HIS LAST APPEARANCE.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XXI, Issue 1107, 19 February 1891, Page 4

HIS LAST APPEARANCE.

The'wral;l»y cpitplVfc, Robert Ben'on, sat his library wanning hi* foet at the (ir<; that burned in the gi ;ite. A decautrr of pot 1 ■wine stoi.fl at his eib >w, and his thoughts \ yere plva'smit. . I He hud just, made up his mind to marry, I and the lady he had selected for his wife was, '■ as he sain to himself, the prettiest and most ' elegant woman he knew. j "To-mnrrow," he said to himself, ah he . lifted the glass to his lips and tasted it in the '] moat approved fashion, "to-mor ow I will callon Mr. Oakley and ask him for.Jessie's hand. That's the correct thing— the English style. Nothing is correct that isn't English now-a-days, and Oakley won't reject me ; lie knows where T stand too well." A knock soandecl upon the panel of his library door at this moment, and at his cry pf " Come in," a servant in livery appeared. " A gentleman, sir," he said. A gentleman at this hour?" cried Benson, glancing at the -plendid bronze timepiece upon the mantel. It is eleven o'clock." " Yes, sir,; the gentleman said that it was late, but the business was important," said the servant. As he spoke he laid a card at Jiis master's elbow. " Eugene la Tour," read Mr. Benson. " I don't remember the name. No matter; let liim in." !: The servant departed; and in a moment more a young man. entered the room ami stood before Mr. Benson. He was welldressed, graceful,, and about twenty-four years of age. Hjs features were not unlike those of the master of the house. In fact, the shape of his head, the outline of his shoulders, the colour of his hair, the tints of hi. s ; skin, all made him a handsomer, younge-, £nd more charming likeness of the gentleman vho had risen to greet him. "I have not the pleasure," began the latter, "but » He paused, the words died upon his lips, and the courteous smile changed to a stare of astonishment. " Your card tells me that you are Monsieur Eugene la Tour," he said, after a pause. " That is the name .under .which I perform," replied the stranger. "I am'not disgracing the family by using the name of Benson ;bufcl see you recognise me, Brother Robert." " You are little Dick," said Benson, and held out his hand. "You ran away with a circus company uhile I was at college. I think you tigure -as Eugene la Tour on some big posters on the fences yonder. You are the only gentleman alive who can do something which might end in breaking your ncek. I —l hope you enjoy the life. Sit down." The younger man took the chair indicated. . v " Enjoy the life," said he, " well, rather. But 1 am going to leave it, for all that. That is what brought me here.'' " Of course you know that my father disinherited you," said Robert. "I remained with him a filial son to the last. I have my ye ward." " I krow," said Dick, a little sadly. "I never should have done as.l did but for my step mother's cruelty. Yoti-were almost a young man, she dared not meddle with you ; but I was a child. She bore false witness egainst me. I was her child's rival." " The baby died," said Robert. " She is also gone, aud I have taken my father's place." "I am content," said Dick ; " but I have come to a.sk you a favour. In your business you have many clerkships. Give me one." " You wish, then, to descend from your trapese, not to be ths only gentleman in the world who can ride three bare-backed Arab steeds at once ?" said Robert, quoting the b". lis. "Yes,' said Dick, "and I will tell you why. I like the life. I am making plenty of money. J.Jen who have specialities that draw, do. In fact, though it will astonish the writers of good honks to hear the statement, a clerkship will be comparative poverty for me. But I am in love. The girl I want,-and who likes roe, has a father who believes that theatrical performances are wicled. He is eminently respectable, you know, and be is not mercenary. Look here." And Dick handed his brother a letter. " Look over that," he said. "It's rot so bail. He came across us one Sunday evening walking together, and hi 3 daughter admitted that she liked me when he crossquestioned her. Read the letter. You see he says ; "'lf you can prove yourself an entirely reputable person, in a good, respectable way of life, I will listen to you. I am si rry that Jessie takes an interest in any one, she is so young; but since it has gone so far,'etc., etc. I iim to tell him all about myself, you see, and if I can say I'm one of Robert Benson's clerks, and his brother, he'll do well by his son-in-law. I can't live without that girl; my whole soul is bound up in her; and, though I'm the black sheep of the family, blood is thicker than water. On Sunday I have to call on him. I throw up my engagement on Saturday night, ifou'll lake me in, Robert ?" In his soul Robert Benson felt that his disinherited brother did not ask him much. He was a good-looking man who would do him no discredit. He smiled pleasantly upon I)ick, quite ready to accord him this favor. He pushed the decanter toward him and offered him his cigar-cas ß . " And this father-in-law to be, Dick," he 6sked, " may one know ? " "The whole city knows htm, I fancv" paid Dick, filling his glass. " You'll not be ashamed of Hiram Oakley as a connection, pud Jessie is the most elegant " Jessie Oakley! As Rol.ert Benson heard the name a .shock ran through his frame It was the name of the girl he had been thinking of when his brother was announced The smile faded from his lip ; his face grew stern. He arose and began to pace the room ; then In; returned to his seat. " Can't do it, Dick," said Robert. " You forgot yon had a brother until you needed him, so I owe yon nothing. Once for all, I shall not help you to deceive these people." "Very well," said Dick. "You might have done that much for your mother's son. J.i-.t I shall leave the ring, and find my clerkship elsewhere. Saturday see* the last of Monsieur Eugene La Tour, and Richard hen.-on, a most respectable citizen, takes his place. } ou might havo made it very easv Robert; but you won't." "My conscience forbids it," said Robert 4>pii«on, cnldly. " Ah, well, good-bye," sai.l T)iuk. And so. without u. pressure of the hand t.ic brothers parted. The younger, looking at the door that closed behind him, torcjnvci his kinvim". " Af :er all, what din I deserve of him »'* ho ' K\id ; and then he kissed a little glove'tlmt he wore within his bosom, mid thought that if his Jessie we e but t-tte, all else mattered very little. Mitt tho elder, flushed with wrath, shook teeth? ' aml ,mitt cred between his "Just file puppy that wn.nen love-but I II thwart him. .Jessie Oaklev shall be my \\"lte. J Then siting himself at hi« desk", be wrote "j™ a sheet or <-o ln ,commercial paper, voX -' orr ' lUU "' S ° f evcr y"" ( '. these " Vi:. Tlmv.j Okwv.-I von , "j " n , m,,rh "' s " f t!,e m:l " i has 1 'liin.'dij'M- s a<:i|u,iinra.ice. Jf y ol , tr > to thepvat cirein now in I he city some MtLTiit you n*iU are h;rn nin;>nrpt the per- " I wrire this l C I ,] 0 ~o t ii t;c (0 sp( , u lf-nCcUUli'-' gentleoi/u.i d?wive<l o r a (, u )y 1

herself away." _ _ This written, aud the envelope directed iu a feigned hand, he placed it so that il would be seen by the servant who mailed the letters in the morning. 1 It was no common circus at which MonI sieur la Toar appeared. " One of the finest j ever seen," the "bills said, not without ! reason, and whether he rode or performed those wonderful acts which filled beholders with amazement, he was the favorite, j On Saturday night, the bills which bore ; upon them his name, in connection with the i words "last appearance," had filled the place to overflowing, and the serious old. gentleman in the white cravat, who was evidently a strauger to such crowds, had hard j tvork to fight his'way to ohe seat to which the usher pointed him. . _ ; It was Mr. Oakley, who, acting on the information conveyed by the letter Robert Benson had written, had com e hither to see if he could discover his daughter's admirer in any. of the performers. " Somebody's joke, I hope," Mr. Oakley began to say to himself. " This Jlr. Benson is' probably an ordinary citizen,, obliged to walk on his feet in the usual way." . Then suddenly two great gates were flung open, the trumpets blared, the drums beat. Who is coming bow, Mr. Toddles?" asked that astonishingly elegant gentleman, the ring-master, of the red- spotted clown. . " Why, don't you know, sir," inquired the clown. " You don't know much, sir, I must say. .That; is the celebrated Monsieur Eugene la. Tour, the greatest rider, as well as the greatest serial performer, now aliveHere he is." The building shook with applause. A figure with folded arms, on the back of a snow-white steed, appeared, and Mr. Oakley saw the man he was looking for. There he was. The admirer of his daughter. the man she had set her heart upon. . The writer of that letter had not deceived bim. A frown contracted his forehead, his face flushed with anger. And at this instant the rider caught sight of him—caught sight also of another face which the old gentleman did not see—that of Jessie, who, having read i the letter on her father's desk, sat .vith her maid in a seat much further back, and, ; shaken and unnerved, felt all his skill desert him. What is the matter with the favourite to night ? the audience ask themselves. Is it 1 really their Ei gene la Tour ? Twice in this i first easy act he slip', once he falls, ■ Has he been drinking ? Some one whispers ■ that he is ill. The applauding hands offer ' him sympathy and encouragement. Robert Benson, behind the curtains of his " private box, '■ ejoices. * Even as a circus rider, this rival brother of his is not showing himself in a good light, " and there Jessie sits, and there sits her father. * J "The game is minp," he mutters, "and * Dick knows he has lost." He did indeed ; despair was in his hea: t, " his brain whirled. ' The shame of doing what he must do so ' poorly, still further maddened him: "1 will not fail again," he said, as he I- changed his dress for the still gayer one in f which he performed that wonderful -act, 1 styled on the bills, 'The serial flight.' ;It 5 had always been-his pride to do this without 3 the net—which was removed before be commenced it. s All eyes are fixed upon him, a figure in s silver and gold, sparkling with what seem to be the rarest gems. Along a thread-like 3 wire he takes his >vay, each pose more graces ful than the other. For a moment he stands poised aloft, kissing his hands to those bel' low. The favourite is himself again. The 1 applause grows wild, boys shout, men wave 1 their hats. Amidst it all a faint scream of 5 terror rises. He knows Jessie Oakley's voice. It is sLill in his ears as he makes the 3 plunge towards the swinging bar which is his 7 goal—for a moment he forgets all else. It is t a fatal forgelfulness—the next he lies 1 crushed and bleeding upon the floor below, " and the voic?s of the multitude are lifted in * one wail of horror. 1 Robert himself is ashen pale as he dashes 5 the curtain of his box aside, and peers out, 2 and as he looks sees old Hiram Oakley 1 kneeling beside Dick, lifting his head to his 5 knee, and sees Jessie pressing forward, east- * ing herself beside him, pressing kisses on 5 his lips. T Dick may be dead—he looks it as he lies <" , there—but the game of love is his, not ■ Robert's. B He does not add himself to the group. He goes home, and the paper tells him all he 7 needs to know next morning in a paragraph or f two, thus; 6 "We are glad to hear that the accident 3 whicn occurred at the Circus yesterday, i is not as serious as was feared. Monsieur 1 Eugene la Tour is in a fair way to recover. ; A romantic story is connected with the occurI ence. Monsieur Eugene is a gentlemen of good family, who ran away from home when ! he was a mere child. 3 "A strong attachment exists between him i and a beautiful society belle, the daughter of ? one cf onr wealthiest citizens. ' "It was said that both father and daughter we e present at the performance yesterday, 5 and witnessed the accident, and that the young lady's grief so touched hor father's > heart, that he withdrew the objections he had entertained to the engagement. ■ " They will be married shortly. I " Monsieur la Tour, out of deference to the i opinions of his bride's family, will retire from the ring, enter upon the ordinary life s of a business man, and re-assume his own name."