BELINDA'S BURDEN.

Golden Bay Argus, Volume XIII, Issue 50, 12 May 1910, Page 2

BELINDA'S BURDEN.

\\ BY CLARA MULHOLLAND. BaJioda was lacing her boots. She W» pale, weary and sad at heart. iRUv life was miserable—almost more .T>i*siable than she could bear. She ;«•&» now going out, sorely against '««?- will—out through the London rtreets on a mission the very thought of which cut her to the soul and filled her proud spirit with disj may.. But there was no escape for h-r, and a-s sb? slowly drew the bootlaw thiough her fingers, she knew tfcat, come what would, she must go ; into the City with as little delay as ipossibo to beg assistance—a few (pounds perhaps—from a wealthy and | distant relative, a solicitor of jiame land fame, whose office was in a fstreet off the Strand. J "He'll refuse me with scorn," she i moaned. "And oh, the misery and shame of coming so low ! He never 'answered one of father's imploring betters. And I—oh, I'd give worlds to be saved from this ordeal. Perhaps father will consent to wait and write again." But before she had finished lacing her boots the sitting-room door was opened, and Belinda heard her father calling to her angrily. William Devereux could not move without the greatest precaution, his right foot being swollen and inflamed by an ;acute attack of gout. j Belinda rushed headlong downstairs.

" Father," she cried, horrified' to find him standing on the landing, " you know you ought not to try to walk;" and she put her arm round him tenderly and led him back to his irmchair.

i "What the deuce kept you up there so long ? " he cried, irately. " You women take the devil of a time dressing."

j "I had to put my boots on, father, and make myself tidy." ; " Tidj ? Bosh; curling your hair. Oh. yes, you were " tapping his stick upon the floor and sinking with a grunt of dissatisfaction into his chair. " You needn't blush like a ,peony ; you're a pretty girl, and a ; Devereux, and as proud "—•

j " Really, father " "Yes, you are. And I like you to Iw neat. But on this occasion it's Ittiti waste of time." I " What is waste of time, father ?" U<jsailing. " The blush, or the Wife, or "-

I 'f* IfM cnrting ywnr hair, of course, fttim PrivoMty. Though the blush is wwk*, too. By '.'«*.'•, it is ! No girl fh k*7 »ens.'* wouW blush "Tor her IWS»cr «▼•« ff fce were & nice one, instead of 'a i«i*«n»H« burden as I

; ** Ifcu't say that, p?*y " putting Iwar wiw» wj*«d bis fcock. " WJiere *fe*»ul4 I bo without you ? I should/ jfilc of loneHcee«." ..-J 1 Tut,v tiit 1 'j Not-you* I'm-Be-Imda't burden, I said so to Mrs, Persona the oth«r d»y, and she quite »gr*-l." JSelnrda'' l , haad went up with a pewud, ffi&AainfuJ toss. " She ia v«ry impertinent. And, Indeed fatter, you ought not " " I've made up my mind," he ■rambi&i op v -" to relieve you of the fcurdes,," " Father !" Belinda started and 'estWßgts*votour. " Whst do you

'* Oil .' " W#ii.ing loudly— " nothing terrible. Ocly that I'm. revolves Xn mfikd a last effort to touch Wellington Poliand's heart and open his par&e-striugs. When he sees you fce')l do th&t, and then I'll be rich snd no longer s? burden. So there, yon bs», yoar old father has thought 4t all out Very soon we'll be as «nng and •omfor.table as were ever fatliw* and *.hild. You happy and

ftirso from cnre, I" his voice chokjeti wK"b a scb—" no longer a bur;*K."

Jfcrtindr. laid her soft cheek lovingly ag-unst his rough one. " Father, these are castles in the ait. Wellington Pollard will not give me a shilling. Let us put him out of our heads."

" And I go on living on your hard earnings? Keeping you in grinding poverty ? The most wretched " " No, you exaggerate. We want "

—with a catch in her breath— " for many things. But I'd rather sew my fingers to the bone than ask one i>enny from Wellington Pollard."

" That's your confounded pride. But I tell you you must go, or see aae leave you and enter " with a wave of his hand— " the Marylsbone Workhouse. I'll be the first Devereux ever known to fall so low " "You'll never do that whilst I live, adease God." j " Then go now to Wellington! Polaard. If he refuses to see you leave khis note and come home again."

Belinda was white to the lips. i*' And will you promise to make bis . your last attempt ? Will you wear never to speak of going to the forkhouse till things are so bad lith us that I must go too ? "

"How tragic you,are ! But there •I swear. If you will keep your buriden— Well, I suppose you must."

Belinda kissed him warmly. " Then I'll go." She went down «n her knees, and finished tying her laces. "I don't expect civility or help. [Bnt I'll go and ['— pinning on her 2hat— " keep a nice fire, and whether my luck is good or bad, I'll bring a couple of crumpets home to toast -lor tea." . >,

" Extravagant lassie ! You're a Devereux all through. Off you go, now, and "come bach as fast as you can, and with a smiling face." From Adain's-street where the Devereux lived in two small rooms, to Wellington; Pollard's office near the I Strand was a good lpng way. In eab or 'bus the distancf would have fbeen covered in a short time. But Jbent upon economy, and determined

to keep her pennies for the promised crumpets, Belinda made up her mind to walk.

The shops were gay with bright dresses, beautiful jewellery, pretty ribbons and smart hats, usually so dear to a joung girl's heart. But to-day she had neither time nor opportunity to look at them, and hurried quickly past without so much as a glance in their direction. Arrived at the office she was told that Mr. Pollard was deep in business and could not see her. She begged and implored, but all in vain. The clerk's orders could not be set aside. It would be as much as his place was worth to introduce anyone to the great solicitor at that moment. Belinda was not surprised, yet she was disappointed. Seeing her distress, and noticing how pretty she was, the clerk's heart softened, and he said :

" Perhaps young Mr. Pollard would do ? He's not a bad sort, and he'd take a message to his father." "Oh, no, pray," she said, nervously. " A message would be of no use. But would you take this note, and say that I am waiting for an answer ? "

The clerk hesitated, and then as the girl raised her lovely eyes imploringly to his, he caught up the note, saying : " Hang it all, I'll risk it ! But don't blame me if he's rude and says there's no answer."

''No, indeed. You are very, very kind." " Not at all," he cried, and hurried out of the room. He was not long away, and came back looking very red and confused. " There's no answer," he stammered. "I'm awfully sorry " " Please don't trouble," Belinda said, with tremulous lips and a faint smile. " He'll perhaps write;" and ishe went away, her head high, and a bright spot on each cheek, showing the indignation she felt and greatly enhancing her beauty. As she passed out of the big entrance door into the street, the clerk gazed after her in a dreamy admiration, a young man, tall handsome and debonair, came up the steps, a cigar between his lips, a white flower in his buttonhole. He looked hard at Belinda for an instant, then hurried on into the hall. " Who is she, Thomson ? " he cried. " And whatever was she doing here ? " " She's a Miss Devereux," Thomson replied, " the loveliest girl I ever saw. She wanted to speak to the guv'nor. But he refused, Mr. Reginald, and she went away awfully cut up." " The loss is his," cried Reginald ; and he passed straight in to his father's private room. " My mother was a Devereux," he thought. " I wonder if she is a relation ? "

Wellington Pollard looked up from the papers he was reading as Reginald entered. He was a hard man, but his son was very dear to him. He nodded and smiled, then bent over his work again in silence. Reginald went to the chimnej-piece and leaning his elbows on the shelf, stared into the fire.

"I say, father why did you refuse to see that pretty Miss Devereux just now ? " "My dear Reginald, need you ask ? "

" You're busy, of course. But, still, father, I want her address, please. I'm sure she's a relative." Mr. Pollard frowned, then laughed. " What nonsense ! Don't be absurd ! I've no idea what her address is, and I don't want to know. Her father's as thorough-going' a scoundrel as ever lived. And I've washed my hands of them long ago." " What has he done ? "

" Done ! Oh, now, I can't give you a list of his crimes. He's a ne'er-do well, and has fallen very low. Let that satisfy you ; ask no more."

" Poor girl ! A father like that must indeed be a burden. She's a relation, of course ? " " Of your mother's ; but a distant one." " And the Devereux are proud T "■ The father laughed derisively. "William Devereux is not troubled much with what one would call proper pride, and the girl seems a chip of .the old block, or she would not come begging here." Reginald started and changed colour.

" Begging ? Then she's in real wtct. Father, you have some spite against this man." "Not at all" roughly. "I only want to fc::;it his name. So now, Reginald, let us talk of something else." Upon hearing Belinda's account of her visit to Pollard's office William Devereux used language more forcible than polite, and the girl trembled when he declared he would go to' the office hircself and tell his cousin what he thought of his conduct.

" You will do no good, and perhaps make yourself ill," she cried. " Let us beg no more; father. I'd rather starve."

" I'll go to-morrow," he said, " and just you mind your own business."

To this Belinda made no reply. But the nczt corning an attack of gout, one of the worst he had had, kept William Devereux a prisoner to his chair, and as Belinda hurried off to the dressmaker's where she worked, she went rejoicing in the fact that for that day at least, he would not be able to carry out his threat of going to bombard Wellingtom Pollard in his office. •Tliss Devereux," said one Of the wor'-Tirls, ' "oadame wishes you to go to the show-room. There's a lady looking at her. new mantles "£.—•-n Paris, and she wishes,you to put V —i o~v" . , . ; • VzltrZz threw down her work, and with a glance in a mirror to see if

her hair were fairly tidy ran down to the show-room.

A fragile-looking girl and a young and handsome man stood examining a long pale-blue evening cloak that Madame Roland was displaying with words of enthusiastic delight. "I'm not tall enough for that, am I, Reginald?" the girl asked, in doubt. " You shall see it on Miss Devereux," madame said, before Reginald could speak. "On her it is ravisante. I am sure you will like it." At the name of Devereux Reginald started, and turning, strode across to meet Belinda as she entered. " Miss Devereux ! I must introduce myself," he cried in a tone of joy and triumph. " I am a kind of cousin, you know —Reginald Pollard; and this is my sister, Lilian. I saw jou at the office, and'have been longing to meet you again." Belinda gazed at him with wondering eyes.

" Yesterday, when I went " " To see my father, and he was so busy," he said, taking her hand. " Yes, he had lost your address. But ! now, thank goodness, I have found you. Lilian, you'll ask our cousin to tea, won't you ? " " With pleasure," Lilian cried, pressing Belinda's hand. " Come home with me now."

" That," replied Belinda, with a bright blush and a glance towards Madame Roland, " is impossible." " Oh, you are lovely ! Far more lovely," Lilian cried, suddenly, "than ever Reginald's glowing description led me to expect. Then you'll come to tea to-morrow ? "

" Not till Sunday," Belinda said, smiling. " I had a holiday yesterday, and must not ask for aaother." " And you'll be sure to come on Sunday ? " " Most certainly. It is more than kind of you to invite me."

" I can scarcely believe this is ours," Belinda cried one afternoon some six months later, glancing round the pretty flat. " Mr. Pollard has been more than generous. Some fairy must have been at work to change him in such a way. Was it you, Reginald or Lilian ? "

" Both together, I fancy. And you think your father will be happy here, Belinda ? "

She looked at him with dewy eyes, and clasping her hands, cried gaily : " Indeed, yes. And so shall I. Oh, Reginald, you have been good to us. This is a delightful home ! "

" Mrs. Smart will take great care of your father. She's a kindly soul." " Oh, yes ; but you " laughing—- " forget me, sir " "No, Belinda " his eyes were upon her face— " I am always thinking of you. To forget you would be impossible. But—l thought—l hoped to see you in another and a better home than even this." " The idea I " Her sweet face grew crimson. '"*Do you think I adf a princess ? " "I think— Oh, Belinda, you must know what I think. You must see how I love you and long for you. My darling ! my darling ! I want you as my ow: —my beloved wife." " Reginald ! " she gasped. " Oh, Reginald, " what " covering her blushing face with her h«r«?/3—"would your father say ? I am so poor—a wretched nobody." " You are a Devereux, the loveliest and sweetest woman that ever bore the name. And so " slipping his arm round her waist— " knowing how I loved you he has consented to our marriage. That is " with an adoring smile— "if you will have me."

" You know I will. Oh, Reginald" —hiding her face upon his breast—"it is like a dream. Dear one, you are far too good to me. How can I ever show you all the gratitude I feel ? " He pressed her to his breast. "By saying, * Reginald, I love you.' " " Reginald, I love you." " God bless you, my darling. You have made me very hopoy."* " But my father ! "/ the girl cried, " Oh, what will he say if I leave him? What will he do without me?" "My dear one, he is delighted at the thought of our marriage. Only this morning he wrung my hand and wishing me good luck, thanked God with tears in his eyes that he would no longer be a burden to you." "He was never ttzt," she cried, hotly. " Don't believe it." " I will not," he said, gently, "for you loved him. And to a heart like yours, Belinda, love would soften the heaviest burden."

i " Yes," she whispered, softly, " without love no life is worth living." " Then oura will indeed be blessed;" and he drew her towards him once more and pressed his Mps to hers.