemoan his fate to cry and pule like a love-sick girl because a woman's caprice stands between His Worship and earthly bliss ? Pshaw! The Mayor of Auckland is a man of the world, in its most practical, work-a-day sense. He knows that Victorine Gayland has spoken the fiat which has surely blasted every hope of his social existence. He feels that something has gone out of his life ; but forth from the utter loneliness within him rises his salvation. He must work ! Ay, that is it, your Worship. Work has been the saviour of many a better man ere now. He casts about him for something to do. No ordinary work will suit his present malady. Besides, lie is rich, very rich, and most of his wealth is to his hand in current coin of the realm. What work can he undertake in his position ? While he sits thinking out the problem, Phil Brock solves it for him in half a dozen words : "Arrah ! what the devil is the matter wid ye, sorr, that ye're mopin' about like a calf that has lost its 262 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. mother ? " cries the irrepressible valet. " Come, now, buy a rifle, an' be off wid ye to fight the Maoris. Why don't ye, agra ? " " Good ! I have it," responds the master, his blue eyes ablaze with inspiration, and rising from his seat. "Musha, an' much good may it do you," responds the other, looking at the Mayor in a doubtful way, as if not quite certain about his sanity. " Tell me what you've got, avick ! Is it the gumgecum, or a touch of hydrophobia? say, alannah!" " You old villain how dare " " There you go ! Of course I'm the worst in the world, bekase of my sympathy," interrupted Brock, with a look of wounded innocence. Amos Ward laughed. " Look here, Phil, how would you like to join the volunteers, eh ?" "Me is it?" responds the confidential servant, with a stare. " Is it ould Phil Brock to be a militia- man an' wear a red coat that doesn't seem to cover a man's redundancy ? Go along out o' that wid ye. Shure it's only joking ye are ! " "Indeed, I'm not, Phil. Your words gave me an idea, and by Jove, I'll do it." " Do what, master dear ? " " Raise a regiment and go out and fight the Rebel Maoris." Poor Brock held up his hands in dumb amaze. He had had his doubts about his master Lord help him ! but this settled it. There were many others besides the faithful Phil who began to have misgivings respecting Ward's soundness of brain, but the man went his way not heeding. He had found an outlet for his trouble, and that was sufficient for him. He banqueted the city WARD'S RIFLES. 263 councillors, and resigned his mayoralty within the week ; then commenced to put his scheme into opera- tion. To a man with money at his command, there was no difficulty in getting a body of men suitable for the purpose. Indeed, at the liberal scale of pay of- fered, Amos Ward could have enrolled six thousand rank and file as easily as six hundred. The Government of the day gladly availed them- selves of the reinforcement. They provided competent drill instructors and arms for them bestowed the local rank of Colonel upon the founder, and in a very short time " Ward's Rifles " were ready for the field. The new corps did not waste much time in the City of Auckland. Before the men were fairly initiated into the manual and platoon exercises, they received orders to march to the aid of the Commander of the Local Forces, Colonel Chesterton, at Taurauga. Tonga and Te Huri, Chieftains of Taranaki, together with their warlike tribes, had joined Paul Titori in the Rotomahana district, a most difficult part of the country for an attacking force to operate against an enemy, inasmuch as almost every hill and mount formed an almost impregnable position. Two years previous to our tale, the dissatisfied Maoris were at work fortify- ing and strengthening every point of vantage round and about the famous Mount Rotorua. The Gate Pah, the stronghold at Judea, together with the Block Fort, formed three of the strongest positions of the Rebels ; and had the Maori leader been supplied with cannon, the volunteers, brave and effective as they certainly were, would have been utterly powerless to cope with him. It was in the vicinity of the Gate Pah, a few miles west of Taurauga, that Colonel Ward first en- countered the enemy. The gunboat " Harrier " had 264 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. brought the corps from Auckland and landed them at the settlement Bay of Plenty. One hundred blue- jackets from the warships, with two small Armstrong guns accompanied the Rifles in their march to join Col- onel Chesterton, whose camp lay beyond Tonga's Peak. The reinforcements had safely crossed the ford at Wairoa, and were bivouacked for the night on a high ridge, overlooking the river. Lieutenants Baker and Howard, of the " Harrier," with that ready tact innate in seamen, had rigged up an alfresco mess-room for the nonce, and, with sailor-like hospitality, invited Ward and his officers to join them at dinner. What- ever may have been wanting in the way of silver and glass at this primitive banquet, there was certainly no lack of provisions and wine, for Jack usually takes care to accommodate himself under any circumstances and in all places. While the men gathered in groups along the line of piled arms, their comrades, the sea- men, made a roaring fire of kauri logs. A fiddle was unearthed from the recesses of a gun-carriage and songs and jokes became the order of the evening. Phil Brock, though disdaining drill or discipline in toto, had donned the uniform of the Rifles and followed his master. A knot of petty officers had gathered in a circle, within speaking distance of the mess, ready to be at the call of their superiors within the tent. Amongst them was the confidential servant, close along- side a coxswain, by name Bill Halcombe, for whose company the Irishman had taken a fancy. There was no lack of pipes or grog among them, and they soon began to be as mellow as men under such conditions always are. Snarly, and betimes unsocial to morbidness, Brock seemed to be in great good humor with himself and WARD'S RIFLES. 265 with those around him now. He was the talker on this occasion, the sailors listening. Others were listen- ing, too, for the officers in the mess tent could hear every word he uttered. " Bad cess to me, but it's the truth I'm tellin' yez, boys," with a grim laugh. " The ugliest divvies ye ever saw, some of them same ' Ward's Rifles,' wid their goose-step, and their ' pressents ' and * shoulder arrum's,' an' the like. Shure, there's not one o' them could hit a mountain at five paces distant. Bedad, just wait until there's a row, that's all ; ye'll see some fine divarsion, if the Maoris come on us." " The Maoris be blowed ! " responds Bill. " I guess these chaps will fight like tarnation if they have a chance. A finer body of men couldn't be got together in the country. Pass the pannikin, old man." " Oh, faix, they're big enough," says Phil, placing a tin pot to his mouth that contained something more aromatic than water, then passing the can to his com- rade. " That reminds me, ma bouchal, when I was a gossoon, thirty-five years ago, I belonged to the North Cork Rifles Militia, and in the same company was a tall scaffold-pole of a fellow, about your own height and build, agra. This man was always looking down at his feet, which, let me tell you, were not great beauties in the laste. Tall as the spalpeen was, there was a good portion of him on the ground in the make- up of them same feet, which I may say had no more instep on them than a brick has. Well, begorra! we had the smallest officer for a captain that ye ever set your two eyes on. He wasn't five feet high an' wid his heels to his boots three inches long. One morning the captain sees Madigan (the long gander) wid his head down as usual up he goes and stands fore-ninst the 266 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. man, an' siz he l Arrah, hould up yer head.' Madigan lifts his eyes from his boots and fixes them on the sky. ' Now,' siz the little man, ' let me see you always hould up yer head like that.' ' Always ? ' cries the long fellow. ' Yes, sir, always,' ses' the captain. ' Good-bye, then,' retorts Madigan, houlding out his hand. ' I shall never see you again ! ' " There was a roar of laughter from the mess. " Listen to the blaguards," says Phil, in an Irish whisper. " Shure a dacent man can't be talking to his neighbor, but they must be listening to all you're say- ing, just as if it was treason. Where's their manners, I wonder ? It's mighty good-natured some people can be when they've had a skinful of good liquor ; never dreaming that a poor body has a mouth on them." (In a louder key) " I'll lay ye now that the master's as full as an egg." Another peal of laughter from all save the Colonel, who instantly became as red in the face as a turkey- cock. Phil had shot his bolt, and did not wait the issue. " It's a quare world, mate," says he, gliding off into another topic with true diplomacy. " I remim- ber when I came out to the colonies, we had an ould couple on board by the name of Mr. and Missus Brophy. They were saloon passengers, if ye plase, an' they gave more throuble then all the other two hundred men and women in the ship. Ould Brophy was throubled with windy spasms and colic a murderin' sudden and pain- ful complaint. It would come on him all in a minute sometimes in the daytime, sometimes in the dead of night. The moment her husband began to groan Mis- tress Norah Brophy would start up, rush to the cuddy, make a thunderin' big mustard-and-pepper poultice and apply it in a jiffey. In the very next cabin to the Bro- WARD'S RIFLES. 267 phys was a great rough Colonel, who had lost an eye and one of his arrums in the Crimee ; and be jabers, one night ould Brophy has an attack of his inimy the colic. Away rushes his wife to the ship's caboose, makes the plaster, but in the hurry the poor woman mistook the Colonel's cabin for her own. Widout a word she whips down the bedclothes, and dabs the poultice on the sa- cred person of the slumbering son of Mars. Whoop ! Be the powers, if there wasn't a murtherin' philalloo the next minnit that roused everybody in the ship from stiui to starn. The Colonel was out of his bunk in a twinkling, and drawing his naked sword, chased the misfortunate woman for her bare life. The Cap- tain, hearing the row, rushed below just in time to receive Norah Brophy in his arms. " ' What's the matter ? ' cried the Skipper. " ' Matter ! ' echoes the Colonel, furiously, at the same time dabbing the point of his weapon into the poultice which had fallen from him to his feet. < Look at this, sir. This is a very good joke, eh? Now, I want to know who's done me the honor to apply this article to my unoffending person without my author- ity?" "The Captain coughed: 'My dear Colonel, your habiliments are hardly in conformity with the rules of high etiquette,' ses he. '"Hang etiquette!' roared the Colonel. 'If it comes to that, you're not standing on ceremony, Cap- tain Dawson, for you're not in full uniform.'" A roar of laughter drowned the remainder of Brock's story, and in the midst of it there walked into the circle a tall personage, clad in a sober brown tweed. The appearance of the man was so sudden and unex- 268 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. pected, that the sailors started to their feet with an exclamation of surprise. " Don't stir, ray men," he said in a quiet, cool tone. " Be good enough to find Colonel Ward, and say an old friend wishes to see him. " " It's Mister Fernbrook, sure enough ! " cried Phil, lifting his cap. " Step this way, sir here's the mas- ter." "Hallo, Fernbrook! Who would have thought of seeing you here in this part of the country ? " exclaimed Ward, rising and shaking the new-comer by the hand. " Gentlemen, this is an old friend, Mr. Hilton Fern- brook, of the Barrier Rock." Another powder-keg is brought for a chair, and a fresh supply of grog put on the board. " Let me ask if you have dined? " said Ward. " Yes, thanks ; I had a capital dinner at the Wel- lington Wairoa, where I am obliged to stay for a few days on business. It was my intention to have jour- neyed with you from Taurauga, but the mail-boat from Auckland broke her shaft opposite the Three Kings, and we were delayed. By the way, you have a superb dining-hall quite Arcadian." The voice is jaunty, with an easy, well-bred ring in it, but the eyes wander keenly over the faces of those present. " How did you find our route ? " asks the Colonel, presently. " Quite easy. Old Tepari, of Te Rauga, saw you pass yesterday, and assisted you to ford the Wairoa this afternoon. He it was who brought me hither, otherwise I'm afraid I should have found myself in the middle of a swamp, or at the bottom of the river." The conversation begins to flow freely now, for Fernbrook fits himself into his place in the company, WARD'S RIFLES. 269 as if he had filled it all the evening. The punch flows freely, as does the talk. Every conceivable topic is in- troduced and skimmed over with that light, airy, after- dinner brevity which makes mess dinner so attractive. Last, but by no means least, it veers round to the dis- turbed state of the country and the chances of the parties engaged. By a few subtle questions, Fern- brook has led his companions to the subject, and appears deeply interested in all they say. " The Maoris have a hopeless task, and must suc- cumb in the end," says Howard. " The ablest Rebel against us is Paul Titori, but the flower of his follow- ing were slain in the Waikato Campaign. Two years ago Titori had thirty thousand warriors at his beck and call; to day he has not one-third that number, though he has been reinforced by the Taranaki tribes." " I heard in Taurauga that the Rebels have their strongest pah in this part of the country," responds Fernbrook. " Tepari assures me that the whole force of Colonel Chesterton is not sufficient to attack any one of these places. His handful of men would be annihilated." Howard laughs. " The friendly Maori knows very little of the fighting spirit of our men. I dare wager that every pah in Rotomahana is taken and demolished before the end of the year." " Where is Colonel Chesterton, may I ask ? " " At Tonga's Peak." " Of course he has a large force with him ? " " No, about two thousand all told," responds Howard. " Once we join him, Titori may prepare for squalls ; for I know by my Waikato experience with Chesterton, that hard knocks will be the order of the day." " Two thousand fighting men against twenty thou- 270 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. sand or even ten thousand fighting Maoris seems to me a risky project," says Fernbrook ; " I suppose your corps " (turning to Ward) " does not exceed a thou- sand men ? " " Six hundred." " Ah, and recruits all, I reckon ? " " Quite so, my dear Fernbrook ; yet I think the lads will give a good account of themselves." " I trust they may, Colonel," responds the guest, sipping his punch. " I heard some talk of five regi- ments of volunteers having been raised in Australian colonies. Is that correct ? " " It is, sir," replies Howard. " Our Skipper had a letter from the Commodore, stating that the men were on their way to Auckland per 'Blue Jacket' and ' Swiftsure ' steamers." "Bad news for our friend Titori?" " Ay. The Chieftain is a foeman worthy of our steel, and I'm sorry he is not with us." From Paul Titori to Colonel de Roal and his con- federates, the conversation goes at a bound. Fern- brook listens while the others fill in their opinions without the smallest shadow of reserve. Once or twice the guest is appealed to, but he adroitly staves off any direct reply, save only when it serves as a means of opening up the subject more fully. It is late when Colonel Ward's friends rise to depart. " My dear fellow, you will stay and share my rough couch to-night ? " he asks. Fernbrook shakes his head. " Not when I can get a comfortable bed at mine inn," he replied. " I have spent a very pleasant evening, gentlemen, and can only wish that at no distant day I may have the pleasure of your company at the Rock." WARD'S RIFLES. 271 " Let me send a file of my men with you as far as the river ? " " Thanks. The friendly Maori is waiting for me at the base of the ridge. Good-night ! I trust the for- tunes of war will bring you honor and distinction. Any commands for the city ? " "None, Fernbrook. Aurevoir/" The tall figure goes down the hill, whistling a snatch of a familiar opera air, and Colonel Ward goes the round of the sentinels to see that they are alert on their posts. It is after midnight when he returns. The temporary mess-rooin has been turned into a sleeping apartment by the addition of a few armfuls of fragrant ferns, on which the stalwart forms of half a dozen officers are now stretched in heavy slumber. Phil Brock brings his master's cloak. " Who's the gintleman ye had dining wid ye? " "Don't you know Mr. Fernbrook, Phil?" " Indade I do not," responds the old man, with an obstinate jerk of his head. " Who's to tell Mr. Fern- brook from the man that's been taken for him during the last few years an' more, when even his ould nurse didn't know the difference ? Tell me that, now." Ward pauses in the act of unbuckling his sword- belt. " You don't mean to say that you suspect our friend to be that scoundrel Mauprat, the convict ! " " Why not ? " says Brock, coolly. " Pooh ! You old fool ! you've been drinking." " Oh, thank you. If I have, agra, it's only taking pattern after me betters, I've been," cries Phil, in high dudgeon. " Maybe if you had been less occupied wid the punch, an' minding your duty, you'd have axed yourself the question 'What the devil's this man 272 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. doom' here, I wonder ? ' as I did when I saw him enter the tent. Mark that ! " One of the prostrate officers rose into a sitting pos- ture. " By Jove, Colonel, there may be something in what the old chap says," he cried. "Thrue for ye, Captain Harrington. Musha, I'm glad to meet one man with sense among ye." " You remember, this fellow Mauprat and his confederates are known to be in the camp of the Rebels," continues Captain Harrington, not heeding Phil's remark. " What more probable than that this adventurer, with his wonderful resemblance to young Fernbrook, should seek to personate him, even here ? " " With what object, Captain ? " " If your man's supposition be correct, we shall not have far to look for an object," answers Harrington, rising to his feet. " It strikes me our guest was very particular in his inquiries about matters which I don't think would have troubled a non-military man like Fernbrook, though I confess it did not strike me at the time. We have a convoy of ammunition fifty thousand rounds for our comrades at Tonga's Peak. Report says that Titori is short of this chief staple of war, and is offering for lead its own weight in gold coin. I am not an alarmist, my dear fellow, but to be forewarned is to be forearmed." " Your zeal is commendable, Harrington ; but I cer- tainly cannot have been deceived in the face of an old friend whom I have known from boyhood," says the Colonel, smiling. " Hilton Fernbrook and myself were at St. John's College together for three years," says the Captain. " Last Christmas I went to the Barrier to visit my friend, and remained in the house for a month without WARD'S RIFLES. 273 discovering the difference between my college chum and a rascally convict." The Colonel laughs. " Egad, you were not singular in that respect, ray dear fellow. After all, I may have been mistaken. We will give Victor Mauprat the benefit of the doubt. Brock, go quietly and ask Lieutenant Howard to look in here for a few minutes." Exit Phil, with a look of satisfaction. " It will be as well to double the sentries, and place them farther down the ridge," continues the Colonel, after a moment's reflection. "Will you be good enough to see it done, Harrington?" In half an hour the " Rifles " are standing to their arms in rear of the little column of men-of-war's men, drawn up a little to the left of the two guns, which have been placed in a favorable position under the com- mand of Lieutenant Howard. Not a few of the men wonder what is the matter. They converse in low tones, speculating upon a brush with the enemy. Some have it that the Rebels are marching in force to intercept them, and cut them off from joining Colonel Chesterton. Others whisper that Maoris never fight in the darkness, and the standing to arms is only a ruse to get them accustomed to their work in the field. The hours go slowly, expectantly by. One two three o'clock ! Hark ! Crack ! crack ! boom the rifles of outlying sentries. Not in one spot alone are seen the sudden flashes of the musketry, but in a circle of living fire round the base of the ridge. Colonel Ward has just time to form his men into quarter-distance column of companies, when the scouts fall hurriedly back upon the main body. Some of them never get back at all, for in the dim light, a 18 274 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. broad dark line is seen to advance and swallow them up, nor pause until the hill-top is gained ; then with a wild, unearthly yell, which makes a reverberating echo along the adjacent hills, the head of the advanc- ing column rushes upon certain destruction. With admirable coolness the gunners wait their opportunity, then the murderous missiles belch forth and plough a wide lane down the living wall. Spite of guns, spite of more than one deadly volley, the intrepid warriors gain the ridge, and hold it. Nothing can stem their determined, headlong rush. "Death to the Pakeha!" is heard above the din, rolling and swelling like nothing else on this fair earth, save the noise that men make when the fero- cious and brute part of them is let loose and rampant in deadly conflict. Te Huri, the giant, and a white man by his side, dressed in tight-fitting coat of mica flax, lead the van, and seem to bear charmed lives. There is no light for manosuvres, no room for military tactics. It is a give-and-take encounter in every stage of its dreadful progress; Maori arid Pakeha go down together in death's hug, silently and without a groan. "Death to the Pakeha!" The voice of the huge Rebel Leader sounds loud and clear as a trumpet-blast, above the roar of voices. He and his companion with the flaxen tamba have penetrated into the solid ranks of the volunteers, and rank and file go down before their meris like so many dried reeds beneath a mower's scythe. " Death to the Pakeha ! " The Maori war-cry is answered by cheer after cheer from bands of twenty and less, who stand shoulder to shoulder and fight with desperate courage against long odds. Colonel WARD'S RIFLES. 275 Ward is down, his body pierced with more than one gaping wound. While his strength lasts his voice is heard urging the " Rifles " to stand fast and use the bayonet. The order is needless. The bayonet is the only weapon that can be brought into play now, for the men have no time to load. Round and about the guns the battle seems to rage fiercest. The dead and wounded are literally lying here in a heap, forming a rampart round the remnant of gallant tars, who stand to be slaughtered at their posts rather than retreat a single pace. This spot forms the rallying-point for the hard-pressed volunteers. The superior force hurled against them has riven their columns into shreds and patches, but the first fierce thunderous onslaught of the Maoris past, they reunite again and form square with the small battery in the centre. Not all the dash and daring of the warriors can break the ranks of the hated Pakehas. Again and again the Rebel leaders hurl their best men against it, but they are driven back with ruthless butchery. Long before daybreak the Rebel host, beaten and discomfited, are in full retreat, leaving a spectacle behind them that is appalling to the eye of day. On the self-same morning that witnessed the san- guinary battle of Te Rauga, Mrs. Victorine Gayland and her companion, Te Coro, arrived at Wairoa. The news came to them, as it came to others on that fair morn news of a battle won, and of brave men bleed- ing to death for want of succor and attendance. And this woman, who had consecrated herself at the shrine of Charity, put aside self and began her labor of love. Every available resource that could aid her was at once put into requisition. The wounded were conveyed into Wairoa. Medical men rode post-haste from 276 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. Taurauga. Tents, bedding, and all the requirements needed followed them ; in short, before midnight the little township had been transformed into a temporary hospital. In the strangest of all strange positions were found the wounded and the dead at Te Rauga. Phil Brock, with both legs broken, lay near the senseless and bloody form of his master ; both were ringed in by the dusky bodies of dead warriors. When they lifted the old Irishman, to bear him away, he thrust them back with a startled cry : " Amos, darlint, my dear, tinder-hearted master ! where are ye, acushla? It's ould Phil that's calling ye ! Spake to me ! spake to me ! Och hone ! Dead ! dead ! " But Amos Ward was not dead. " Round and about the guns the battle seems to rage fiercest." Page 273. NE PLUS ULTRA. 277 CHAPTER XXVI. NE PLUS ULTBA. IT was just three weeks after the affray at Te Rauga that Peter Dusk found his way into the camp of the Rebels at Judea. Smarting under their recent defeat at the Block Pah, the Maoris would have made short work of their prisoner, had it not been for the fact that Titori had handed him over to his Pakeha allies. True to his purpose, Colonel de Roal had the spy de- tective brought before him again on the evening of the day of his capture. Beside the Colonel sat the Ferret, or Joe Sharpe. The former waved his arm, a signal for the Maori guard to depart, and the three men were left together. We have before stated that the detective was a keen fellow, with a nerve of iron, else it is not probable he would have risked his life by venturing into the strong- hold of the Maori to find his man. Looking at the pair before him, Dusk saw that his existence hung upon a mere thread ; but his courage rose with the occasion, arid he decided on a bold move, if necessary. De Roal said : " I suppose you think it odd to find some of your countrymen here in the Rebel camp ? " " No ; perhaps you are, like myself, better here than elsewhere." De Roal smiled. " Have you any idea who we are ? " Yes," replied Dusk, frankly. " The report is that 278 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. four prisoners broke out of the stockade lately, and joined the Rebels under Titori. " Is that the report ? " It is." " And is it believed ? " "Yes." " Do me the favor to correct such a canard, if you ever get back to camp with Colonel Chesterton," answered the Colonel, gravely. "Now, your name, friend ? I have forgotten it." "Peter Dusk." There was a sudden flash of intelligence in the eyes of the Ferret, who bent forward and briefly whispered to his companion. The Colonel played with the band- age round his wounded limb for a moment. " How long have you been in the volunteers, Mr. Dusk ? " he said. " Some considerable time." " Where were you posted when you had the misfor- tune to fall asleep ? " " What does it matter? I am here. No man in his senses would take the step I have unless he had some powerful motive." " Just so," replied De Roal, radiant ; " it is your motive I want to fathom, Mr. Dusk." " To escape fifty lashes, or, perhaps, worse punish- ment, is a sufficient motive, sir, I think." Again the Ferret whispered to his colleague, who nodded and smiled. " Ah ! You had no other motive in visiting Judea?" Dusk hesitated, then stammered : " Perhaps I had." The Colonel looked surprised, but said mildly, " Come, Mr. Dusk, speak out. The Pakehas here will help you, NE PLUS ULTRA. 279 if possible. It is curious to us that you did not stray into the pah by chance. What is the purport of your visit ? allow me to repeat." The detective hesitated again, with admirable acting : " Are we quite alone here ? " " Quite, and no one can overhear what is said." " Hark ye, then ! I am not a volunteer. I stole this uniform from a dead man outside the pah." " Who are you, then ?" said Sharpe, with a snarl in his voice like that of a terrier ere he bites. "A jail-bird. Nothing less." "Oh! One of the escapees from the stockade?" suggested the Colonel. " Exactly ; but you will not let that prejudice you ? " returned Dusk, quickly. " Nay ; such a recommendation would rather weigh in your favor," answered De Roal, with a sweet laugh. " Tell me, what was your crime, friend ? " " Burglary. Robbing a bank." " And you were caught ? " " No ; I and three companions got clear away with a sum of three thousand pounds, and a bag of gold-dust worth thrice that sum, which we hid," said Dusk, again hesitating, and watching the faces of his ex- aminers. " Humph ! Go on." " Thirteen thousand pounds was a big haul, and the bank made desperate efforts to regain the money. I suspected they would ; I also suspected that out of four men one would probably be found to betray his confederates. This law is as true as the needle to the pole, if you test it carefully. We hid the booty in a cave on the coast, but having an idea that the adage of ' honor among thieves ' was not to be taken literally 280 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. in this case, I found another hiding-place for the money. Perhaps it was well I took the precaution, for in less than twenty-four hours afterwards three of us were arrested for the robbery." " And the fourth ? " " Turned Queen's evidence, of course, received a par- don, and was sent out of the colony." " Well, friend, what about the spoil ? " said the Colonel, after a long pause, during which his steely eyes glittered with a strange light. Dusk looked cautiously round. "The gold lies hid where I planted it," he said, in a low tone that rose no higher than a whisper. " It was the all-absorbing de- sire to possess myself of the treasure which prompted me to risk escape." " Is the money hid hereabouts ? " " Ay ; I was making towards the spot when the Maoris found me." " Ah, I see ! " and the Colonel stroked his mous- tache reflectively, as if gauging some mental problem. " Of course you have a proposal to make ? "^H^ " That is certainly my idea," answered Dusk, coolly ; " but would it not be better to make the proposition in the presence of your companions ? " " It is not necessary. Be good enough to proceed." "Thirteen thousand pounds, I repeat, is to be had within a mile of the cliff yonder by the sea. The spot is well marked. My proposal is that you and your companions leave this place, take me with you, and I will show you where the gold is hid." De Roal raised his eyes. " Anything else ? " he asked. " No ; save that we share and share alike," said Dusk. NE PLUS ULTRA. 281 The Ferret bent forward and whispered to the Colo- nel again. " The sum you name is no doubt consider- able ; yet it would not give much, divided into fifty parts." " Fifty ! "echoed Dusk, for a moment taken off his guard. " I understood there were only four white men with Titori." Colonel de Roal smiled. " My friend, you are a very clever fellow, and I admire your address and courage very much," said he. " To me you appear no mean student of human nature, but you forget the first prin- ciple nay, I may say the ruling law of creation, namely, the weaker must go to the wall. With a poor hand, you have managed to play an excellent game. Let me say how sorry I am that you have had the mis- fortune to be pitted against men who know the cards better than yourself, mon ami" " I do not understand," said the prisoner, still un- daunted. " That is your misfortune," answered De Roal, with his affable smile. " I had a friend in the old country who was once troubled with a fox. Many traps were laid for friend Reynard, but without avail. One day my friend brained a rabbit with a pair of tongs ; into the wound he poured croton oil, and then hid the dead animal within the hutch. The fox came, discovered his booty, and sucked the wound. Well, next day they found the thief by the bank of the river dead ! " "He was a foolish fox to be caught so easily." "Just so. Now, my friend, there are human foxes who are to be caught with a more simple drug than croton oil. Let me tell you that the hide of a fox is too short to cover a wolf. Why did you not try some other disguise ? " 282 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. " Colonel de Roal ! " " Ha ! You know my name. You, the thief, who have been shut up in jail for robbing a bank," cried the Colonel, quickly. " Egad, sir, it is not very flattering to my intelligence, at least, to find that you went no farther than the rabbit hutch, expecting to find the game killed ready for your maw." " Speak plain," said Dusk, his face changing sud- denly to defiance. " There is no need to be plain, my fine fellow," con- tinued De Roal, in a soft persuasive voice. " Enough for you to know that we cannot accept your story." Why ? " " Because it is not true ! Peter Dusk from Scotland Yard, we know you." For just one moment there is a gleam in the pris- oner's eyes, as he dived down his hand for the pistol secreted in his pants. It is but momentary, the thought and the attempt to put it into action. " I am surprised, gentlemen ! You are entirely mistaken," he said coolly. Still smiling, the Colonel calls the guard, who enter and surround their prisoner. " This man is a spy," says De Roal in Maori, and nodding towards Dusk " a dangerous spy, who has had the temerity to enter Judea, only to betray the Maori into the hands of Colonel Chesterton's warriors, What shall we do with him ? " " Kill him," replied Te Hiki in English, adding some- thing also which we dare not record here. "You "hear?" cried the Colonel, with his sinister smile. " These fellows will execute the verdict within the hour. Have you any message for your superiors in London ? " NE PLUS ULTRA. 283 Diplomacy at an end, the man rose equal to the oc- casion. " Yes," he cried through his set teeth ; " wire to Inspector H , and say I have found Victor Mau- prat and his confederates, and that I mean to have them in Newgate by the end of the year, or " " Go on, mon ami ; why do you pause ? " said De Roal. " Or in hell ! " cried Dusk, with a low bow. Joe Sharpe laughed loudly, and rubbed his hands, together, as the guard led out their captive. The Maoris did not return to the place whence Dusk had been brought for the interview. They crossed the pah at the point where the road opened to the space below, consisting of a broad plateau, bare of trees, and sloping downward to a deep ravine, then ascending again to the other side, to the high cliffs of the coast wall. Outside the works of the pah, the warrior in charge of the escort halted his men, six in number, and spoke a few words to them, after which they conducted their prisoner down the hill towards the ravine. Peter Dusk understood what was in store for him, though he did not comprehend one word of what had been uttered. Looking round him in sheer desperation for some way of escape, his quick eye noted a party coming up the hill towards them. There were five persons, three Maoris armed with rifles, the Chief Titori leading a Maori girl, attired in a dark robe of mica flax, fastened at the waist with a silk sash. On her head was a sealskin cap ornamented with a single toho feather. The parties met, and halted simultaneously. " Whither go ye with the Pakeha ? " said Titori. " He is a spy. The white wolf, De Roal, has com- manded that he die the death." Bah ! Why do not the Pakehas punish this haJco 284 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. themselves?" said the chief , with a frown. "Take him hence ; the sight is hateful to me." The escort were about to move on, when the Maori girl, who had been looking keenly at the captive, turned to Titori and uttered a few words in a low tone. The Chief smiled, and held up his hand. " Te Coro wishes to speak with the Pakeha," he said to the warrior in charge. Then turning to the daughter of Te Papa, for it was none other, he added with a graceful bend of his stately head, " Titori has no voice here when Te Coro speaks. The Maoris are Te Papa's children." Waving an acknowledgment of the compliment with the grace of an empress, Te Coro advanced to the captive. " Why are you here ? " she asked in English. " Trying to do my duty ! " replied Dusk, in surprise. "What duty of yours can lie here, in the Maori camp ? You are a soldier by your uniform, but these men say you are a spy." " It is not true." "Your name, sir?" " Peter Dusk." Te Core's eyes sparkled. " You are the detective in search of Victor Mauprat and his companions ? " Dusk started, and became suspicious instantly. "Is it necessary that I should answer that question, lady ?" " No, if you do not think it a fair one," she replied. " Your present position is not enviable ; perhaps I may help you to liberty. Are you the man who accompanied Mr. Hilton Fernbrook from England ? " " Yes, I came here to arrest Victor Mauprat." " Thank you ! " and she turned to the chief : " Titori, I have to crave the life of this Pakeha." " The haJco is yours," answered the Rebel leader, with another stately bend towards her. " Tiki, take back the NE PLUS ULTRA. 285 warriors. The Pakeha is free to depart. I have spoken." There was no more to be said after the last brief sentence. Once it is uttered by any one of the race, it is as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. The Maori guard wheeled about and marched back without their captive, while Te Coro whispered hur- riedly " Go hence quickly ; this Maori," beckoning to Bosco, " will guide you to my hotel by the lake. Await my coming; I have instructions from Fernbrook for you. Away ! " She turned and said a few words to her faithful attendant, who grunted an assent, slung his weapon over his shoulder, and nodded to Dusk to follow him, and the pair went down the declivity, and were soon lost to view. Whatever may have been the peculiarities of the daughter of Te Papa, she certainly possessed a mighty talisman over the leaders of that portion of her country- men who had taken up arms against the Government. Deference, and that tacit submission indicating respect, awaited her on all sides from the chiefs of the rebellion, who gathered in a group on the outer walls of the pah to welcome her. Te Coro, although reared and educated amongst the Pakehas, was still a Maori at heart, with all a Maori's subtlety, and the desire for revenge strong within her. She had undertaken the journey to Titori with one fixed purpose one object, to inflict personal chastisement upon the man who had won her regard under false pretences. Veiling the true purport of her errand, she spoke of the adventurers in terms of un- mitigated contempt. They were base, deceitful, and utterly unworthy to consort with warriors who held truth and honor as the first and dearest principles of their manhood. These Pakehas were wicked slaves. 286 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. By pretence, and wile, and fraud, they had usurped the places of honorable men. They were criminals hiding from justice, hiding here under the protection of men who were fighting for some of the dearest principles of the Maori race ; in short, it was a foul blot upon the Maori cause that it should count such monsters in its ranks, and they should be thrust forth without an hour's delay. A powerful advocate this with her changing mobile face, flashing eyes, and rich, full voice, that had in its tone the ring of conviction. The Chieftains held brief council together. Then Titori said: "Daughter of Te Papa, these men came to us with your recommen- dation. On the faith of it, they became our brothers. You say they are liars. So be it. To-morrow they shall depart from amongst us. Te awn ti Jciti. We have spoken." The sun had not dipped behind Tonga's Peak when Te Coro, satisfied with her brief visit, left the pah in company with her two attendants. Beyond the cliff the road wound zigzag fashion into the valley of the Wairoa, where could be seen a solitary hotel, surrounded by one or two cottages, and a few dilapidated whares of the friendly natives. On a jutting ledge of rock overhanging the narrow road sat a man, who started to his feet on the approach of Te Coro. The girl cast a swift glance upward, then stopped. Pausing an instant, as if irresolute, the man came forward and raised his hat. " Te Coro ! " he exclaimed. " Hilton Fernbrook ! " she rejoined, with a smile, though there was a strange gleam in her eyes the while. " Why, who would have thought of meeting you in this NE PLUS ULTRA. 287 wild part of the country ? When did you leave the Barrier Rock?" " Oh, some days ago," he responded lightly. " My old friend Ward was wounded badly at Te Rauga, and I took a flying visit, as the saying goes, to see him. Poor fellow ! he is in a very critical state indeed." Te Coro played with the tassel of her cloak, but did not look at him. " I am truly sorry to hear it," she said. " Are you staying at the hotel ? " "Yes." " That will be pleasant," still toying with the tassel. " Bosco has gone forward to prepare accommodation for me. But, good Heavens ! you have been hurt ? " she added, looking him full in the face. He laughed. "It is nothing, a mere scratch," he answered coolly. "I was fool enough to attempt to scale the north side of the Mount, and got a fall for my pains." Somehow the conversation became strained and labored between them, then died out altogether, though Te Coro made several spasmodic attempts to keep it at an even flow. When they reached the hotel it was quite dark, but Bosco was ready to usher his mistress into a well-lighted apartment, which looked cosy and inviting after the fatiguing walk to Judea. "When can we have dinner, Bosco?" he asked, following Te Coro into the apartment. The Maori turned and looked at the speaker for the space of a minute, with his mouth agape. Catching a sign from the Maori girl, however, he went out with- out replying to the question. " Dinner will not be ready for some time yet," said Te Coro. "In the mean while I have something I want to say to you, Mr. Fernbrook." 288 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. The emphasis was so marked, that he turned to look at her. She had cast aside her hat and tamba, and now stood confronting him, the smile gone from her face. He drew a long, full breath, as his eyes met hers, like some strong diver who is about to plunge into unfathomable depths. "Victor Mauprat, thief and convict, I have come here to kill you," she continued slowly, her face chang- ing its beauty to passion and vindictive repulsion. Save for the mouth and the eyes there was no outward token of disturbance in the man. He stood looking at her, not defiantly, nor yet with the smallest show of appre- hension ; but with eyes that were lit up with a strange, lurid light of intense pride and love. " Why would you kill me ? " he said at length, look- ing down on her determined face. " Jf, as you assert, I am a convict, why should the daughter of Te Papa trouble herself ? There is an executioner appointed by law to punish those who break the law." Te Coro did not reply immediately. Beneath his ardent look she felt the throbbing of her heart increase, and the warm blood mounting to her neck and brow. The resolve to kill him was not one jot less in her desire, yet the power and the will was not sufficiently strong to do it then and there. " The law cannot reach every vile act and deed," she answered, still toying with her weapon, and held by the magnetic light in his eyes. " The law does not punish the wretch who may take it into his head to wreck the life of a virtuous woman. Nay, a man may murder fifty innocent, de- fenceless women, body and soul, and the law has no power to punish him for the crime." M Whom have I wronged, Te Coro ? " NE PLUS ULTRA. 289 "Myself, Victor Mauprat," she replied, flashing upon him the full indignation of her look. " I the Maori the last of Te Papa's mighty race, confess with abject shame that a base slave from the hulks once entrapped my love. Ah ! you smile, but I swear by Heaven the wretch shall not go hence save to his doom." "TeCoro " " Silence ! " she muttered, through her white set teeth. " You think it was the miserable convict who stole my affection? Not so, Victor Mauprat. Remember the ass who donned the hide of the lion. The convict slave personated honesty, courage, manliness. In the likeness and image of one who has been all in all to me father, brother, and friend my heart went out to the outward form and counterpart of him, and not to the base copy which lay hid behind the similitude." At that moment there came a low rumbling noise like distant thunder. It shook the window-frames with a shivering vibrating motion, but it passed un- heeded by Te Coro and her companion. "I am Victor Mauprat, jail-bird, felon what y.^. will," he said, standing before her, and folding his arms over his broad chest ; " I am a man that cannot glory in the dark fate which has fallen to my lot, but I would rather be simply what you say of me convict, slave, prison drudge and have your love, Te Coro, than be in reality that Hilton Fernbrook whom I have impersonated. Ay, shoot me down, if it so please you. See, I am ready," he cried, baring his breast. " I love you, Te Coro ! I love you more ardently, more pas- sionately than you can ever dream. Why do you pause ? Am I so vile, indeed, that the death of a dog is not good enough for me ? You have everything in 290 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. your favor to satisfy the revenge you seek for my presumptuous iniquity. Come, I will not shirk the penalty." Once again there comes that dull, heavy sound on the quiet stillness ; this time causing the building to quiver with a tremulous motion. A look of astonish- ment comes over the stern face of the Maori maiden, and softens the hard lines on it. " There will be a storm," she mutters. " So much the better," echoes Victor Mauprat, in the same low tone. " Storm or sunshine can matter little to such a soulless wretch as I am." Then there came a groan of pain or anguish from the man, which he tried in vain to suppress. Te Coro looked at him for a moment. " Ah, you are a coward, after all ! " she said with scornful emphasis. " Your Maori instinct for revenge has blinded your judgment," he replied, with a scarlet spot on his cheeks. ' Do not you see that I could defeat your cherished project by a blow of my fist ? We are alone here. If it pleased me, I could squeeze out your fresh young life ere you could utter a cry for help." " That is the threat of a boaster and a poltroon. You are afraid ! " " No ; kill me if you will, Te Coro, but do not taunt me!" " Or you will kill me ! " said the girl, drawing back and presenting her revolver at his breast. Victor Mauprat gazed at her steadfastly and with unwinking eyes. "Why do you not fire?" he said presently. " Because my Maori instinct prefers to play with you as a cat plays with a mouse, though the saying is NE PLUS ULTRA. 291 not applicable in this case. Tell me how you became a criminal." His face wore a troubled expression at the change in her a change which passed suddenly from fierce vindictive retribution to cool and biting irony. Seating himself with a weary sigh, he did not answer, but rested his head upon his hands, and let her have full scope for her sarcasm. Strange to say, her taunts did not move him to reply. She saw all the random shots which struck home pictured in his eyes, and in the changing color of his face, in the trembling lips, the nervous clutch of his fingers, but he remained mute. Not by so much as the lifting of his head in sign of refutation did he deign to expose what was passing within him at her cruel and merciless tornado. None but a Maori, baffled and tormented by her unconquer- able love for a man whom she deemed a villain and a slave, would have so exhibited the worst attributes of her nature. Under these conditions an Englishwoman would have let the man go ; her task, to forget him as soon as possible. A Frenchwoman would have killed him on the spot and without a word, and then have cried for him afterwards. With Te Coro, this code of procedure became reversed. Her companion's silence, instead of exasperating her, had the opposite effect. Her voice lost its stinging tone, nay, grew even persuasive, as woman-like she came back to the point from which she started. " Will you tell me why they imprisoned you ? Was it for murder ? " He rose up and approached where she stood. The girl did not move, but looked defiantly at him the while, as his tall form towered above her. " Did I commit murder ? " he echoed, with flashing 292 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. eyes. "Yes the world called it murder. But the world lied, as it has often lied since the beginning. The man called me a swindler and a thief, and I killed him." " Murdered him, say." " No, it was a fair duel with small-swords," he re- butted, straightening himself with something like re- sentment at her insinuation. " I, a poor devil with just one sovereign in my purse, tried my fortune at a gambling den, ostensibly a club. My mother lay ill in Dijon in France. My last gold coin was not sufficient to take me to her ; so I sat down and played. Fortune smiled and I won a thousand pounds from one per- son. My opponent was an officer of Hussars, a man of rank and fashion, with wealthy friends. He lost his temper with his money said I was a cheat and a thief, and so far forgot himself as to give me a blow. I do not know what was said, or who took sides in the quarrel. There were not many present, but they were his friends, as it proved save one man, Colonel de lloal, who vouched for my straightforward play, and urged with such persistency my claim to the satisfaction of a gentleman, that Captain Yipont consented to meet me then and there. It was break of day when we ad- journed to a remote patch of spare ground in rear of the club. Snow lay on the ground, and there was a sharp frost which made the ground slippery beneath our feet. My antagonist had the choice of weapons, and selected the rapier, several pairs of which were procured and brought to the ground. "It seemed like a dream to me from the moment I received the blow until I found myself face to face with my foe. Eager, and burning with a feverish desire to punish the insult, I still held myself under perfect con- NE PLUS ULTRA. 293 trol. " Take care, my lad ; this man is one of the fin- est swordsmen in England," whispered De Roal in my ear. " Keep your guard well up, and lunge straight. He means mischief." " The next moment we crossed swords. There was no need for the Colonel's caution. In a brief space I discerned that Captain Vipont was fully master of his weapon, and that it would be well with me if I held my own. Nevertheless, confidence was mine ; my skill was of no mean order. I had a wrist of steel, was in full practice, and felt as agile as an untamed panther. Here and there, with lightning strokes and passes, our pliant blades crossed, and writhed, and interlocked, like fiery serpents. My opponent's rush was both swift and terrific, but I met it coolly, and allowed him to ex- pend his strength upon my foil. Once only he opened his guard to me then, rapid as the swoop of a hawk, I sent my rapier into his arm from wrist to elbow. The seconds came between us, but he thrust them back with an oath. " Bind up the scratch," he said. " Now I will kill this presumptuous fool.' "I saw he meant to keep his word. In vain Colonel de Roal interposed ; in vain Captain Vipont's friends pleaded that honor was satisfied. "When he confronted me again his face was livid with pain ; but he fenced more warily than heretofore, and with greater judg- ment ; though I soon discovered that his wound placed him entirely at my mercy. Perhaps it would have been well for me had I pointed this out to him, and refused to continue the combat ; but I was smarting under his taunts, and the jeers of his companions, and I went on, thinking at most to disable him. Alas ! what blind fools we are ! Even while the thought was in my mind, my opponent slipped, lunged forward upon my 294 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. weapon, and rolled over a corpse at my feet the next moment." A dull, booming sound, as if the thunder was com- ing nearer, came now a third time upon the ears of Te Coro and Victor Mauprat, and while they stood, ex- pectantly listening, there followed a rushing, rumbling noise beneath their feet, which made the building reel to its foundation. Te Coro laid aside her revolver, and locked her shapely hands together. " You hear the Fire King, Old Tarawera ? " she said in tones that contrasted strange- ly with her former manner. " The Spirit is angry with me, maybe, because of my wicked resolve to kill you. Tell your story, and let the God answer with his tongue of flaming fire. I have spoken." Not so much as by the quivering of an eyelid did the Maori withdraw her strained look from his face. In every line of her own beautiful features were blended superstition and awe, but nothing of fear. Mauprat knew that an earthquake had rolled beneath their feet and had passed on. To his companion, how- ever, it was the enraged growl of the triple Fire-gods Ruawahi, Watanga, and Tarawera Guardians of the Terraces, who had made the solid earth tremble with their voices. Spite of her liberal education, the old leaven of belief in the supernatural powers of these vast, rugged peaks, that were eternally heaving and seething with wild unrest, still clung to Te Coro with all-pervading influence. Old Tarawera himself had spoken out in reproach at the crime she had meditated against the man before her, and she relented. The black eyes lost their cruel look, and changed gradually to soft glances of sympathy and love. Oh, heart of woman ! what a complex fabric be it NE PLUS ULTRA. 295 of Maori or Pakeha. A man may live a thousand years and not comprehend the simplest boor. Who, then, shall presume to gauge the capacity and depth of Nat- ure's greatest mystery woman ? As there is but a thin veil between the highest in- tellectual genius and a fool, so in like manner is it an easy transition from deepest hate to fondest love ; in- deed, some wise men have considered that hate is but the irrational form of love the insane state, and that people must love before they can hate. " So, it was a fair duel, and not a stab in the dark ? " says the Maori, in that changed voice of hers soft now as the cooing of a dove. " They told me you were an assassin and a thief." " Fair ? " echoes the other, with a disdainful wave of his arm, that had more in it than the most eloquent refutation. " I could have slain the man twice over had I been one-tenth as bloodthirsty as he proved himself during the encounter. Skilled swordsman as the Captain undoubtedly was, I had a surer eye, and my fence had been perfected by the first master in Europe. Besides, who could bear a blow and not seek to resent it? Had I been a man of the world, my course would have been to remain in England, and de- mand an inquiry into the circumstances of the unfor- tunate duel ; but I fled, or, rather, was hurried out of the country by the man who had been my friend." " Colonel deRoal?" "Ay, he took me to Paris. "Look here," he said, "you have slain a man who has powerful friends. They will run you to earth for it, though it was no fault of yours. What do you intend doing ? " There was nothing to be done but hide myself. By day and night I lived the life of a wild beast, being hunted from 296 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. place to place by the hounds of the law. At last I was arrested, tried, and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. In less than a year thanks to the aid of De Roal I was enabled to escape from Portland Prison, and also from the country. The Colonel took passage for Australia, and I went with him, disguised as his servant. It was during the voyage that he unfolded his project, that I should change places with Hilton Fernbrook." Victor Mauprat paused, for at that moment the room in which they stood began to totter and shake like a ship at sea when a wave strikes her. Instinct- ively Te Coro started forward and clung to him. " Hark again ! " she cries. " Rotorua speaks now, and the earth trembles." " It is nothing," he says, folding his arms round her, and she yields to his embrace unresistingly. " We will go hence, you and I, Te Coro, out of the busy track of men. In some remote corner of the earth, Te Coro the Maori and Victor Mauprat can live unmolested by the mockeries and wiles of civilization. We can create a civilization of our own without its wickedness. Ah ! hear Old Rotorua again he speaks in confirmation of my words. Dearest Te Coro, am I less a man than he whom for five years I have personated ? Am I less tall or fair to look upon ? Is not my courage as high, my education as good, and my love as strong ? Re- verse our positions. Place Hilton Fernbrook within the convict chains that bound Victor Mauprat. Tempt him with the bait of freedom, wealth, position, at one fell swoop, and place the means of attaining these things within his grasp. Men whose lives have been one smooth round of pleasure and enjoyment know nothing of the storm-battle waged by strong men NE PLUS ULTRA. 297 tempted. If I have sinned, I have been punished. So, let it pass." While he spoke there arose a lurid glare from the highest peak of Old Tarawera, which quickly grew and widened until it seemed as if the infernal regions were situated below. It lit up the adjacent summits of Ruawahi and Watanga, from which the rolling columns of smoke began to ascend and form a canopy of black- ness overhead. Beneath, Ti Terrata, the White Ter- race, shone like a vast staircase of fretwork marble. Its infinite circles of dull white segments, running into each other for hundreds of feet, were lit up as clearly as by the morning sun. To right and left of the burning volcano, rugged precipices yawned, with scarred peaks and pinnacles looming in the background. From the Fairy Baths of the Terrace, upward to the gloomy Mount, with its tongues of fire half a mile wide and high, the sight was in truth appalling. A noiseless step had glided into the room, and look- ing up, Victor Mauprat beheld Peter Dusk, the de- tective, at his side. " You are my prisoner," said the latter, in a low tone, laying his hand on the convict's shoulder. " Come! " and he pointed to the door. Neither of the trio ever reached that open doorway, for, sudden as the thunder-clap, the building rose in the air, as if it had been no more than a toy then toppled over with a loud crash, leaving the place where it had been a moment before a gaping chasm of smoke and steam. And the eruptions burst forth in all their terrible power and grandeur on that night. From Taurauga 298 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. to Tonga's Peak, the whole Wairoa lay enveloped in opaque blackness, lit up at intervals by vast balls of fire, that shot out of the gaping crater of Tarawera, with a deafening roar never to be forgotten by those who heard it. Another Sodom and Gomorrah had arisen around Tarawera, and every living thing began to flee from the awful scene. By one o'clock A. M. volunteers and Rebel Maoris were flying along the roads seeking shelter from the terrible hail of stones and dust which rained thickly down upon them everywhere, crushing the weak and fainting and retarding the strong. There was no order among the refugees each strove to save himself. From out the roaring noises round them from out the infernal glare, radiating and spreading in all direc- tions, and the reeling, groaning earth beneath their feet Colonel de Roal, Joe Sharpe alias the Ferret, and the giant Blake fled towards the sea-coast. " Is it the Judgment Day ? " cried Sharpe, with pallid lips. And at that instant, like a shot from a gun, a huge boulder struck him down into a mangled, shape- less corpse. The Colonel turned, and a ghastly smile came over the thin set mouth as he looked. "Onward to the coast ! " he shouted in the ear of the giant, and the pair strode forward through the wild glimmer, the thunder-rocked ravines, with the dark volcanic showers rattling round them on all sides, and rendering their path perilous in the extreme. Suddenly Drummond Blake uttered a cry. A ball of burning lava struck him and broke his legs as if they had been no more than rotten twigs, and he went down, never to see the bright sun again in this world. NE PLUS ULTRA. 299 In vain De Roal tried to raise his fallen comrade. The dust and stones rained down more fiercely than before. In a few minutes they formed the giant's grave, and smothered him where he had fallen. Morning found the Colonel struggling on through fire and desolation, but there was no morning here, for the air was black as night, illumined only by Mount Tarawera's gigantic tongue of flame. Reeling onward, faint and weary, he came upon the figure of a man kneeling beside his dead son. It was Te Huna, the Maori. Tohunga of great renown bent reverently over the body of Titori, the Rebel leader. The hoary savage turned his bloodshot eyes upon the Pakeha. " White devil ! this is thy bloody work," he cried, and drawing forth his tomahawk, he cleft the fainting sinner to the chops. 300 THE SHADOW OF HILTON FERNBROOK. EPILOGUE. IT is a summer's morning one of the loveliest in the pleasantest month of the year in New Zealand. The fashionable world on Shortland Crescent are all aglow with excitement, for a grand double wedding is being performed with all the pomp and ceremony of wealth at the little rural church of St. Bartholomew on the Hill. The happy pairs who are being joined together in holy matrimony are Hilton Fernbrook with Blanche Trevor, and Amos Ward with Victorine Gay- land. Adown the broad aisle of the sacred and crowded edifice are to be seen faces of old friends who are present to witness the ceremony, and to take part in it. Alton Lyndhurst is there, his smiling wife by his side ; with Ralph Warne on the novelist's lee, glass on eye, while his sweet little Italian better half tries to get a peep over her husband's broad shoulders at the fair brides. Amos Ward is there, pale after his wounds and the suffering he underwent during the dreadful flight from Wairoa. People said that, in the midst of the erup- tion, Victorine Gayland risked her life to rescue the gallant Colonel, who lay helpless in the midst of the volcanic shower. Of course the man could not do less than reward her with the life she had preserved! Poor Victorine ! The mobile face looks happy now, with a tender love-light in the dark blue eyes that EPILOGUE. 301 ever and anon shyly seek those of the man at her side. After all the storms of Fate, she has found her haven of refuge at last with this strong loving nature ; and he feels, as he meets her loving look, that come weal or woe, cloud or sunshine, he will wear her in his heart of hearts until death. "And you really love me, Blanche?" asks the Master of Fernbrook for the twentieth time of the proud stately lady who is about to swear allegiance to her sceptical questioner. And Blanche Trevor blushes through her costly lace, as she answers for the twen- tieth time " Dear Hilton, I have loved you all my life ! " THE END. A GREAT STOEY OP ANTARCTIC ADYENTURE VIVID ABSORB- ING UNIQUE BEYOND THE GREAT SOUTHWALL FRANK-SAV1LE DRAMATIC SNAPPY BRILLIANT BY FRANK SAVILE WITH SEVERAL GRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PAINTINGS BY R. L. MASON. Richly Bound in Cloth, : : $1.5* The style of narration is smooth and fluent . . . We cannot help feeling that the book is worth reading for the pure sake of the enjoyment thus derived. Book News. An absorbing story told simply and eloquently in exceptionally pure English. TV/ Y. Journal. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY .156 Fifth Avenue : : New Yprk City T. RACKSOLE & DAUGHTER OR, THE RESULT OF AN AMERI- CAN MILLIONAIRE ORDERING STEAK AND A BOTTLE OF BASS AT THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL, LONDON A VERACIOUS HISTORY DULY NARRATED BY ARNOLD BENNETT WITH A BEAUTIFUL COLORED FRONTISPIECE Richly Bound in Silk Cloth, . . $1.50 A Story full of actuality . . . told with the cun- ning of a story teller who knows how to keep his readers' interest alive from the first page to the last. London Times. It suggests an odd compound of " New Ara-- bian Nights," "The Prisoner of Zenda," "The Myste/y of a Hansom Cab." TJie reader is bound to have a really enjoyable time in following the adventures of the new owner of the " Grand Baby- lon." Yorkshire Post. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 Fifth Avenue : : New York City MISER HOADLEY'S SECRET By A. W. MARCHMONT Author of "By Right of Sword," "A Dash for a Throne," "The Heritage of Peril," etc. With graphic illustrations by Clare Angell Bound in silk cloth $1.25. Paper covers 50 cents SECRET A. V. MARCHMONT A REALISTIC NOVEL OF mystery in which scenes and events connected with a remark- able crime and the finding of a hidden fortune are described in splendid style. The story ends happily. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 FIFTH AVENUE : NEW YORK grilling aoetecttbe By FERGUS HUME THE DWARF'S CHAMBER By FERGUS HUME Singularly weird and uncommon tales of mystery and crime by the world- renowned author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." k <. 3 The Crimson Cryptogram, bound in cloth, $1.25 The DwarPs Chamber, cloth, $1.25; paper, 500. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY THE ONE TOO MANY A LOVE STORY By MRS. E. LYNN LINTON Illustrated by Edith L. Lang TO THE SWEET GIRLS STILL LEFT AMONG US WHO HAVE NO PART IN THF NEW REVOLT BUT ARE CONTENT TO BE DUTIFUL, INNOCENT AND SHELTERED This is the charming dedication Mrs. Linton gives to her delightful love story, an illustrated edition of which has just been published by us. The charm and daintiness of the story is carried out in Miss Lang's pictures. There are two editions of the book, one in a rich silk cloth binding at $1.25, and one in paper covers at 50 cents. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 Fifth Avenue . : New York Cijy A Romance of Mary Queen of Scots fTPQTTlPl* tl JE* A 1 C* Iv. By J. E. MUDDOCK Illustrated. Beautifully bound. Cloth, $1.2$ or in paper covers, 50 cents This is one of thof picturesque historical romances which seem to find favor at the present moment. ... The hero may be depended upon to see that we arc never bored for even the fraction of a chapter. ^niiniiiiiiiiiipiii'"u^"""qBMBmpinMaKi^ A Powerful and Wierd Detective Story H6e CRIME AND THE CRIMINAL By RICHARD MARSH Bound in crimson silk cloth, $1.2$; paper ^oc. One of the wierdest and most powerful detective romances ever written. The New York Herafd, in the course of a long review, says, "Once begun, you will not lay it aside until you reach the end." NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 FIFTH AVENUB : NEW YORK. CnY' CLARK RUSSELL'S Famous Novels An Ocean Free Lance Illustrated by HARRY PARKHURST A Sailor's Sweetheart Illustrated by J. STEEPLE DAVIS The Copsford Mystery Illustrated by BURNHAM SHUTE Captain Fanny Illustrated by ANNA LAUER Classics every one of them. Uniformly bound in silk cloth with a nautical cover design. $1.25 per volume. Paper covers, 50 cts. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 FIFTH AVENUE : NEW YORK A REGULAR DICKENS STORY SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCH POLE SQUARE By B. L. FARJEON Illustrated by Edith L. Lang The Dickens pathos, the Dickens sym- pathy with the poor and oppressed, the Dickens hatred of misers, the Dickens love of children, are all present in the book before us. Glasgow Herald. Bound in silk cloth > $1.2$; paper covers, joe. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOR COMPANY 156 Fifth Avenue : : New York City THE BEST ROMANCE EVER WRITTEN BY GRANT ALLEN. N. Y. HERALD, FROM COL. REVIEW. LI N NET GRANT-ALLEN- LINNET a Romance of t^e ?rol 31Bg GRANT ALLEN THIS story is one of the most charming romances writ- ten in years ; the pen pictures are exquisite and the characters are to the life. It was written amidst the scenes it describes during a visit of the late Mr. Allen for his health, and 5s the last complete novel he wrote. Bound in Red and Gold, with a Photogravure fortrait of Grant Allen, 7^ a 5% inebts, 403 fp.f $1.50 , Paper covers, joe. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY Number 136 Fifth Avtnut, JBeto A THRILLING ROMANCE OF MOROCCO ffettttfub Duflmi An African Treasure J. MACLAREN COBBAN AUTHOR Or "THE ANGEL or THE COVENANT," "THE RED SULTAN," ETC. THE story opens in London on the day of Queen Victoria'* Jubilee, when the leading characters are introduced. The narrative relates how the Doctor and Sandy Peebles out- witted the Basha Misfiwa in his search for the meaning of the irr.inge cryptogram and how Jim Greathed. by the aid of the .ovely Susannah, dispelled the mystery of "Bro'r Sol," to- gether with their adventures in the interior of Morocco. Beautifully Illustrated. The frontispiece is an Alber- type on Japan paper. 7^ x 5% inches, page:. Handsomely bound in doth $1.15, paper, NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY Number 156 Fifth Avenu t Jjleta SNAPPY, ROMANTIC, VIVID REALISTIC, INTERESTING, HEALTHY VENGEANCE IS MINE A Novel of the Days of Napoleon the Great By DR. ANDREW BALFOUR Author of " By Stroke of Sword," "To Arms," etc. Beautifully illustrated from oil paintings by John H. Betts Bound in a beautiful silk cloth with portrait of the heroine in colors in a gold miniature on the cover, $1.50- Paper cover, 50 cents, One of the most dramatic novels of the year without question .... for popular interest it can be claimed for this one that it is a winner. We have Napoleon and his eagles and legions Napoleon from Elba to Waterloo it is all told with genuine skill and spirit. The battle of Waterloo, the "Up Guards and at Them " of Wellington, and finally, the defeat and rout. But the love of Neil Darroch and Kate Ingleby survives and triumphs. It is indeed one of the most readable of books. Los Angeles Herald. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY i 56 Fifth Avenue : :New York City TO FIT YOUR PURSE N POCKET^VALISE, AND TRUNK FOUR HUNDRED LAUGHS Or, Fun Without Vulgarity. A Cyclopsedia of Jests, Toasts, Witty Sayings, etc. Cloth,, - - 750. HERE LIES: A Collection of Quaint and Humorous Inscriptions from Tombstones. Cloth, 750 A HANDBOOK OF PROVERBS For Readers, Thinkers, Writers and Speakers. Selected from the best Sources and Classified, including a List of Authorities 9uoted. Cloth, . 750. COMMON SENSE JN CHESS By Emanuel Lasker. An invaluable book for Chess player?. Cloth, net, .... yj c . HASTY PUDDING POEMS A Collection of Impulsive and Impromptu Verses, in- cluding Repartee in Verse, Envelope Poetry, Rhyming Wifls, etc. Cloth, ... 7sc . NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK. COMPANY 156 ?IFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK Popular Novels BY Arthur W. Marchmont By Rig ht of S word A Dash for a Throne A Heri tage o f Peril Miser Hoadley's Secret Each volume graphically illustrated Bound in cloth, ; 51.25. Paper covers, 50 cts. By the fa m o u s Author of ALICE OF OLD VINCENNES MILLY; OR, AT LOVES EXTREMES By MAURICE THOMPSON This famous novel is now for the first time issued at a popular price in the well-known "Red Paper Covers." of Comment " Nothing that he has written possesses greater charm of style and more artistic treatment than this story." N. T. Press. "This is the best possible report on Mr. Thompson's romance: Milly is all right." N. T. World. ' ' The story is one for a lazy summer day under June skies where one wants to read and think." Pbila. Telegraph. Bound in cloth, $1.50 Paper covers, 50 cts. NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 156 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY New Amsterdam Book Company NEW YORK CITY ASK TO SEE THESE NEW BOOKS: D. DINKELSPIEL: HIS GONVERSATIONINGS. By GEORGE V. HOBART. Illustrated by F. OPPER. Frontispiece a portrait in photo- gra