A SINGER FROM THE SEA.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIV, Issue 267, 10 November 1893, Page 3

A SINGER FROM THE SEA.

BY AMELIA S. BARS.

Anchor, of 'The Beads of Taamar,' 'The Mate of the "Easter Bell,"' 'The Household of McNeil,' 'Friend Olivia,' Etc., Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER X,

A VISIT TO ST. PINFEK,

*O waly, waly, but love be bonny A little time while it is new, But when 'tis auld it waxeth cauld And fades away like morning dew.'

Oh, and is all forgot. All school-days' friendships, childhood innocence?

Our sex as well aa I may chide you for it, Though I alane do feel the injury. Shakkspeabe.

Denasia made her dtbut in the last ten days of January, and she retained the favour of thab public which frequented W illis's Hall for three months. Then her reputation was a little worn; people whistled and sang her songs, and were pleased with their own performance of them. And Roland also had tired a little of the life—of its regularity and its obligations —he was now often willing to let any other performer, who desired to do so, take his place at Che piano. He began to have occasional lookiugs - backward to Burrel Court and the respectability ib represented. Then, at the close of April, Donasia fell sick. The poor girl fretted ab the decline of enthusiasm in her audience. She made stupendous efforts to regain her place in the popular favour, and she failed, because of the natural law which few are strong enough to defy—chat change is as necessary to amusement aa fidelity is to duty. Deiiasia did nob, indeed, reason about the event; the simple fact that she had no recalls and no clamorous approval made her miserable ; and then sickness followed. She was very aick indeed, and for four weeka cofined to her room ; and when Bhe was able to consider a return to the Hall, Roland found thab her place had been taken by a Spani&h singer with a mandolin and a wonderful dance. This wus really a serious disappointment to the young couple ; for during bhe monbh ib had been, as regarded money, everything going out and nothing coming in. For even when Denasia had been making twenty-fire pounds a week, they bad lived and drossed up to tke lasb shilling; so that a month's enforced idleness and sickness placed them deeply in debt and uncomfortably pressed for the wherewithal to meet debt.

Denasia, alao, had been much weakened by her illueaa. Her fine form and colour were impaired ; she was nervous and despondent ; and a suffering, sickly wile was quite out cc Roland's calculations and very much out of his sympathies. Poverty had a bad effect upon him. To be withoub money to buy the finest brand of cigars; to be annoyed by boarding-house keepers, tailors and costumiers; to have to buy medicines with cash when he was without his usual luxuries, waa a condition of affairs that struck Roland as extremely improper for a young man of his family and education.

And he disliked now to interview managers. Mademoiselle Denaaia was a recognised member of the profession, which, more than any other, demands that everyone stand upon his or her merits ; and Denasia had not been a very pronounced success. She remained just aboub where sho had begun, and managers naturally thought sho had done the best of which she was capable. That ' bast' was nob a phenomenal one, and Roland, as her husband and business) agent, received no extraordinary amount of respect. He was offended where he had no reason for offence —offended often because every one did nob recognise him as a member of an old Cornish family and the son of an ex-lord-mayor of London. Often he felt obliged, in order to satisfy his own self-respect, to make the fact known, and the chaff or indifference or incredulity with which his claims were received made him change his opinions regarding the ' jolly company of actors.' In fact, he was undoubtedly, at this period of Deuasia's career, her very worst enemy; for, whatever Denasia might be, Roland and hi* prebentions were usually regarded as a great bore. One afternoon in May, he became thoroughly disgusted with the life he had chosen for himself. The bright sunshine made the shabby carpet and tawdry furniture and soiled mirrors intolerably vulgar. They had just finished a badly-cooked, crossly-served, untidy dinner, and Roland had no cigar to mend it. Donasia had. not eaten at all; she lay on the bright-blue sofa with shut eyes, and her faded beauty and faded dress were offensive to the fastidious young 'man. She was thinking of her father's cottage; of the love at its hearth and of the fresh salt winds blowing all around it. Roland halt divined her thoughts, and his own wandered to Burrell Court and his long neglected-aister.

Suddenly Roland resolved to go to see his sister. Elizabeth had always plenty of money ; then why should he be without it? And the desire having entered his heart, he was as imperative as a spoiled child for its gratification. Denasia's physical condition did nod appeal to him in any degree ; he could not help her weakness and suffering, and certainly it waß very inconvenient to him. He felt at that hour as if Denaeia had broken her part of their mutual compact, which had not included eicknes3 or loss of prestige and beauty. He turned sharply to her, and said : 1 Denasia, I am going to St. Penfer. I shall have to sell a ring or something valuable in order to get the fare ; bub I ccc no other way. Elizabeth never disappointed my expectations ; she will give me money, I am sure.' «Don't leave me, Roland. I will gob well —I will, indeed, dear. I am better this afternoon. In a few days—in a week, Roland, I can find some place to sing. Please have a little patience. Oh, do, my dear.'

• " Little patience I" What are you saying, Denasia? You are very ungrateful. Have I nob had patience for a whole month ? Have I nob spent even my cigar-money tor you ? Patience, indeed !' 'Is there nowhere but Sb. Peufer ? No person but Elizabeth ?' ' I can go bo Sb. Merryn'e, if you like. Give me an order for the money in your name at St. Merryn's bank.'

She turned sullen in a moment,

• I have told you a thousand time», Roland, I would rather die of hunger than rob my father.' 1 Very well, then, why do you complain if Igo to my own people ? I hope when I return, you will be better. 1 ' 1 Roland ! Roland ! You are surely nob going to leave me in a moment without— anything?' Her cry, so full of anguish, brought him back to her side ; bub his purpose had taken full possession of him—only he left her wich those kisses and promises which women somehow manage to live upon. He etill loved her in his way of loving, bub his way demanded so many pleasanb accidentals that it was impossible for Denasia always to provide them. And yet, having once realised, in a greab measure, his ideal of her value to his happiness, he did feel that her sudden breakdown in health was a failure he ought to show disapproval of. However, there was method even in Roland's selfish plane. He did not wish to find Mr Burrell at Sb. Penfer, bo he went to fche bank apd ascertained hjs whereabouts. He was told that Mr Burre.ll had just left for Berlin, and was likely tp be a week or ten days away. This information quite

elated Roland. He sold his wabcb and took bhe first brain to Cornwall. And as ha was certain that Elizabeth would have nefcbled his bill ab bhe Black Lion, he went there wibh all his old swaggering good humour and thoroughly refreshed himself before going oub bo Burrell Courb. Elizabeth gave him a hearty welcome. She waa. indeed particularly glad to see him at that hour. She was lonely in the absence ofherhusband. Shebadjusthad a slightdisagreement with the ladies at a church-meeb-ing. She was feeling her isolation and her wantof family support; and she had met, for the firab bime since their interview, the Rev. Mr Farrar, who had presumed to arrest, her coachman and, in the presence of her servants, congratulate her on bhe marriage of her brother and her friend. Under bhe circumstances she had judged ib best to make no remarks, but she was very angry ;,and not sorry to have the culprit in her presence, and tell him exacbly whab ahe bhoughb of his folly and disgrace.

{To be Continued.)