SAINTS IN SOCIETY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13095, 7 February 1906, Page 2 (Supplement)

SAINTS IN SOCIETY.

BY MARGARET BAILLIE-SAUNDERS, Prize-winner in Mr. T. Fisher Unwin's first Novel Competition. [COPYRIGHT.] - PART 11. CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) At this juncture the eyes of all the poor were directed towards one event which promised much. They were looking to the great mass meeting of the unemployed in Trafalgar Square on a certain coming Sunday, when it was hoped that some resolution could bo arrived at to meet the nowfrightful problem of living that thousands Lad daily to face. Mark's name had long been down as one of the speakers, together with the names of two well-known labour members. The chairman was a famous and ; humanely-hearted personage of the County , Council. The attendance promised to be j immense. The poor from all the worst • quarters of the metropolis had long been i in preparation for it. Upon its potentialities j the hopes of many almost despairing creatures were centred and had been centred for months. j

Mark, "up to his eyes." as he put it, in his newspaper affairs, nevertheless was busy collecting some data for his proposed speech on this "occasion. In one of the rare intervals in his rushing career, when he saw Clo long enough to speak with her words longer than monosyllables, lie asked her a few questions about Walworth affairs, and took rapid notes of her replies. Her knowledge of the area in which she worked was the more perfect because of that very *"literal" quality of which he had secretly complained. Having no hysterical imaginings she gave him pat answers like a born secretary, and materially assisted his collection of data with facts which, even baldly «ated, were picturesque—as all tragedy is picturesque. He could not have had a more effective assistant at such a time. For weeks Clo's heart had been wrapped up in the possibilities of this meeting, and iu these brief conversations she gathered a clearer idea of what Mark meant to propose as an answer to the great conundrums than her domestic, practical little notions could ever have evolved by themselves. And as the days drew nearer to it she made every endeavour to add her meed of assistance to the already clear statement of facts with which she had supplied him, and yet forebore to allow him to feel the least" annoyance by any affectionate allusion to her old friends", so eager was she for his success at the great meeting. They had had no further discussion over the matter which had spoilt her triumph at Court, and indeed Mark appeared on his wife's horizon so rarely now that such arguments would have been impossible, even had Clo desired them. She was a little penitent, too. She was sorry to have annoyed him by her carelessness, and now that he was so keen about the mass meeting she would do anything to please and help him. "Perhaps," she said to herself, "I do Hot understand him." Her heart was so full of the new enterprise that she was not a little amazed on the Saturday evening before the great Sunday to see Mark come hurriedly into her own private sanctum and bid her a hur- i ried good-bye. It was just time to dress for dinner, and moreover, two friends were expected. " Oh, what is it?" she cried ; " you surely are not going out of town, Mark?" Her eye caught the departing figure of his man hurrying downstairs with some luggage. " I must," he answered. "It's most important business. But I shall be up in time for the meeting, no fear. I'll go straight to Charing Cross and join them in good time." " But"— mentioned the names of their friends— are coming. Surely it can wait --your business— after the meeting?" " You must make my apologies,' he ealled out, going downstairs. " Henley's •waiting for me in his motor. He's got Vannerheim with him, too. It's really imfiortant, Clo. Why, Vannerheim can do ots for those poor dear chaps if he likes. You'll see what we're going to do amongst

116." She heard the loud snorting of a motor as the man opened the hall door and Mark hailed by his two friends, and before she realised that she had not his address the door shut and he was gone. Still, she thought, he will be up tomorrow ; and if anything came for him no doubt he would be" found at Chassingham, or, failing that, at the shooting-box of his other companion, Sir Millar Henley, a place onlv a few miles from Vannerheim's. She made the best of his departure to her guests, and got through the evening cheerfully, hoping great things for the morrow. When the Sunday morning came, a, grey, misty, miserable day, she went, according to "her usual custom, to church, but her mind strayed again and again to the cares of the afternoon and the great project she had at heart. The clergyman, a thin High Churchman, preached a long monotoned sermon on the interminable comments of the Fathers upon a. certain trifling matter of Church observance, took a-quarter of an hour to annihilate Origen. and quoted Augustine in the obvious belief that that great humanist was at least a god— Keble College god in an Oxford frame. Clo came away not greatly the wiser. Her heart was so full. On her return to Queen's Gate she found Stillingfieet awaiting her with a message from Lord Henry. It was to ask whether Mr. Hading would be sure to be at the meeting punctually by three o'clock. From Vade, as a philanthropist and a friend of eome years' standing, this question came quite without offence. "Yes, he will be there," said she. "You are quite sure that he understood —he made a "note of the day and hour?" Stillingfieet asked, an odd expression in his fine woman's eyes. "Of course," she said, "he is to be at Charing Cross by the 2.30 train. He is either at Chassingham or Rocker's Hill. He went down yesterday with Sir Millar Henley and Mr. Vannerheim." " I have just motored up from Chassingham," said Stillingfieet; "Mr. Hading is not there. He can hardly, I think, be at Rocker's Hill, as Sir Millar was also of the party — the Vaunerheims', I mean. I thought I heard Someone say he had gone up North, and mentioning the matter to "Lord Henry he asked me to come and inquire." "Oh ! there is some mistake," she answered ; "' he will be there, let Lord Henry rest assured."

'But when Stillingfleet had gone she began to feel really anxious. She wished she had inquired a little further as to the report he mentioned. It was odd. Without divesting herself of her hat and furs she took her lonely lunch, thinking over what she ought to "do. It was not like Lord Henry to send Stillingfleet all that way for a mere notion—he was no alarmist. Little as in those days she knew of Mark's movements this secrecy at such a juncture seemed peculiar, and there was not a little air „ of mystery in Stillingfleet's manner now she came to think it over. What did it all mean? She must ask advice; but from, whom? Then she thought of her good friend, the great peeress who had helped her in ner work, and to whose kind heart these pressing matters were as dear as to , her own. Lady Highgate lived within a reasonable drive from Queen's Gate. Clo did not wait for the carriage, but hailed a hansom and drove at once to that stately , abode. Her ladyship was at home, said j the man, and Clo was shown up to her room.

A very tall, thin old lady rose up at Clo's entrance, out of what appeared to be a sea of wool mats and antimacassars, and met and embraced her. " What is it?" she said ; " I know there is something the matter by your face." Clo explained roughly,'saying, "What shall I do? Can I do anything?" " You can do nothing," replied the other; fit may be a false alarm. Why should be go North? Is there any reason for him to do so?" Clo's face went a little paler, but she made no reply. Why, indeed? She put the fearful', suspicion at pace put of her torimk iritis a ehudder.

" Of course he may yet be there, as he said he would," 6he answered. "I do not know why I bothered you, dear Lady Highgate. But our house seems lonely and my nerves get the better of me, I think, sometimes. Mr. Stillingfleet's manner seemed to conceal something—but possibly I was quite mistaken." " You have been doing too much, dear child," said Lady Highgate, who had a thin eagle face and severely dressed hair, and a cap with bows, like the pictures of Charley's Aunt, and who wore over her shoulders a magenta China silk shawl; and in spite of this looked awe-inspiring, stately, and noble, and by no means a figure of fun —so far will character go. Moreover, her stern features were softened just now with a very kind glance for her troubled friend. The meeting is to-day?" said this lady. " Yes, at three o'clock," answered Clo. " Your husband—he is to suggest a remedy?" said she. That was his idea," said his wife. "Then, my dear," said Lady Highgate, "if he comes, well and good. The remedy is his. Surely he will be there, who has worked so hard for the cause. But if he does not come— will give three thousand pounds towards a remedy of our own." Clo burst into tears, thanking her brokenly for her goodness. Lady Highgate patted the hand she held and bade her take heart. She, too, knew the suspicion that was wearing the girl's mind out alone in the big empty house, but knowing consolation itself on such a point to be an insult she intended to divert her thoughts. "Drive down to Charing Cross to meet him," she said ; " it will cheer you up. But remember my promise." Clo took the kindly advice, and bidding good-bye to this generous and gentle friend she got into her hansom, but told the nlan to call at Queen's Gate first, as there might be a message. There was—simply a telegram from Hading. Its bald lines ran as follows: — "Sorrv cannot be at meeting. Saying I'm ill— M." She let it fall from her helpless hand. They were right then. He was not coming. She' picked it up agaiu and looked at the address—it was the post office. Renbv, a little place on the Great Northern line. Then they were right—he had gone North. But the worst of all was the mean lie at the end. "Saying I'm ill." How are the mighty fallen": Contempt will help us to bear, sometimes, things which would otherwise break our hearts. A slow flush rose to this woman's face and neck as she saw as in a flashlight the depth to which Mark had fallen, and she stood a moment bathed in the shame he could not feel for himself. If angels weep they must also sometimes blush. Then a brighter light flashed into her eves, and a braver bearing lifted her head and gave alertness to her feet. She went to Mark's study. His private desk was closed, but he had forgotten to lock it. She opened it now ruthlessly. Yes, there were the notes of his speech ; there was his neatly-drawn-up scheme for relief. He had not" meant to speak last night when he left her. The Charing Cross story was untrue; had he followed such a plan he had known he would have been without his memoranda. She had nothing; more to learn. She gathered up the papers and left the room. The idol had fallen.

(To be continued daily.)

[PUBLISHED BST SPECIAL ARRAXGEMEXT.]