IF RICHES INCREASE

Evening Star, Issue 18851, 28 January 1925, Page 3

IF RICHES INCREASE

BY MAY WYNNE,

[All Eights Reserved.] CHAPTER XVIIT. (Continued.) Old Uncle Peter buttonholed her afterwards and gave her more advice. He was kind enough to say he believed Cyril’s marriage would bo the making of him, and ho was sure he would settle down, as the head of his family and he an honor to the name of Vandelcr. The old gentleman spoke as if Vandeler was the greatest name in the world’s history. It hurt Eosio to compare her own opinion of the last heir to it. For she could sec more clearly every moment the shallow selfishness of a character which was not brought to the world’s judgment owing to a showy exterior. Everyone loved Cyril, .and Cyril loved himself. That summed it up. He was plotting with Rosie on (he Saturday morning as to how they might escape'the extremely long and dull morning service next dav .it Smllake Church when Rosie gave a little cry and sprang to her feet. “There’s Ha.rtleigh with the car,” she cried, as the big blue Daimler stopped at the front door.' “Oh. Cyril', something must be wrong at home.” He looked rather blank. " Much more likely to he n. message your father has sent over,” ho replied. •' I'll go and ask.” He hurried oif, hut returned slowly with his mother. If was the hitter who came to Rosip. “ Von are wanted at homo, dear child,” she said. “ Your mother was taken much worse early this morning.” Rosie stood rigid. " Von mean," she whispered, “(hat she is dead.” l.adv Vandeler put her arms round he| and kissed her. Cvril moved towards (he fireplace with his 'hands in his pockets. He haled and loathed this sort of hush ness. It was not exactly that he was nnsvmpathel ic. lie would have been quite ready to run messages or anything of that kind. Rut he hated tragedy in a.nv shape or form. Tie loathed to he depressed and made In feel awkward because he had no happy knack of saying he was sorry. He was truly grateful to Rosie for not erving; still more grateful when she said she would much rather go home without his escort. Even his mother did not urge him to go. Possibly she understood. Rosie did not shed a. tear. She went upstairs like a girl in a- dream, and came down ready dressed and carrying her own travelling case. Cyril came forward and took it from her.' He followed to the door, fussed about nigs, even repented his question as to whether she did not want him to come, asked it there, were anything he could do, and finally stood hack in the porch watching the car glide down the dgivp. When it was out of sight he turned to his mother. " He mnv have been talking Enough his hat.’’ said lie. “but the chauffeur said the' housemaid who brought the message out to him to come over here said Mrs Mendell died of shock. Her husband was talking to her, and some silly ass brought in a wive. The declared it was the telegram which killed her mistress, and it was to tell Mendell he was a ruined man.” Ladv Vandeler gave an exclamation of genuine dismay. If this were true, what an exceedingly awkward position dear Cyril would he placed in —for . . . ol course, it would he quite impossible tor him to marry that, sort of nersoil unless she were rich. Meantime Rosie sat in the car beside the chauffeur asking no questions. _ She felt she could not hear to hear details of this awful news from a stranger who didn't care. And nothing could alter a fact—the one stunning blow which had overwhelmed her. If confirmation of ihe news had been needed she. had it in the- drawn blinds of the manor, and the "funeral face” of old Emdnle when he opened the door. Somehow Rosie, haled tho butler for putting on that gloomy expression—for had ho not taken a cruel delight in adding to her mother's worries? Had he, not always resented tho wholo family? It was different when ‘Nurse. Edith eame forward and drew her into tho little morning room where the cosiest of lives was burning. " You poor, frozen child.” said ihe kindly muse, “Como lo tho fire, yes, and drink' this hot milk. Yon will he- brave, Rosie; your mother so often talked to me of your courage. And yon are the only one who will he able to help your father

Rosie took. the glass and gulped down milk—and fears. Nurse I’dith's claim for her father saved her from a hopeless breakdown. “Tell me,” she whispered, “then 1 will go to him,’' “There is not a great deal to tel!,’’ said the nurse gently. “ Your mother was hette-r. but—l don’t know 'why—l had an. idea, some presentiment was worrying her. She asked twice for von. Then your father came up and tliev began to talk of your sister, who had w'yitleu from London. Presently Norris came in with a telegram. Your father opened it. It contained bad news. I do not quite know, but T fear if. was to tell of a, big financial loss. Ho gave a little, exclamation, and your mother must have taken the tel pg ram from him. “-Sho was in a weak a-ncj critical state, and the shock was too much. She died almost one may say before fully realising what .she. had read. Your poor fnth-erwas completely stunned. The doctor remained with him till about half an hour ago. He is in his study. If you feel able, Rosie, it would he the. host tiling in the world for yon to go to him.” Rosie was brave. She proved it now. Needing comfort herself, she. was ready to go instead to give it. Nurse Tdith would have liked to take her in her arms and erv over her. Sho was such a, child to have to go through all this suffering. So voung and pretty. Possiblv Nurse Edith, like others, found it so much easier to pity beauty in distress. Red-nosed, watery-eyed, ugly mourners do not receive so much sympathy, though their hearts may be far nobler and more worthy. “Twill go,” said Rosie, “poor, poor pa. I will go. T)o . . . do you know if Nornh has been told yet? Have they had to wire to her?” “Yes,” replied the nurse. “T took the telegrams down to the post office myself. Your sister ought in be here to-day.” “Poor Nome,” whispered Rosie, “poor Norrie. ” Then sho crossed the mom, opened the door, and went on her errand alone. Luke Monnell sat alone in his study. A splendidly-furnished room. Everything of the best. It was in this room that ho had interviewed Jock Donson. Ato them such things as ghosts! Tt seemed so to the man who sat there, stricken as it were into the, dust, whilst, towering over him. ho felt tho ghost of tho dead friend who had cursed him . . • tho dead enemy who, having vowed vengeance, had died almost with the words on Ids lips. Yes, the ghost of Jock Donson towered gloating, whilst the man who had cheated him of nis rights sat huddled in his chair staring dim eyed at the pieco of orange co.('ltd paper" which boro the fatal mesKatul! Fatal! Fop, that lino, of writing had murdered his wife. “ Daggleton has absconded. Yon are penniless. —(Herald Donson. It was, tho dead man’s son who had struck his final blow. Remorseless in his hounding down this younger Donson had got hold of the one man Luke Mcncloll had trusted implicitly. Ho had' always been as sure of Daggleton as of himself. He had been generous to the man who was superb at business. Hut Donson had succeeded. With patience and serpentlike skill he had set to work, regardless of rebuffs. And he had succeeded.

Daggleton had betrayed his generous master, and lied tho country. With what fiendish joy Donson had penned that wire. With what greater joy -would he hear the result. And Mendell could not even bring his parched lips to curse his enemy. Tho enemv of whom he was afraid. Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. Ruin! Utter ruin! Yes —utter. But it was not only the ruin of his finances and ambition of which this broken man was thinking. His wife was dead. His wife had been killed—in revenge for his crime. Dead! And he had loved her. In his queer, cramped way he had never ceased to love tier. In all his dreams of ambition she had been beside him. Ho had hived to load her with jewels, furs, all tho luxuries which were new toys to both. But now as he sat alone in that room he was thinking of those earlier days. Of the humble stores, of their marriage. Of Norah’s birth; of their pride in the little ■girls: of their content and pleasant prosperity. Of the cheery evenings spent in the hack room. Of how- he would read Minnie the paper whilst she darned and sewed. What a wife she had been to him! So careful, so good a conk, so frugal, so sweet ’tempered. Hardly a cloud or a wry word. Always pleasant and happy. 1 Only of late things had been different. She had got so worried, poor darling, over her responsibilities. The servants had fried her, the neighbors had tried her. Xorah . . . had tried her about her grammar; he had tried her in countloss uvnys. And now it was ton late to make amends. Now ii was too lain to tell her the tale he had grudged of late to repeat, of his love and pride in her. He had not been proud of her either—not lately. She had failed so often to plav Ihe grand lady. Now it was too late, to tell her he loved her loved her the help meet, of tho old ilavs. The brave, cheerful comrade who had been so loyal and loving. With a deep sob. bursting upwards from His heart, Duke laid his head down on his outstretched anus. "Wife! Wife" he moaned, ‘‘l wouldn’t have minded (ho rest--if yon could have stayed.” The door opened softly. It was his little girl Rosie who stood on the threshold. CHARTER XIX. “ You’d better tell father," said Xorah, " that. I am going had; to town tn-mor row." The funeral of Mrs Mendell had taken place quietly the day before, Rosie was finding this day ever more torturing. Rhe haled seeing things falling hack into every-day working order when the mainspring of it all had gone, She lied cried bitterly at parting with Nurse Edith, and hud not dared venture into her mother’s room. And—what was going to happen now? Duke had said nothing about future arrangements. He seemed completely stunned. The doctors had told his girjls fhev must rouse hint to some sort of interest. or ho would bo ill. It .seemed absurd to think of pa being ill ! He was so strong, so self-reliant. If' wrung Rosie’s heart to see how broken he. was now. Xorah had not shono during those days of sorrow. At first she had cried her eyes nut ; in fact, site had become so hysterical that it had been decided for her not to attend the funeral. Rosb and her father had been the only mourners. Rosie had wondered whether Boh would write or come, but he had made no sign. Possibly he had not seen the announcement. in ‘Thy Times.’ As for Cyril, he hod rent a wire from London explaining that he had had to go off in o hum- on an urgent summons, hut hoped lo be back next week. And now Xorah talked of returning to town, too. But you can't,” said Rosie. “You haven’t even got your mourning yet. .And . . and ... it would ho dreadful for yon ... in town with strangers who wouldn't sympathise.” Xomh twirled the splendid diamond ring on her third finger. “ You seem to forget I am engaged,” sho replied. “And". . . and natnraliv Rhinoas will want me to go about wiih him. R wouldn’t be fair on him to dress myself up as a funeral mute. .Mourning is quite out of fashion.” This was too much for Rosie “ L suppose you will say grief and sorrow are out of fashion, ton," she blazed : " and I don’t, wonder, since hearts are out of fashion, ton. Oh, Xorah, T can’t think what has come to yon. And you know poor pa is ruined, too.” "He told mo he would probably not have twopence to scrape together,” said Xorah ; “that's why T am going soon. He won't have me lo keep I Ho suggested that, Phineas might help, and T told him 1 would ask. rhineas is sure to write to him: hut I’m afraid father won’t like, the letter.” " If is ton dreadful,” cried Eosio passionately. “You don’t care for anyone. Oh, Xo’rrio. won’t you give- up pretending not lo care? Won’t you ho . , , like von used to ho.' Xorah flushed. “ Xn, 1 won’t,” she replied, in a hard voice. “ I couldn’t if I tried. It's not nir fault. H you don’t look after number one, no ono else will! I learned my lesson, and I am not going to be a fool. How about Yourself? You are engaged to Cyril Yandeler, in spite of all the fuss you made about loving Bob Tretwake.” Rosie’s face blanched. Had not X'orah guessed ihe reason tor that engagement? If not, she felt sho could not he the one now to speak of her father’s treachery. Already Eosio had made a dozen excuses out of the generosity of her loving heart. Pa had only mistaken what made for happiness. After her talk with Xorah it was quite a relief to say good-bye next day. Xorah’s kiss was cold. She did not hide her own pleasure at escaping from “ this hole,” Her father had made no comment on her desertion hevond saying that he meant to write to Phineas Potter. Xorah smiled behind the speaker’s back. Sho guessed what the shrewd old dollar-king would have to sav, and sho did not blame him. Luke spoke to Rosie that same evening. “ When's Vandeler coming back?” lie asked, “ I shall have to see him. If ho plays’the game and marries you at once I’m not so sure Hint I shan't go out to America, I£ X could get Potter to advanco a couple of thousand I’d try my luck out there. But I must wait to hear from Potter, and see Vandeler. Meantime, I’ve paid tho servants and told them to clear out. This place will be taken by mv creditors. 1 think, on tho whole, Rosie. I’d do better to go to London and see Aetoll, the lawyer—and Phineas Potter. Things might not he quite hopeless, “ Um afraid, as Xorah’s _ gone, you I! have to be here alone. You’d better tell Raymond and his wife to sleep here, and you can go over to the Grange. Rosie tried to smile. , . “ Never fear, dad,” she replied, I II vet on all right. On to London and see io your business without worrying as to me.’ I’ll he quite safe.” He kissed her. . .. “ What a girl yon are, Rosie, _ he said. "Your mother ’was right. We'll pull through the black bit together. And whether she likes it or-not, Xorah will have to help, too, I mean to put (he screw on with old Potter.” Rosie grew sick at the thought of such bargaining. It came as a relief to know that if Cvril wore loyal now it would prove him to he a, truer lover than she had believed. Maybe she had misjudged him. And although' her mother was no longer here to bo “ worried ” by a rebellions Rosie who wanted to follow, the call of her heart, the latter felt it would he impossible to speak now to poor dad about meaning to marry Boh. Perhaps it was that same respect to a mourner which had kept her lover from intruding where lie knew he would be unwelcome.. , -u Luke Mendell went to London. He would fight to the last, even though his bmA -was no longer in the battle* Hue

seemed empty to a man who had grown old at his wife’s graveside. Lnlco had no idea what he was leaving poor little Rosie to face. With the exception of old Emdalo and Lucy the new' servants proved themselves no better than harpies. Their master had paid their bare wages. They therefore argued they were being defrauded. They had been owed their mourning - . Ihe housekeeper told Rosie so to her Lace. Their mournings ! What irony it was . Rosie faced the impudent woman with courage and a new-found dignity. “ A O,l will have nothing more,” she said 1 And if von have not all left by 6 o clock I shall send for the police.” She had no idea whether the threats were within her rights or not, but she spent the rest of the day in her bedroom, hearing below the shouting and laughing of iboth men and women, even the singing of songs. At tea time Lucy brought her tea,. The girl looked as if she bad been crying. “Yes, Miss,” she said. “ they all gone, ba.g and baggage. But Emdale nad to send down for Mr Butt the policeman. I’m fair ashamed to think people could behave so disgraceful-like. That Charlie, he got the key of the wine cellar away from Mr Emdale, and thev’vo been drinkin,c: the master’s port till they didn t know half what thev were saying or doing. Mr Butt, he had "more’n half a mind to have them in the lock-up, but he didn’t know whether Mr Mendcll would like it, seeing all the bllier trouble. So they’ve gone, and Mr Emdale ho saw they were all rightoff the place and the ears not tampered with.” Rosie burst info tears, _ This seemed so sordid, so cruel. So terrible after n.li the kindness most of these people had received, “ Thev weren’t the right class, Lucy told her. “Mr Emdale and I eonldn t have stayed if there hadn’t-been a change. Bui we' ain't leaving this house. Miss Rosie, with you alone in it. Bless your poor little heart.” So after all it was Lucy who comforted Rosie, who felt strangely cheered by un-looked-for lovnltv. “ Will you thank Emdale, too. she asked Lucy. “ I don't want- to come downstairs. I’m so tired I think T should like, to go to bed.” Lucy hesitated. “There's Sir Cyril waiting fo see you. Miss Rosie." she said, "He asked me if 1 thought you could spare him a few minutes. If not, he’d write. Rosie clasped her hands. “ I can't see him.” she whispered. “ I can’t.” Then, with a supreme effort, “ 1 es, 1 ,ncy, tell him T will be down in two ■■dilutes. Ask Emdale to show him mto ihe morning room if there is a fire. When the maid had gone she went and looked in Ihe glass. What a forlorn little carerrow she did look to be sure; The black dress had been made in the village •inr) filled badly, the roses had faded from her cheeks, even Lor pretty curls looked dull and lustreless. But- it didn't really matter, did it ? Cvril would scarcely notice. She washed her face in the hope of removing some of the tear stains. She shrank from pity. She hoped Cyril would not speak of her mother. It wnsn t as if it were Bob. If on I v it had been Bob ! Oh, the relief to sob out all her grief in bis loving arms. Cyril was sitting on the edge of the morning room table when she came in. As usual his dross suggested the sportsman, ids stock was carefully adjusted, his gaiters new. He looked very clean and smart -but his expression was distinctly hang-dog. In fact it was plain to see he wished himself a hundred miles away. It- was an obvious effort to greet Romo sympathetically. It always is the gvcal-vs! difficulty to sympathise with pen or longue when the heart docs not go with the words. Cyril had been rehearsing “ correct speeches ” for the last two hours. "When lie actually saw I’osic lie told himself he had been a fool not to write. “Great S’ cott. little girl." lie blurted, “ I’m awf’lly sorry. I'd hardly have known you. It must have been a knockout- blow. The mater er —sends her love: she bated to intrude, nr she'd have been round to ask if she could do anything. He patted tier hand. But Ids caress was awkward. The whole thing was awkward. He looked foolish and ill at ease. Rosie, however, was conscious °f relb'f. She was glad that Cyril Vandeler was failing her. She' was thankful (bat slip ronld scorn him and feel her contempt already sweeping aside regret. “ Ho." she replied. “ there - there hasn't been ain't long outsiders could do. She gave him his chance to claim the right to be treated as one of the family. He did not fake it. “ Awflly hard luck,’' lie volunteered. “Is that what you call it Rosie asked. “ Hard luck to lose the darling'•st and most loving of mothers. Or were vou talking about pa having lost his money ?” He reddened. “Soit V true." he said. “We did hear (hat there had been some sort of a smash. Rosie did not spare his embarrassment. “ Yes,” she replied, “ dad bas gone to London. But be docs not think a penny will be saved from the wreck. All the servants have left excepting two. who did not like to leave me in the house alone. The house everything—will he sold. Even our furs, our jewellery, our dresses.” This was plain speaking. Sir Cvril's face lengthened. Again he wished the job well over. ; But it had fo be finished. The pause grew awkward. Who was to speak next ? Vandeler swung a restless leg to and fro. “I’m awflly sorry.” he repeated, par-rot-like, “ beastly hard luck. What —er— arc, you all going to do? ” “I don't- quite know.” said Rosie. “ Norah is marrying a Air Phineas Potter. So it will only be pa and me. But—it is no use beating about ihe bush, Cyril. You want your freedom. Isn’t that what you came for? Of course, I understood—only I thought you might like to explain. You see you told mo it was necessary for yon to marry a rich wife.” • She had meant- at first to make him say the truth. But her generosity conquered her indignation. Drawing the ring from her finger she laid it on the table. Sir Cyril looked miserably ashamed as ho picked it up and thrust it info his pocket. Then he stood up. “ Damn it all,” he blurted. “I feel a regular worm, an unutterable, cad. But it’s a fact T can’t get along withoutmoney. It’s "Tfopeless. It's awflly good of you, Rosie, to help me out. I only wish this hadn't happened. I’m awf lly fond of you, but the truth is I m up to my ears in debt. And *“ You must marry a wife who ran pay them,” concluded Rosie. “ Oh. I quite understand. I -Em sure you could never bo happy unless you bad lots of money. Good-bye.” The last word was abruptly spoken. Poor Rosie was coming to the end of her tether. Were all men like tin's? Was everyone selfish, treacherous, heartless? Rosie could have cried out in her anguish. Yet she did not blame Cyril. She was thankful to he free of her engagement, hut she regretted the disillusioning which robbed her'of a- friend. Tills was the “ perfect gentleman's " sense of noblesse oblige. This was the chivalry supposed to be inherited by a line of noblo ancestors. Rosio hardly beard Vandcler’s parting words. Ho was trying to justify bfs mean conduct. Trying to prove his friendship. “ I feel'a- brute,” he repeated. “ I only wish I wore a millionaire. Everything s so beastly easy if you re rich and so beastly difficult'if you are poor. Are yon sure, Rosie, vou dou t think 1 m a. thundering cad ? ! ’ She looked at him, a faint crease between her brows. “I am Irving,”- she replied, only to think of how thankful I ought to to bo that I haven't got to marry you. I am thankful. Good-bye.” And Cyril left the- manor trying to congratulate himself on having got so cheaply out of a difficult situation. The girl might have sued him for breach, of

promise. A confoundedly awkward thing, that. As it was he agreed with his mother that it would bo better to shut up the Grange for a couple of months and go heiress-hunting on tho Riviera, where newrich might ho found galore. Quite a good egg that! _ _ But—ho. wished Rosie : Posie, hadn t looked quite so down on her luck. Awfllv hard lines on the kid. But for Sir Cyril Vandeler, Bart,, all was well that ended well. (To be continued.)