A Short Story.

Matamata Record, Volume II, Issue 96, 22 August 1918, Page 3

A Short Story.

(All Hights Reserved.) In Two Parts. The First Class Passenger. By EVELYN EVERETT GREEN, Author of “The Secret of Wold Hall,” “The Magic Island,” “The Man from the West,” &c. PART 11. “O, you know what children like to play at—things that never can come true. We have always been poor. Paddy can’t do half what he wants for ls —there are such a lot of us, and so many poor in the parish. And we used to play games about the rich old uncle from Australia who was to come and be a fairy godfather—if ever there , was such a thing!”

She stopped short, laughing and rosy—altogether charming. His eyes dwelt upon her face with a wonderful pleasure and satisfaction- “ Beatrice,” he said suddenly, “is there anything I can do for you?” Suddenly her face changed and grew grave. A new look came into her eyes, a look difficult to understand; there was a certain desperation in it—a certain element of horror. He had seen the same shadow there when she had first begun to speak to him of her adventure of the afternoon.

“O, Cousin Everard—if you really are a cousin—you are a man, and understand about men—and the world —and everything. If you could advise me—tell me what I ought to do?” “Little cousin, I’ll do the very best I can for you, if you’ll only tell me what the trouble is.”

“It’s Mr. Rain, that dreadful man who hurt the dog. I’ve never liked him; I’ve always been afraid of him; he makes me feel creepy all over. B'ut I don’t know anything against him, and he is rich, very rich, and he always comes to church. He tips the boys and gives them treats, and talks of the things he could do for them as they grow up, if—if—oh, don’t you understand? He wants to—marry—me!”

Everard’s face grew a little tense.

“Oh, that’s it, is it? He wants to marry you. Do you happen to want to marry him?”

“Oh, no—no! I never did, and after what I saw this afternoon, oh, oh, how could I? But think of the others — the boys, father and mother, the difference it would make to all of them I—the 1 —the relief! They will never try to make me; but I know how they must feel. And it would be so beautiful to help them ail—and I don’t want to be selfish. People have to do things they 'don’t like to help those they love ” “Hold hard, little cousin. Here we are at Bindon Junction. I’ll take the liberty of driving-you and your, poor old man here home in a cab. I’ve lost my connection, and must put up for the night here. My traps can go to the railway hotel, and I’ll see you and this fellow home first.

i The ways of an experienced traveller with well-Hned pockets were new to Beatrice. She watched and listened Iwith interest to all his arrangements, 'and was quickly transferred, with the ’dog, into a comfortable pair-horse jearriage, into which Everard followed Iher. It carried them quickly through Jhe town in the direction of her own home on the far side.

j “Has this fellow asked you to .marry him, Beatrice?” Everard inquired, as they neared the house.

| “He asked me last week. I promised him an answer soon. I think he is going to come for it to-morrow.” I “We’ll have it ready for him,’* |quoth Everard. I What excitement and rejoicing these 'was over the advent of this wonderful Cousin Everard from the other side of jthe world! They took him as one of themselves from >the first, and very 'quickly Mr. Vale was satisfied that there could be no mistake. His likeIness to an old Vale family portrait jspoke for itself; and as soon as supIper was ended the girls were flying round getting ready the one spare room. Two of the boys set out to get Everard’s luggage from the hotel, whilst the others “hustled” all they knew, under his personal supervision, knocking up a suitable shelter for Ponto, as they called the injured dog, which now bulked large in the guise of a public benefactor. I Beatrice came down to the little garden at last, to take a look at the patient, who wagged his tail at sight of her, and tri6d to show his gratitude to them all. He lay on a clean bed of straw, with food and water within reach, and sufficient overhead shelter to keep him warm. “Dear old fellow,” said Beatrice |softly, as she bent once more to kiss Mm between the eyes. “Lucky old chap,” quoth Everard this time, and the laugh and blush of the “little cousin’’ were alike charming. Mr. Vale and Everard sat up late together that night. During the early hours of the following day Everard jknd Beatrice held consultation over Ponto, bandaged up afresh the broken jlimb, and finally carried him between [them into the drawing-room, laying [him gently down upon the rug. I Then Everard stood, up, and took She girls two hands in his clasp. [ “Beatrice, that fellow Rain is coming to-day for his answer. .Well, let ■im take it here.” [7“Ah, yta, it will he easier—-with

Ponto there. Oh, Everard, dear, Daddy has told me. I don’t know how to thank you—about your ranch, and the boys, and the openings for them out there, under you. He will not hear of me marrying a man I do not love. O! how could I ever have thought of it. It seems too awful now.”

“It is too awful! No fellow could stand by and see it done. Are you afraid of meeting that chap?” He still held her hands, and now he felt the clinging clasp of her slender fingers. “Oh, Everard, if you would help me, then I shouldn’t be afraid! If you would be —like a brother. I don’t want him to get angry with Daddy. ” Hot and close was the clasp of his hands. Hers felt almost crushed; but it was a delightful crushing. “Little Bee, I don’t think I want to be your brother, if you don’t mind. But if you’ll give me the right, I’d like to be here in another capacity. No, I’m not going to ask anything of you, dear. But let me be the kinsman you trust yourself to. That will do to go on with. Can you grant me that much ?”■ Her face, all in a glow', was downbent. Her hands lay willingly in his“Oh, Everard—yes! It is so lovely to have a strong, splendid kinsman —like you!” “All right, little Bee; that’ll do for to-day. You give me the right to protect you from this brutal fellow’, and, if need be, kick him into the gutter!” Her tremulous, musical laugh was music to his ears. “Oh, Everard, how splendid if you did!” Mr. Rain, of Rain’s Hall, presented himself in due course. He bowed low over the hand of Beatrice (before he w r as aware of' two other presences in the room), as though he would have pressed it to his lips; but she snatched it away, and, with flaming eyes, pointed to the dog upon the rug, which cowered and whined at sight of his former master. Mr. Rain also started rather violently, and gazed at the girl with a shadow of apprehension in his eyes. “Yes, you may well look like that!” she said. “I saw everything yesterday—your cruel, wucked treatment of that poor dog. Do you think I would marry a man who could be so cowardly, so brutal! Never! I should hate and despise and fear you always. I could never respect you—never like you. Like! When I saw you yesterday in the wood, I hated you—hated “Take care how you provoke mel” began Rain, fury at this disclosure robbing him of his self-command. “As for that wretched brute yonder, he is my dog still, and I will ” He advanced upon the unoffending creature with murder in his eyes, and the dog howled in terror. But the heavy boot never touched the victim, for, quick as thought, Everard’s grasp was on Rain’s collar, and he was whirled completely round and propelled first to the door of the room and then to the door of the street, before he could so much as gather breath' to expostulate or resist. “You have had your answer, sirnow go!” “Who and what are you, sir? I’ll have the law on you for this assault! i wm—” : “You will do exactly as you please aißout that, my good fellow. If you want to make your name a by-word through the county, no one will regret it'4 There is my card. Miss Vale has done me the honour to entrust herself and the dog to my protection. I will take care that neither she nor the poor brute suffers molestation from you again. I wish you a very good day!”

The door was firmly banged. Everard walked back into the room with a grim smile on his face. Beatrice, who had heard every word, leaped up from the rug where she had been kneeling to reassure the trembling dog. She came forward to meet him, both hands extended. “OK, Everard I” she cried; and then, with a little catch in her. breath, “he won’t really have you up, will he?”His laugh was good to hear. “I’m afraid not, little Bee!” “You mean you would not be afraid 1 Oh, you are so brave, so strong! How can I thank you, Everard?” He held her hands, and lifted them a little higher. He looked down straight into her eyes, and her face was all one lovely blush. Days and weeks have no existence in love’s calendar. If anyone had told her she had only known this man for twenty-four hours, she would have laughed in scorn. “You would not let Rain kiss your hand, Beatrice. Will you let me?” He bent his head lower towards her; but after all it was not her hand he kissed. (The End.)