DECREE NISI

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 142, 16 June 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

DECREE NISI

B Y ARTHUR B. R. FOOKES, Author & " lQthe Flash and the Spirit,' Etc.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE TWO MERCHANTS,

Os Tuesday morning Mr Langley made his , j£ r Turner's office, and with him he 2 closeted some time. Mr Langley felt really anxious to serve Astley, as he remembered his own early colonial days, and the wrlsbipsbewent through ere he attained ba firm standing. Having been through 2 y£e h Self and come out all right, he lit for young fellows just entering into inial life, more especially as men who f Started with him were now far behind, hl having succumbed to the troubles that 8 fnnndea them. They had not energy or £ sutont to battle successfully with ad Mr S£gley always made a point-since he had it in his power-of helping up a ?° vchum' if an opportunity presented ■S and failing this, he had often been Sin to make an opportunity of so serving fvounz fellow, even at personal loss. It ?ffisuraHe fact that there are others Setted that they are few and far wZen Many old settlers-good men b Hrae-say: ' Oh, let him rougli it. I Ipett/hard time of it when I came Jrefirsb. Look at menow! It will do him good-make a man of him. They forget that times are changed. As the colony has advanced the people haye acauired different notions., Some forty Zs ago all were «in the same boat'or nearly so. Being hard up m New Zealand now the population has so much increased, is a very different matter to being hard up some thirty or forty years ago. There is a term that has been applied to many a poor 'new chum,' who has been tag hoping again3t hope, looking far and wife for work and getting none, and who, L want of means to go farther, has come back to the spot he started from to be called-a loafer! 'It is the last straw that Seaks the camel's back,' so this w the WO rd that breaks the • new chum's heart. Tohaveleftahomewhere he has, perhaps, a fond mother and loving sisters whose hopes are centred in him, and to tramp the country looking for any work and returning footsore and heartsore to the pomt from which he started, hoping there to find some relief! With clothes worn out and boots dilapidated, his former acquaintances knew him not, and he hears himself spoken of as a loafer ! How many a poor fellow has gone utterly to the dogs through that degrading term being applied to him !

Mr Langley having discussed various business matters with Mr Turner, introduced the subject which was the real 'motive of his visit. ' 'By the way, Turner,' said he, my wife called on you yesterdayabout ayoung fellow named Berwick, 1 believe. Do you know anything against him of your own personal knowledge? 'Notl,'replied Mr Turner. 'I havent bothered my head about him much, but Dakin knows all about him. He can tell jouagreatdeal more than I can.' •Just so,' said Mr Langley, smiling. 'Now, Turner, I think you have treated this young fellow very badly; I do, indeed.' " ■ ..... jfi 'Pardon me,' said the pompous little f i man, drawing himself up; ' I think I know ; that I'm about.' , ' >') 'Question,' said Mr Langley, drily. / %w, seriously, my dear fellow, what do | \wATioff'against him ?' i %ow against him!' exclaimed Mr 11 "ft, fumingly. 'I am surprised at you 1 a&gtuch a question. Why, everybody inomtoß story. Surely you know what I tlepapers were ringing with a short time fok'

'i^itly termed a story.' said Mr Langley, 'though in far too mild language, /callitan infernal lie.' ; 'Soyouhave been bamboozled, tqo, have yoof askijd Mr Turner. ; ' I 'should have given you credit, for better sense.' 'Gently,' said Mr Langley, quietly. 1 fet listen to me one moment. Here you jure a young fellow coining to you, bring-., ing a letter of introduction from one of our lewing Home merchants—a man whose Dime is honoured throughout the whole commercial world. This letter speaks in high terms of the bearer, in the very highest terms in which one man can speak of another. The scandalous divorce business .is mentioned as a trumped-up case; in fact, tie whole letter is very strongly in favour of this young fellow, who is exceptionally well spoken of by the people here who know Mm; and yet you turn a cold shoulder to Mm, and worse, allow that man Dakin, who isa mean fellow, to go about painting him blacker than Old Nick himself.' 'I think you are rather hard on Dakin, ra scarcely respectful. You should re member that he holds a high position in my house, and will soon enter my family as my oanghter's husband, so don't let us have My more of that, please. Now, what is this job say about thin young Berwick being •poken so well of by people who know him 'Why, I know several people who have Whim, and they all speak highly of him ; besides this, Escombe says he knows all •wot it on the most reliable authority, ™ that there is no truth in the charges, ">ongh his innocence cannot ab present be proved.'

. £h! that's the rub,' said Mr Turner ™satisfaction. 'If he could prove his onocence, I B hould be the first to shake ™> by the hand.' | And because he is under a cloud, itoagh men like Mr Broadley and Herbert «Wmbe affirm that he is all right, you "Myoar doora against him ?' Well, replied Mr Turner, after a ™jßent'a consideration, *it does seem *tehard,biityou know J have daughters, «a a man cannot be too particular in his 7"c of visitors.' . And have not / a daughter ?' said Mr J™W, who saw that he had gained a c ground. ■ ia not a visitor at your house, ia

,«ot at present,'said Mr Langley, 'but 'Wn will be, for Mrs Langley has asked SP w dimier on Thursday. I don't know "^bas accepted, but if he does, will you ""•tod meet him?' ■ *°B surprise me, Langley. However, I j/J cc n» objection to meeting him, a Lj s**5** your house,' said Mr Turner, who Jpd his friend's little dinners. ' Yes, I , Wme, thanks, but I won't promise to ? T °.«than civil to him.' «Aoafc is all I ask, but I must say I think W c" a doubt-though lam conWfif y?u skould have £iven him *he ntof it, coming to you, as he did, with ,/a recommendation." Now, be a good . Vconsider the matter and use your ?JM2ment.' j^i Langley, I will, indeed,' said the and then, after a pause, he \> > I believe there is something in

iS«y word for it, old friend. There gW deal more in it than we know.' Ijfcf^gi Mr Langley took his departtffl'g that he had not altogether Uptime.

<»,, CHAPTER XVI. lliiW BREAKERS AHEAD. iy**** kept his word. He did coniWj*,*atter.; and the more he thought W tu6^ 88 he liked his Jate behaviour. ..-.■""w he had commenced to think

seriously about it, he could not geb the subject out of his mind. It haunted him, for Mr Turner was not a bad man at heart, he was only too easily led. To treat a man unjustly was not one of Mr Turner's failings—that is, knowingly to do co. Things said by Dakin about Mr Berwick came into his mind, things to which he felt now that he had been too ready a listener. And more than once, after sitting thinking, he brought his clenched hand down on the table exclaiming. 4 D n him !' It was not Berwick he was cursing. No ; the more he thought about him the more he felt inclined to befriend him. But he had insulted him. He would have to apologise. He would do it too, by Jove he would ! ' Hang it all! If the young fellow is all right,' he thought, 'no apology is good enough for him. It's all through that d d Dakin. I've a great mind not to let him have Lucy for that.' And so one thought led to another. Distrust crept in upon him, faintly—very faintly at first—but growing gradually stronger and stronger. Dakin had lately been urging a speedy marriage ; he pleaded having waited a long time. The old gentleman h.d intended to retire,so soon as he admitted Dakin into the family, from all active connection with business, and to place his son-in-law in sole management, giving him a share—a good share—in the concern. Now doubt crept in ; little suspicious circumstances shone out. ' He suspected Dakin—of what ?. He was afraid to think what.

This was getting unbearable ! He was shocked at his own thoughts, but they would come. Should he call in Dakin and talk to him? Pool! Was he going mad 1 He seized his hat and rushed out of the office into the street. Where was he going ? He knew not—cared not. He tore, rather than walked, along the street. Suddenly he came up against a gentleman walking in the opposite direction. ' Halloa, Turner,' cried he, ' you nearly upset me. Where so fast ?' 'I beg your pardon,' said poor Mr Turner, drawing his hand across his forehead, ' I—oh, ye 3, ah ! urn !' ' What in the name of goodness is the matter, man? You seem scared,'said the stranger. ' Do I?' said Mr Turner, gradually collecting his ideas. ' I believe I was. Which way are you going ? You are the very man I want to see.'

' Yes !' said the stranger, wonderingly. ' Shall we go to my office ?' 'Well, yes, perhaps we had better. It's all snug there, 1 suppose ?' ' Close as wax,' said the stranger, reassuringly. They went off together, and entered the office of Mr Lovegrove, accountant and financial agent. When they were seated, Mr Turner, wiping the perspiration off bis brow, commenced :

' I think I have known you long enough, Lovegrove, to place implicit confidence in you. Is it not so ?' 'It is, Turner. If you would not trust me I don't know who should.'

SWell, the matter that is troubling me is of a very delicate nature, and, strange to say, it never struck me till this morning, when thinking about an entiiely different thing. I had better tell you my suspicions. If unjust, it need never be known that I entertained them, eh ?' 'Just so, Turner. Tell me what you like, and if I can do any good, you know you may command me.' ' Well, then, to cut it short, I want you to thoroughly overhaul, my books, look thoroughly into my affairs generally, and let me know how I stand. They should bear inspection ; indeed, I am not afraid that there is anything very serious ; but I cannot help thinking that' — here he lowered his voice—'Dakin is not acting quite fair and square. I sincerely hope I may be mistaken, but I shall nob be convinced until you have thoroughly inspected everything. ."You will have plenty to do, and I wish you to lose no time over it. Give it all the attention you can. Will you undertake the business ?"'

1 Certainly. You may rely upon my giving the matter my best attention.1 'Thanks. Now, how had we better set about it, so as not to let Dakin suspect anything?' 'Oh,'said Mr Lovegrove, 'I shouldnot exercise any secrecy--over-it. If.Dakin is all right he will not suspect anything ; and if he is wrong, why it does not matter much what he thinks.' _ ■ 'True- I had rather he knew nothing about it, all the same' ' ' ' I understand your feelings, Turner, but if you will take my advice you will have the overhaul done openly. It is not an unusual thing in business, you know, and you may depend upon it that if we try to keep it quiet it will leak out, and what you try to prevent will take place. Dakin will at once think from the secrecy that he is suspected, whether he be right or wrong.' • Very true, Lovegrove. You always had a larger head than I; if 1 had only your head! should not now be tormented by these doubts. Very well, then, will you set about it at once ?' 'Yes, that is—what are you doing tonight ? Are you engaged ?' ' No, nothing particular, why ? 1 Suppose you meet me at your office tonight, after office hours—say^ eight o'clock, you can then show me round.' ' Yes, I will do that -the very thing, and I shall be able to explain matters a little, though, as yon know, books and I never did agree.' • Oh, leave the books to me. If there has been any cooking going on, you may trust me to trace it out.' 'I am sure of that. Well, eight o clock then.' And with this Mr Turner left the office.

CHAPTER XVII.

AT MR LANGLEY'S.

On the Thursday following the events above recorded, Berwick and Escombe went to dine with Mr Langley. Six o'clock was that gentleman's dinner hour, and at five minutes before that hour our friends were shown into the drawing-room, where they were graciously received by Mrs Langley. Astley was presented to Mr Langley and the various guests who were present, with whom we have nothing to do now. The dinner went off capitally, as all Mr Langley's dinners did. Astley was well satisfied with his part in the entertainment, as the charming Miss Langley hod fallen to his lot. Always sparkling and gay, this evening she surpassed herself. She was determined to make Astley happy if it lay in her power, and Astley was not past being comforted. They were a well-matched couple, and Astley was sorry when the ladies rose from the table. The gentlemen had not sat long over their wine before Mr Langley rose from his seat and took a chair next to Mr Turner. They talked in a low tone for a few minutes; then Mr Langley again changed his seat, this time for one near Astley. Beaming with satisfaction, he told our hero that Mr Turner was desirous of renewing his acquaintance with him, and had commissioned him to inquire it he would accept an apology for the manner in which he had been received on a former occasion. 'It is very good of you, Mr Langley, said Astley, Ho interest yourself m my behalf ; pray accept my best thanks^ and do not think me ungracious if I do not^appear so anxious as I possibly ought to be £ renew an acquaintance that began so nainfullV. X you assure me th*} ¥* Cne thoroughly believes me and also iand this more particularly -my good old friend, Mr Broadley, by whom I was mtroducedV then, Mr Langley, I shall be nappy to renew the acquaintance, but not 'Sso for Mr Turner has just assured me that he is horribly ashamed of hinwdf,

and that he can see plainly that he was bamboozled into acting as he did. And so he was, believe me, Mr Berwick. That manager of his, a mean cur, was the cause of all the mischief.'

• But I do not even know his manager. How could he possibly be interested in injuring me V ' I cannot say anything about that. But are you satisfied about Mr Turner ? If so, I will go and tell him. I know he is anxious about it.'

' I will go with you, Mr Langley.' So saying, Astley followed his host to where Mr Turner sat.

Mr Turner instantly rose, and extended his hand, saying in a voice loud enough for all in the room to hear him :

' I trust, Mr Berwick, you will accept my apology for my despicable conduct to you the other day. I shall not attempt to excuse myself, as I feel that 1 cannot. I :nade a bitter mistake, and am truly sorry.' ' Say no more, my dear sir,' said Astley, pressing Mr Turner's hand ; ' I regies, exceedingly, that there should have been any misunderstanding; but as Mr Langley assures me that you are fully satisfied about me now, it does not matter, does it?'

As Astley said this ' does it ?' he raised his eyes to Mr Turner's with a sweet expression that seemed to say, ' I do not feel hurt now that you trust me.' This was how Mr Turner read it. Have you never, dear reader, been moved almost to tears by the expression of eyes looking into your own, feeling as you looked into them that you looked into a soul ?

Astley took a chair beside Mr Turner. They talked together and became very friendly.

' You must come to my house, Mr Berwick,' said the worthy little man. ' We shall be truly glad to see you. You have met my daughter, I hear. The wicked little puss stole a march on me."

' Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Turner at Mr Bernard's the other day,' said Astley.

' Yes, we didn't know she was going to meet you, though ; and had I known it at the time, I should have prevented her going. But that is all changed now, Mr Berwick. When will you come ? Come and have a bit of dinner with us some day ; we are plain people, but we will try to make you comfortable.'

' Thanks, Mr Turner; you are very kind. I shall be mott happy, lam sure.' ' I had better consult Mrs Tamer first, but come up some evening in the meantime, you will be sure to find Rome of us in, will you?' ' Certainly, I shall be delighted.' ' That's all right then. Now, don't wait to be asked again,' said the hospitable merchant, ' and bring Escombe with you. He used often to drop in, but we have lost sight of him lately.' ' I'm afraid you will have to blame me for that.'

' Oh, I see ! and I lijke him none the les3 for it. Fine fellow, Escombe. Well, have you any plans for the future V INo ; nothing fixed. I have had some talk with Escombe about joining him, but I have not made up my mind. Ey-the-by,. I may as well ask your advice on the matter. It is no secret that Escombe has been looking out for a partner. He says I shall suit him 'all fco pieces.' Bub I have doubts ; I am entirely inexperienced in all matters connected with a station, and 1 know very little of farming. I tell him this, but he says it does not matter, that I shall soon pick up all I require to know. Then, again, I cannot put so much money into the concern as he at first told me he required with a partner, but he says he can arrange all that ; that he does not want money. What lam afraid of is that his friendship for me is blindfolding him. I have told him that I should decide nothing until I had taken advice about it. What do you think ?' • ' Well, I hardly know; you couldn't be with a better man than Escombe, who is thoroughly sound all through, but unless your tastes lie in that direction I should advise you £o stick to mercantile business,' said Mr Turner. 'Do you think you would like a station ■ life ? Of course, with Escombe there would be no hardship or roughing it. His place is made, and his fortune, too, I should say.'

' Yes, I know; I think 1 should like it all right,' said Aatley. 'But that is not exactly.the point, as I look at it. What I am afraid of is that by joining him I am doing him an injustice, with my lack of experience and want of sufficient capital. I should like to go in on equal terms.'

'Yes,' said Mr Turner with a smile, 'I have no doubt you would, but you need be a rich man to do that, or I am much mistaken. I'll tell you what, if you like to come round to my office in the morning and give me some insight into your affairs —you need not be more explicit than you like—l will give you the very best advice in my power. Ie is a chance you should not lightly throw away, and one that very few young fellows meet with in the colony or anywhere else, as far as I know. Will you doit?'

' With pleasure, Mr Turner, and I am very much obliged to you,' said Astley. So these two, who began their acquaintance so strangly, became good friends.

CHAPTER XVIII. EMBEZZLEMENT.

In a snug little dwelling on the Road, a short distance from the city of W lived a woman, young enough, and only escaping being beautiful by her coarseness of expression. She was evidently not a gentlewoman. Her manners were decidedly vulgar, her whole style loose in the extreme. She was sitting in a well-furnished room, talking to a young fellow who was, be it said to his credit, trying to persuade her to quit the life she was leading, but who met with little success.

1 What is the use ; of talking that way to me ? you are a bigger fool than I took you for,' she said. ' Yes, but Carrie, fool though I may be, it hurts me inexpressibly to see you ruining your young life in this way. You remember your promises on the ship,' said the young fellow. ' Oh! bother, Alfred. Things were different then. I thought you and I might do well enough, but if I'd a married you, you wouldn't a been able to keep me. I should ruin you in a month.' 'Oh! Carrie,' pleaded the young man, 1 you know I would have slaved night and day for you.' ' Slaved ! yes you would, and what good would it all do ?—a paltry three pound a week at most. No, Alfred, the kindest thing I could do was to give you up. Now you can keep yourself, and ■if you can't, you know I told you long ago, if you want any money I will give it you—not lend it, mind. And if you want anything else—but oh ! Alfred, you are such a fool! I've no patience withgyou.' . ' And I shall lose mine with you, Carrie, if you talk in that way. Take money from you, indeed! Have you no shame ?' ' Shame ! Ha-ha ! not I indeed, my young greenhorn ; did I not always tell you I had none ? Why should I be ashamed ? I have plenty of money, a good house, horses to pde and wine to drink. Now, isn't that better than being married and poor ?' 'No, Carrie, and you know it,' said her former lover, bitterly. ' Oh ! if I could turn that stubborn heart of yours. Have you forgotten that there is a God above who sees and hears '

' Now, stow all that, Alf. You know, and I always told you so, that I believe in neither God nor devil. Not I. Such rot indeed ! And look here, Master Alf, unless you want every bone in your body broke, you'd best clear out, for I expect Dakin will

• Hush ! Carrie, for mercy's sake spare me. Had it not been for that wretch, we might have been happy.'

' Oh ! I am happy enough, and I don't care a snap for him—there! Alf,' said the woman, snapping her ringers. 'What matters that ? It only makes you worse than if you loved him.' • Loved him ? Well, that's good ! and because I don't love him you are cross; well, you are a cure ! Now you'd better go. Kiss me if you like.' ' No, Carrie. Leave this wretched man and come back to me, and I will kiss you. Do this and I will still be true to you, and never reproach you with the past.' 'Oh ! I dare" say ! If that isn't good. Here, 'aye a glass o' wine before you go.' So saying she opened a cupboard, took out a decanter and glass - a good-sized tumbler and filled it to the brim, holding it to the unhappy young fellow. He refused it, saying, ' I would rather drink poison than touch a drop of that man's wine.' 'All right, Mr Independent. Then I will.' Saying this, she 'pitched' the contents down her throat, and loudly smacked her lips afterwards, exclaiming

Itapai!' Then she added, turning to Alfred, ' Now, Alf, will you go?" He rose and held out his hand to her; she pushed it aside, threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him passionately. He released himself as soon as he could, the hob blood spreading over his face and neck. •Oh ! Carrie, Carrie, how can you ?' he cried. 'You are cruel to me.'

«Cruel, Alf ! Why, Dakin calls that being kind.'

'To him ! Yes. Oh, Carrie !If you would only leave him.' ' Don't talk such rot, Alf, don't. I shan't never leave 'im as long as 'c's got a stiver. So there ! Now you know me, and would 'a' done long ago if you 'adn't been such a fool.-'

' Well, good-bye, Carrie ; I see I can do no good. I hope God in His mercy will soon change your heart.' He took up his hat and left tho room and the house. She went to the window, and as he passed, cried, 'Good-bye, old sobersides.' Then she sank back in a chair, pressed her forehead hard with one hand, while the other clutched her bosom. Was it feeling for him who had just departed ? Was it love, or what ? Ah ! reader, there are few women, however bad they may appear, however depraved and lost in vice, who have not some tender inner feeling that will not be repressed, gnawing at their hearts and driving them to still deeper dissipation and debauchery. 'Tis seldom, alas ! that strength is found to throw aside the evil life; and seldom, very seldom, an opportunity. Once woman falls into the abyss of sin, there is little, far too little opportunity for her to return to the path of virtue. No, she must go on, deeper and deeper until she is swallowing in the mire, a hopeless, helpless outcast. Shame that this should be. Shame to our Christian land!

Dakin entered,

' What, Carrie, thinking? and,positively, crying ! Is the world coming to an end, Beauty ?' ' I don't know, and don't care, you brute. If I was crying you needn't chaff me. You made me what 1 am, and if I think for a minute of what I was and might be still, you must come chaffing and tormenting me. I hate you, there!' With this emphatic speech she rushed out of the room and upstairs.' IMy goodness !' muttered Dakin—as if he had any—' this is a new phase in her character ; what next ? And I came here to be comforted. D n her !'

He comforted himself, however, with half a tumbler of brandy and the like quantity of water and a cigar. He did nob wait long. 'Well, old sport,' said Carrie as she entered, all traces of tears having disappeared. 'What's tho latest V ' Oh ! you've come to your senses, have you, Beauty?' said Dakin. 'Kiss me then.'

It was now nearly dark and Carrie proceeded to light the lamps and draw down the blinds.

' What has brought you out so early, Ted ?.' said she. ' I got your note telling me to be in;'

Dakin filled his glass again and drank it off; then he said: ' Can I trust you, Carrie ? We have known each other some time now and 1 don't think you have had any fault to find with me. I have always treated you kindly, haven't I ?' 'Oh, yes. You have always given me plenty of money, plenty to 'eat and drink, a good house, and let me do pretty much as I liked. Did you bring me some money ?' ' You mercenary creature, you are never satisfied. You will have to draw your horns in, young lady, for I'm in a mess,' said Dakin.

'In a mess, Ted? You!'

1 Yes, even I. The fact is, I have been going too fast, and —bub can I trust you with a big secret ? I want you to help me.'

' Trust me, Ted !Of course you can. As to helping you > what can I do ?' said Carrie.

'Listen to me and I will explain. But mind, if you ever breathe a word to any living soul of what I tell you I will blow your brains out, I will by G— d,' said Dakin threateningly. ' Oh, no, you wouldn't,' said Carrie, not at all frightened ; ' for if you did you would be hanged, and you wouldn't look pretty dancing on nothing.' ' You are too sanguine, my girl. Believe me if you split about what I tell you I shouldn't much care what I did, even if it did come to hanging. But swear you will never breathe a word to anybody and I will tell you.' ' All right, Ted, fire away ; but don't think you have frightened me into it,' said Carrie.

' You musb know, Carrie, that you have been a prebby • expensive luxury and I have been at my wibs' end to keep you going and pay my debts as well, which have been heavy of late. I told you some time ago that I was engaged to old Turner's daughter. He was to have t^ken me into partnership when I married the little fool, and, knowing that this was to be bhe case, I took the liberty of borrowing a few hundreds of the old gentleman's money from time to time, meaning to make it. all straight by - and - by. This has been going on some time now, and might have continued, for the old ass can'b understand his own affairs much, and if he could, it would take him all his time to detect anything ; but by some fluke or other he lias gob Lovegrove, the accountant, to inspect the books, and he is the very devil.

'I have been at the old fellow repeatedly of late about my marriage, and he has always put me off. Only the other clay, when I saw how things were going, I pressed him, when he said, ' Wait until I have arranged my affairs, then we will begin afresh,' and he looked at me so straight that I winced and believe I grew as red as a peony. Since then I have hept out of the old beggar's way as much as possible, and 1 know he suspects me, even if he is not sure, for his whole manner is changed. The time has come for me to act, and sharp's the word.

' Now, fortunately I have a good big sum of money by me, for my last ' draw ' was a good one—money that I should have banked and didn't— and I have some valuablejewellery and trinkets. What I purpose doing is to place the whole lot in your hands and bolt; it's the only thing to do that I can see, and the sooner I go the better. There is a steamer for Auckland to-night; if I catch that I shall be in time, if I have luck, for the 'Frisco boat. If I once get to 'Frisco I don't care. Now, Carrie, if I get fairly away and I write to

you, will you join me and bring the needful V Carrie was silent.

' Why don't you speak, girl ?' ' 'Old on ; let me think,' said the girl, who was turning over in her mind the advantages and possible disadvantages of her position as it would be when left with this money. If once she had it in her possession, she soon resolved, Dakin should never see it again. Was it not as much hers as his ? Carrie was not, generally, a liar. She usually spoke out boldly what she thought; but this was quite too tempting for her. Go he must, and if she did not promise he would leave her almost penniless. To what ? What do all girls so situated and so left come to ?

' Well,' said Dakin, who was growing impatient, 'have you made up your mind ?'

' Yes, Ted, I was only thinking what I should do without you,' she replied as she sat on his knee and put her arms around him.

Dakin was sharp, knowing, prided himself on his knowledge of women, but he was fooled now. He was not very demonstrative in his passion, but he was fond of the girl in his way, though he did threaten her at times. Her usual plain dealing and open way of speaking had madehimtrusther. He was completely hoodwinked now, as he deserved to be.

'Poor Beauty,' said he, stroking her bright hair, ' will you miss me, pet ?' 'Oh ! Ted, you know i shall. Must you go to-night?'

' Yes, pet, yes. But you have not promised to do as I asked. Only promise me, Carrie. I know you will be true,' he said confidingly. ' I promise, Ted, of course. Only write and tell me where you are and that I am to come, and I will go to the end of the world to you. Oh ! Ted, my darling, do not leave me." She knew he must. '

' Now, Beauty, don't try to stop me : everything depends upon my getting away. When we meet again we will be jolly, won't we?'

'Ah!'sighed the false Carrie, 'ivhenv/e meet!'

' And now I must go, Beauty; I shall be up again with the traps by-and-by. Don't go out. Kiss me, and when I come back you shall give me a final hug.' So saying, he left her. And she, first having recourse to the brandy bottle, sat down to think.

' Well, he. is a donkey. I should 'aye given him credit for better sense—first to go and role 'is boss for a girl, and then to give 'er the sugar! 'E's a fool—must be.'

This is what she thought of the man who trusted her. Then she went on to speculate what she should do with the money. If Alf wasn't such a fool, she thought, with what she would have and what he was earning they might be very comfortable. And she would like this; but then Alf wouldn't have anything to do with her unless she was as poor as a church-mouse. If he knew she had any money he would not have her. It would be nice to marry Alf, and love him and be petted by him; and then she would have to give up the money. And Alf would scold her if she drank, and she must drink. She would die if fihe didn't drink. No, she couldn't marry Alf. What should she do ? This was her own house and furniture ; she had taken good care of that when she had sold herself. If the money was much, she could invest it and live on the interest. Then she could have whom she liked to see her, and would be sure to get lots of presents. Oh ! yes, she thought she could be very comfortable. Having settled this in her mind, she opened her piano and sang a. lively song, which, not being of tho choicest description, shall be here omitted.

Carrie was not entirely without accomplishments, but she had lost what little refinement she ever had. She was a Government immigrant; where, she came from, why she came, what she had been, she would never say. Certain it was she could both play and sing with a style which had its fascination for the men who were in the habit of listening to her. Dakin's friends they were, who enjoyed the privilege of her society when he was present, and when he was absent, too; but he didn't know this, and, as sho said, ' What the eye doesn't see the heart doesn't grieve for !'

CHAPTER XIX.

PLANS FOE THE FUTURE.

On the morning after Mr Langley's little dinner Astley kepb his appoinbmenb at Mr Turner's office. Mr Turner had promised, as the reader doubtless remembers, to give him such advice as lay in his power. ' And you have thisfourthousand pounds intact, you ,tell me, Mr Berwick?' said Mr Turner.

1 Oh, yes,' replied Astley. 'Now, the main thing is whether you would really like a station life ; it is very jolly for those who do, but I have generally found that men accustomed to a city life and mercantile pursuits are not the men who make the best country settlers. Of course, if you go in with Escombe it will riot be like going into a new place which you would have to improve and bury yourself in, as ib were. Escombe is frequently in town, too much so, I think ; bub I suppose ne knows whab he is about. He has, as doubtless you are aware, large interests in bown, and bhis perhaps brings him in ofbener bhan he would come obherwise.'

' That is one of the reasons he gives me for wishing so much that I should join him. He says—but perhaps I ought not to mention ib '

'If it is anything about his connection with J. and Co. I know exactly how he stands. Indeed, it was by my advice tie went into, the thing at first.' ' Well, then, therejcan be no harm in my telling you what he says. He says the thing bothers him ; that he is not cut out for thab kind of work, and that I should be of infinite service to him, that my knowledge of mercantile business ■would be of more real service to him than thousands of pounds.' ' And so, I have no doubt, it would, Mr Berwick, Yes, well,' said Mr Turner, leaning back in his chair, ' my advice is decidedly take Escombe's offer; you could not do better. As to your scruples about want of capital and experience, I think you may make your mind easy. That Escombe will deal liberally with you I do not doubt, but looking at ib purely in a business lighb, ib is to his advantage to do so—to your mutual advantage. Of course, according to the amount you put in, so in proportion will be your profits ; that you must arrange with Escombe. Don't be over - scrupulous ; Escombe knows what he is about. He would nob be so anxious about it, if he did nob consider you in every way suitable. As to his friendship blinding him, don't you believe ib ;heis no fool. Business is business, and Escombe, who is but a young man, ha 3 shown bhroughout bhat he is a thorough business man. You can't; do better, and I think I may safely say you will never have such a good chance again. This is the best advice I can give you, and if I talked till doomsday I could not say more.'

' Thank you, Mr Turner;' said Astley; * it is very'good of you to take so much trouble about me.'

'Not at all. Never let that word be mentioned between us. /, egregious ass that I was to be so bamboozled, have caused you trouble ; anything I can do for you in the future in any way will give me infinite pleasure, I assure you. I like you, Mr Berwick, Ido indeed ;' and the old gentleman's voice shook with emotion as he held out his hand to Astley—' that you will do well I have no doubt whatever, and you have my very best wishes for your success. Look in this evening at my house if you are doing nothing, and let me present you to Mrs Turner, and bring Escombe.'

' Thank you, Mr Turner, I shall be happy to come, and I think I can promise that

Escombe will also.' In the afternoon Astley-and Escombe had a long talk together about the partnership, which ended in their calling on Escombe's solicitors and making an appointment for the following day. Escombe pointed out to Astley the advisableness ot his consulting a. solicitor on the matter who should act for him ; he should not recommend one to him, he must find one out for himself.

Astley accordingly repaired to the office of Mr Hall, the solicitor to whom he had brought a letter of introduction from his friend Bryant. He had only supposed that this Mr Hall had purposely treated him shabbily. He might perhaps, after all, really have been suddenly called into the country, when he wrote that letter. Still they had met several times since, and the invitation to dinner had never been repeated. However, be that as it might, Astley thought that if Mr Hall had fallen into error about him it was only natural, and it need not affect their business relations. So he placed the matter in Mr Hall's hands, and had no reason to complain. In the evening our friends dropped in at Mr Turner's, where they met with a cordial welcome, spent a very jolly evening, and accepted an invitation to dine on the following Tuesday.

Astley was now very well content with his lot. He found colonial society—wliat he had seen of it—very pleasant, and he had good prospects, far better, indeed, than he could possibly have hoped for. There was still, of course, one great and apparently insurmountable obstacle to his perfect happiness, but he trusted that time would work wonders in this respect. He must wait and hope. He knew his friends at Homevvouldnever restuntil they had cleared him. Then, ah! then what happiness would be his ! But he dared not dwell too much on such thoughts.

( To be continued, J