A VOICE FROM THE DEEP.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 51, 23 November 1907, Page 14

A VOICE FROM THE DEEP.

The rain was descending in torrents and i the wind howling a weird, .discord as, I . struggled in pursuit of a Kilburn omnibus. "'TJrry up;, sir," bawled the conductor, j, and I, breathless and dripping, at. last reached it and. staggered down.its,length to , the only unoccupied seat it contained. '' "Full inside, ;Bill!" shouted the man, and onward we lumbered. It was past seven! As we gradually left it behind 'us; the city looked a dismal and desolate waste whence all who could wero flying. .. iVV'ith the rain rattling against the windows we passed Chancery Lane, Oxford Street, and .the Circus without a change;' "Nobody got out', and we therefore made no stoppages of any,kind. At the Marble Arch wo came to a halt, and I heard the conductor assuring i), someone with stem suavity that there was * ; absolutely no room within the conveyance. • - "I'm truly'sorry, miss; but look for yourt" »elf," ho said. "Will any gentleman ride • outsido to oblige a lady? 1 ' he added, turning round. . No ono moved. The prospect of a seat on ■' the outside omnibus on such :a. night I as this nipped-the instincts of politeness 'in |r. the bud. At-'the conductor's the ' '-ilady' had mounted the footboard, and stood, L gazing, despairingly, within. I raised my and saw the sweetest face I hail ever . "encountered. A young face, with great bluo £• eyes, which seemed to rest mournfully upon own. For one moment I.hesitated, then' i>lose. t ; "Allow me to offer you my, seat," I;said $' Badly—gladly—sadly. ' | "Oh, thank you so much!" exclaimed the y owner of the blue eyes,,giving me a ravish-. ■ ing smile. ' . . | v I handed her in, watched her until j she '£'. Jvas seated, caught a last look of feratitudo h from her, and then clambered up to the roof the darkness and the rain without anBV'other'regret; There I sat under my drip-f-j! ping umbrella while wo threaded our way •^ "down the. Edgowaro Road and out into Vale. Several times we stopped to ■..j, disgorge a passenger or.to pick ono up, but •.the owner of the blue eyes still remained : .within. My destination was now not far off. , -'As we neared it I sighed to think that sho Vand I would have to part, perhaps .without a never to .meet'again! Filled with this regret, I descended, and as the 'bus ■"■ stopped came into collision with someone.in, V the doorway. A pair of arms clutohed me, a >Boft voice murmured apologies, arid ''a- moir ment later I was standing, in roadway ~;- beside the.object of my thoughts. As the <?bus rumbled on. she tunied towards me. < "How can I thank you sufficiently for your f;' kindness?" she sweetly said. ■'■' ' % ' I made some deprecating reply,, and sljo "But you aro wet through', and ,-?it's my fault;'-'-'- •' • .' ~',--.\--. : . . r —■'. She touched my sleeve. Was it that which y sent a thrill through me, or the piercing y-.cold? I could not distinguish. ~,'.., ~>"-., .... (.» "No, no," I said quickly. "Iwaswet'be- / fore I went,outside. It's nothing." ' '''■■•,■"•'. ', "You m.ust make haste homo,'' she mur-' mured in tones of solicitude, "and take your things off, and havo some hot brandy'and .; ''.water." ~ ' t • It was an unpoetic but a sensible sugges- '.,' tion. , Certainly I would adopt ifc>-'!''i ? ■• "But perhaps you are a. teetotaller ?" sho V., hesitated. •■ -~. . ._

"No, no," I hurriedly assured tor.' Jjßut' •• we must not stand still. You must, bo . anxious to reach your homo. May I ask in v/hich direction it lies?" .. She-indicated-tho- locality,, and. oh, ..joy! her house was near my own. i. "You will permit mo to see you'to your j door?" I asked. "If you will bo so good. I,have no'umbrella." . In a moment mine was. covering her tender > figure. She crept'close beneath its shelter';. her hand confidingly sought my arm; and, where it lightly lay, a gentlo warmth sprang up, making my pulses throb. ~ Thus we ; began our walk. --.'The '.street •'■ lamps .as we-passed showed mo as dainty and as neatly-dressed a maiden as it had ever been my lot to meet. My. eyos fed upon her face, until, aware of my 'ga'zb, .and with what seemed a slightly nervous laugh, I sho said: .'.>':'::>: "'• '■'•' ;-..'/'i'-?;"'i'i' " . "Do you fancy you have seen me somc•Vhere before?", , ■ -,:-,-;.;., : -,. i: , ; ~ "Yes—no—{that is, in church, perhaps," I > , stammered awkwardly. Heaven, forgive mo! | I pass my Sundays at my club. t. "Very likely," she returned. "I hope, I , am not taking you out of your. way. Your friends will wonder what keeps y'ou<" "Not at all; nobody expects mo. I shall spend-my evening in solitude."--.' ■ .:•. ~-.-■• "Ah! If I could but do the samo!"she ■ cried,-clasping-both her hands on my arm, ,with childish regret in her simple faee. "Your relatives, parents—:'" I said. "I havo neither. I am only a governess— a domestic servant, without a servant's 1 , liberty, and —-" She buried her face on my Bleevc. - . ' . ||It's an abominablo shame!""l declared. ; 'Never mind," said she, wiping her eve 3. •> Poor little sou!! 1 tried to cheer her. But there would,be time,.for that when, npxt .we met, as 1 was determined we should.''" "Won'tyou tell me your name?" I asked," "' emboldened'by her confidences. .-■■■"..■• -.' "Kitty—Kitty Cleveland. And yours?"-1 .- Georgo Bastiri." ' S!ie repeated it softly. Never had it I' Bounded like that before, f "This is where I live," said she almost at f tho same moment. "May I call .and see .you?" I . asked eagerly. , "No, no," she demurred. '-'You forgot, I am only a governess." Then, putting her little hand in mine, "But on Sundays I am free. Perhaps we may meet in church." "Which church?" I entreated. "St. Thomas's. Good-night, Mr. Bastin, 'and thank you for your kindness." L' tore myself away and walked.home full - of compassion for the tender ljttle soul whom I pictured the slave of a host of rude, and • tiresome children, treated like a sorvaht by her mistress, and by tho servants-with dis-.' , dam. I grew sad with pity < as Icontem-' plated the misery of her existence. A delugo should not keep' me from church on Sunday. - It did not. '.-,• . • ■ .'■■"■■. ' i Through tho mud and puddles I sought St. Thomas's. Kitty was there. ..Wo met in" • the porch after the service,' and' for'"tho second time took joint .exercise under ' my umbrella. Fp'rjnany Sundays after that wo spent pleasant; hours, though mostly ' wet'J ones, in cacli other's company. Kitty acquainted me (hiring these walks .with ,tho, story of her life'.' It was a sad one. Her father had been in tho army. Ho was • either a general or a colonel—sometimes one, sometimes the other, sho nevor seemed quite certain on this point. Her mother she nevor knew, but believed her to havo been, a.-lady of title. Her childhood was but a dream.! yet a' dream of splendour and pomp., When sho was sixteen a terrible disaster occurred. Her father was killed in battle, and sho was turned out of her ancestral home by.a.cruel, and rapacious" uncle. Alone and penniless she faced the' world, and after many cruel trials and privations found an asylum in a convent. Thoro was a : break in hor story here. Her lips''.-woro scaled, she said, concerning tho events of tho next f6w years.- ! I •roust ask her no questions. Ultimately, circumstances, compelled her to accept her present situation', which was in tho house of a wealthy hut illiterate female, who,, as I,surmised, treated '.her shamefully,. ... This 'was the pith of her story, told .in such mournful accents that, it brought the-, tear's to my;oyes. il asked her thonamo of tho battlo.in which-her father felL After much' cogitation sho thought it-was Waterlob, s but it might,havo been tho battle of the Nilol Poor, child! tho bitterness of hor loss had impaired her mbnjory. Neither-'could sho recall hor raothor's. maiden name, thoplace-of her. birth, of /hor fafhor's-mansion, orAhjsTOgimcnt. - - ■ ■ Some terrible secret hangs over this; young'lifo!" I groaned. "Oh, that Icorild ponetrato-it,: and; so. restore- hor?to:h,or'propor' position!"- y"'"' . ' . '"■" <;

Why 1 put _ off asking her to bo my wifo 1 scarcoly know.'•• To sit' ahdVdroam of love soemod happiness,. on'ongh;v;and I hesitated ,to make hor a. formal pffer.of'.my hand. As Christmas., approached,,! ,npticed my. Kitty growing'more and more I oxcrte<r'my'solf''to dispoT this'd'o'jectinn, which I believed aroso from thoughts of her early sufferings. /,-'... , "Why should .you_.dwell„ upon thoso unhappy'days?" I 'said'."""' •" ' • ; ' i '!'Aiil"'-she'sighodi-"ybu'do-not know what makes--mo v . > ■■ - ■■• ■ .-' •", "Yes, I. lmow,"..,lf,declarcd. "It is the bitter .recollection of., tho L past. Your father's death at the battlo of Thermopylae, your'unclo's-cruelty, tho; penances ' of your convent'life,--the ; -—■ ■•'■«'- - - ■ "No, no," she interrupted. "It's the children!" sho sighed again. "And their mother and-the'mvants. V My"life is misarable'with themf' Thoy troat md- shamefullyl" .'. :rv .'1 Poor child! It was tho old, old story! of tbo'friendless girl made- into a kind of domestic slave in tho name of charity 1 I had made up my mind what to do. I .would releaso her from her bondage.withjat delay. I said nothing of 'my intention, however.' 'Kitty, to hor door that Sunday evening j filled with. determination to rescue her or perish in the attempt. I'Tvas comfortably wound up .to tho propt-r valourous pitch next ;day when I rang tho bell at ; -Weloar-House,'''Kitty's tompprary homo. Lrang.it loudly, so.that, the houso re,s6undod M to.,n]y summons, '. • with scared face, came quickly tb tho door. "I'wi'sh to" see Mrs. .Smith," I said )n cconmanding tones. '..','}. The 1 woman hesitated,-but,"awed by my steady, gaze, ushered mo iri. '. '. ""What 'name, please?"'.sho asked tremulously. . I informed her'how'to announce me, and she retired. '':., '■'• "Now,". ■Ifthought, "I niust',assume .my most sovero manner. This-Mrs. Smith must bo given to understand that, in constituting myself '.Kitty's, protector, I win stand no nonsense'.,.. The bfazeri-faccd . creaturo shall not 'impose *'*' ~ Just then tlib door opened,' admitting a lady of such unassumiiig; aspect that my unfinished threats abruptly left my mind. With a gravo bow sho enquired tho naturo of my business. ," V.. : .

"H'm!" I commenced, rising. "There' is somo mistake, I think., J desired to see Mrs". Smith." ''

"I aril Mrs. Smith,", she replied gently, "I thought—that is, I .was,, given to inderstand that, sbo —that is—npw, my dear madam," I stammered, taken aback, "canhot we 'argue this matter out quietly, without violence of. any kind?".,. ' . . Keeping, her eyes - steadily "on/ mine, sho moved to*tho bell and,placeth-her hand upon it.- V ''■.'■.' ""'*""" ' ;

"I do'not understand'youY pray sit down," sho < ; said presently, growing. a trifle pale. ''"Then, 'madam,". I said,' "tho soouor I 'explain, royself.tho .bettor,' , I am here to champion the caus.e of ■ that ..-unhappy .girl whom it'lias'been 'your, pleasure'these many months id maltreat most shampfully . I. am hefe"'fo"'demand ah' 'explanation - of -conduct that is p)ltragßous-,.and ingxqusablo;..and T will have,it-before r I leave this house." Then I'sat'down "and,watched, tho effect my .words.,made; ; ,Qn;, creature. For, I said to myself, : I-would not. allow, appearances to favour,any .other- view of her. • "To what do you allude?" sho asked with a tremor in hor voice.

•'"Plvj it-is iwilful'blindness 1" I cried, getting lip'again, ; "to protend that you do. not understand.,,., You .have in your houso a young' and' beautiful girl, tho scion pf a noble race; a gentlo creature whom Heaven has ondowed with every oxquisito. quality of tho mind and heart, who, for the. more pitiful: wage- of-a- seamstress, slaves .tho lifelong day amongst a horde of unruly children, and who in-return is treated with obloquy/ and disdain by you and yours. That, madam, is my chargo;.that is what I have come to expose. ' And all I have now to say is that I. will, wait until. Miss .Cloveland "can pack her' trunkJ.aniL accbiilp&ny, mo; her affianced husband, out of'your house." 'I'could have said a great deal more, but I saw;by..ber face,:that I. had mado tho requisite'impression;'so T paused. _ "Cleveland? Was that the name you mentioned?" .sho asked. ' ' f ~ "It was,, madam. Miss Catherine Cloveland; yduf'"unhappy governess." , \GQvernlr>ss!"_ ) sho_;echoed..: : -:: "I havo ndgovbrness:"'-- .'.',",.'.";,',. "I supposp you will assure me next that you ha'vb iib''chifdrefl'?'!'? T; ;r.-' v; "Most certainly, none!" i -: "Madani,-»',bow«ro l how-you--triflo with mo. I trni not in tho humour.for.pleasantry!" "But I am quito serious./" And you are dabourhij*:under somc"very great mistake.-] havo nqithor children nor, governess. I have been a widow for fifteen years!" '"•I .was'''ri6t'ebnVitib'c'd;''.-.'-'' , Yct', if ( it should 1)0 as she said—a widow of fifteen years cannot well have a lot-of young'children!: ' "Do you 'deny till knowledgo of Miss Cleveland, then?" I asked after a pause. '-.-.' " "No. I admit'l know; a person of that name." . . - , "Ah!". I exclaimed. /...;.' ■ "But she; cannot Swell bo. the one you are interested'in.""" She is not a governess." .. "In Heaven's name, what; then, is she?" I asked in desperation. ■■■■ "A .'housemaid."'. ,-.,• ;, ,',;»,. . , . ~"Whp3p,.h^u l semai(l ?".',.',■,'",. ". \ ' ' "Mine." ./// '• V '- ■ ■' ■■• ■ " "Rubbish/ r ma'dahi!" ;r . : , , • ' "Would' yo'u:like' .'to see.. her?'' sho enquired. "Perhaps you |Vl wjll believe mo then." ' ■ ■ ; "It is absurd," I said/with a shrug. "Still, if you wish, it 1 "■■■■ She-rang-the Aboil. The ,maid who had .admitted mo.-answerod'-it.' -J! j.."Tell Cleveland I wi'slf'to 'sco hor—horo," said -Mrs. ;Smith. The girl withdrew, and wo waited ,'in silence. I felt annoyed at being compelled to differentiate between my Kitty and a household drudge. ' Presently there was a tap at the door, tho handle turned, thcro was a rustle of skirts, and tho next moment my head was reeling and my senses wandering. \ staggered to a chair and stood, dazed and voiceless,--facing the. apparition in a .cotton gown r and. muslin, cap of—Kitty! $ 'Sho hadlcailghtNsight! of mo as she entered, given a gasp of recognition, and then, pale as a statue, and as immovable, paused .regarding mo-with,cold.and-/stony eyos. ' , i ,-,'.?.WhatMs..this?.,. .Wbat/,doos it moan?" I heart) "Mrs. Smith'svoice ask.;- ■ :■ "Ay;--what-does-it moan-?" I whispered h0ar5e1y..,..;...,, ..,...,".'

.;..There■ iwaaTrio'responso.U' 'Tho figure that worb my_-Kitty'ji facouwas silent. "Speak!" I cried, "and dispol this horrible nightmare... Speak! and lot your voice j assure mo that 'you afb not''tho Kitty whom I have .now. .scorn' to havo lost Speak!" "-'" - '" "'/'•"■. '."What's tho good?" Thoso were her words, spoken sullonly. I shuddered, for tho voice, was Kitty's. And there sho stood, ! tho object .'of any adoration, tho being upon whom I hacl lavished the holiest and most tender of passions, sho who had inspired me with hope and now doomed mo to despair. : "Can you indeed bo that sweot maid," I murmured brokenly', "whoso".'life's romance touched mo to tho very soul, whoso father was a famous warrior who fought and died at Troy, whose noblo motherilcft you to tho mercy of a black-browed uncle who robbed you of your fair "heritage!' and: cast you on a cruel world? Havo thoso lips indeed'.touched mino in lingering'' 'caress?'" Thoso eyes looked into raino'.and told of. worlds well lost for\ love? -Havo—V-"..: .j. -.:; "Oh, cut it short, do," ; camo that voice, onco. more. ;. "If'you'd l .not como fooling here,/Bs:.l.;.advised;ypu, yoii'd havo had no-, thing to complain'of:;-'." it's, air your'own .fanlt; and now "sob "what yb'n'vo done. Mado ;a fool'df yourself, and.' lost' mo my placo. It'g':perioctJy':disgustijig!";:'',. I waited to hear, no "more." I rushed from; tho.-houso, wandered, into tho Regent's Park,..reached a bridgo, and, without a moment's hesitation, cast. -myself into the -canal 1 .■%••?.■■ ■: :.:- :■■•■■ ! No,, ono. saw. .tho.,debd, and my body lies there to' this day.—Armiger Barclay, in -I'M.A.P,"-. . ~..'"