SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13514, 12 August 1907, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

1 A TURN IN THE TIDE.; "I will have no further delay. You asked me for permission to win my daughter, ' which I gave you, cordially believing you to be a young man of good principles and honourable instincts. - Now that she. loves you and has consented to become your wife you shilly-shally, and put the event off from . month to month, as though the thought of | being ;a Benedict became each day more ' repellent to you. There must bo an end of this, my good friend Clavering. Let the . engagement be cancelled. i 'So spoke Thelma Young's stern parent. He evidently regarded his daughter's engagement to young Clavering as a mere commercial treaty, and declined to recognise the fact that hearts will not be severed at will. Besides, it was no fault of Dick Covering's that lie could not carry out with promptness tho engagement on which he had entered. When ho proposed to the beautiful daughter of the impecunious Sir Philip. Young; lie believed himself to be the only son of a man who, architect of his own fortunes though he was, had risen to a position of princely importance in the metropolis, and '- was reputed to be one of the richest magnates. During the last few weeks it . had, liowevor, como to Dick's knowledge that his father was on tho brink of' ruin. His tongue was, however, tied by an oth not to reveal the fact, as there was just tho chance that a .-successful speculation might save his fortunes. ..- ,* ~- ■, ?■ What, then, could Dick do but wait and seek, by every excuse ho ■ could invent, to postpone his marriage? It broke'his heart to sco his darling Thelma look pale and miserable, and not to bo able to give any good reason for the delay, which was mak- ■, ing him appear capricious and dishonourable to Sir Philip, while it rendered his sweet lady-love somewhat mistrustful of the man to whom she had given her Whole heart. Even now, . .vhen Sir Philip took him thus rigidly to task, he 'could only hang his head and stammer that in a \yeelc or two he hoped it would be all right, that he would speak to his father that very day and see what could be arranged, i- "-Don't flout '» your father • to'-'mej". *- ah 4, swerect Sir Philip, angrily. "He' is a'xriaff of rigid business habits and strong honesty ~of purpose..' 1 do not -believe lie has any? thing to do with this hesitation on your part' to carry out a sacred engagement. But -let mo tell you, young man, it must end. ; I give -you twenty-four hours to make up your mind. . You will either .fix the - day. and marry my girl, and have done with it, or you will find the door of my ! houso shut in your face.'-' • This was certainly to the point, and Dick Clavering wont from the presence of, his intended" father-in-law .utterly crushed' ' and miserable, without; a gleam of light illumining the path-',- along which lie-stumbled rather than walked.. . Vi':.'' 1 But even on the dreariest day- there may be an occasional peep of sunshine.' " 5 Thelma came suddenly from a summerhouse in the garden, where she' had been watching for him till he had "finished that horrid discussion with papa —politics, as usual." she supposed. No contradiction, however, about political opinions could make Dick Clavering look j as ho looked to : day. In dismay she asked him what trouble had overtaken him, and in the fulness of his heart he told her every word that had passed. . , • No distrust now; she fully believed that the fault, if fault there were, did not lie with Dick, and she bade him bo of good cheer. No matter what her father said, she would be true to him. They both knew, however, that Sir Philip I was • not a man to be easily turned from'j his humour, and that difficulties of no mean ' order would besot them if Dick could not ! fulfil • his _ engagement by the given time. | Moreover, ' Thelma's trusting faith touched j him,- and rendered him far more anxious • to bo true than did Sir. Philip's. angry dia- i tribes. lie could, however, only repeat I what ho had told Sir Philip. ! He would. go down town that afternoon ; and sec his father. j And iso started, hoping even against hope ; that he would return with good .news on j the morrow. i Thelma Waved him a farewell as the train ' glided out of the station. Surelysurely, ' with such a ray of light as shot from her i bright eyes to gladden him, he must be sue- j cessful on his mission. : The moment, lie entered his father's office J he saw that it was shrouded in a darkness I | from which every gleam of light had j | faded. ' ' ! ! •Ruin was imprinted on' the older : man's j I furrowed brow, ruin stalked grimly in the ; empty, silent icorns. i There was no need for .explanation. J Dick saw at a glance thai the speculation.! had failed, and thai the hand of Thelma j Young had passed out of his clasp. ! "My boy. ,my poor bo;,-, it is for you 1 j grieve." said the elder Clavering. ' ! And then they sat looking at -each other j with tears in their eyes, their hearts too j full to speak. ; It was a weary, dreary afternoon that | the father: and son passed in that office, ! but.', like, many another misery, it came to . an end at last, and with the end arrived a suggestion. ] "With five, thousand pounds, even with I three thousand, I could go. on, and, ill all I probability, pull the concern out of the j mire," said Mr." Clavering, as-he closed tin.- ; door behind him and followed his son into the street. ' "... , "Aye,- but where to get the five thousand?"' ' : "There is my cousin, Jacob Holt; I wonder if ho would lend it?" "What, that old miser, .who hoards his money simply that he may have the honour of leaving large sums to charities? You will not get a copper out of him." " Perhaps not,, but any way I'll try, for your sake, Dick. , I'll tell him about your marriage, and, there is no saying, his mood may be a genial one. We were good enough friends once, as boys, though we have not been very_ friendly of late years. I'll go iwur see him this very night." "Well, good luck to you, father. But ii my marriage depends upon Jacob Holt 1 shall have to release' my sweet Thelma from her engagement." '■ And -Dick looked so pale and worried, so unlike his usual, genial self, that Air. Clavering felt he would subject himself to any amount of ignominy rather than sec his dear boy so utterly miserable. And, true to his words, though the errand was most distasteful to him, ho sought an interview with Jacob Holt. The house' in which this Croasus, for lie was nothing ; else, lived was in the Westminster Bridge = Road, and was dirty and so thoroughly out of repair that it seemed almost a wonder it did not collapse altogether. ' Jacob Holt," was keenly alive to the advantages gained by keeping property in. good order, but he wished his own house to be shabby that people might think him poor, and nothing pleased him botterl_thai> /to hen. passers-by-remark that the place must be in .law, or it would not- be in such a tumble-down condition.

The only inhabitant of tho house besides er himself was old woman, who had to been his servant for years, and was as ec,.e; centrio and parsimonious in her habits as )n her master. When Mr. Clavering reached tho Westminster Bridge Road it was already dark. ' He rang the bell with a trembling hand, and the sound woke the echoes, 'so bare did the interior of the domicile appear to be. I .Jacob Holt, a lighted tallow candle in l! his hand, opened the door himself. :d " Who the dickens are. you, coming here to at this time of night?" he asked; "hones! folks should go to bed when the darkness comes; it saves candles." ;d " Why, Holt, my man, you were not a 1... ... ways so early to bed," said Mr. Clavering, trying to be genial. 1 " Oh, is it you, Clavering? Just like , you to come at a time when no one ex't poets visitors; but I suppose you must come II m." Mr. Clavering followed his cousin into id tho ground-floor room, where he. set the t- solitary tallow dip on the table, evidently If considering that the light it afforded was a effulgent, for ho again grumbled over the •> expense. ' What more radiance would have revealed Mr. Clavering wondered, for even by that meagre light he could see that dirt and it squalor reigned supreme. ■ jt Jacob Holt had become infinitely more s penurious and eccentric since they had last ie met, and Mr. Clavering's heart sank within 2- him as ho thought how utterly useless it 2- would bo to make any appeal to this man. n Had ho regarded naught but his own in- , terests in the matter ho would have gone ji away without tittering a word, but he thought of Dick and took courage, bringing 1 the ' conversation t which ensued between them, as soon as they were seated, with 11 much tact, as he thought, to the subject 1-, of the -loan, for which lie -offered a very d cfair rate of interest. Nor did he state the case .without doing some outrage to his conscience, for he carefully concealed the fact of liis own imminent ruin, relieving his mind, however, with the belief that with Jacob Holt' money prosperity once more . wouid set in. . , , " The old miser was not, however, so easily . hoodwinked as Mr. Clavering imagined. He • boiled over with, fury when he discovered to what he was indebted for this late visit, I and sternly refused to lend any money at all. - ■ "It is like your impudence to come and ask me," ho cried; "reputed to be rich, are you? If yo:-..were not in Que'er-street you would not come to me. 'What do I d care whether your idle son marries or not? Let him work if he wants to keep a wife. ' Lend you five thousand, indeed! Do you think I. am a mummy stuffed with bankd notes? You are mistaken in your man. s I am no mummy, nor a fool either, as I e should be if I lent my money to bolster up your' rotten business." "I am sorry," said Clavering, rising. "I '' had -hoped arid thought the little negotiac tion might bo useful to both of us—" if "Did you? Well you made a big mis--0 take, and you may live to find it is even a bigger one than you expected. Five ■ thousand pounds! Why, what made you : think I had all that money?" •' Mr. Clavering smiled; lie could not help c it, though the smile was quite fatal to his , interests. 'Jacob Holt saw it, and it raised , . his wrath to uncontrollable dimensions. Pie ■* . ordered Mr. Clavering to leave his house at once and never again to darken his doors, or he would give him forthwith into cus--1 . todv of the police for demanding money 3 under false pretences. Mr. Clavering, with as much alacrity as - his cousin could possibly wish, promised r himself as he walked quickly away that it f would bo the last tirno he would put his 3 foot into, the tumble-down old house; still, f ho regretted deeply on Dick's account that 1 his visit had been so unsuccessful. Nor did Jacob Holt's anger cool when , he had gob rid of his unexpected and un--3 welcome visitor. On the contrary, he raged » and blasphemed to such a degree that any--1 one less deaf than his old housekeeper would t assuredly have come to see what was the j matter. The fiercest -anger must, however, have 1 its term, and, his appeared somewhat to i have abated when ho',' by the. still flickering : light ,of the one candle, took out a strong I j box that was locked in an iron safe and - r proceeded to read over a somewhat bulky - j document which it contained. . j "To come here and ask me for five thoui i sand, tho exact sum I have left him in • my will. That blackguardly lawyer must . have ' peached,' but no one over got any good by-trying to be even with 1 Jacob Holt. I'll do him yet, for I won't leave him a : i brass buttonthere!" ' ; ' And lie set light to his last will and • ; ; testament, in "which.. Mr. Clavering had ■been set down foy five.thousand pounds, an.; i j watched with fierce delight as the tiny ' : flamclets rose from the hearth ■ where lie '.had thrown it, and produed a brilliancy of ( j light that the dingy room had not seen for ; jmany a day, illumining, too, tho old man's ' ; eager face as lie bent .over them, thus repealing an appalling amount of malice and 'Satanic rage. , } The candle was quivering in its sot';efc| as the last atom of paper was consumed. He looked round hopelessly; he was too penurious to -afford himself a fresh "dip," : especially as his work was over for the , night. i "To-morrow I will make another will," murmured, in-which the name of Claver!ing will find no place." !, To-morrow! : j When the first rays of the rising sun •glinted audaciously into the grimy room, as 'though in mockery of the cobwebs and tho jdirt of ages,' they lingered on 'the now placid ] features of the- old man himself. ' '♦ Either sOmo strange feeling, had overtaken him, or he had been fearful of grop,'ing his way without a light upstairs to the miserable den in which he usually slept, and had lain back to seek repose in the arm- > chair in. which lie had been sitting during j his interview, with Mr. Clavering. _ The bright light failed to arouse im, as it.usually did; for, true to his saving pro- , clivities, ho objected to allow even the sunlight to bo wasted, and was generally up , betimes. Ho did not move, though it fell across, his face, the lines in which were 1 5 hard and fixed. The morrow had come i; when-lie should be up and busy about his '. new will. But for Jacob Holt the sun had j risen for the last time—the morrow would ' dawn no more. -,- ■■■■- ! He was dead. • ; Meanwhile Mr. Clavering had gone back i'to his own house, where Dick was . waiting i for him, but with little hope in hit heart. iiHo was, therefore, prepared for the result i of his father's mission. {' Buin was irretrievable, and Dick, it was {' decided, must go and stato the case honi ostjy and plainly to Sir Philip Young. •• Even Sir Philip was touched when he j; heard of the trouble that had fallen on the : (Waverings, -for .though he had been severe i on Dick, he had -•. close affection for him, j: and as for Tlieiina," she was in the depths !' of : despair. "Never, never will I marry anyone but my dear Dick," she. said. !'- And yet. with no money on either side {.how foolish it would be to rush into matrii.rnoriy. . | -No. Thelma must ha free, and Dick j; must, - go abroad, branch house in !' the East, and try i<» i.'Wc his fortune. They ! must part in a lew nours to meet no more, -, haps, for years. j. This was. tho ultimatum, but it was arI: lived at with sorrow and, grief by all the j: three, for Sir Philip was grievously disappointed.. j; A ring at the doorbell. The servant I brought in a telegram. 1 For Dick Clavering from his father: I "Do not come to town; wait where you | are until jou hear further." ' . Here was a surprise and a riddle. What j did Mr. Clavering mean? Had ho sudi.denly become demented? • Anyway, it was j a reprieve, and Dick and Thelma resolved I to make the best of it. j On the following morning Mr. Clavering himself, arrived. Sir Philip's house was ■ only" twenty miles from London. Thelma and Dick wore standing in the porch when he appeared, and Dick saw at once from the expression on his father's face that the news ho brought was good news. ".Jacob Holt is dead!" was all he said. All! Could it be possible that lie had left them sorao money. "In his fury at being asked for a loan he evidently destroyed his will, in which the. lawyer says I was set down for five thousand pounds," continued Mr. Clavering. : — • Weil?" ; "lie has consequently died intestate, and I am. the heir at law. Thirty thousand a year, my boy. if it is a penny. What do you think of that, eh, Thelma? There will bo no lack of diamonds, my dear girl." Though the shadow of death inevitably casts a gloom, they could not grieve for the man' who was. gone, and perhaps there was scarcely a more contented quartette in England than the four people who sat down to dinner together that evening, having been so unexpectedly emancipated from disappointment by the vindictive wrath of a miser. —■. i