Chapter XXXVI.

Otago Witness, Issue 1555, 27 August 1881, Page 24

Chapter XXXVI.

BACK IK HER OLD HOME, Fears, (which, us they say, attend The Bteps of wrong).

—King John. —Bitter shame hath spoiled the tweet world's taste, That it yields naught but shame and bitterness.

The news of his son-in-law's failure was a great shock to Mr Goldie. He was not a loser, having sold out only a few days before. Mrs Money had never had implicit faith in the scheme, and though willing enough to " make hay while the sun shone," she had impressed on her brother the necessity for caution. All her shares had been disposed of shortly before her death, but Goldie, tempted by the high rate of interest, had held on almost to the very last. The narrow escape he had had, and the shock of finding how he had been deceived in his son-in-law, quite unnerved him.

He never went near Mary, — she must have been in the conspiracy, and was undeserving of sympathy ;— but he was quite unfit for business, and left the office an . hour earlier than usual. It was a dark, cold, miserable December afternoon. What with the sleet, and the dazed stupid feeling in his head, the old man could hardly make his way along. Sharp, his confiential clerk, overtaking him at a crossing, noticed how he tottered, and in another inßtant saw him fall.

He was dragged insensible, from under the horses feet, and conveyed to the nearest chemist s, where a doctor was soon in attendance. Mr Goldie had been so promptly rescued that his injuries were very slight ; but the doctor found him to be suffering from a paralytic stroke ;—; — either the cause af his fall, or its consequence. Sharp and the doctor conveyed him home in a cab, and resigned him to the care of Mrs Stevens, who had just arrived. And it was thus that Mary fell into her place in her old home. Mr Goldie recovered in a week or two, up to a certain point, bub he wouid uever again be either mentally or physically the man he had been. During his illness lie

was haunted by a vague memory of something that had to be guarded and taken care of ; and one day, when he was convalescent, and able to come down stairs for the first time, that memory suddenly became clear.

' My pocket-book, Mary/ he exclaimed excitedly, ' I want, it ? where is it V ' I don't know/ said Mrs Stevens, in the indifferent tone that was habitual to her now ; 'in the pocket of the coat you last wore, I suppose.' ' That coat was brought, and all its pockets turned inside out, — in vain. Mr Goldie was working himself into a state of nervous excitement calculated to bring on another attack of illness, when his clerk was announced.

Mrs Stevens retired, leaving them free to talk business. But Mr Goldie was in no state to attend to his clerk's report ; he was in an agony about his pocketbook, it contained that fatal document — Mrs Moneys Will — which he had carried about on his person, ever since its disinterment from the tea-caddy, having never been able to find a more secure hiding-place for it. ' I am glad to see yon so much better, sir/ remarked the clerk presently, in ultra-respectful tones, 'and also to see you alone. I may now rid myself of this responsibility.' And to Mr Goldie's unspeakable dismay, he laid upon the table the lost pocketbook.

' You dropped this when you were taken ill/ he explained, smoothly. 'And I thought I waß best consulting your interests by keeping it until I could deliver it into your own hands.' Mr Goldie put the book in his pocket without a word. And then the eyes of the two men met, and he knew that Sharp knew what it contained. But he could not say a word, and Sharp would not. There was a little discussion on office matters, then, as the clerk rose, ' Sir/ he said, still speaking in a tone of respect, ' I have a little request of my own to make. I held one or two shares in your son-in-law's Bank, and this smash has nearly ruined me ; it has indeed, Mr Goldie. If you could be so kind as to put your name to this I should never forget the service, I do assure you.' This was an accommodation bill for fifty pounds. The man must be either quite insane, or very sure of his power, who could seriously prefer such a request to old Goldie. It was acceeded to— without a word of demur.

Afterward, when he was alone, and had had time to collect his scattered witß, Mr Goldie saw the folly of what he had done. It was a tacit confession of guilt. Why had he not offered that explanation which he had had so glibly prepared for this very emergency ? Why, but because his presence of mind had deserted him utterly. But after all it was not yet too late.

He must— he would give up this wealth ; it had been nothing but a torture to him ; and now he lived on the brink of a precipice ; for Sharp might speak at any moment, and then the "explanation" would be so lame that no one would believe it. And Mr Goldie writhed as he thought of the comments people would make.

So he saw his clerk next day.

'Sharp/ said he; 'I suppose you remember hearing that at the time of Mrs Moneys death her Will was missing ?' Sharp remembered perfectly well. ' Well, it has turned up in the most extraordinary way; — I found it in her tea-caddy. Now I must set to work to discover my son. And, Sharp, in the meantime I do not wish this spoken of — you understand? It would be a fine bone for the lawyers to pick, but I don't mean them to get scent of it.' ' Very good, sir/ said Sharp. 'If I might say so/ he added, ' I think it is a great pity the Will has turned up. The money will not be used so wisely as you have used it.'

' I fear not — I fear not/ sighed Mr Goldie. ' But/ with edifying severity, ' that is nothing to me ; I have a duty to perform, and I must perform it.' ' The old fox/ said Sharp, to himself. ' I thought I had oaught him tripping this time, and no mistake. Well, we shall see ; but I don't think I shall ever be dunned for that fifty pounds.'

Mr Goldie had at this time another trouble — Mary. The thought of this ending to the marriage which he had done his utmost to promote, and in which he had been wont to take such satisfaction — and the thought of his daughter, returned on hie hands penniless and disgraced — were bitter reflections for Mr Goldie.

Looking at the lover she had rejected, and who was now so prosperous, and so universally esteemed, he persuaded himself that his daughter had wronged him by marrying as she had done ; why had she not chosen John Pelfe? Why, indeed ! Even Jane had done better than she.

' You did not think so once/ retorted Mary bitterly, as he thus fretfully bewailed the past. * Wnat I did, I did by your advice, and with your sanction.' Mr Goldie was playing his usual game. Mary had taken his house by storm ; he could not turn her out, but he would be heartily rejoiced if she went of her own accord ; and he was trying to irritate her into doing so. It was not, however, to her mere presence that Mr Goldie objected ; since his illness he had grown so old and shaky that he felt the need of a woman's care, and often wished that Minnie had never "left home" (that was how he put it, even to himself) ; but it wag to Mary's

rule that her father objected. He felt almost as if the thraldom of Mrs Money were revived ; his daughter was not so preremptory, but he was older, and weaker. And then she persecuted him.

Mary perfectly understood that she was not welcome, — and she did not care. She had come back to her old home for a purpose, and she meant to stay. Of all the friends that had fluttered round her in the days of her prosperity, not one remained — not one.

Only Jane had stood by her. It was to Jane she was indebted for the few of her more cherished possessions which now surrounded her. Among them was the painting of Laura, but Mary would not have welcomed that as she did could she ' have known that not to Jane, but to the Pelfes she owed it.

It might well seem a miserable fate, that, after all these prosperous years, Mary should be compelled to return to the dull obscure home of her girlhood. Once again she occupied the room — the very bed — which during the first years of their lives she and her twin sister had shared together. How mean and contemptible it seemed after the luxury to which she had so long been accustomed.

But was that the only thought it awakened? Did no ghosts out of the past rise up before her as she sat alone in that old familiar room— no thoughts of her innocent careless girlhood —of the twin sister, who had been her other self, — of baby Harry, and the sweet, gentle mother ? Perhaps : but Mary did not brood on the past ; her whole soul was occupied with the task she had set herself to accomplish.

Mrs Stevens neither could nor would pinch snd scrape as Minnie had been compelled to do ; she engaged a competent servant, and ordered her father's house on a scale of liberality that made him stand aghast. But in reality she was not extravagant, for every penny she saved would be so much gained for Laura. That was her object. Mary's spirit was at this time very bitter. When first she heard her husband's fate, she was both awed and grieved ; it could not be otherwise ; he was at least her child's father. But when she came to realise the ruin and the shame he had brought upon that child, and upon her, Mary's heart hardened against the memory of her husband ; and she hated him dead as she never had hated him living. He had blighted her child's life.

Lady Beltower was not a woman to be envied in those days. Her husband's love was not so blind as it had been ; — ' she was alienating it wantonly — and he was very proud. That he, of all men, should be mixed up ' in such a scandal, and own for a father-in-law such an unmitigated scoundrel as the papers were proving Mark Stevens to have been ! Forgetting how eager he had been to secure his bride, Lord Beltower chose to think that Mrs Stevens had known of the impending crash, and % had hastened the marriage in consequence. Whether Laura were implicated in the "plot," he could not tell; one thing he had found out — that she was riot trustworthy. He positively forbade her to see, or to visit her mother. Out of sheer contradiction Laura would have straightway defied that command had it not chimed in so exactly with her inclinations.

Comparatively few people knew of her connection with the notorious Mark Stevens, and those who did might in time forget the unwelcome fact ; if they were not reminded of it by her mother's presence.

So Laura fully comprehendod the expediency of this course, and she was ' sure dear mamma would say so too. Of course/ she wrote, ' though I cannot ask you here yet I shall still come and see you sometimes, no matter what he says. But you must not expect me often, for I am very busy, and that Golden Terrace is such an out-of-the-world place to get at.'

In fact, Lady Beltower, with her endless round of gaieties, contrived to get through the season very comfortably, with only one short visit to her mother. But to Mary this new state of things was terrible. Often and often did she walk the whole weary distance to the West End, merely that, standing in the shadow near Beltower House, she might catch a glimpse of her child's face, as Laura passed to her carriage, on her way to some entertainment.

And the idea grew upon Mrs SHevens that if Laura could, after all — and through her instrumentality — bring him a fortune, Lord Beltower might be induced to alter his decree, and allow her free access to her daughter once more.

That was the purpose with which Mary had come back to her old home. She meant to secure her aunt's fortune for Laura. And she was not delicate in expressing her wishes.

' One would think you wished me dead/ cried her father once, in impotent wrath. ' I do wonder you show so little feeling, Mary.'

' Feeling has nothing to do with it/ returned Mrs Stevens, in her cold voice, ' business is business ; you will not die a day the sooner for having made your will. There ia nothing like getting such things properly settled. Look at aunt Jane, putting off, and putting off, and leaving everything in confusion. Laura ought to have the greater part of her fortune ; I have always said so, and I always shall.' ' But, suppose that Will were to turn up, after all/ said Mr Goldie cunningly, tto was weary of this persecution, and spied a loophole of esoape. Mrs Stevens scooted the idea. She

&miy believed that her aunt had destroyed the Will, intending to make a more just one. . So, after a proper amount of hesitation, Mr Goldie suffered himself to be cajoled into devising the whole of Mrs Moneys wealth to his granddaughter. Then Mary was satisfied ; but she did not quit the Terrace. She saw that her father was fast breaking up, and determined to guard Laura's interests to the last. Old Goldie had outwitted his daughter, but he was anxious and ill at ease. He lived in fear and trembling lest hia reluctant efforts to discover Harry should prove effectual, yet he dreaded lest Sharp might consider that those efforts were not •nergetic enough, and demand another "loan." And he had withal, an uneasy •ense of general wrong-doing, which he could not lose, even in the pages of his beloved ledger. Now it happened that about that time, the silver-tongued inert clergyman who officiated' At the dingy old churoh round the corner, died, and was replaced by an active, earnest young man. He decided that the old church ought to be pulled down, and a new and larger edifice erected. Also he sought to establish ragged schools and various other agenoies hitherto unknown in the parish— which was, he averred, shamefully behind the age. Naturally all these plans involved a considerable outlay ; and to Mr Goldie, as, reputedly the most wealthy man in bis congregation, he applied With, an audaoity that perfectly staggered that gentleman. Never, in the whole course of his existence, had he had to listen to such a sermon as the new clergyman preached to him on the right use of wealth. And in his own office ! the very sanctum semetorwn of business ! To be told that he owed a solemn duty to the poor ; that his wealth— the wealth he toiled and sohemed to amass— waa not his own ; that he would one day have to render an account of it ; with many other such strange doctrines, made Mr Goldie feel excessively uncomfortable, and to get rid of his unwelcome visitor, he was driven to promise a contribution of— five guineas ! '<Had the clergyman only known it, he would have effected more permanent good by refraining from extorting that promise. It weighed on Mr Goldie'a mind, obliterating the effects of the " sermon." For the rest of the day, he pondered how he mighit evade it, and at last hit upon a notable scheme. „. He would make his will, and he would leave all his money to rebuild the churoh ! Of course the bequest would not be availble for years to oome ; but, in prospeot of it the churchwardens would no doubt be willing to make shift with the old building till then. You have no idea what comfort this scheme afforded to Mr Goldie. He sat flown immediately and wrote to the minister, explaining his intention, and making it an excuse for retraoting his promise. The more he thought of this plan, the more it pleased him; he only wondered that it had never occurred to him before. To what better use could he put his money? Jane did not need it; — neither did Laura, whatever her mother might say ; was she not the wife of an earl ? Mary was doomed to disappointment, for Harry ahbuld receive his aunt's fortune intact, and if he must ruin himself, why, he must. Mary should have a small annuity. And, Minnie — here the father hesitated for a moment. He loved his youngest child. But he loved himself more, and not even for Minnie oould he forego this work whioh promised to secure for him both safety in the next world, and universal honour in this. She did not deserve anything, but she should find that her father knew how to forgive. He would leave her five hundred pounds ; more than that might prove a snare to her, and would only make her a prey for fortune hunters.

Mr Goldie fairly gloated over this Bcheme. In fancy be saw the church .rising, and! read notices in the public J)rints, extolling the munificence of its ounder. Then the church was finished, and he saw a tablet erected to hia memory, in lome conspicuous place, recording his crowning act of generosity. Perhaps he might even have a stained window ! And for hundreds of years the name of Goldie would be honoured and eulogised. It was a fasolnating prospect ; in view of it, all Mr GoldVf misgiving* vanished completely. To be continued- Cmmenced in No. 15IA.