Less Than Kin.

Clutha Leader, Volume XX, Issue 1031, 27 April 1894, Page 7

Less Than Kin.

By Mas Will 0. Hawksley.

» Tn Five Chapters.

CHAPTER V. A fortnight later, Joseph Wakelin was standing at the vicarage door, as he had stood every morning for a week past* His Land was upon the bell, which h* pulled with evident care. The man's face seemed to have altered of late, losing something of its coarse self-assurance j and there was an obvious expression of anxiety in the eyes which he raised to Ena's face as she appeared in response to the summons. It was Jane's work, but Jane was otherwise occupied; for sickness,.is apt to disorganise a household, arfd^sickness—the result of his last day'sfvisiting —was upon the vicar now. • How is he V asked the manufacturer softly. 'As bad as he can be; fresh tears rising to her eyes, which already showed traces of weeping. 'Jane is out, Mr Wakelin ] so I came to tell you that, if you are not nervous about the infection, father would be very glad to speak to you for a moment.' The strong man's face blanched, but not with fear. ' Infection ? Me nervous ? Not quite,' he said brusquely as he entered. • What can Ido for him V 'This way, please. No; the doctor says there's really no danger to other people now. His throat is all right, but the diphtheria has left him so awfully weak.' Then, almost in a whisper: • Try to be tender to him, Mr Wakelin.' Perhaps he heard, perhaps he did not. As any rate he made no reply ; but, after tapping gently at the door she indicated, went gently in and closed it behind him. The sight of the pale, wasted features ppon the pillow thrilled him to the heart; for he had a heart, though one hard to be reached, encased as it was within a very thick and rough exterior shell; and none understood better than he how greatly his own actions had contributed to bring the clergyman thus low. I If his spirits were not so depressed, he might yet rouse himself and pull through ; but with all this load upon his mind, whether he deserves to have it there or not, I doubt if he'll rally,' the doctor had remarked to Wakelin only yesterday.' ' He doesn't deserve it,' that worthy managed to bring out gruffly, as he turned off, carrying a shaft in his soul that rankled sorely there, and leaving Dr Mitchell to nod sagaciously as he muttered to himself : ' Then, my friend you merit more than ever you'll get in the way of punishment.' From the side of the bed, Mildred, wan with long nursing and watching, advanced, with the ghost of a smile, to offrr her hand. And, hearing a footstep, Mr Russell opened his eyes. 'It is you !' he murmured in a weak whisper. —'My dearest, leave us for five minutes.' And the wife obeyed. I1 can't talk much,' the vicar said, still in that same husky tone; ' yet there is one thing I want to tell you, Wakelin. lam a dying man ' • Don't lose heart, sir. Indeed, Mr Russell' But the other did not heed the interruption. ' The word of dying men is generally credited. So I desire to assure you — once more —that I never appropriated — that money,' the last words coming out in a series of gasps painful to hear. 'Oh sir, I'm sure on't,' cried the manufacturer. ' I've abeen certain this long while! But the chance to pay back old scores wor too good.' A brighter gleam came into the dull eyes. 'You did not actually doubt me?' 1 Only nbws and fchens at first. Niver sence that day in the study. No guilty chap could 'a spoke as you did then.' ' And yet you spread the story ?' ' Yes, I spread the story,' in dogged confession. ' Why ?' as the languid eyes closed again, and the head turned restlessly upon the pillow. •To bring you down,' blurted out the Yorkshireman. • I'm as good as you any day, and you'd never own to it. And so' Mr Russell started feebly and again looked up. * Never own to it ? Have I seemed as proud as that ? Then —l deserve —it all!' more faintly than ever. lOh sir, never give in ! I'll have your death on my conscience, if anything happens. And I'll do all as in me lays ! I'll tell the parish that I've been a fool ! I'll' The vicar smiled, such a pathetic, dreary smile. • A tale is more easily put about than contradicted,' he answered. 'Do what you can. But remember —if your friends —still think —the worst —it is — your — punishment ! We've both — been wrong. Forgive me, Wakelin !' his thin fingers wandering in search of the other's hand. The man sank on his knees upon the floor, and burying his face in the bedclothes, burst into tears, • If on'y you'd a spoke so afore !' he wailed, *if on'y you'd a spoke so afore !' It was thus that at length they came to a better appreciation of each other.

And though when, in another minute, Mildred summarily ended the interview, she found her husband too weary to move or speak, his talk with Wakelin proved the turning-point in his illness. From that hour, very slowly yet surely too, strength began to return to him, and the cloud hanging over the household seemed to lift. The desire for life had come back, and with it the power to recover. • I dared not die with that charge of pride upon me,' he said once to his wife, as they talked the incident over together weeks later. 'For it was true, and I have been guilty. Mildred, I must make what reparation I can.' 1 It seems to me that your fault was a very small one compared with' his,' remarked the lady, 'even supposing yours was a fault at all. But really, Charles, not to show that you consider yourself better born and better bred than these people ' He laid his hand on hers with a silencing glance «of reproof. ' Midred you have been nearly as bad as I. Let us try and help each other to amend,' was his only answer. • And what of the injury that Wakelin has done you, and done purposely, too V she retorted, ' I suppose you'll not prosecnte now ?' < ' No. Many things become plain to one in illness; I have been proud and offensive to my people, or they would never have treated me as they have done. Tt is just chastisement that I should be lowered in their eyes. And I must bear it.' Of course she loved and honored him the more for the resolve ; yet, knowing as she did more than was possible for him, still shut up in his sick-room, to know of the utter futility of Wakelin's repentant efforts to stop the ball which he had himself set rolling, her woman's heart sank as she listened to that decision. 'Eh mon, they've got .ower thee, ! On coorse t' passon took fever from Tom Atkin, poor lad. But that don't gtv' un noo roight t' tak' mooney what belongs t' parish,' was the sort of response with which Joseph's best arguments were met. ' Tell us wheer t' coin went if not t' Clarke, and then ' Till at last Wakelin was almost in despair. • Mr Russell, sir, wrin'C the Bishop move you ? This air ain't the kind for delicate folks ; and it'll be some while afore you're as strong as you wor,' he remarked one morning to the vicar, with all good intentions, but singularly little tact. For through that transparent device the clergyman saw only too clearly what were the genuine motives. 'So you've not succeeded ?' he returned. ' Well, I never supposed you would. Yorkshiremen are stubborn when once they take up an idea, Wakelin. I've remarked that before to-day,' with a little laugh. And Wakelin changed the subject hastily. • At any rate, you'll let me bring the carriage at three and give you a drive? Mitchell tells me as you ought to get a breath o' air.' • Thank's ; though I infinitely prefer my own room at present. How lazy this weakness makes one !' It was whilst this- interview was in progress up-stairs, thafs another and perhaps more important conversation was being carried on between two young people in the drawing-room, where Ena had been practising, and whither Dick, a strong, set purpose in his mind, had followed her. 1 Have you realised that you'll be reduced to the sad necessity of missing me in another fortnight V he remarked, with a smile, though his fingers were trembling as he abstracted from the music-rest a waltz of Chopin's that she had just finished, substituting the wellknown and most beautiful of all Schubert's sonatas. • Trinity Sunday is not far off. How shall I manage in my lonely rooms, Ena, after this taste of home-life V She shook her head, instead of speaking ; it was easier at the moment. ' My sister Ena had always promised to come with me,' the young man continued persistently. ' But now ' The pause was more eloquent than words. Clearly enough, Dick's ideas of love-making had improved of late. Deep silence, broken only by the chords which Ena was drawing from the instrument in front of her. Dick watched her drooping face with a very eager, hopeful look in his bright eyes. ' Ena, J scarcely dare ask it. There is so much money between us, that people are sure to say hard things.' •My money has never been anything but a bother yet,' exclaimed the young lady, with petulance. ' I used to think I should like to come into a fortune. But since I've had one, I've done nothing but hate it !' •Oh! I wouldn't do that,' he declared. ' There are uses in money, as you'll find out by-and-by.' Then, with a sudden seizing of his chance, ' Let me teach you, Ena ! Come and help me in my work amongst those who need some of it. Darling, if indeed you don't think that gold and silver need divide us, will you love me ? Will you ! be my wife V But her head only sank the lower, and an expression almost of terror crept into Dick's yearning countenance. 'Oh Ena, and I want you so ! You are all the world to me ! Will you send me away when my whole heart belongs to you T

! She laughed very quietly then. [ l Why didn't you say that first of all ?' she answered. j Of course the news spread quickly 'through the vicarage j and Mildred ! wept a few tears of joy as she understood that the girl whom she had so long ago taken to her motherly heart was now lo brconia her daughter indeed. No was there any effort mad<* to confine the intelligence within four walls. . 1 Our wedding is not going to be put off for a dozen y pars or so; we shall be married very soon indeed,' asserted Dick, upon being questioned by B,ijou. ' Oh yes, it's quite true, Ena, my dear. Else I shall be poisoned first and ruined afterwards by extravagant landladies. And then, what will. you do?' 1 Take Sir Marmaduke,' shrieked Bijou, with a backward nod at her brother, as she made a speedy exit before he could natch and punish her. ' Here's Mr Wakelin and the brougham for dad,' she added, returning after a moment to give the intelligence. { Dick, he'll want your arm downstairs ; he always does.' But the vicar was already descending, leaning upon the shoulder that he loved best in the world. When he reached the hall he looked down at his wife with a smile. ' How strong I'm getting, to be able to-put up with your assistance, am 1 not, old lady 1 Now for my coat, Bijou ; the thick onp,' please.' . She darted away to the coat-rack, where, however, the garment was not to be discovered, a fact which her thrill voice speedily proclaimed. • It's in my wardrobe, then,' from her father. • I was not wearing it for some time before I was ill. The last time that I had it on — when was it V Ena and Mr Wakelin exchanged glances, as the same remembrance recurred to the mind of each. 1 Never since the morning that the money was lost,' the girl exclaimed, half aloud and half to the manufacturer. ' Here it is, though, now.' ' And jolly heavy too,' from its bearer. 'Mr Wakelin, as Dick is staring at Ena instead of helping me, you'd better take it.' 'It is heavy,' holding up the thick garment in his two hands to try the weight. ' Why, the pocket is full of something hard. May I empty it T Then, suddenly, ' Mr Russell !' At that startled exclamation all Gyps turned upon him, whilst he withdrew his fist from the pocket into which he. had thrust it. From between the fingers one or two gold coins > escaped, and falling, rang loudly upon the tiled floor. 1 The pupil teachers' salaries at last/ gasped Mildred, turning white. ' Oh, my dear Charlie !' And flinging herself upon his breast, she burst into tears. None but the wife herself could have told what to her had been the suffering of the past few weeks. I ' And with the money that memorandum I brought of the amount. I'd forgotten it until this instant,' from Wakelin, as he flattened out a scrap of notepaper, bearing half-a-dozen figures. ' You must 'a slipped it in here for safety, as you was called out to Brown's. On'y it's a wonder the clinking didn't remind you ! Come, the folks may chatter now as much as they choose, any way. And if they ain't ashamed — why, they ought to be. I am, I know.' But the vicar had sunk upon a chair and covered his face with his hands. ' You are right 1 That's exactly what I did. It all comes back to me now,' he murmured. For a moment no other word wa3 uttered. Then he lifted his face, and, looking around him, spoke the feeling of his heart. ' Thank God !' he said reverently. And Wakelin added, • Amen !' The End.