THE GIRL AND HER GOLD.

Press, Volume LVI, Issue 10886, 1 July 1899, Page 3

THE GIRL AND HER GOLD.

Bt .% B - VoOM » Author op " A Maoei Maid," ' KOT. TO Q. B. 5.," EJ TOT! ROYAT. MAOAZIKB. Royan, senior, educated his son and train* ed him as tihough when dying ho would leave a fortune. Instead, he'left a multitude of debts, which his gentle, honest-hearted, widow paid, even out of her own money. It reduced her to poverty—such poverty that her Jiving depended upon her son's exertions. It was easy enough for Archie Royan to realise this, and, as it chanced, it was easy to obtain a means of earning just sufficient to support the frail, alver-liaaded old lady and himself. Ii was not so easy to overcome the habit of his training. Gradually the work grew more and more distasteful to him, -Mnti\ at length, unknown to his mother, he leftHijft^desk and became one of those mysteries chahced upon in the great gay world of L6&*™^ ioi / ° Bjr . No oneknewwfier^e >work e < j_ if heever worked. WhencecatoeEfc^ e ? mdeed, came he himself.' the men knew was that he frequented oh*— could hunt and shoot and play cards with the best amongst them, and thaV: he was to be found as a guest at all seasons in some bouse or another, and was bail fel- . low well met everywhere. As for the women, they were content that he danced to perfection, was a thorough gentleman, and that sometimes—just often enough to awaken interest and sympathy— there lingered in the dark-brown eyes a shade or shadow as of trouble, and a ring in the strong voice that seemed to be a part of some other than a man of pleasure and society. Generally he was the gayest of the gay, and be and his bright, cheery laugh were, very welcome. Thus you have him. To society a gay, bright, sparkling man of the world, careless and thoughtless, an idler without "purpose. To 'himself an idler by profession; a man with a fixed and a firm determination; a man Who realised his power amongst women, and who knew that the marrying of money was counted in the social world as success rather thsttfStsgrace. i conceit he had—it was not exceeding niucn^—came to bis aid and told him that the woman he made his wife would have an upright gentleman for her husband, and would never have cause to repent her choice. It was not for himseM that he wanted money. ! It was for his poor old mother, patient and uncomplaining, but sadly in want of many little luxuries the counting-house desk would , never give her. 1 To wed money for love of the woman was bis bope. But to wed money and never to ■ give way to love was his resolution. | Had he been free and . alone, with no • one dependent on him, he , would have stepped out into the New World i and have found life £n the* open, and have I striven. But he was not. So he entered into this, other life, outwardly a man carei less iand a slave to pleasure, inwardly with a set purpose and a bitter contempt for himself. Honest and honourabi-3 at least he would always be; and honest and honourI able he was as men go in the wild whirl ! of moneyed folks. . Not for a moment could anyone ever breathe a word against his play I at cards or 'his promptness in paying when I he lost. Only he played to win, and very rarely lost, and always mixed with . rich gamblers because—well because they were |.rich. Thus it happened that his skill at billiards and cards, and living upon invitations, | enabled-nim to put by, for the comfort of i the ohebeing in the world he really loved, more than he could ever have earned at tbe office work. I Then suddenly he awoke to the frailty of his purpose and the emptiness of resolving. He had entered into the hateful life be led simply in order to marry Money,. and behold, he bad fallen in love with a Woman instead of with Wealth. A woman, she ! chanced to be, to whom titles and riches had, even in this her first season, been offered in vain; a woman who was, beyond all, beautiful in her features, and fashioned most perfectly in her form; and yet not a woman; only an unassuming, pure-hearted, gentle girl, passionate, impulsive, lovely and poor. She was a girl to whom love was life, who loathed and detested the hollow admiration of those who coveted her for their 1 stately homes, as they would covet a lovely picture, or choice piece of furniture. I Royan had- heard of her and her beauty, and she of him; and thus, when it chanced I ifchafc the two met, they looked ,the one at the other as though to ascertain the accuracy of their estimates. And looking, they knew they bad each met an affinity. She welcomed it—to love him was jno difficult task—and every word and action swelled her passion for him. He, when he /realised, strove blindly and madly to conquer himself—and failed. He knew 4foe impossibility oLit, and the total • wrecking , of 'his life—and hers, that it would mean. I Money, money, money, was the god be had ' sold his soul to. He swore that he would drive 'her from his mind. Yet he scarcely ever lett her side. Thus it came to pass ithat by the end of tine season the failed in his duty, and let his love, master him. He held her in 'his arms and told her, as was true, that he loved her better than pll on earth. He spoke to her the soft, wild words of passion, and pressed upon her lips her first, long kiss of love. She yielded and was content. It was done, and no sooner done than be awoke to the utter impossibility of it all. Yet he never told her. He loved her too jnuch to (lose her at once; and perhaps— perhaps it might be possible. He often njade tens of pounds by backing horses, and why not (thousands? So he plunged and lost, and when be. reached the Hazelton's for- a month's Christmas gaiety, be was worse than poor—in debt—and his (mother was almost hungry. His engagement had been kept a complete secret, and be had accepted the Hazelton's invitation chiefly because he knew that she would be there. He had not seen her since the end of the season, although they had written. "Perhaps I ought to write," he' argued within himself, "and yet—no, I must see her, I don't want her to think worse of mc than she need. Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart, I love you! No one will ever care for you as I do.' I can't give you up! I can't—and. yet-f-"and Royan buried bis head in bis arms. • 4 j Money, money, money, kept ringing and jingling in his ears, and a pale, pinched face kept dancing before bis eyess To break it to Ethel so as to give as little pain as possible waa his wish, and unwittingly' be CM it ia the. bitterest, cruellest way of aIL '../■' The beginning of the end' was the Coming of another girl, who was/an heiress" a#dJW&fo much money of her own. .She with the taH, handsome young fefflow,:whc was friendly with , the fairjipyred gi r i. He ; jvery soon saw. hia opportunity and seiaed it. -'"' : . rpir . , , She Was u pon, and rich ; anc hadifc noVkeea»sMsi a love-of the sweet gentle girl given-her .whole heart t< him, be wnghm learnt to care for her Yot and .as necessity for it formed : magnet that drew him He became hi- slave . an d her master. "Etae 1 ■oAv ma wiurVi..'jiai>.. . and wU

think Lhave changed my mind—that is bad enough.vbut better than thai she should ■ thinks I amNJoing what I. am doing. Eh, Archie, old, man—lace realise it—yoVre yourself for. .money, and, wrecking your, life; Breaking her" heart; .too, perhaps—No. no, not that! I wouldn't do it if Bah! sh e l^ s but* after ,»ll it is only a girl's-flrit Boys and gn-ls can't really '" The World says and the world must be right. She will forget in a few .weeks—whilst I—Ob, sweetheart, if you only knew—only mew." She never did. She never learnt that his heart was breaking between the agony of his love and thedoing of that which he thought was his duty. , She only saw him in constant attendance upon the other girl, and felt that he, was changing — that, she was losine him. , * Theatricals had been organised, and with them , came the inevitable. They were amatfetuvr-even the very piece. One of the - guests was the. author. Archie was cast, as and the final scene of the play was the shooting by him of the mad woman in order to proteot his betrothed. Ethel was the mad woman, and the /other girl the betrothed. man wants to love a woman—a beautiful woman—and she already loves him, the acting'and rehearsing of lovers' parts grows quickly very real. So it came to pass that Ethel saw the- other .woman—who had guessed her rival's secret, and was waging war for the handsome man—draw her lover from her, and take him for herself. /Poor lass! He was all in the world to her. To lose him seemed *he.losing of the lightof her living. Passionate and impulsive, she beat the empty air in her agony of mind. Yet never a word did she breathe, but was always the same sweet self to him. Pride perhaps it was, or a vain hope that the lovemaking was after all acting, and his neglect of her but- forgetfulness. Her struggle was his, though she knew it not; and day after day he postponed the telling of what had to be. , Then he told her—partly. Not everything, for he made no mention of his poverty and of his necessity. He simply said that that which had once seemed so good was now impossible. He tried to be kind, and knew he was cruel and—almost broke .down. She scarcely spoke, for times' are ,when words only mock the feelings and play strange discordant tunes upon .them, sounding otherwise than meant. She grew pale, so pale that ho was frightened ,when he saw ' the blow he had struck. Yet she neither .faltered nor failed, but carried her head pr.de of a woman and quietly left - and n ' bein S P ut <>* sight, she bent '' staring into^n4? Jier room ;. 11 And rJ he less like unto rn?an^- sfclllandmotloa ; < Thus towards the ~ • . - ] evening, with the fireligh^4* h ? wmtey d them and the laughter of gaylP aDOU S "i them, two hearts were broken. She would fain have thrown up her partih-U the play, but it was too late to alter the caste. The piece promised to be a success, and besides, it seemed. strangely correct now since the hero was openly engaged to the heroine. The final rehearsal went splendidly and a cartridge was slipped into the revolver just to see how loud the report would be. '"Take care you don't put a bullet in; we don't want Ethel shot," was the hostess's careful injunction. "No .fear,of that, Lady Hazelton. # I have fixed lip four or five cartridges so that there will only be a little powder in them. Practically, they are only caps," said Jackson, to whom the weapon belonged. "There are the loaded ones in this compartment, so that there can be no possible mistake.*' I .will load the revolver myself before we go to dinner to-morrow, and put it under this shelf, and you can get it, Miss Ethel, when the time comes to use it." "Aren't you frightened of the horrid thing?" asked some lady. "No," said. Ethel; and in after times people seemed to recall that answer and, the giving of 1 it. ' ... "No need, Miss Ethel. Royan wouldn't ■ hit a haystack a yard off," said Jackson. "What is that you are saying about mc?" asked Archie, turning from his betrothed • to whom he had been talking. ■ "We were remarking that there is no need for MiSs'Vyvyan to be frightened of your hitting hei», even if your revolver were loaded. You couldn't hit that door from here." "I should be sorry for the door if 1 tried." "You know," went on the young fellow; chaflingly, "it looks so oad to see a chap on the stage point a pistol at the roof and some one just in front of him fall dead. It spoils the effect. Don't you think so, Miss- Ethel '(" "Yes. The revolver certainly ought to be pointed somewhere in the direction it is meant to be fired in." * • "I'd bet a' hundred to one that when I fire it to-morrow it would, if it were leaded, hit you," said Archie. "Bet with him, Miss Ethel. Take him in gloves," said Jackson. "It's easy enough," he added. "You see there is a small wad in each cartridge. If it hits you it will probably leave a tiny little bit of black." "Then I will accept your) wager, Mr Royan," said Ethel very quietly. "I will wear a rose in my dress. Try and hit it." ■ ' "Right you are. But I say, Jackson, are you sure the wad won't hurt?" "Certain, old man, certain." And thus, amid laughter at its oddness, the silly bet was made. The principals'—Ethel, trie other girl, and Archie Royan—fairly excelled themselves in the* performance, Ethel especially, ; "One would think she really did hate Miss St. John," meaning the other girl, said one lady to another. The audience, a large one gathered from all the country side, was fashionably enthusiastic and properly appreciative. "I never thought Ethel would have done so well," said Lady Hazelton. ••She seemed ill at dinner and left'in the middle." She bad. But it was' not that she was unwell. Nor did she go to her'room straightway. Had anyone been' near they would ■"have seen her stop at the end of the long corridor by the study door. For a moment sho paused and glanced up and down as though fearful of being detected. Then she turned the handle and entered. It was a large room, and as it opened into the back of the big hall was used in times of theatricals as a sort of dressing room or green ■ room. There were no lights,, only a great blazing fire. It was sufficient for her pur- ' pose. Stepping up to a bookcase she drew from one of the shelves something that glit- ] tered and glistened. For a few moments she 1 bent- over a leather case standing on. the ' table, and the firelight heard tbe rattle of 1 metal, as though of the handling of the cartridges. There was a click and a snap. 1 Then she returned the thing to its hiding place and' sped swiftly to her room. She ' locked the door, and'throwing herself on the ■ bed, burst pnto a wild, hopeless, helpless ' fit of weeping. She was dressing when she unlocked the door for Lady Hazelton, who had come up ■ to see if she was ill. l Yes, the performance had been an unquah- ; fied success, and the last act passed rapidly towards the climax. It was really a well s written piece although conventional enough i in its plot. The closing scene was strong i and powerful. » The villain of the play had suteeeded in I ruining an unfortunate woman whose troubles had turned her mad. He resembles a, twin I brother whose name he has often assumed . —and forged. The brother, the' hero, is i engaged to marry a girl whom ths wretched, '■ victim knows to have been Insjrumental in preventing her xnamage.-''ljd^m'.to,4esper- l- - ation, she determines .to take the life of this ' other woman and thus "rdvenge '^herself. Armed with a revolvei* 8he r obtains entrance into the room wjjese'' the grcl is, and,, after J a stormy scen£/ / j8 on the point of shooting her when appears and snatches away * the* weap>n. "A* scuffle ensues, and the } woman vST flung off utterly insane. She is t abojaVW make another onslaught when the "»>an fires, at her and kills her. The play S*rVthen came to a happy ending, h' ' Why the herb'was not at once arrested, " c i and how it could end happily was not made o eJe-jr; but the words ot it all sounded very 1- well, and tho noint was- not' pressed, d The'hist act was nearly, over. The girl and Royan were on Ethel id the wing waiting-her c*H,*bir nghfchaUd t, under her mantle toying with the revolver. to Leaoing against- a p'ular- «,"«** lo \V? r. Sought, sne looked wonderfully beautiful, t, though white and wearied. , n. > Who shall say. wlut was in her mind? The thought, nerchance. of what nnght have Ul been? The thought of what she'Aaawoor-

and-lost? - Of whet : she cervedr . Perhapa », But the bind the- toy neither shook [;nor trembfedV &3gn&*:-)-"-: did the girl make a. movemehi when.Bhe swept B**de and glkcettn at the blood-red rose she wortr in the bbsoflt' :.'*! of her dress above ber heart. - - J Then her call came,, andfshefwas plftyinir ;, l her part. . Pkymgatwith an. abandonment ' . S and passion that 'seemed too real .A nas- ; " - : sion that grew and grew '-until, astthe'lwa. - > entered- and found W the revolver.- -'".J" the actang seemed beyond her power of " jng. , Quickljr and, well they feigned to struggle* and then she was fluag\ pace - or two away, -with tbe revolver'in his'hanc[ gleaming towards her. ; \. -«A. i; \ "The wager," came a voice with a laugh" 1 ,?d firom the inrespressible Jackson- The' fain* shadow of a smile passed across the face of ' the man as he glanced along the barrel. The. mockery of it seemed to strike him as he found aiming the weapon, now harm- -, L less, but wihioh could be so deadly, hm\ "■ who was everything in the world. to him. v ' , Shoot straight! Oh, yes, he would do that - just because of the wager, and he would try,, and put the little black bit of paper into the- ". red rose. . Staggering back, the girl paused, audi as arranged in rehearsal, she straightened her- . self ere she sprang at him. It was to bethe moment of his firing. Then a strange thing chancedl For she arose as, rehearsing, she bad always done; but, as he pressed the trigger, instead of springing towards him, she threw out her , . i 'arm and called his name. As the revolver spat out its ugly tongue of flame the call passed into a shriek of agony. In the fraction \ -'-, of a second it bad all happened. Before he '' could stay himself he had'shot her. The ,: I petals of 'the blood-red rose were scattered, * ~ I and, fluttering downwards, sank upon her as - ' ~ she fell—dead.