THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2130, 20 December 1894, Page 47

THE NOVELIST.

A STOFiY OF COMMON-

PLACE PEOPLE.

By RATE ADDISON.

[All Rights Resebved.]

to which it had eeemed possible to halE jaatify hi« acts. His conduct now stood out nakedly before him, apart from all the temptations and influences out of which it had grown, and confronted him ; and with unutterable shame he realised that he was a degraded man. And he was not so bad but that the realisation awoke within him the bitterest remorse. Like many o£ us he was " woree than his intentions but belter than his acts."

And then, too, he shrank with horror from the notion of making confession to Margaret and Dorothy. He was ready enough to fall down in the dust before them in an excess of penitence; but the belief that he must live forever in their thoughts as a despicable creatHre held for bim an agony of pain.

Perhaps they already knew his baseness. It is true that Dorothy had said she meant to refrain from speaking about bim to Margaret, but that resolve might easily have broken down. Some chance speech of Margaret's or some impulse of her own might very conceivably have given rise to words that ultimately would have made everything clear to both women— his silence about his sister's visit to him, and later on his continued pretence that she had never been found.

He stopped a moment as the possibility occurred to him, and shivered from head to foot. How could he go on and face it all 7 How could he find strength to get through this black hour that was close upon him? He longed to turn back and escape to the uttermost spot on the face of the globe where he should never again see or hear a word of either Dorothy or Margaret. He began walking on again; he felt weak and unmanned, and bis face was haggard and full of misery. He waa looking straight befora him info the midst of the glory of the huneet over across the waters, but he saw nothing of its beauty. t They could not forgive, he went on thinking ; they had been too deeply sinned against to forgive. He would not even ask. Suddenly a slight noise almost at his feet made him pause -a moment — the next he was looking straight into the eyes of Margaret— straight into his dead mother's eyes.

It w&b as if an apparition had riflan up before him*

Chapter XXVI.

(Continued). RGARET and Dorothy 1 What would Margaret say ? What would she look like when she heard that her brother was a eelfisb, dishonourable wretch 1 He was full of self-accusation.

He had passed the point up

Alone he could do nothing. He must get help. His one immediaU notion was to run to Barnley and bring men and a vehicle. He rose and began running along the side of the precipice. Soon he would be able to turn off at an apgle towards the town— at least, this was certainly his shortest way.

And Tom in the meantime had heard Margaret's cry, and the noise of a heavy body falling. Several small rocks, too, rolled down into the ravine near to the spot where he was standing.

With his utmost speed he began to climb up the side of the precipice at a spot where, just at thi3 part, climbing waß possible. None but an athlete could have acco '- plished the feat, and he only with difficulty. He had surmised thai Margaret had fallen and been stopped by the shelf-like projection, towards which be directed his steps. And, presently, by the help of an occasional overhaugicg bough and tussock of grass and outstanding rook, he reached her.

Bhe was quite still, but her heart was beating, and he could hear her breathing. He could detect no injury in the way of broken bones or cuts, but he was not skilled in such matters, and did not know how to examine her.

Very hastily he loosened her clothes at the throat, placed her in as easy a position aB possible, and began climbing up the remaining few f6et of the abyss. There was a cottage not very far away in the Brightwater direction. He could get help there, and he began to run thither.

Ten minutes later he reached it, but to his despair found it empty. Five minutes more were spent in trying to find someone in the place. But house and garden were utterly deserted ; the building itself was locked up, and there was not a creature to be seen.

He began to run back towards Margaret. Ho must himself try to raise her, and then go on to Burnley for a vehicle. He dreaded the thought of having to leave her in her present po&ilion with the daikness coming on. Moreover, he remembered that he had only loosened her clothes at the throat, and he believed he should have unfastened the whole bodice of her dress, and he meant to rectify hia omission.

About half an hour from the time he had left her he was looking over the edge of the abyss, preparatory to descending. To hia utmost surprise he saw that she was not there, __ He could not guess what had hap-

" Yob, I think so," answered Sloman.

They both looked again, and both remembered that they had seen him with Mrs James on their way from Burnley.

11 Yes, it'B Oarew," Sloman said. " It's strange that he should be running off like that."

•• Hallo 1 what's this?" he added a moment later. It waa a walking stick with a bar of silver near the top whereon were engraved the initials "T, 0."

After that they quickly found Margaret, and Sloman had soon clambered down to her.

Ehc two men together somehow, by means of the rope, succeeded in getting her to the top of th« cliff. It was a scrambling, awkward, rough piece of work, and she was much bruised in her ascent. A few moments later all three were in the dogcart together driving towards Barnley. They talked mostly on the way abont Tom Oarew, and the suspicious circumstances under which they had seen him. They also remarked on the unpopnlarity of the man, their inability to understand him, and his carelessness of the opinions of other people; and each one admitted to the other how much he disliked him.

Bertie's way to the town lay past Margaret's cottage. Aa he neared it he saw a dogcart standing at the gate ; and as at that moment both the other occupants wereinth9 cottage with Dorothy, telling her briefly of t he accident and helping to make ready for Margaret's reception, Bertie stole up to the vehicle and looked in. Margaret waa there, apparently unconscious, but breathing, and (so Bertie thought) not showing signs of any serious injuries. He wont off hastily, immensely relieved by the eight.

She had been rescued then, and there was no need for him to take any farther steps in the matter. Neither could be, at a moment like this, seek an interview with Dorothy ; no time could bo more unfitting; obviously that w»3 a duty to be postponed till the following day. Having comfortably arrived at this conclusion, he went on into Burnley, and took a room at the Burnley Hotel. In the morning of course he must go and se-j Dorothy and inquire about Margaret. Dorothy ia the meantime having briefly heard of Margaret's fall, but not of any of the attendant circumstances, was self-established nurse.

The doctor camo half an honr later. There was » broken rib and the nervous sjfitem had

She said, " Bertie 1" and moving to the side of the boulder, began to approach him.

He was staggered. It occurred to him all in a flash that she knew everything, and was going to accuse him.

Hardly knowing what he did, he threw out both arms as if to ward her off, and in an agony exclaimed, " Ob, Margaret 1 "

The next instant she stepped back a pace ,or two as if in response to his gesture ; her foot slipped on some loose pebbles. She partly turned in trying to recover herpelf, slipped again, said something like "Ob, this stupid " , lost her balance, and with a cry of terror fell and disappeared over the eJge of tho abyss 1

It sll happened in a second or two, far more quickly than it can be told.

The next mpcoent he was leaning over, horror-struck. Ju&t at this part there was a projec'ion of chfl: iv the surface of the precipice some feat in width and about 10ft from tho top. With unutterable relief he saw that sho had hwn stopped by this. She was lying thsre amongst the rocko a few yaida distant from him, but he could see that she was absolutely still, She mu»t have fainted or been stunned — surely it could be nothing el6e !

He culled her once or twice, but there was no repJy arid no movement. He could not see her face. She was on her side, and her bonnet had slipped reund so as to hide it from him.

pored ; but he was sure that he had placod her too safely for it to be possible for her to have fallen again, even had sho half recovered consciousness and moved.

He walked a few steps towards tho beach, and there saw a dogcart with two men driving rapidly towards Burnley. He gnessed at once that Bhe had been fonnd and rescued. Tho two men in the dogcart were Sloman and his companion, and Margaret, still unconscious, was lying in the vehicle at their feat with her head resting against the kneo of ono of them. At the moment of her meeting with Bertie they had been on the beach, basy taking a stone from their horse's shoe. As they were taking their places again in the dogcart Sloman said :

" How very clearly those figures stand out on the cliff, don't they ? "

His friend turned to look, and they both passed a moment watching. Behind Bertie and Margaret there waa a clearing of bush, bo that from Sloman's point of view the sky formed a background for them. And just at that moment the east was brilliant with the setting sun. Above the horizon was a warm, golden glow, but not dazzling enough to prevent steady watching, and against this the two black iTgures were sharply outlined. They were bo much higher, too, than Sloman and his companion that for this reason also they were more distinctly seen. Sloman's words had hardly been uttered when he and his friend caw Bertie throw hlaarms out, and then they saw Margaret slayger and fall. Tho next minute her figure disppeared, and a fuiut cry reached them.

" It's an accident," Slotnan exclaimed, and taking tho reins hastily he began to drivo towards the ravine. Iv another moment the chiY ololted oat their viow of the spot they had been watching, ao that they failed to see Bartie running inland along the brow of the precipice.

They pulled tho horse up under the cliff a little way on the Bngbtwater eide of the ravine. They happened to have eomo rope in the vehicle, which they took with them, and began to clamber up the cliff.

As they reached the top of the ascent they saw a man'a figure rapidly disappearing amoDgat the trees towards Brightwater. "Who's tbat?"Sloman said. " Carew, isn't it 2 " waa the reply.

received a stvei\3 shock, bat there were no very dangerous injuries.

This call to action was a boon to Dorothy. The work of nursing would help to shut away trouble of othur kinds, and her thought would be compelled to such activity in one directiou that it muot Isssen the fccope for suffering in another.

Sloman left, her whils the doctor was still with her. Outbids theflgato he met Tom. " Thero's been an accident," he said ; "do you know anything about it ? "

The twilight was gathering fast, and he could not see Tom's face as clearly as he wished.

" Yep, she fell," Tom replied. " Did you find her 7 " " Ye?, luckily. How did she fall ? " " I don't know ; I wasn't with her at the time. I was in the ravine below." "Oh I She waa alone then 2 "

"Yes; how is she 7"

" A broken rib— no further injnrieo. The doctor's with her now."

Sloman passed on. Tom waited and learnt particulars from the doctor as he came out of the cottage.

Then he hung about miserably for a time in an unwonted stato of indecision. His strong need to sac Dorothy was at war vrith his prudence. This was surely an unpropitious moment to choose for declaring himself, especially when, in any case, he had reason enough to fear the result of his declaration. And it was impossible that If they saw each other the meeting could be an ordinary one. The memory of his last words to her would be Htrong in the minds of both, and they could not look at one another without each knowing tho thought of the other.

He cuwed his folly forever having uttered such wo) da. He had been hasty and premature; and indeed he had meaut to postpone any attempt at love-makicg till ha could feel Burer of her attitude towards him. But that speech of hia was to be clashed amongst the woids that ho had uttered without intention, and of these there is probably a goodly liat in the lives of us all.

After awhile he turned away. He strolled slov.ly iv to Burnley, and tried to bury himself in a volume of philosophy ; but ever before his mind's* eye rose the vision of a fair girl-face, pale and all a-quiver with agitation.

(To be continued,)