FACING THE WORLD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14252, 24 December 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

FACING THE WORLD.

SKI ggggs ~'l'" —— 1 " s S jCBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. A

liiwy * |gg, : ;. BY FLORENCE HOPE, '"-Author of "The Trials of Mad etc Moberley," ••"Payinsr the Penalty," "Against the Slfef' World." " A Merciless "Woman," illfftV. - etc., etc. Ei. £•• ____ IHtollP' '• 1 * 111 llppC'.v''' ICOPYRIQHT.] CHAPTER I. . •> " (iOOD-BTE !" ' OijjHaix had been sold, and was going into the hands of strangers. It was the old fifey of mad extravagance from one generation to another, a passion for horse'racing, and what horses they had kept in the fine II stables of the grand old place! What hunters! what racers! There had been Bluebell who had won the Derby, Swift foot ' 10 had been distinguished at Ascot, J- Little Lady Laura in the colt race, where (be had been so eager to start that she had fcjohbe held. back again and again, and others that had been cared for and tended far better than most children in aristocratic ■ families. i And now the last of the Lorrimejs, two V orphan girls, were left to bear the brunt of the extravagances of their forefathers. They knew lie worst now, and were pre- ■'>: pared* to face the world as paupers. Paupers! And they had ridden ..hounds but y a few months ago on prize hunters, had danced at the hunt ball, and been the prettied girls in l ' ie brilliant assembly, had had

no thought of the morrow or what it would

bring forth, for their father had hidden his 's;worries from his daughters, and laughed and . made merry with them as 'if there were not f gcare in the world, and no one had breathed , tie secret that Old Hall was mortgaged • up to the hilt, that the old hunting squire 1 win done for. his lands doomed, his very horses that he loved as his children were bespoken, and that rain, black and ghastly, I jtai'ed him in the face. [ One more rido to hounds, and then he f would face the music he had told himself, .'|and he had ridden off with his pretty daughters beside him, a picture to see, as evidently the village folks thought, for they all came t-.' out to watch them go through the narrow street at a tine canter, not forgetting to nod to this one and that as they flew by, ; but alas! it was the last time the three were • seen together, for the squire was brought home on a stretcher, just an old gate pulled off its hinges, and his body covered with a woman's cloak. He never 1 faced the music nor anything in this world again: he had escaped his worries, leaving ' ill the hard things behind him for his girls , ito bear. '■ An accident? Yes, such as happen by the score, and Squire Lorrimer was dead, That had happened three months ago. The lawyers had bustled up and been quicker than usual over their work, and Old Hall ' . was sold to Lord Hamersham, who had | coveted the place years ago, and meant to v 1 have it as soon as the deeds could be signed. Ha was abroad now, and consented to let initio some friends who wanted quiet and the country or six months, and were expected any day to arrive. ' Meanwhile the Lorrimer girls were stay- || ing at the Home Farm beyond the Park, until something could be found for them to do. A small sum of money had been forced 'upon them which they were compelled to ; accept or go into the world absolutely penni- • less ; so, vowing to repay the hundred 1 pounds "as soon as they could be in positions ' to earn their own livings, the girls were ' answering advertisements every day, won- | dering how it was that situations were 'so difficult to procure.^ \ Joey also began to realise how quickly friend* drop off in times of adversity, for the charming daughters of Squire Lorrimer, of Old Hail, famous for its widespread hospitalities, its hunt breakfasts, dances, and dinners, were totally different persons from j the black-robed girls who were living on charity at tho Home Farm until somebody . could give them work to do. Only that day something had occurred to j make the girls feel intensely their position, and Irene had declared they must go, and go at once. It was only a slight thing, tat it had hurt like the sting of a whip. ' They had had to stand aside near the hedge : in the narrow lane for Algy Bracey arid his • . lister to pass them in their motor-car, and J;were bespattered with mud as the auto-, f'! mobile swept past them, the occupants avoiding recognition of the girls in the road. •. • "What does it matter, Rene, they are nobodies. I'm sure I don't care," declared Mab, the younger, though her cheeks were 'in a flame,' and her blue eyes blazed with ;| passion. • ■' But she did care all the same, and was "j! trembling with indignation that such a (light should have been offered them. ll&The Bracey3 were wealthy people who bad risen from nothing, nobodies, as Mab | had designated them, and not honest noil! bodies either, but people who were ashamed to own that they had ever been poor, and who pushed themselves forward to get into , what they considered the best set in the : country. And it was these people who had eat the Lorrimer girls! , "We must go, Mab, I won't stay waiting, '• waiting, waiting for what never comes, any ISlonger. It gives me a pang every time I j ess the park gates to know that I have no • longer the right to go through them, and • though on Sundays we still take our seats In the hall —for where else could we i< go?still I have the feeling that we are intruders there, and any day we may see > ';»trangers seated in our place. No, I cannot hear it any longer, and to-night I ywill write to Mr. Henderson, and say we We coming up to town. Far better for us </; to be in London where nobody knows us than here; besides, we shall get a better f, chance of getting work, I am sure of it. So to-morrow we will pack up, and as soon a* we hear from the lawyer of a decent hoarding- house to go to we will start." IV: Irene spoke .with decision, for she was quite resolved not to give herself any opportunity of further slights, and leave the place they should. The following morning they heard that Old Hall was occupied, that the People who had rented it for a time from Lord Hamersham had arrived the night beforehand looking into each other's sad faces, • the sisters knew what the other was feeling, and how intense was the sorrow to know that the dear old home was inhabited by rangers. kfllfAll that day they busied themselves in packing and collecting their few but precious belongings. pflJChe merry month of May had come in With cold rain and a wind that moaned in the tireless chimney where the farmer's wife aad put a decoration of white shavings Sprinkled lightly with some tinsel threads to enliven the effect. It was horribly in|§artistic and gave Irene a shudder every .■ tim« her glance fell upon its tawdriness, |i wit afraid of offending the good dame she ®<J not venture to say that they would .f" Prefer the empty blackness of the grate. They thought of the huge logs in the hall | 'aininey of their old home, of the flickering firelight on panelled walls ; ah! but it didn't -,<to:to think, and they must not or they .Would break down, and they must be brave .•fid seek the glimmer of light in the darkflew), for light there must be somewhere. IftriJ'' sunset the rain began to cease, and jjkb started off for. a walk, just to warm J. f er feet, she said, for the house was so cold, turned her steps towards h "Id Hall. It was to be her farewell, her . Wst peep at the place that probably she .Would never see again, so with fast-beating heart and a sense of trespassing upon her, mum opened; a little iron gate that led through ? shrubbery into the kitchen garden, and ffi&> thence down the apple tree walk where ftp? twisted branches of the old gnarled trees farmed an arched avenue on to the sweep of llSt l^ul ' stretched from the side, round 1111, the terraced front of the ancient house.

There was a red sun showing a bit of vivid colour through the scantily clothed trees, and a gleam of pale gold lit up the western sky. The rain had stopped, though drops were falling now ana again from the branches on to the sodden earth. At the end of the leafy walk one could see the house distinctly, and the girl, with a feeling of overpowering emotion, stood still bidding her silent farewell to the only home she had ever known. There were lights flickering in the windows, and the glow of a pink shaded lump, firelight shone redly through the long windows of the hall, and Mab pressed her hands against her heaving bosom, whilst tears gathered in a mist across her eyes. She felt as if she were an outcast. Was it really good-bye? Her love of the old place drew her nearer, and .stealing from her hiding spot, she stepped across the wet grass nearer and ever nearer to the lcjjig line of windows blank and unwelcoming. ' 1 hero was one that had been left open, chilly though the evening was after the rain, and it was towards this that the trespasser crept. Oh, to look in just once again at the dear old hall where they had romped and played as children, and danced when older, what bitter sweet memories it brought. What was that music which stole out into the evening air? It drew the girl nearer, still nearer, until she was close to the open •door, listening enthralled to the weirdly fascinating music of one of Chopin's most pathetic of nocturnes.

Who was the player, man or woman? Mab s curiosity and interest were aroused ; she felt she must see, and bending slightly forward she found that she could look into the hall between the foliage of a lilac bush budding into flower. The man at the grand piano had his profile towards her, and a striking one it was. A thin face, careworn, even haggard, but still young, that is to say certainly in the thirties, with an ineffable sadness in the expression, the sadness of a great sorrow that had not passed. There had been no piano in the hall when the Lorrimers were there, and none in the house so tine as this; the tone was glorious, rich and sweet and ringing, and the musician played from his very soul. When the last chord had been struck with lingering sweetness, he rose rather abruptly and turned his face towards the open window where unconsciously Mab had shown herself.

It was too late to draw back now, so she remained as she was, trying to form some sort of apology for her presence. What was she to say? She felt herselt crimson beneath his gaze as she waited for him to be the first to speak, to ask her probably what on earth she was doing there, what was her business. But no word passed his lips, he only stared at her without curiosity or surprise, almost he appeared to be listening, and the strange silence was to the sensitive girl weird and uncanny. Her breath came quickly, she was afraid he would hear it, and moved further away, rustling the leaves of the lilac bush with her stealthy movement. "Who is there?"

His voice was startled and stern, and as he spoke he stretched out his hands feeling for the window, and it was then that it dawned upon the girl that the man was blind. His hesitating movements and that unrecognising stare were explained. How sad ! How ineffably sad ! She kept absolutely still now, scarcely daring to draw a breath, for she felt an intruder, and now that he had not been able to see her, hoped to make her escape without his knowing of her presence. " I certainly thought. I heard someone," he muttered; then, "It must only have been the wind rustling in the bushes." As he murmured to hftnself, his hands touched the window, which ho closed, and the next instant Mab slipped away, frightened. disturbed in her mind at what she had done, for she hated herself for the deception ; she felt a shame at having deceived a helpless blind man. She ought to have spoken, to have announced her presence there, and begged his pardon for trespassing. As it was she iust crept away, her eyes blinded by tears, her face burning. " Good-bye, dear old home. I won't come near you again, never again; this is the hist time, farewell!" Involuntarily she kissed her hands to the old house, strangled a sob in her throat, and retraced her steps through the apple tree walk and shrubbery, out on to the high road. "Good-bye," she had said, little thinking that it was but au revoir; ere many weeks would have passed she would be back again in her old home and listening to Gilbert Havelock's music, the music of a master hand and a bom musician.

CHAPTER 11. A CHANCE OF WORK.

" What luck?" " None!" Mab asked the question, and Irene answered it, and every day it was the same. Their borrowed money was slipping away, the expense of living in a boardmghouse was greater than they had thought, cheap enough though it was, and oh, how mean and poor it seemed to the girls after the comforts and thoughtless luxury of their former home. "Rene, what are we to do?" ' "I can't think!" * " But other girls work; they earn their livings; then why can't we?' demanded Mab yvonderingly. " They have it in them. It doesn't come suddenly upon them. They look more like work than we do, I fancy. Oh, Mab. put those manicure things away j for goodness sake don't polish your nails." Poor Slab, who was diligently rubbing her pretty finger tips with a chamois leather rubber, dropped it, and looked disconsolate. "Am I to go with dirty nails, then?" she asked, woefully. "You are to go with anything that will get you work. Mab, I am desperate. I feel as if I could go and buy a broom and sweep a crossing, or sit on the pavement and draw prettv pictures., or sing in the street for pennies. That reminds me, i have promised Mrs. Morton to play accompaniments this evening in the drawingroom. She is going to give what she calls a ' swarrev," and as I can read at sight 1 am to play the accompaniments for the ladies and gentlemen. I hope I sluill acquit myself satisfactorily." "Ladies and gentlemen!" scoffed Mab. "Well, they are not so bad, those that are here. They are quite nice to us, only rather inquisitive. I must go out again for that 'Marche Triomphale' that Mrs. Morton asked me to get. Will you come? ' said Irene, drawing on her gloves. " Yes, if you will wait for me. I might go round to* the agency to see if they have heard of anything likely to suit me," replied Mab, ramming two long pins through her hat as it with vicious intent. "What is the use? Of course, I asked when I went there to-day. There was nothing suitable for you or for me—the usual answer. I -am sick of it, Mab. Irene's voice quavered, but she managed to laugh directly at her sister's woebegone expression. "I almost thought you were crying, Rene; you won't do that, will you? We've got to be plucky whatever happens; besides, the luck always turns, you know. It's certain to, so come along, perhaps there's something waiting for us already round the corner. Didn't I curtesy seven times to the new moon last night?" And chattering thus to conceal the trouble, in their hearts, the brave girls went out into the airless streets, for the month was June, and the air heavy as if a storm were brewing. They turned into Sloane-street, and many a glance of admiration followed their neat figures, their graceful carriage and wellbred faces. Irene was slender and tall, with a mass of auburn hair sweeping off the tiny shelllike ears and bunched heavily on the nape of her neck. Mab, though shorter and more inclined to plumpness, was equally graceful, and very attractive with her piquante face, her rose petal complexion, her lighter hair that would never brush smooth, and her eyes the colour of blue violets. In spite of their poverty they could not show it yet in their mourning that was not yet shabby, and no one would have guessed from the appearance of the two striking-looking girls that the£ were eager to accept any employment offered them. ' They stopped at the first music shop they came to, which they entered. There was a customer talking to the man behind the counter, who was speaking at the moment of the difficulty he had in finding a

suitable " young lady" to replace his former I one at the piano in the shop to read music for his customers. 1 " I assure you, sir, I've been disappointed half a dozen times this week. They come in scores in answer to my advertisement, but do you think they can play? Not a bit of it; they think they can, but they can't read a note, and it's a quick reader that I want. There's you yourself, sir, annoyed because there's no one here to play this music over to you, and I'm not surprised. I declare I'm losing my customers by it. Yet what am I to do?" said the man in evident distress. j There was a moment's hesitation, scarcely that, and a clear sweet voice rang through the shop as Irene stepped forward, slightly flushed at her temerity, but resolute. "What music is it? Won't you let me play it? I can read fairly well," she said. She was already beginning to pull off her gloves, whilst her sister gasped, and with scarlet cheeks wondered what would happen next. Both men stared, the one behind the counter dubiously, the other with startled amazement, and certainlv admiration that lie strove to conceal, for this girl—both of them, indeed —would stand no impertinence, he could see that. " Here, give me the music. 'La valse amoureuse?' that's easy," and as if the place were her own and she had the right to do as sho chose, Irene turned to the nearest piano, and before either of the men could say anything had seated herself, and witi. wonderful expression, touch, and delicacy, played through the prettiest of waltzes, then followed another, and still another, and a new Polish dance that was difficult, and a test of her powers. Mab stood a little to one side looking on, and scanning the gentleman, who was a man of two or three and thirty she thought, and distinctly one of their own set. His voice, when he spoke, his movements, the way he turned the leaves of the music for Irene, his air of deference to her, yes, he was decidedly nice, but oh, how ever dared Rene do it?

How can I thank you sufficiently? It was too good of you to come to the rescue. I feel indebted to your kindness," lie was saying, as Irene rose and moved away from the instrument.

She smiled, and the smile completed her charms.

"Why not?" she said easily. "I was glad to be of use."

"Will you take any of these pieces, sir?" inquired the shopman. "Of course. I take them all." was the reply, "but attend to these ladies. I can wait," was the courteous reply, as the gentleman moved away to look at a banjo that lay on a side table. Irene gave lier order for the march she wanted, and then as the man put it in her hand and somewhat confusedly thanked her for having been so kind as to play for his customer, she proffered her request. "lam in need of employment. Will you try me for a week, as you are in want of a person to read music. I have my name— Miss —down at Madame d' Albret's agency, and can give references. I might be able to suit you." The gentleman regarding the banjo so attentively listened and wondered, but did not look up. The shopman was so taken aback by the offer that he stammered and stuttered out his delight at the possibility of securing the services of so talented a musician. Ho would have liked to have engaged her at once, kept her there for fear she should not return, instead of which he prudently demanded her address, saying ho would make a few inquiries, and begging her to call on the morrow at two o'clock to remain if possible, for the afternoon was the busiest time, he as good as engaged her there and then, stating that the salary he offered was 35s a week, hours ten till six. " Rene!" exclaimed Mab, as once outside the shop, without giving a glance at the stranger who was watching tnem intently, and hoping to give them a parting bow, they hurried away, excited at the soupcon of adventure that had befallen them. " Rene! how could you? a shop girl!" " The young lady at the piano, my dear, that is what I shall be called. I can hear the voice of—what's the man's name? and see the bow with which he will turn over a customer to me. Mab, I've got work, a start, and your luck will follow. ' "But it's dreadful! Thank heaven we changed our name Rene, beautiful Rene in a shop. The sister of whom she was so proud, the best rider in the county, Diana huntress she had been called by the most sporting of the men, and now—if they could see her glued to a music stool, doing her best to sell pieces of music, to serve her employer well!

No, I can't be pleased," said Mab, swallowing some tears that choked her. And the next day it was still harder to her to walk with Rene to the music shop and leave her there, alone with that man whose obsequious manner had totally changed, and was now intensely patronising, for was he not Rene's master?

Rene, too, felt the change, but smothered her pride, and with a brave smile bade Mab come and fetch her at six o'clock sharp. It was a full day, and for two or three hours she kept on continuously at the piano, so that not only did her fingers begin to ache, but her head too, the constant reading of new music was a strain on the eyes, and when there came a short respite after 5 30 she was thankful, and was sitting with her hand over her eyes when the shop door swung open to admit the gentleman of the day before. The proprietor had gone to Jiis tea, and there was only a youth left behind the counter, of whom the new-comer took no notice, but went straight up to the girl at the piano. Hearing his footsteps, she uncovered her eyes and looked up, meeting his gaze that had a touch of pity in it. She coloured at seeing who it was, and slightly inclined her head as he took off his hat. " So you have really come?" he said. So glad was Rene to meet a familiar face againfor so this man's appeared to her— after the many strange ones she had seen that dav, that she unconsciously answered him as if he were no stranger. " Yes, I've come, and I mean to stay if it be possible," she said. "I've thought about you. I couldn't get you out of my head, you and your sister, don't you know. I say, it's hard lines, isn't it? Don't think me impertinent, please don't. If I could get an introduction in a ! proper way I would but as it well, if there is anything at any time I can do for you I wonder if you would let me know? My name is Willoughby ; will you take my [ pasteboard ; you are not cross with me, are you?" He was so 4 sincere, so frank, so friendly ! in a nice sort of way, that Irene could certainly not be cross, as he had put it, and taking his card from him she just glanced at the name, "Captain John Willoughby, R.N.," and slipped it into the little suede bag that hung at her waist. " Yes. it is hard lines, but harder not to get work," she answered. " Have you been bothered much this afternoon " There have been a good many people in, and I have been kept going, but I shall get used to it in time; it. is only just at first that it tires me. I don't think, though, that I ought to be talking to you like this, Cantain Willoughby. Is there any music you want?" said Irene, noticing the young man s listening attitude at the counter. " As if I would bother you? Just tell me tho name of something to get it'll be an excuse, you know, for my dropping in; something pretty and not too much execution," said the captain. Sho, replied by letting her hands fall on the ivory notes in a plaintive little melody that had the whisper of sadness in its strains, sadness and longing. Willoughby, who was passionately fond of music, leaned over the piano, his gaze upon her face. How charming she was What refinement ! How simple and sweet and lovable! Such thoughts—but not put into wordsflew across his mind. He was fast growing fascinated, and it was true that she had troubled his dreams and thoughts all through the night, haunting him with the longing to see her again. " Exquisite! whose is it?" he asked when she paused. " Mine ; I have no name for it, it just came, that's all," she answered. " Then I can't buy it. It will haunt me, and it was just a thought, something from your heart" " Good evening, sir, what can I get you?" The proprietor's voice disturbed them,

jarring upon a moment of sympathy. Rene got up from the stool, and began closing the piano, for the clock was striking six. " Give me ' The Merry Widow,' or ' The Girls of Gottenberg,' cither will do," said Willoughby, ordering the first thing that came into his head.

The man was tiresomely slow, and when the music roll was put into his hand ho found that the girl he was so keen to know more of had gone.

CHAPTER 111. A WHISPER OF ROMANCE.

Mab was waiting and most eager to know how her sister had got on with her first working day. " Let us talk as we go along. I want you to go with me to Madame d'Albret; I hate going alone, and the offices close at 6.30, so we must just rush," said the younger girl, linking her arm through her sister's. "It hasn't been bad at ail, and I'm going to stick to it," said Rene.

How pleasant the air was after being shut up all the afternoon, and how hot her face felt.

" You look flushed, and your eyes are shining, not a bit as if you had been bored," said Mab, scanning her sister's face closely. "I haven't, Mab. I have something to tell you." " I knowthat that man came in the shop again after music which you had to play to him. It isn't the music he likes, but you, Rene. Oh, dont blush ; it's true. But what if lie takes you for only a shop girl?"

"He doesn't. He seems to know that we are different somehow. Mab, it is nice to meet someone in our own set agaiy. He was so nice and so friendly to-day ; indeed, it seemed like seeing someon* I knew when he came in, and he gave me hi* card. See!" As she spoke, Rene held out the card for Mub to see.

"Captain John Willoughby, R.N.," read Mab. He is in the nary. How nice I thought he looked rather like it: his cleanshaved face, broad, sturdy shoulders, sealooking eyes—you know what I mean, that sort of look that sailors get. Oh, Rene, what's going to happen?" " Absolutely nothing." was the decided reply. "He is just a passing episode. Don't build up'a romance, Mab, for there is nothing of that kind, be quite sure." " So you say ; but you don't think so all the same, my dear wise sister. It strikes me that episodes are not always passing ones : they have a trick of returning. Now for Madame d'Albret and her despairing shake of the head and mournful ' 1 have nothing on my books yet for you, I am afraid —no. nothing!'" said Mab, mimicking the proprietress of the agency at which their names were down.

But there was a surprise for them. Madame was quite brisk and bright as she welcomed them to her stuffy little room. <: I have the very thing if only"—with a doubtful shake of the head—"you are not too young for the post, which is an excellent one for a lady well educated, accustomed to good society, if possible musical, but that is not made a point of, but intelligent, bright, a good hand-writer; in fact, a clever amanuensis is required for a gentleman who is totally blind." " Blind!" and Mab's thoughts Hew back to the last evening she had spent at Riverston, her visit to Old Hall, her glimpse at the man groping his way to the open window.

"It would be too depressing; you could not go to an old blind man," said Rene.

" I do not say he is old ; indeed, I believe lie cannot be even middle-aged. The blindness came through an accident. His sister lives with him, so that would be all right. I'mean there would be no impropriety in either of you accepting the situation, provided you have the acquirements," said madame, who was as English as she could be, her French name being assumed for business purposes. She turned to a big book of references, on one page of which was fastened a letter she had received that day. " The lady states that for her own sake she does not wish for anyone over 30, as she requires a companion for herself as much as a secretary for her brother. Unfortunately you are both considerably under 30," said madame doubtfully, looking up over her glasses at the two pretty girls facing her. o "It is my sister who would go ; I have found a situation for myself," said Rene. " Oh, really! and she is even younger than you are. I'm sure I don't know what to do about the matter, there is no-one else on my books likely to suit, and this lady distinctly says whoever I send must be a thorough lady in every sense of the word. It is quite in the country; should you object to that?" turning to Mab. Object 1 should love it," was the reply. •The place is 'Old Hall, Riverston, Norfolk.' " Mab smothered a cry of astonishment, and her sister gripped her hand at her side to enforce silence. " Will you give us all the particulars, madame, and allow my sister to write tonight if she wishes to take the post; that gives us time to think it over," Irene hastened to say, whilst Mab was silent, too overcome to speak. A few minutes later they were out in the street again. " I don't want that inquisitive woman to know that we came from there, so pretended we would think it over, but, ot course, you can't go, Mab, it is out of the question," said Rene, decidedly. " But I mean to go," replied the younger girl in quite as deemed a tone. " Mab; you can't, you are mad to think of it."

" Rene, you don't know the hunger I have for the old home, even to be near it, and now this chance is thrown in my way of being under the very roof, living again in the dear old rooms. I snatch at ityes, even though I shall be there as a dependent. Why, I would accept the position of a tweeny maid,. anything to be within the walls "that I love, you don't understand the longing I have. I don't believe that 1 could settle down anywhere else, indeed, I don't," cried the girl with a sob in her voice. It seemed to Irene preposterous that either of them should return to Old Hall in such a capacity, but as she could not move her sister from her decision, and she was over age, she had at last to give in and agree to her accepting the situation, should she suit.

So within the week the matter was settled, and arrangements made for Mab to go to Old Hall on a month's trial, all her expenses paid, and her salary at the rate of £60 a year. Irene was to remain living at the boardinghouse, Mrs. Morton agreeing to take her for a pound a week in consideration of her having her luncheon out, and consenting to be useful of an evening when she was required for music. "I hate the idea of your going, and had hoped we might have been able to stick together, Mab," said Rene, sorrowfully, the last evening they were together. " It was such a poor chance of my getting anything in London, that it would have been foolish to have waited for it, and think, Rene, what a lot of money I shall be earning- I sha'n't want half, so can send you any you are in need of, remember tftat, sister mine," said Mab, lovingly, as she rested' her curly head on her sister's shoulder, then softly she whispered: "Was that Captain Willoughby in the shop to-day?" She knew that Irene changed colour, she could see her face in the bedroom looking glass .that was just at an angle to catch her reflection.

" N-iio, not to-day, but yesterday he came. He hinted at asking us to go out one evening with him, to listen to the band in the gardens at Earl's Court, but I said you would be going away, —so, of course, I cannot go," answered Rene, heaving a little sigh of regret. " No, of course, you can't. Rene, I don't think Captain Willoughby ought to come so much to the shop. What will Mr. Hatfield think?" said Mab, wisely. " I don't think he minus ; you see, Captain Willoughby always buys some music whenever he comes, he is a very good customer," was the reply. "Very," retorted Mab, drily. " He is always most respectful, indeed he treats me as if I were a duchess instead of a shop girl, and the other evening when he walked back here with me he told me a good deal about himself. I can't help liking him, Mab, he seems to bring a bit of the old Fife into the dreariness of this; can't you understand?"-

" Yes, dear heart, I understand quite well. Rene, don't get to think too much of Captain Willoughby. You see he will be going away one day, and — I am afraid you would miss him; besides, sailors, yon know, are proverbially fickle, —and after all, this is only a passing episode, isn't it?" A passing episode! Was that what she was to the man who had come into her life and brightened it for her? Irene felt a sharp pang at her sister's words, the very words that she herself had used some days ago. Was it only that? Why, already she "felt as if she and Captain Willoughoy had known each other quite a long time, and it was only a few days. Was it possible? The next day Mab had gone, and Rene for the first time.in her life was alone. It was strange and very sad, and almost did she feel that a part of herself had gone from her, for the two girls had been so inseparable. It was Saturday, toother halfholiday, and when she left the shop at two o'clock she wondered how she was to spend the hours that lay before her between then and the seven o'clock dinner at the boardinghouse. What could she do without Mab? And then, as her eyes filled with sudden tears, a hand was laid upon her arm. and a voice that she was beginning to thrill, at the sound of spoke to her. " How fast you walk. 1 have been trying to catch you up, Miss Lawson," and her eyes were lifted to meet the ardent gaze of Captain Willoughby. (To be continued). [Another instalment of this very interesting story will be given in these columns on Saturday. The story will be continued every Saturday till its completion.