A LEGAL WRECK.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 185, 7 August 1890, Page 6

A LEGAL WRECK.

By WILLIAM GILLETTE, Author of "Held by the Enemy, 1 ' "Th e Professor," "The Private Secretary," (joint author) "Esmeralda."

CHAPTER X. EDITH KIMBALL, It is very delightful to ani/o in Boston. Simply to arrive. To come within the indescribable influence. To breathe ib—see it—'bathe in ib—feel its inspiration in the vory bricks and stones under one's feat. Those who have so arrived know this. Those who have not are ignorant of it, and seem to regard the matter in a humorous light. They are in the majority, consequently with regard,to this phenomenon humour prevail?. Poseibly there is something lunny about it, that the entire number of persons who breathe Boston air, natives,'strangers, traveller.', tramps, no matter, what should be affected in syucb a remarkable way. Ib is freely conceded bliab no other city has such an influence. To outsiders it may not bo unlike an exhibition at which the audience is edified by bhe cables of those who have inhaled laughing g„s.

If strangers and pilgrims are f?o charmed to reach the city which was once on three hills bvab is now on three hundred, how much more delightful must ifc be to one whoso home is thore, * and bi;pecialiy such a pleasant home as that to which j&dith Kimball returned after her college course was completed. First, before even looking about, she had a long visit with her mother, who was temporarily something of an invalid, and for that reason had not felt quite ablo to go to Northampton and see her daughter graduate, although she had hoped to be able to do so. But Edith gave her the moat complete and vivid account of the whole affair, and" a great deal more besides. And though Mrs Kimball did not know it, it was nevertheless a fact that Edith 1 e r description was much more enjoyable than the actual exorcises would have been. For, whon listening to her, it

was nob necessary to hoar tho class pro

phecy road, and that alone was a great gain. Edith described futJy and vividly

the most interesting partof the programme, adorning the account with bright comments of her own, graphic and eiloctivo delineations of tho characters involved, anecdotes historical and incidental about them, and in a word made, ib thoroughly interesting to Mrs Ivimball, who reclined upon a lounge in her own room, and smil6d lovingly and proudly upon her only daughter.

It ia very possible that she did not weigh quite as much, and perhaps was not physically as strong as she might havo been had her mind been out of the reach of tho woes of others. She was rather slim, and lopked above the medium height. Hers was.a face of rare intelligence, illumined with a pair of the most sympathetic hazel eyes. She had received overy advantngo in her bringing up, -and was a favourite in the rather exclusive setin which fho moved.

The next few days were so taken up by social requirements, the receiving of calls, renewing acquaintances with old friends, attending afternoon teas, lunches and receptions, and the nuruberlosa other things invented to occupy the time of fashionable young ladies, that Edith found very little opportunity to talk with her mother—that is, to have real old-fashioned Keart-to-hearC confidences. There were hundreds and hundreds of things yet to say. The trouble was that when she did gefc a brief hour with her, there were so many matters of tho present to talk over, and so much to be saia about them, that some others which she wished very much to tell were put off and off. A largo number of them have not been told to this day.

Mrs Kimball knew that one of Edith's class-mates was coming in the autumn to visit them. She knew this because she had given Edith per mission , , to invite her. She had often hoard her daughter speak of Olive Gray when she bad been at home on former occusione, and knew that there was a very close friendship existing between the two young ladies. But there was something Edith had never told her about her friend, because she had not known it herself.

One day they were lunching together at home quite' late in the afternoon. Edith had .Been speaking of Olive, and wishing she-were there, telling her mother how much she loved her, and what a charming girl she wag. Suddenly she said : * Oh, mamma' (she could not give up calling her mother by that dear childname), ' Oh, mamma, you dou't know what & peculiar life Olive has had—why, /didn't know until last term—it is the strangest thing'-and 80 sad, too! Jusb think, she has no father or mother or anything —not a single relation to her ever an aunt! Think of being entirely, destitute of aunts —life must be a barren waste! Imagine waking up in the morning and knowing you are amitlees ! I wish sho could have soma of mine !' and she laughed her light, tripp'ling, musical laugh as she thought of Aunt Suran Duane, who was very peculiar. | J The poor dear,'said Mra Kimball, calm and serious, as if in the shadow of a sadness ; ' how did such a thing happen ?' •ph, it was very sad, mamma,' Edith's voice was all tearful in a moment, • you see her father brought her there when she was a little bib' of a thing, and very soon after that he died, and she didn't kuow anyone, and—'

At .this moment a card was brought in. Edith stopped. The servant waioed near Mrs Kiinbali, who did not seem to notice the- interruption. Her eyes were upon Edit!), fixed in a peculiar vacant stare. , { There'« a card, mamma, , suid Edith. Mi's Kirubail did not move. ' Mamma !— Jfounio&l Why, what is it ?' Mrs Kimball started a little, turned, and, taking the card, held ifc in bor hand. • Nothing , . You say her—her father ——' and she stopped, silent. Then she said,/..Wait a.moment, , and looked at the card. 'Say, I beg to be excused.' The servant went to give the message. Edith rose quickly, and, gliding to her mother, had her arms about her neck in a moment. ' Mamma, I'm afraid you overdid yourself yesterday,' she said tenderly. 'Kb, I am only a little nervous,' said Mrs Kimball, rising, and gently unlocking the atlectionale embrace. ' I really don'b carU for any lunch. When you have finished, dear, como and sib with me,' and ehe turned and moved quietly toward tlie> door.

'I don't either, and I'm going with yoa now,' Baid Edith, following. 'No, no,' remonefcrafced the other, turning * Yon will displease me very much if you don't? cab something, dear. You need it; you have been out all the morning , .' Edith stood watching, with an anxious expression, the tall form of her mother as ehe paeued.oub of the .room. Dressed always in rich black, with exceedingly beautiful white hair, a large, commanding and having a rather stately yeb entirely gracious bearing, Mrs Perriu Kimball was certainly a striking object. To ebrangets ehe was rather awe-inspiring. ; To friends, respect-inspiring. To her daughter, love-inspiring. The indescribable eubdued quiet that gives the sign of tsorrpvv patsed through—suffering that cantiob bo forgotten—was upon her always. And it became her wonderfully. It added a poetic charm. When she had closed the door of her room after her, Edith turned quickly to the table and dutifully took two or three moutUfnls of food — ehe did not noticeWfcat, Then, after hurriedly dipping her

dainty pink finger tips'into one of the bowls of scented water, she threw the little napkin aside and haatenod to her mother.

Mrs Kimball Was lying back in an easy chair, and as soon as Edith had pushed an ottoman close to her and dropped down upon it, with her-arms in her mother's lap, the latter asked her to finish what she had begun to tell her about Olive Gray. Edith related all Olive had told herShe became so absorbed in ib, and so sympathised with the people she described, giving such a glowing and touching account of the dear old Gap'n's kindness and goodnesa—for Olive had talked constantly of that—and entered into the sfcory ao entirely jxwiX . self-forgetfully, that she had nearly finished before she noticed that Mrs Kimball was very vrhifce —unusually white—and th«b there was a peculiar sot expression on hor-face,

'Oh, mamma!' and. Edith roee erect, thoroughly frightened. Then a sudden thought Hashed through her mind ; struck, beating in great throbs, into her heart; thrilled her very 6oul. She turned away, as if stunned by it. After an instant she looked at her mother. Each saw that the other knew.

'Mamma! If .she should bo! If she Should Oh, Olive—Olive—(Mire ! if it should bo true. I ,

She stood before her mother, who eaid nor-hing ; who sat motionless-white.

' jDo you think there is a chance of ib, mamma ? Oh, I know you do ! I can see you do! But I'm afraid you don't think there Js much chance ! Mamma, dear, you have no idea whab a lovely girl she is— I could never tell you, and if \\, should be that she Oh, mamma 1' and slio .sank down with her face on Airs Kiinball's breast, and her arms about her.

There was a silence of several minutes, during which neither moved. Then Edith felt the loving touch of her mother's hand, Caressing her light brown hair gently. She raised her face to Mrs Kimbaii'e, and met her calm, sorrowful gaze.

'You must nofc think of it so—so eoriously,' was \t hat sho heard her say. 'It is only a possibility—perhaps nob even that;. 1 have been disappointed many times— many time;. But the—the incident about his dealh was painful to me. . There was a short silence, Edith sitting with her eyes on tho floor. '

'He might- hove done that, you know, jupfc that, , Mrs Kimball went ou in a low voice ; ' and when I think of it—' here she stopped briefly again— , and that I was to blumn for it —'

• Don'o, mamma ! Don't think of it! It isn't so!' impulsively' putting hor hand over her mother's lips. ' Yes, yes, ray child,' gently pushing it away; '1 do nob even pretend to my.solf, or to you since 1 told you tho truth about ib, that 1 had any excuse—any reason. And it is because ycu know how deeply penitent I am that you love your mother still. .

' I would love you aay way !' said the <rirl, her anna about her mother's nock 'You knoiu I would—nothing could keep mo from loving you - nothing !'

(To he Continued.)