ALICK RICHARDSON'S SUCCESS.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIX, Issue 118, 21 May 1910, Page 10

ALICK RICHARDSON'S SUCCESS.

o <rYou think," Etfie a*ked slowly, looking up at him with her soft dark eyes, '"that money is everything'/" "I thing that without it life is worth nothing," he returned; "want of money nips you everywhere—wherever you turn. 1 mean to get it—to lose no chance. The man who wants a thing enough gets it in the end." "And when he has got it," she said, "I wonder if it is always worth the cost. ii r ou are nob afraid of losing other things by ihe way?" "The other things will come when. I have made my fortune j till then I put them aside." "It may take years. Will you care for them •then?" "Why not '< Weal to is power ; I mean to have a motor, a yacht, all the things by which one enjoys life." ."The point is," s=ke said dreamily, gazing out beyond him over the river shining in the sup "to be quite sure what those things are. If," hei voice was lowered a little, "you cared for any one very mnch you would put her fir&t." He looked at her j it >vaa a charming lace, sweet, s>mypathetic, framed in wavy dark hair that matched the clear frank eyes. Something stirred within him, a voice whispered that ho was throwing away' the things worth huving, but he silenced it. "1 should iiot let myself care," he said at last-; "success must, come first." They had .always been friends Ho liad always found her ready to listen, to his plans, his thoughts—it had been tacitly taken for granted that their companionship would lead to something eloper, but of late a certain subtle difference had crept into his> manner, he had decided that it would injure his prospects to marry until he mas making at least a thousand si year. j The day after this talk fiie smash came; Erne's father died of heart- I failure in his city office—the result- of other failures, which left his daughter penniless It was Gilbert Sterne, a toll quiet young man, 35t. Gordon's clerk, who came to break the news to her. He had worshipped her silently for years, but she had scarcely noticed him at all. Now she found him very useful; considerate, and thoughtful, sparing her as much worry as possible in the winding-up of affairs There was about a, hundred pounds i left, which she determined to use in cultivating her voice, which was clear and true as a bird's, for she would have to earn her living. Alick Richardson wrote a letter of condolence, but he did not call. "I-am well out of that," he said to himself, "but it's a pity; she was a nice little girl." And he returned to his business. But Gilbert Sterne came many times "Miss Gordon—Elsie !" he said as she thanked and bade him "Goodbye"— and his lips -trembled as he spoke—**l have wanted to tell you something for years, but I knew you never gave me a thought! I love you so! Oh, I cannot say how I love you, dear. And I have been offered a good post—if you could put up with me—at least you would not nave to work. 1 ' "It is very, very good of you," she said, and 1 am ever so grateful. But you are right; I never thought of ?uch a thing, and it is quite impossible " He sighed. "I am sorry—l should have spoken long ago, but I was afraid —there was some one else." "No; that is not so—there is no one else," she said quietly. She was very white; but as her clear eyes looked into his he thought he had never seen any one so brave. "But I could never marry a man I do not love." she added. "Then you will forget my asking you —and still let me help you if I can?" "Certainly I will; but I am goino- >.o Paris to stttdy under Marchesi." ° Before she went Effie tore Richard son's letter into shreds. "If 1 had never seen him I might have liked Gilbert," she said to herself, "but I have still my voice and my art—and they sha.ll make my life." Effie worked very hard, and when hei jnoney was exhausted she made a little more by accompanying and coaching other pupils, so as to study longer herself. In the season two years later Gilbert Sterne saw her name advertised as singing at a concert, and took a ticket at once. She was altered, he thought, as she came on, but the sweet face of his dreams was lovelier than ever, with the

beauty of tho soul that has worked and . suffered and loved. Her sensitive lips quivered a little, her first- notes wavered; but then she found courage, and, her dark eyes gazing out far beyond the audience, her fresh young voico rang out v ith a charming quality—intensely sympathetic—that dis tinguished it from many others as strong and well trained. She had a success; but there arc many good singers, and sne had to -struggle for her bread, giving lessons, going to and fro in all weathers. Jt was not an reahy life. Gilbert Sterne met her sometimes. and his heart ached to see how tired she looked. He longed to take her m his arms and make her rest there, but was afraid that if he said so it would put an end to their friendship, which was dearer to him than life. So she thought his love for her had faded, and was just a little vexed. Ono day he took her on tho river. The summer breeze kissed and left a lovely colour on her cheeks. The air was full of fragrance, the banks gay with willow herb, as they lunched under the overhanging trees. Effio laughed and chatted gaily—it was such a delightful change from the heated atmosphere of the concert-room and its petty jealousies. Presently a smart electric launch, crowded with fashionable people, splash ed past them, and amongst the latter was its owner, Alick Richardson. Gilbert saw Effie's colour deepen a little. "He has been wonderfully successful," he said, "and must be one of the richest men on the Stock Exchange. He made a great cotip last week." "I am glad," she said gently, dabbling her fingers in the water. Two evenings later they mot. She was singing at a fashionable reception, when she met his eyes gazing at her. They looked weary and strained, and his face was thin and worn, she thought. Her voice was superb that night, clear and full, liko a soul soaring, floating, rejoicing in a region far above tne sordid, struggling world. As she ceased a deep breath of appreciation, a moment's silence preceded a burst of rapturous applause. When it subsided she found him at her side. . "I congratulate you," he said. 1 have heard you several times, and have been wondering whether I might call?" and his critical glance noted her exquisite while and silver gown and the fragrant rose nestling in her dark hair." "Why not?" she asked, simply. "It is always pleasant to see an old friend." He came often to see her, and singing engagements poured in on her. Her battle was won. But Alick's seemed still going on. He had not yet "enough." The pursuit of gold would not let him rest. Overworked, harassed, it was only in Effie's presence, boothed by the atmosphere of repose, the little songs she sang to him in her few moments of leisure, that he enjoyed a little peace. Gilbert Sterne's visits grew less frequent. One morning, however, he brought her unexpected news. A gold-mine in which her father had largely invested, and which had never paid a dividend, had suddenly begun to do so. The fahai'es, which had been valueless, were now worth a large sum. "You will havo a comfortable income for life," (Sterne saif 3 But ho did not seem pleased. "01 course, 1 am very glad," Effie said. "I shall not sing for money any more." But her voice was heard on behalf of many charities. She was ready to help in any good cause. Offers of marriage came to her, but to them all she turned a deaf ear. Sterne did not come any more, and the invitations she sent him were refused. "One day she drove down to his office, and discovered that he was ill. She I drove on tchis rooms, which were small and barely furnished, but contained many portraits of herself. He took her for a vision, as she came in in her white dress, as he lay tossing on his bed, and laid her cool hand on. his brow. "Effie! Effie !" he cried. "Ail this time 1 have been saving, in order to win you some day. And then you got that money —and 1 cannot ask you now." "Why not?" she said, and as she stooped over him her sweet lips met his. "I want you to so much!" "I shall get well now," he murmured, as she flitted about putting things straight. "1 think it was despair of winning you that made me ill." Alick Richardson was waiting for her when she got home. "Where in the world have you been?" he cried. "I thought you would -never come." Her eyes were shining, her lips radiant. "Effie, darling," he went on passionately, "wh-3n will you bo my wife?" "Never!" she said. "I am going to marry some one else. Gilbert Sterne " "Sterne ! Your father's clerk! Impossible. I have always wanted you, and was only waiting till I had pulled off a big thing. I oan give you everything you want " "You waited too long, 1 ' she said, smiling ; "and I have got the big thing I want." "But I love you —l have always loved you " "But you loved other things better," she said, "and you have got them. Be content. It was a different success I desired, and I have got that, too —the love that put me above gold." —X. M'Donald, in the Manchester Chronicle. (