SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13839, 27 August 1908, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN.

EY BASIL MACDONALO HASTINGS.

The room, had a cheery, comfortable appearance for all the severity of taste that i's principal contents, books, and statuary sug- . gested.- The warm rod of the papering set off the far livelier colouring of the pictures. i No pert steel engravings patronised its walla, | but laughing girls with sparkling hair and j eyes, sun-splashed seascapes in water-colour, scarlet-cloaked cavaliers, and delicate j crayon-work in pale blue lent true decorative j effect to the few bookless crevices. The j sunlight, streamed through the window, danced across the bright green carpet and well-polished furniture, over the brass ornaments of the hearth, and ricochetted to the centre of the room, where it caressed the white hairs of a big heavily-built man who j sat at an escritoire, his face buried in his hands. From the quivering of his broad shoulders it would seem that he had been moved to tears. ho sound of rustling petticoats on the stairs, of someone hurrying, apparently, to the library in which he was sitting, made him sit up sharply. His face was grey and worn, his proud features wore an expression of bitter despair, and his shrewd, piercing eyes were wet. "Father!" A tall, handsome girl burst; impulsively into the room. Why, father, dear, what is the matter.' Have vou heard, then? But it's all nonsense, isn't it? It must be contradicted at once. What paper have you got there?" She took up the evening newspaper that lay on the table, and hastily scanned the sensational headlines, her cheeks flaming as she road. The ugly paragraph that had created so cruel a sensation in this normally placid household ran as follows: — •' Wo are authoritatively informed that a warrant has been applied for, and, we believe, issued, for the arrest of Mr. Horace Kent Michell, the elder son of Sir Edward Michell, M.P. (whose name has been freely discussed as a candidate for the new Cabinet post of Minister for Public Health), in connection with the wholesale embezzlement of the property of the late Mr. Samuel Franks, J.P. It will bo remembered that Mr. Horace Michell was a junior partner in the firm of Ponsonbv, Marks, and Michell, who had charge of the late Mr. Franks' affairs. Both the senior partners were sentenced to long terms of penal servitude, but there was no reason to suppose that Mr. Michell had any cognisance of his partners' criminal practices, inasmuch as for many months he had been abroad in pursuit of big game. We understand, however, that in the light of recent discoveries, the present summary proceedings become, imperative." The girl put down the paper shuddermgly. Then she picked it. up again, and mechanically folded it info a small bundle. She crossed the room to the side of her father, who now stood staring vacantly out, of the window. ~ "Father, dear, what is to he done.' "Nothing, Millicent. He is guilty." "How do you know?" she gapped. _ _ "He told me so. I made him admit it. Besides, a great many people must have known it for some time." "But, father, it was made so clear at the trial that ho was not in any way implicated." " T have friends, Millicent. "Then why has it all been revived?' "I have enemies." "But are they as strong .is your friends?' " [ would never appeal to my friends. What was done before was done without my raising a linger or speaking a word.' ''Tell me, who was it?" "The late Prime Minister." # " But, father, you scarcely knew him. "That is quite true." i " Then someone who had great influence I with him must have done it. Someone i who— God, yes, I understand." "I think I'll go out for a little, Millicent. I want to bo pointed at, laughed at, pitied. Yes, that is just what I want, that and the sunshine." "And this means the death of your ambition. Now, at the very hour perhaps when your long life struggle was to bo crowned. Father, father, how we have wronged you!" _ % The old man drew himself up. and bis proud features set sternly, though there were still tear sparkles in his eyes. " I' have never complained. It is not for you to complain on my behalf. I will go out into the sun." He placed his right hand between the buttons of his frock-coat, and; with head held high, walked with stately pride cut of the room. The girl sat down quietly on the /'dee of a low chair. Her brain worked busily, and occasionally her body shivered. In her hands was the hateful newspaper, which she twisted impulsively, to and fro. Once it appeared as if she would break down and sob, but with bitten lips she repressed the surging emotion, and once more pondered fiercely, her face more haggard, her eyes more hard. Edward Michell was the father of four children. Their mother had died long before any of them had attained to an independent age, and their training, consequently, had been left in the hands of professional protectors, whoso conscientiousness attained no higher level than that necessary for the collection of salary. . Michell"himself, a brilliant young doctor j practising in the best circles of English I society, was too engrossed with his own ; work, and far too great a slave to aaihition, j to take any particular trouble over the ; selection of his children's guardians, and the children were, in consequence, left pretty much to their own devices. _ He was first brought to an appreciation of his responsibilities by the thoughtlessness of his elder daughter, Elspeth, who carelessly eloped with her singing-master, leaving behind her a compromising document of twenty-four scented' pages of notepaper and an extremely disagreeable precedent for her very impressionable younger sister, Millicent. The pain that this incident had caused him was soon forgotten in the glory of :i .knighthood, and, even when his second son appeared in the Divorce Court as co-respondent with a married woman who could not get anyone else to take her to spiritualistic seances, he casilv consoled himself with the reflection that his two favourite children, Horace and Millicent, had as yet shown no j disposition to exchange the discriminate a j la carte of respectability for the speculative j table d'hote of Socialism. j Then had come his triumphant and unopposed return as member of Parliament for a West London constituency, which still regards the registering of a vote for the Conservative party as sheer patronage of the Constitution. New people came to Sir Edward's house, among tliem many political celebrities of both parties. And with these two friends, his handsome and accomplished daughter, Millicent, soon became a prune favourite. It soon became apparent to Sir Edward's keon eyes that of his daughter's many suitors two only were regarded by her with anything approaching favour. Both were wealthy men, but ono was a Conservative Cabinet Minister and the heir to a peerage, and tho other a rather dull, but possibly sincere, unit of the Opposition. To bringabout a match, therefore, between Millicent and tho Right Honorable Norman Merrill became for some time Sir Edward's sole object in life. His delight, therefore, was unbounded when his daughter at length submitted to artistic pressure and consented to an announcement of the engagement. The alliance meant even more to him than would appear on the surface. Tho Prime Minister was an old man, the Government was hear the end of its allotted span of tenure, and, after the general election had inevitably resulted in the reinstatement of the Conservative party, with an accession of strength, who more likely to be invited to form a" cabinet than Mr. Merrill? The date of the wedding was fixed, and the Liberal unit had consented to act asbest man. The world beamed at Sir Edward and he felt that even the policeman on the Grosvenor Square beat wanted to pat him on tho back. Then came another period of doubt and anxiety. The general election took place far earlier than had been anticipated, and the wedding was postponed. Worried to distraction, Sir Edward watched the constituencies' returns. The first two respite were Radical triumphs, then came a small Conservative win, then a host of Radical victories in the provinces, followed by the complete capture of London by the Conservatives. The final result was in the balance at the end, when, to Sir Edward's great relief, his party got back with a small majority. Merrill was invited to form a Government, and Sir Edward was made a Junior Lord of the Treasury. His cup of happiness, was, therefore, full. For the future, promotion would automatically be his. But a fortnight before the waddinc Millicent eloped with her best man, the Liberal unit, who, to add to the irony of the situation, had lost his seat at the general election. With the exception of Sir Edward and Mr. Merrill, all the 'world smiled. The photograph of "the girl who jilted the Prime Minister" was in every illustrated paper, and for some days the placards of the teashop organs competed in vulgarity to persuade the public to read their particular views on the salacious topic. Like most sensations of its kind, however, it soon lost its hold on the public interest, and open friendliness was actually renewed between the Prima Minister -and. his iather-iivlaw elect.

Mifliceafc quarrelled for eighteen months with the Liberal unit, lost him in the nineteenth over the taffrail of a Rhine steamer, j and returned home, an interesting widow. J For some time she did not meet her former j " lover. But the Cabinet decision to formu- i 1 late a Public Health Department had j ] brought the Prime Minister and her father j j often into clone consultation. Merrill dined j , twice in Grosveucr Square, and 0:1 these oc- i . caaionp. treated her with that particularly i » irritating kind of deference that always sug- j 1 gests a gentle ridicule. She promptly took j 4 a bitter dislike to him, and. had it not been \ ■ for the coming crisis in her father's fortune:, j would have frankly shown it. For it was ; i clear to all that Michcll was earmarked for j i the new Cabinet appointment, as much for ; t the safety of his seat as for his undeniable j { qualifications. . w ~ i , She realised now, as she sat in her father s , * library, that, in a certain sense, the game ; - was tip. This dreadful revival of the old j 5 trouble about Horace would wreck her! 5 father's diplomatic chances. And most cer- j , tainly she would never have an opportunity ; ' of snubbing the Prime Minister. j ( A servant threw open the library door. j * He started on seeing that the room already j ( bad an occupant, and stammered violently. . 5 Millicent rose to her feet just as the Prime | j Minister appeared through the doorway. j , "Mr. Merrill!" T , ! ■ " Good afternoon, Mrs. Tonge. I hear i j your father is out." i " Yes. He is probably at the club. Shall j I telephone, or send a messenger?" j '* No, no. Please don't take that trouble, j • In rnanv ways it is better that I should j speak to vou first. Come and git down j here, beside me." She obeyed him, as she j had always obeyed him, whether it pleased i or angered her. ■ You have, of course, seen the news- j papers?" . ! ■ Millicent nodded, looking away from him. 1 : "And your father?" \ " He knows." i " Did he formulate any plan of action?' ; "No. You know his pride. He would ; not have the world say that he complained. 1 : He imagines that that would be a confession : of dishonour." . I " H'm. I rather expected this, lie com- I pletely realises, of course, the difference this [ makes in his position as regards this new \ Cabinet post that is being so freely dis- I cussed?" He spoke of it as if the appoint- j ment were one with which he personally had j no concern. j "He understands that very clearly." ' j " Tell me, now. does he believe that his— I i your brother is guilty?" j "He says that Horace confessed to him." ' "Eh?" Mr. Merrill rose sharply to his; i feet, his face eloquent of surprise. And yet j ! there was something in his manner that sug- | i gested relief. Ho walked to the window, | I and then paced the full length of the room. j j "If the boy be guilty, lam sure that he I only played a very minor part." Merrill > j seemed to bo talking partly to himself. j I "What makes you think that?" Millicent j ! asked abruptly. | j "Ah-h! Your father has very powerful ! enemies, Mrs. Tonge. A determined enemy j ! casilv acquires evidence of a kind." ! " But if it is not of the right kind, the j ; shaft will recoil. Oh, I know that if you > i throw sufficient mud some of it will stick I i Put a little mud on Horace's coat could not J ) so deeply injure his father." "Mrs. Tonge, I will admit you to my j confidence." "This was a phra.se that Mr. Merrill used with notorious frequency in his public orations, when it generally meant that he was going to talk generalities about i the immaterial. Millicent could scarcely I restrain a slight smile. j "I am going to remind you, indiscreetly, I that many a gun is raised that it is never , ! intended to fire." Millicent waited patiently. If there were anything worth hearing, J it would come in the peroration. i "You appreciate, I daresay, that it is in my power to whitewash your brother." _ j She watched him narrowly, and then said: " Tell me, Mr. Merrill, do you come here as a friend or an enemy?" ■ j " I come as a war correspondent." ! "I don't understand." _ i " Listen." He stood over her, looking sternly into her upturned face. ! "I care nothing for your father's ambition i j nor for his enemy's success. \ The war cor- j : respondent has little interest in the result | lof an engagement. Ho wants spoils in the j I form of good copy. I am here for spoils." j " Forgive me," but your meaning is still I very obscure." ! •"if this warrant, be issued, your brother ! tried and found guilty, and your father's j further ambition in life, therefore, hopelessly j ruined, would you marry me?" Her cheeks reddened. At a 'loss for words ■ I to answer this sudden proposal, she remained i silent. ! "Would you marry me, Millicent?' asked I Men-ill again. -, _ ; ■.j, v " You forget, you forget." j '■'- '"'*' I remember." _ ! ' "This is very painful to me. It is surely ; in doubtful taste. You know what my an- j swer must be. Your question is pure rich- ( cule." j "I sometimes think that long love, unswerving loyalty, and eternal faith are in j bad taste. The opposites are the vogue. ] It comes from the harnessing of natural j j forces. The man who sil3 all dny by the j 1 telephone, for example, could hardly be j j blamed for 'flirting with false god*; The j • evening is going to be wet, after all." He J I went to the window. { • If I refuse you, you remain the war 1 correspondent. That is what you wish me to 1 ! understand, is it. not? If I accept you, the j j Prime Minister will act." ' j I " I want you for my wife. I have wanted J i you for three years. J. want you as the i i body wants new flowers, as the mind wants i j culture. I want you as the tortured crave j j for death." ■ • i j "And must you win me in this way?" ! "I ask you to marry me, Millicent. You ; ! suggest that I ask for your love." . j "You hope to win it after marriage. ' j That is such a foolish dream, and such a • I common one. I should love you so little : j that you would learn to hate me." , J " I take the risk. You shall lead your own I life. I shall only ask you to confide in mo : i if you find an objective for your love elsej where." ; 1 "It is impossible. It is even hateful to j me. You cannot know mo if you think me j capable of selling myself." ; " I have offered no price." [ I " That is a quibble. If I consent to marry '. i you, you will save my brother and my '. •■ father's good name. Are you sure that you ,' j could do that?" I ! Merrill smiled. ! " Yes, I recognise that you could stop the i j present proceedings, but you could not pre,t I vent people talking." ' ! "I could go a long way towards it. Some j obliging young man would be put up in the House to ask a question, and the Homo ' Secretary, with heaving chest and flashing eye, would whitewash the wicked in the [ tremolo tones which always serve to em- ' phasise a politician's insincerity on loss emo- ' tional occasions. The papers would eagerly i repeat his reference to the " base canard" and the " preposterous libel," > especially I those mainly instrumental in starting it, and the club folk wouldn't have much to bay above their breath." "Yes. I under-estimated your resources." ! "Well, am I to avail myself of them?"

"That is for you to decide." " T have decided." ''To interfere''" "1 remind you that I am her©' a3 a war correspondent." "If, is cowardly to watch when a friend needs help." "The friend -who asks for help is a coward." Millicent turned angrily to him. "I have not asked your help," she said. " nor lias my father. You seem to have come here to taunt us." "I came here to ask you to he my wife." " I thank you. Once and for all, I decline." Merrill was standing at the window. Suddenly he turned and beckoned Millicent to him. She obeyed him, sulkily. In the street without, walking towards the house, with bent head and twitching lips, was Sir Edward Michell. There _ was an air of terrible dejection about his big frame that deeply touched both of the watchers in the window. Millicent hit her lips, and took a half-dance at Merrill's face. The hitter's expression was at that moment eloquent of genuine pity. As Millicent turned again to watch her father, it changed abruptly to one of pleased cunning. He stole a rapid glance at the girl, and his features then resumed the mould of profound sympathy. He turned on his heel and walked sadly to the fireplace. His stride and carriage were tinged witii theatricality, but Millicent did not notice it. >r-H----"The old man musk not suffer, Millicent. For his" sake, I will—avail myself of my resources." There was again an artificial note in his tone, but Millicent was too relieved to detect it. "Do you mean it? Do you really mean it? Oh, you are splendid, or his sake, not mine." " For his sake. ' " Oh, Mr. Merrill, how I haTe misjudged you !" Merrill gracefully waved his right hand and moved to the door. •' I will meet your father downstairs, and put his mind at rest. Goodbye, Millicent." She half moved towards him. He noticed it, but walked quietly out of the room. The blood rushed to her face; her whole body seemed aflame. She flung up the .window and breathed in the cool, wet air. Five minutes later Merrill left the house. He felt her eyes on him as he entered his carriage and glanced up at the window. The policeman in the Square is to this day prepared to bo stricken dead if the girl at the window did not throw a kiss to the Prime Minister and First Lord, of the Trea* fiury> .-; - ..•/.,"".!