NEW AND ORIGINAL STORY. A MODERN DICK WHITTINGTON.

Otago Witness, Issue 1981, 11 February 1892, Page 38

NEW AND ORIGINAL STORY. A MODERN DICK WHITTINGTON.

By JAMES PA YN.

Author of " For Cash Only," " A Prince of the Blood," "By Proxy," "Lost Sir Massingberd," "The Confidential Agent," &c, &c.

[All Rights RrseUV£!d.]

Chapter I.

' Ovor the Wall. 0 Sir Charles is comiDg to Hillsland I hear, Lorry ? " " Yes, for a day or two.' 1

The question and answer were both as indifferent as the human voice could make them. The speakers, in fact, had been talkiDg of some-

thing else, of far more impor-

tanceto both o£ them, but unhappily they were not agreed upon it. Kate Salesby and Lawrence Merridew were as old friends as their united ages— whteh were but one and forty — permitted them to be, but of late they had differed— though they had never " fallen out"— upon one subject. The young woman was the elder, and she looked it. Her tall figure, though far from plump, was fully developed ; her face, which but for the kiss of the gun frcm which she hai taken little pains to protect herself, would have borne comparison With that of any fashionable beauty, had a sedate expression, which while it became her admirably, suggested discretion. It was well for her, one would say, that under the present circumstances she possessed it. The young fellow who waß her companion, though by no means so handsome for a man as she for a woman, had great personal attractions. His appearance was peculiar; he had fair curling hair, a delicately chiselled face of bronce, and very dark eyes. Such a contrast might not itself have suited every taste, but the expression of the face was charming; full of intelligence, sympathising, demonstrative, and but a moment ago fervent with passionate appeal. Under the spell of such eloquence of feature it would have been difficult for any woman, not unsexed, to have resisted him, and it had cost even Kate Salesby a struggle. As she cast down her beautiful eyes under his passionate glance, they had, however, fallen upon his boots, which being patched and old, reminded her of certain obstacles to his prayer, absolutely insurmountable, but which for the moment she had almost forgotten. To strengthen her resolve, though it gave her pain, she oompelled herself as he went on to take an Inventory of his apparel. tlt bad never been of good material, and it was mended— very neatly, but still mended — in half a dozen places ; even his " wide-awake " was frayed at the edges ; and it was wonderful (she thought to herself) how well nevertheless he looked. For how few are the human countenances that can overcome the effect of a bad hat ? and yet Lawrence Merridew overcame it. He looked a gentleman and something more and much more, as the girl vaguely recognised, for all the shortcomings of his clothes.

She was but poorly dressed herself, as one of her own sex would have pronounced at once. There were no patches, however ; and if she stood " in silk attire," instead of that simple print, she could not have looked more distinguished. It is strange how often we hear of Nature's noblemen, when Nature's noblewomeD, who are much more often met with, are altogether ignored. So far as birth was concerned t however, Kate was much the superior of her companion, for Bhe belonged to one of the oldest families in Cornwall— so old, indeed, that it had worn itself out; whereas the Merridews were nouveaux riches ; only Lawrence was nouveau and not riohe, as will be presently made plain. " What you suggest, my dear Lorry," she had been saying, after that review of his raiment, " for I will not call it by so serious a name as a proposal, is out of the question ; it is a dream— delightful I confess to me as to you — but from which, as matters stand, were we to indulge in it, we should have indeed a rude awakening. Of your truth and honour I have no doubt ; I believe every word you say to me ; nay, since you press me, Ido not deny that I love you ; but love does not blind me, as it blinds you. I 100k — it may seem cruel to you, but I am cruel only to be kind — beyond to-day and even to-morrow. It is my nature perhaps to do so, but I have had also a bitter home experience of what comes of not looking forward— of trusting to that something good to happen to us which never does happen. How beautiful is

this orchard in which we are now standing ) how bright and beautiful are these apple blossoms ; how ppol the long grasses on which we tread; now laden with the coming summer is the air we breathe ; but before the year is out these trees will be bare and their fruit fallen ; the ground will be a swamp; it will be difficult to recognise the spot which the spring and the sunlight make so charming to us. So it would be, almost as soon, with your love story, if I were weak enough to listen to it; its passion would have passed away; its glory would have faded, through no fault of yours or mine. Poverty — abject poverty — would have blighted it. It is true you only ask for a promise ; but when that is given how hard h Will be to deny you more." " I Will ask no more, Kitty," he broke in earnestly-. "I will be content with your promise."

" You think so now, but you would not think so then ; moreover, I should not be content to wait for you indefinitely. I know there are women who, when once they have confessed their love, would be content to wait ; but Ido not possess their nobility of soul. There is, moreover, another thing, Lorry, you would do well to consider— you rate me too higtvyou credit me with virtues I do not possess." " You are good enough for me, Kitty, at all events," he answered gently, " and much better than I deserve."

" I do not say that) though I have no mean opinion of myself. You will be a husband of whom — one day— any woman should be proud ; but under present cjrbumstances you are not, as my fathei 1 would say, •good enough,' The very thought of him, and the pass to which poverty has brought him and me, hardens my heart against you, Lorry,"

She did not look " hard " ; her face was full of tenderness, though her voice was firm and even cold. He put his arm out— for he was olose by her— to olasp her waist, but she drew tack.

"No, Lorry," she said, "not again, nor perhaps ever again. This has gone far enough. I will not be fooled by my own fancy." " Fancy I " he exclaimed reproachfully, " Do you call your love for me by such a name as that ? "

"What other name (Jan better suit it? What Is it, as I have eaid, but a pleasant dreamt We are penniless, you and I; and only not beggars because there is no one in the wida world to whom we can sue for help. In a little time you will have left England, with what hope of coming back again a prosperous man 1 need not ask you. Your balling has been chosen for you, and is a distasteful one ; and fortunes are not made that way. Yet you wish me to promise to wait here for years and years until you have made one. There is one chance to be sure besides. Perhaps your grandfa' her may provide for you ; perhaps, as my father says when he is merry— that is when he is not sober — the heavens may fallj and We may have lark pie for supper. Is your grandfather so fond of you ? Is your Uncle Robert, who rules him, likely to advocate your claims upon him ? You do not-, I know, hope that your mother will die, that you may inherit her scanty inborne. What is your hope then ? What is the lot in life— at its best, at its brightest— you ask me to share ? " She spoke without contempt but like one who is conscious that hef arguments are irresistible.

The young man bowed his head before them, as though before some physical force.

" You forget that I have my pen," he murmured plaintively. Indeed Ido not forget it. Your fine brain, and the fancies that inhabit it, are not the least among the many things for which I love and admire you. lam no judsje of such matters, it is true, but I believe you have great talents— nay, since among such sur* rouodings and discouragements you exercise them as you do, it may be even genius that you possess ; but even if you do, what then ? Genius, as my father says of a goose, is too much for one but not enough for two. It turns a man's head, but not the kitchen spit. Geniuses, even the best of them, are poor, dear Lorry, and; setting aside other considerations, better without wives." " But although I may never be rich, Kitty, I may yet make money by writing, sufficient for our simple needs." Ihe girl's lips curled at this. She was not enamoured of such simplicity. "The root and the spring ' were too familiar to her to be attractive; but her companion thought that she was expressing incredulity of his literary powers, and it cut him to the heart. " I believe I have a better chance with my pen than you think, Kitty," he answered gently. \ " I did not mean that," she replied earnestly and with a quick flush. "You do not think, you surely do not think, that I was making — well, making light of your talents, Lorry; darling; you may think me hard and mercenary, but lam not like that." the stepped forward with tears in her eyes, and kissed his cheek. It was a dangerous impulse; the young fellow had been gradually quieting down under his companion's judicious treatment, and it brought about a relapse. I "You do Jove me a little then, after aIV he exclaimed triumphantly. " I love you so much, Lorry, that I will not permit you to ruin yourself for my sake." 'Yes, yep," he answered impatiently, "I understand all that though I do not agree with it ; but what I mean is, if I have a little luck in literature, if I make enough before I go abroad to be an earnest of better fortune." She shook her head. " That will not «30, Lorry," she put in resolutely ; " that would be promise and not performance ; which is the very thing you propose to exact from me." " But if I made enough by my pen iv England, within the yeai — such an income as would do away with the necessity of my going away to Singapore at all— would you give me your promise then 1 " " What 1 If you made an income before you were 21 years of age ! Well, there can be no harm in saying ' Yes ' to that, because it would be a miracle, and miracles do not happen. You no more expect such a thiDg than I do."

" Scill, I have your promise," he answered; it must be confessed in no very hopeful tone. "My poor Lorry, it can be but the

promise of a promise, the shadow of a shadow ; but such as it is you are welcome to it. Now let us give over this unprofitable talk, and discourse of something else."

And then it was that she had put the question about Sir Charles Walden's coming to Hillsland ; and he had answered that his stay would be for a day or two. She continued in an amused tone :

"And what is supposed to be Sir Charles' attraction 7 "

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders. He had really given little thoughtto the matter, but the indifference born of his present condition — disappointed! denied, almost rejected as he felt himself to be— would have prevented his giving any subject his attention.

" I understand he wishes to make the acquaintance of my grandfather." At this the young girl burst out laughing ; bright and meny as a bugle horn the music of her merriment clove the air; it was no guffaw such as man, coarse man, indulges in when his sense of humour is inordinately tickled, but yet " so clear and far " it sped that it set the echo that lived in the old lichened wall on the other side of the orchard replying to It. " You really think that, do you ? " she ex^ claimed! when she got her breath. '' Then it will be a sib and a Btiame indeed, Lorry; if the old fellow leaves you no legacy. Such a compliment deserves a codicil ail to itself. Is it likely that his High Mightiness, Sir Charles Walden; as learned as the bishop, though he says his prayers backwards, as fastidicus as Lord Chesterfield, and a dandy " She suddenly stopped. "Pray go on," said Lawrence, with his eyes on'the ground, and as though all talk was now alike to him ; " why don't you complete your description of the gentleman's character ? "

Ac she remained dumb, he looked Up and saw the reason. Kitty had taken to her heel?, and was running down to the gate at the bottom of the orchard like a bare ; but over the wall, within 3ft of him, were the head and bust of Sir Charles Walden himself—a phenomenon caused by him being on horseback. He had been riding on the turf by the side|of the road, which had dulled the noise of his approach) and how long he had been in his present position — with his hat off, in courtesy doubtless to the fair speaker —it was impossible to guess.