THE LOVE STORY OF A MILLIONAIRE

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXII, Issue 4806, 8 November 1902, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE LOVE STORY OF A MILLIONAIRE

(By Nolan of Castleknock.) She was “sweet and twenty-two,” and as she tripped down the steps of a Bloomsbury boarding-house. John Howard. millionaire, forgot for once his great financial schemes in the pleasure her dainty personality alforded him. Her hair was of fine gold—she wore deep black, and in her hand were some letters.

“By Jove!” muttered Howard, involuntarily. The look of undisguised admiration in his rather good eyes forced the colour into her cheeks, and she hurried forward in some confusion, dropping in her haste one of the letters.

“I beg pardon,” said Howard, quickly overtaking her, “you have dropped something.”

She stopped and looked at him for a moment wonderingly, then her quick eyes detected the letter in his hand. “Oh!”, she cried, hastily glancing through'the remaining correspondence, “it is my letter to Mr Howard 1” ’ “Howard!” repeated the millionaire, momentarily startled by the sudden pronouncement of his name. Then he glanced at the envelope:—John Howard, Esq., 18. Breams Buildings, Adelphi Street. W.C. His ora name and official address.

“How extraordinary!” he said, more to himself than to the girl. He gjlanoed at her keenly as he spoke, seeking for some clue to his unknown correspondent’s identity—some remembrance of the fair surprise face that confronted him but no, no recollection existed. “I beg your pardon,” he said, noticing her look of uneasy astonishment, “but—l saw my address on your letter —and as I—er know Mr Howard personally—the coincidence, for a moment startled me.” “You know Mr HowardI—Mr 1 —Mr Howard, the millionaire,” she repeated, sudden interest in her eyes.

“I do,” replied Howard, quizzically, “very well indeed. In fact”— a sudden idea strinking him—“l—er—work for him.”

“You are one of his employees?” “Yes!” “People say ho is very good to those who want help,” she went on. “Oh! well—er—” began Howard smiling, “people axe inclined to exaggerate. But I suppose he does his best. “Do you think he would help mo ? I am in very great distress—my—” and her eyes suddenly filled with tears, “my father has just died—and. a* there was no money I must find work,” she ended rather incoherently. ,

“I am very sorry,” said Howard gently, “and I think—nay, I am sure' he will assist you in any way possible.” “I only want work,” she said, flushing deeply. “.Not—not anything else. My father once did Mr Howard some trifling service, for which he was very grateful, and when my father was—was dying”—she went on unsteadily—“he said, ‘write to John Howard, and ask him for work. He will have changed very much from the young man whom 1 knew years ago, if he refuses to help the daughter of James .Williams.”

“James Williams,” cried Howard, starting: “not the James Williams who was manager of the Diamond Bank, in Capetown?” “Yes,” she said, he was my father.” “And you are the daughter whom he used to speak about?” said Howard, wonderingly. “Yes; I was in England then—at school—but— —” she broke off suddenly, “you speak as if you knew him.” “I—I,” stammered Howard. “Weller—Howard has often spoken to me about your father—and ” “Oh. then my letter inay be of some use, after all?” she cried, hope lending an additional beauty to what Howard had already begun to term “her wonderful eyes.” 1 , “Your letter?” repeated Howard, wonderingly. “Oh. I see—the letter which you dropped ?” “It was to ask Mr Howard for work in one of his offices,” she explained ingenuously. “I can typewrite and do shorthand, and that ' sort of thing. I would do my host,” she added bravely. “I am sure he will give you work,” cried the millionaire enthusiastically; “and this letter —do you think you could entrust it to me? lamon my way to the office'now,” he explained, “and, you see, I might be able to explain, matters a little as well as deliver your letter.” “How kind of you,” she cried, her eyes suddenly with tears. “Oh, I am so grateful to you, Mr ——”

“Brown,” supplemented Howard, without a blush; “and now, Miss Williams,” he Went on hurriedly, to avoid any fur-; ther thanks, “I will not detain you any longer. Don’t worry about the future,” he added, retaining her hand just a moment longer than was necessary, “John Howard will not prove unmindful of a service rendered.”

The millionaire rang his hell. .“Smithers,” he said, as his chief clerk appeared, “I have engaged a young lady to look after the immediate affairs of my own office—do the miscellaneous typing, and that sort of thing!”

“Yes, sir I” “She will start work on Monday, and as I want to see exactly what she is capable of doing, I intend do sank my identity for a time—undor_ the name of Brown. Mr Howard is going away for some weeks—abroad, anywhere—and in the meantime Mr Brown, his secretary, will occupy these rooms and see exactly what the new typist is capable of doing. You understand my plan, Smithers?” “Quite, sir; hut the other clerks? They may divulge the secret.” ' ( “I have thought of that,” said Howard, “and accordingly Miss Williams—her name, by the way, is Williams—will have no communication with anyone in the office except you and myself. I rely upon yon, Smithers, to see that none of the others upset my experiment,” he added a little peremptorily- “ Very well, sir!” and the chief clerk withdrew wondering not a little at the nature of his chief’s experiment. Behind in the well-appointed 'office John Howard sat in his chair also thinking of his experiment. Now that is was all settled he could look back calmly and see that his scheme was more the outcome of an unexplainable impulse than any consecutive train of thought. But he felt no regret beca.use of that—nay, he experienced a wild sense of elation in allowing the hard business brain that had accumulated millions to revel for onoe in an absurdly boyish realm of romance. He even found himself humming a little love song —he a sedate man of thirty-six—it seemed incongruous. yet ho kept on humming. And so for a long time the millionaire sat in his chair gazing idly into the fire, thinking of many, things—among them a kindly old man who had once befriended him in a foreign country, and, the daughter whom Fate had so romantically thrown in his way. ' ■. . ■ , Many women had smiled upon him—many had angled for his millions—but

ho had hitherto gone his way unimpressed. And now for the first time in his life a woman’s face came between him and his morning’s work. end. hut also booouse national Work! It had boon the keynote of his existence. This morning as he loolfod back upon his life it seemed to hold little that was soft and lovable, nothing but years of struggle and hardship, with a success at the end that still left him unsatisfied.

Through every phase o& fortune, good and had, ho had always been conscious of a vague want—something near and yet so far off that not all his millions could appease or oven define tins vague longing. ,

But now he know it had come to him at last—come in the guise of a letter and a pair of soft grey eyes. His face grew wonderfully soft and tender as he thought of the gratitude that shone in those eyes, and in his heart John Howard knew that the one woman of all others for him had come into his life at last. “And why not?” he muttered. “After all, I am but thirty-six, and if my plan works and she learns to love me, it will not be as John Howard the millionaire, but as John Brown the secretary.” * * * » . •

“Will you come to the Queen’s Hall this evening, Miss Williams? I have some tickets for a concert.”

“How kind of you. And I—I—•” She paused and looked up at John Howard, alias Brown, with a look that spoke volumes for the success of a certain experiment. “I will come,” she added shyly, dropping her eyes before Howard’s ttrdent gaze. • ■ '

Some three months had elapsed smoa the pseudo-secretary picked up that fateful letter in a Bloomsbury Square. Many things had happened since then —things that now made the great coupe and business deals which had once constituted the millionaire’s essence of existence seem very small and paltry indeed. • i

Miss Williams had been duly installed I as typist at a salary, when, had she been at all conversant with the labour! market, would have struck her aa being! very remarkable indeed. True—many things had of lato begun’ • to puzzle her, among them the ruillioak-i aire’s prolonged absence . abroad, and, his secretary’s strange reticence regarding his employer. , To all her questions about Howard' tho latter’s answers proved evasive andi unsatisfactory. Just at first this did not strike her asi . strange, but as their intercourse and, intimacy day by day increased, his ova-< siveness began to hurt tho girl." ; ; It reached a climax one day, when, she spoke of her gratitude to the mil-i lionairo and her longing for his return ! in order that she might express her ' gratitude in words. Brown laughed out-’, right; “My dear Miss Williams,” he said chaffingly, “you have placed Howard on too high a pedestal altogether. I assure you he is really one of the most selfish of men.”

“He has been very good to me,” fHo retorted a little sharply, “and I never forget a—a kindness,” she added, suddenly penitent again, as she remembered all the little kindnesses of the man before her. * , ’ Brown smiled and said no more.

It was their first and last approach to a tiff, and in the evening, when Howard suggested a long ’bus ride, she strove to show by her ready acceptance how much she regretted their previous disagreement. ■ , Tho humble ’bus had of late become

a frequent item in their programme, for John Howard was bent on carrying ; > out thoroughly his role of an orrtnary employe of the great millionaire. But those ’bus rides! Ah, tow sweet they were—tinged hv the aag'.c wand of ■ romance how beautiful even a commonplace “red Hammersmith” can become. This morning, John Howard leaned back in his office chair and lived those rid*w all over again, his thoughts punctuated by tl]e prosaic click, click of the typewriter under the skilful fingers of llm girl ho loved.

“To-night,” he muttered at length, as if planning an intorprise, “to-night ” and he smiled softly to himself as if the issue were no matter of doubt. His manner was very gentle and tender as he left tho office that even'd ng, and walked with Mss Williams to the end of the street. “Good-bye for a little while,” *ic said, as they parted. ’ “I will call at sovan. You are sure you care to coma?” “Sure.”

She looked up into his eyes half-shyly,, and half—well—something else that sent John Brown homeward with his rerve* tingling and his whole being full of an.. altogether unreasonable measure of happiness—happiness that had suffered no diminution when, two hours later, they entered the Queen’s Hall together. • ■ And the concert? Well, it was one of those evenings to be marked in a man’s calendar with a “white stone,” , and Howard and his companion were both very quiet and silent as the concert camo to a close. Only just for a moment, as he held her cloak, she turned those dear, grey eyes of hers on Howard,, and he knew then that for good or ill, v through joy and sorrow, this woman's soul was his possession for ever and ever. I

“We’ll drive home,” ho whispered, ur they reached the street. Neither spoke again till the cab had begun to wind its devious way through some of the darker streets, then Howard put his Arm round her, , and drew her to him. “It seems almost too good to bo true, ' little woman,” he whispered unsteadily. “Almost—John.”

She lay. in his aims quite quietly, abandoning herself to all his endearments, finding an, exquisite relief in outward expression of all the pent-up love of months. Their drive came to an end all too soon, but Howard had little difficulty in per-, suading her to walk round the Bloomsbury Square in which they had first met. In that moonlight walk he eon- ' fessed the whole plot, and sued for absolution.

Which must have been done with good effect—since the roll of Bachelors no longer contains the name of John How-ard,-millionaire.