MEMO. BY THE EDITOR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2181, 19 December 1895, Page 17

MEMO. BY THE EDITOR.

Our readers -will no doubt be interested to learn the names and addresses of the -winners in the competition. They are a 8 follow : — First Prize ... Mrs F. E. Cotton (•( • Fabiau BeJS ") ICoslyn. Second Prize ... Mrs HcSeii Stewart, King§<lowii, near Tiinaru, Third Prize ... Miss S. G. White, Auckland. . An interesting feature of the award is that the winners are all •women ; -while in view of the recent discussion as to the merits of the contents of previous Witness Christmas Numbers, it is reassuring to find a competent judge, -without the slightest idea of the identity of the writer, selecting for first prize the tale by the oldest and most regular contributor to the Witness Christmas Number tale columns. " Fabian Bell " contributed one of the two tales -which ■were contained in the first Christmas Number of the Witness, published some 18 years ago, and she has steadily maintained her contributions to each successive issue since. " Fabian Bell " has long been regarded as the leading contributor to the Number, and the judge's selection is, therefore, specially gratifying as showing that the leading writer in previous Numbers was at all events capable of work worthy of being placed at the head of a competition comprising 115 tales. The -winners of the second and third prizes &re new to our columns, but a perusal of their tales will, we are certain, leave our readers with the desire to have a further opportunity of judging of their carjabilities.

In a month another quarterly payment on the mortgage would be due, and we had nothing to meet it with, and nothing to cell. If only a real purchaser would appear 1 Then father and the stranger came in. "These are my daughter?, Mr Herrick," he said. And the stranger bowed aud shock hands. Oflo glance showed me that he was young and rather good-looking. A longer acqnaintance showed me that he was not bo young as I had at first supposed, and much better looking, for though his features were not regular, thoy were pleasant and well-balanced, so that his face was more pleaaißg than that of many a handsomer man. I had plenty of time to see all this and much more — to study bis face and hiß chaiacter nntil I knew it all by,beart, for from the very first he had no eyes for me— only for Sophie — and I saw by their expression how much he admired her. And indeed she was very pretty, with her wild-roee ooniplexion matching tho bit of pink ribbon which she was so fond of wearing at her throat or among the clustering curls of her golden-brown hair. Pink was always Sophie's colour, and it suited her well. Mr Herrick Btayed to tea. We had a merry evening, and I forgot to think about the mortgage and to wonder how we should pay it. He said nothing about the advertisement or the land, so that I thought be could net be a purchaser. Hs had recently com 9 from the West Coast, and his talk was chiefly of mines and miners, «ud of a syndicate which had heen formed to purchase one of the best mines, in which he himself had a small share, and in the future of which he was a most ardent believer. Now, in the early days, before Sophie or I were born, and indeed before bia marriage, father had joined the rush in Gabriel's Gully and bad made a pile there, only, unfortunately, he lost nearly all of it afterwards in some unfortunate speculations. It was only mother's influence which had induced him to sink what was left in the purchase of the farm, where we had been co happy, and also so unhappy. As Mr Herrick talked, father pricked up hia ears like sn old horse when he smells the b table and the good feed of oats waitirgforhim. His eyes shone ; he looked 10 years younger. " There is no life in the world like a digger's life," he said. " I would go back to it to-monow." The stranger smiled. "The old alluvial diggings were very different from the medern quartzornshiog reefs. There must bave been a lot of fnn and excitement and all the fascination of gambling about some of those lich finds. The present style is steady, hard giind, and pull against collar. There is about as much excitement in it as there is in coal mining ; but there are some plums to be picked up now and then." 41 And you have got hold of one 1 " j •• I think so," he answered modestly. When he had gone we began to question father. ♦' Who is he ? " " Where did you meet him ? " " Why did he come here ? ' 11 Is he going to bay the place 1 " " Gently, gently, my lasses — one question at a- time. His name is John j Herrick. I met him in the township inquiring for me. He has letters from several people on the coast whom I know, at least by name. He came here because I asked him ; but he is not a purchaser. I doubt whether he even knowß that the place is in the market." I " I hope he'll come Bgairj," said Sophie. " I was quite interested in what he said about the mines ; and then — he'a so good looking." Father pinched her ear. " You silly child 1 What have his looks got to do with It 1 " " Everything," said Sophie decidedly. "I oan't bear ugly men; and all the boys round here are frightful, and common as well." No one asked me what I thought, and I said nothing ; but I remembered how Mr Herrick had looked at Sophie, and I was sure that he admired her as much as she admired him. After that he came "very often, almost every day. But no one thought it too often. His coming made a little variety. . Tbe days sre very monotonous in the country; there is little change or variety — washing on Monday, ironing en Tuesday, baking on Wednesday, churning on Thursday, general clean up on Friday and Saturday, and always tbe dairy work and poultry to attend do ; the c&lvcb and chickens to feed ; and meals to cook and serve at all sorts of hour*, especially during shearing and harvest. Of course Sophie helped; but it was quite right that I, as the elder, should hava the most to do. Then, too, I liked bouse work, and ehe did not; she liked better to sit in the front room and sew or read. And so it teemed natural that she should always be ready to talk to Herrick . when he came, while I bad j barely time to say, " How do yon do 1 " and then away to kitchen, or pantry, or fowl-yard, as the cese might be. Sometimes he tried to keep me, saying in his kindly bat careless dacnor : " Your name is a misnomer. It should have been Martha and not Mary." ' And once Sophie added : " Nay ; I .think that Cinderella would suit her still better." And that hurt me a little ; for men cannot be supposed to understand, but women know that if there were no Marthas in the world we should all fare very badly. In that case I wonder who would look after the dinner and make the scones for tea. I think all men are more or less like John \ Grumly before he had that famous experience. They think that we have nothing to do, and are a long time doing it. But then — I was not really j angry -with Sophie ; I loved her too well ; but it is just tho people whom we love best who have tbe power to hurt us in little things. Father seemed to like Mr Herrick quite as much as we girls did. They talked of mines and miners, and of quartz reefs and crushings and tailings until we grew almost as wise as they were, and then I found out that there was a small share in the mme — Mr Herrick's mme — for sale, and that father would buy it if he conld sell the farm. I call it Mr .Herrick's mine, but the real name was the Rosebud Amalgamated. Sophie said it was a sweet name, but I could not see what there was in common between a rosebud and a mine, and so it did not strike me as at all suitable, but I daresay it is as hard to find names for all the mines as it is for the editor of the children's column to find names for all the kittens and puppies. The Rosebud Amalgamated was a syndicate mine belonging to a few wealthy shareholders, most of whom were in England, but one — Lord Wendover — was in ChriEtchurcb. The name of this lord was known to my father and carried great weight, es he was a rich and successful man. " If it is good enough for Wendover it is good enough for anybody," was the general verdict, and a great many people would have liked to buy the thirty -second share, and seemed a little annoyed with Herrick because he had offered it to father, and persisted in- giving him the refusal. "I am not in a hurry," he said. " You caa have a few weeks to think it over." "It does not need time'to see that it's a real good thing. I'd buy it tomorrow if I had the casji ; but unfortunately I have not. As I have told you, this place is in the icarket, and if I am lucky enough to meet with- a purchaser the bank will advance me what I want, and then I'll clo£e with your offer." So Herrick said again that he was in no hurry and would wait for a time, and Sophie and I were very well pleased at tbe delay. It does not take much to amuse people in an up-country township. Life is monotonous ; the diversions acd entertainments are few and far between. A shearer's concert, a church social, a echoo! -picnic — these form our chief dissipations ; and I suppose that fashionable people would think them very tame, yet we dream of them for weeks beforehand, plan what we shall do, what we shaU wear, how we shall make tbe most of the rare opportunity — go as early and stay as late as possible. lam sure that no fine lady going to a ball every night can enjoy it half ao much. It is part of the charm to know [everybody, and yet oddly enough nothing is more delightful than to have a visitor to take with one en euch occasions, especially if the said visitor be at all presentable — a pretty girl or an eligible young man. • Therefore Sophie and I were very well pleased to take Mr John Herrick to ihe school picnic. Father did not go; he said he was too old to ee joy Bitting on damp grass and drinking half cold tea with flies in it. So he elected to stay at home and take his dinner in comfort, and as it turned out lie did wisely. We had a delightful day. Everyone wanted to know who Mr Herrick was, and by the time we had introduced him to our chief friends we had forgotten that we really knew very little about him ourselves, and had begun to think of him and to speak of him as if he were a very old acquaintance Indeed. When the time came for making the tea and laying out the provisions, be made himself most useful : helped the teachers to arrange the children ; filled cups and mugs ; made jokes and cat capers as if to the manner born ; treated the cockatoos' wives with polite deference, asked the eges of the children, admired the ugliest babies, and won golden opinions ell round. After dinner, when it was time to play games, he organised races, distributed prizes, encouraged the timid, restrained the rowdy, and when the biasing sun became too hot for endurance in the open field suggested quiet games in shady corners. Never had any picnic in our valtey been so great •a success. -And the credit was unanimously accorded to John Herrick. Sophie and I were proud of our escort. In the evening came the dacce, which was the best of all. The big schoolroom had been tastefully decorated with ferns and flowers and yards upon yards of pick muslin. I thought it looked lovely, and could not quite understand the queer smile on our companion's lip as he glanced at the row of girls, most of them in pretty new dresses, who eat close together on one side of the hall, looking very stiff and proper, and pretending not to see tha younc men who aat on the opposite side or stood round the doorway.

Mr Herrick insisted on sitting *bstweon Sophie and me. It was very pleasant, but I was afraid that peopla would think it odd. However, he kept us well amused, asking questions and making funny remarks, so that our end of the room was always merry. When the music struck up the young men asked the girlo to dance, and our companion aektd mo first and then Sophie. He waltzed well, but he could not dauce the Highland flirg, ;.nd we had to teach him. 'Jbe other men took their pattners back after e*ery dance, but he inibisted on walking about and made us do the same. I asked him whether he did not think that the room looked very pretty, and that the girls danced well. He eaid, " Yes ; too well," and as I did not know what he meant, he explained that they counted their steps and never made mistakes. That seemed to me like great praise, but I don't think he meant it as such. The supper was a great success. Everybody sent something, and I was quite proud when my dish of trifle waß placed in the middle of the tables. Oj these occasions there is always a little friendiy rivalry between the ladies, and each one tries to send the nicest and prettiest dishes. After supper the young men were a little freer and more excited than they had been. I think this is always the case, but I had never before noticed it particularly; but when Alec Mason tried to take Sophie round the waist and Herrick quietly put him on one side, and told him that he was not in a fit state to dauce, I felt hot and cold all over, and the blood tingled to my finger tips. Alec and I had besn children together, and I knew, as everybody else knew, that there were times when he drank more than was good for him. I was so grieved and ashamed for him that when he turned to me and said: " You are not too proud to dance with me, Molly," I was jubt going vrith him when John Herrick interposed : ° These two young ladies are under my protection. I don't think they will dance with you any more to-night ; and if you'll take my advice you'll go home." " Who asked for your d d advice ? You shut up, and speak" when you're spoken to. You can have one of the gale, but not both ; that's not fair play, anyhow. Take your choice — I don't care which, but I mean to have one." Sophie shrank back against Herricfr, and he put her arm through hie. " Very well ; you've chosen. Come along 1 , Molly," persisted Alec. I saw that Herrick was going to object again, and I whispered : " Let me go. I can keep him in order." But my heart sank, and amid noise and laughter and gathering fun I could only thiukof one thiDg— Herrick had chosen Sophie. He was rightquite right. She was youDg and fresh and pretty, but Alec was saying something. I did not he^r what it was. As a rule the young men did not talk when they wera dancirjg — they had to count their steps. Bat he was saying something, and I found that it was about Sophie's engagement to H«rrick, which hs said was talked of all over the valley, After what had jast happened it seemed absurd for me to correct the report, and I said nothing, for though I knew that they were not engaged, what I had just seen proved that Herrick liked her, and was there a girl in the world who would have ssid •• No " to him if he had asked her for "Yes 1 " " And when is it to be, Molly ? " •' When is what to be ? I don't understand you." " Why, I he wedding, of course." "What redding? " " Those two." He jeiked his bead in their direction. " Sopbie'and brer swell. He is mighty stuck up. Is he a lord in disguise 1 " " A lord ? What nonsense ! He is just " " What ? " " A friend." " A mighty particular friend. How long have you known him ? Three weeks 1 " " Longer." "A month, then 7 I wager it's no more.' r " You're wrong, then ; father's known him a long time." This was not exactly true, but I felt compelled to take the part ot the absent, who could not fight his own battle. Alec was dancing very unsteadily ; what with the drink he had taken and the talking, which prevented' hia counting, we had got all wroDg and were obliged to sit down. " Just for a minute," he said. And then leaning his head on his hand and his elbow on his knee he leant forward and looked me full in the face and said : 11 1 am glad he did not choose you." " What do you mean 1 " " Just what I say. He's welcome to Sophie, but I want you. You're the girl for my money ; no strait-laced hussy, down upon a fellow the minute he'a had a drop, but willing that he should enjoy himself a bit now and then. But, I say, you don't think I'm sprung now, do you ? Never was squarer in my life. It's the light?, and— and— the dancing, and— er— the Bupper ; that trifle, I think they call it. Bat it was not a trifle, but prime good feed and co mistake. Someone said you made it — was that true ? " I nodded " Yes." "My word, you're a smart one. And you'll make me that dish every day when we're married ? At least, every Sunday. I could not eat it on week days, you know ; takes up too much time, and is not substantial enough. But on Sunday after a good feed it would go high." At that moment I ?aw that Henick wasoomicg towards us. He would save me from my embarrassing position. Ob, how my heart sprang to meet him ; how grateful I was. And he— he was thoughtful for S;pbie's sister— that was all. He offered me his arm. "Will you come, Miss Molly; your sister want 3 you." Alec tiied to hold me back, but his hand was too unsteady. He mimicked thß other's words. "Miss Molly, indeed; it will soon be MiEtress Molly. We've arraDged it all. You stick to your bargain and I'll stick to mine." " Indcel, indeed," I protested. " Come," said Herrick," " don't you gee that the man is drunk." " Drank, indeed I " shouted Alec, sprlDgiDg to bis feet ; "no more drunk than you are. Ccme outside, and we'll soon settle this ! Drunk, indeed 1 " II SUina aside!" said Henick, giving him a slight push with his open hand. Alec staggered, and several men closed round him, aud seeing the state he-was in, got him out of the room as quickly as possible. "Oh I " I cried, clutching Herrick's arm, " why did you do that 1 You should not. You have made an enemy. I know Alec Masoa. He has a dreadful temper ; he will never forget or forgive that blow." " Nonsense," said Herrick. •' When he is sober he will forget all about it — if he does not corns and ask your pardoD, as he ought to do— as~ I should like to make him do." " Oh, no 1 Please Co not try any such thing. Try to forget it yourself, and just keGp out of his way: I know him. He can be dangerous." Herrick laughed. " Not to me. 11l defy him to hurt me. But here's your sister. Shall we go home now? It is late— or, rather, early— and the atmosphere is close and stuffy to the last degree. It will be lovely outside in the cool fresh air and the moonlight. Shall Igo and harness up? " I demurred, for on such occasions it was not the custom to go home till daylight ; fcut he had evidently bud enough, and his stronger will carried the day. Half a dozen people tried to detain us. " Don't go yet ; it is too soon. The fun is only just beginning. They are all so stiff before supptr ; it's like a funeral. Come, stop a while, and we will show you how to erjjoy yourselves." But Herrick was firm. The after-Btipper manner of some of the young farmers was not at all to his taste, and he hunied us away. Chapteb 111. A Bona Fide Purchaser. During oar absence father had not been idle. He met us at breakfast with the great news : " The place is sold." " Oh, you dear old thing ! How did you manage it ? Quick ! quick !— tell us all about it!" cried Sophie, flinging her arms round his neck/ " How splendid I—how1 — how glad I am I " He unclasped her hands and put her gently on one side. To him Glendermid was home, with all its thousand sacred memories— dearer than any other spot on earth could ever be ; and though he had consented, and even desired, to fell the place, it was only a part of necessity's bitter law, and was like teaiirg out his vitals. That &he should be gltid, actually glad, Btruck him with keen paiD, and so "he puL her from him. Only for a time, however. How should ehe knorc- the pretty ch/Ll, wi«h Ltr emilk'g lips and blue eyt'3 and lovely curling hair — how bhould the know the patg of parting with a spot sacred to the dear memory of the beloved dead 1 The joy of life was all before her, an endless vista of bright hopes ; while for him it lay bobind, draped in the eternal mystery of sorrow, I knew what was passing in his heart, for at that time there was often a dull achirg in my own, into which I did not dare to pry too closely, but chose to thick that it was regret at leaving the old place — the only home that I had ever known. After a little time he gave us further particulars. " You had scarcely driven away." he said. " when a man came to the door *

and asked to see the place. I Boon saw that he was in earnest — not like the other people we have had, who only came from curiosity. He knew exactly what he wanted, and what we had to give him. In a very short time the whole thing was settled ; we were both suited. I went with him to the bank and introduced him to the manager. He has the money, and will pay cash down, taking everything at valuation. And now," turning quickly on Herrick, " I shall be able to take up that share." The young man laughed pleasantly. " I am glad of that," he said, " and I hope it will turn put tramps for both of us. There are places where the sides of that mine glitter like a jeweHer'B shop when the pick breaks- away the quartz. I believe that the Kosbud Amalgemated Is goicg to be the record mine in New Zealand." After that things went quietly. Father bought the thirty-second share fn the Rosebud Amalgamated, and the bank advanced him the money to p°y for it, secure of repayment from our euccessor, M'Gowan, who was in considerable baste to clinch his bargain. As soon as he had given delivery, father arranged to go with Herrick to the West Coast and vißit the mine, of which he was now part proprietor. Sophie and I were to stay with some friends in the neighbourhood until his return, when it would be settled where we should go and what we should do. Unless the mine should prove an unusually good investment our future prospects were, to say the least, gloomy, for when the mortgage was paid off and a few minor debts settled, the margin that remained would be small indeed; still it was such a comfort to feel that the burden of hopeless dabfc was lifted off our Bhoulders that father and I were conscious of distinct relief. Surely nothing in the future could be quite so bad as that nightmare load of debt which had been pressing upon us for so long. How little one knows I There came a time when the new trouble seemed bo much worse than the old that I -would gladly have taken up tha old cross, and schemed and planned to make ends meet and every sixpence* do the work.of a shiliicg. > The cload was at first no bigger than a man' 6 hand. Just hinted at, muttered under the breath, told in bints and nods, in most expreseive signs and still more cxpreesive silence. What was it that everyone was thinking and many people were saying 1 It was a long time before I heard, for the faintest hint roused such indignation within me that thote who would have given me a word of warnirg held their tongue?. I have heard it said that certain diseases are in tha air. I am sure that certain scaridals are. Things too bad to "be epoken float around us like bad spirits, the spirits of evil acts committed by ourselves or othere, which \itiato the whole moral atmosphere and make it fatal to good deeds and pure aspirations ; so that that which is evil lives and grows ; and that which is noble fades away and dies. Surely there is a mental atmosphere as wall as a physical one, and there are times when this mental atmosphere is charged with the deadliest electricity. I think we all fill it — father, Sophie, and myself — hut we made no>mutiual confidences. There are Epme accusations which it seems better to ignore, which it is a shame even to speak of, and surely this was one. No one cculd ever tell how it began, but it spread and gathered force like . a runaway train on a steep incline. " Throw mud enough and some of it must stick." I think that is a good proverb, for I have proved its truth. Who threw the first mud I shall never know. I think Alec Mason was not innocent, for eftsr the incidents already related he hated Htnick, and would gladly have done him an ill turn, though his friends made him see that he was so much in the wrong on that occasion that he did not dare to pursue the quarrel openly. Perhaps I myself, was a little to blamß, for when | I met Alec tho next time he declared that he had made me an offer of marriage and that I bad accepted him ; and when I laughed at his folly he grew so persistent that I was forced to tell him that I could never marry a man whom I did not reppc-ci", and that I did not and never could respect him. Then he broke out into videat abuse of Henick, whom he declared to be a swincileT, a cheat,, and a sharper, and I — not waiting to hear more— stuffed my firgers in my care and ran away. At the pionic everyone had been delighted to make friends with Herrick — every woman praised him, every man wished to drink with him— and now all at once everyone began to look coldly at him, and for no reason that I could discover. Were they angry and annoyed because he bad given father the thirty-second share in the Rosebud Amalgamated 1 That surely was the reason — jealousy — mean, paltry jealousy of another's good fortune. Sophie saw nothing of it ; ahe walked like one in a dream, who is unconscious of all suircundirjgs. Until now I had never thought her even pretty ; but now she was beautiful. Sometimes I could not take my eyes from her | face, it shone with such a lovely radiance ; and the eyes were like.blue star*, - gleaming though a mist of glory. What had come to Sophie ? I thought that I knew. I had heard of such changes when the heart wakes to a new happiness, and "the purple light that never s>honeon land or sea "thineaupon two human souls and transfigures for them the whole world of sight and sense. How beautiful it was and strange. But there was another side to it. Pshaw I I won't think of that ; why should I obtrude my own eorrow 1 Some sisters quarrel and fight : we had never quarrelled. Some sisters are jealous of each other's beauty cr good fortune : was I like that ? Did I grudge Sophie her pretty face? her — yep, I will out with it — her lover? Never, never ! I should hate myself if I were capable of such meanness. • She was my dear, dear wster — her joy was mine, her happiness was mine. Never, never would I gruc'ge it to her. But I was older — sadder. I had seen more troub'e ; I had lived for 10 years side by side with the mortgage. Was not that enough to make one less happy, less buoyant, less hopeful ? Surely it was it is only very young people who can be happy without fear. We who are older know that every such moment must be paid for in the future with anguish and suffering. So let no one tMnk that I was jealous of Sophie because at this time I was a little sad and low spirited. No, I waß glad — glad that she was happy ; though even with her I could, at times, detect a shade of apprehension . And now and again she seemed about to make me some confidence ; and then she would change her mind, close her lips with a little tight snap — and say nothing. ! A vague apprehension grew upon me daily there, in the midst of all our work, for Sophie and I were quite as busy in onr way as father was in his, sirce it had been decided to sell off such of our furniture as Mr M'Gowan did not care to buy. We had, of course, to clear up and make the beet of everylbirg, aud — hardest job of aU— dispose of all the rubbish which accumulates in every hcuse, and has an extraordinary fascination bo tbEt one hates to destroy it. It is of no nse at all, and yet somehow you do not like to part from it for " old sake's sake " and " the tender grace of a day that is dead." Bat at last it was all done, and we left our old iaome— onra no longer — and went to stay with our friend. Early on the same day father and Hc-irickhad started for the West Coast, intending to ride through the passes of the- Mackenzie country aad to strike the main road. It was not thß most direct route, but it aeemed the mozt convenient, as they were not pressed for time, and tho spring weather was charming. " It will be a delightful trip " said Herrick, and father, who was strangely restless and unlike himself, agreed. So they rode off in the early morning, promising to return in a few xreekß. And Sophie and I having eet all the house in apple-pie order, and arranged a temptirg meal for onr successor?, stolled through the paddocks to the houFe of our hospitable neighbour, who received us literally with open arms and the declaration that she was just wearyirjg of her own company and dying for a good talk. " But it will have to wait till to-morrow, my dears ! for I've a batch of cakes in tbe oven, and they'll be spoiled if I don'fc go at once and turn them. ' And when they are out I must put in fome scones ; and then it will be time to see after tea, and we shall bave the men folk in, and there fs no peace when they are kcockiDg around ; but we'll have a good crack to-morrow after the work is done." And en the following afternoon, when all the household tasks were done, , and the dinner cooked and eaten, came the ebb tide of work, the hour of rest ; and Mrs Jones with a face of great importance called me into the front parlour to look at some new photos. She would fain have had Sophie too, but my sister, excusing herself, slipped past us and went into the garden. Gladly would I have done the same, but oommon politeness required me to remain where I was. [ I tried to keep the conversation to the photos, having a nervous shrinking v from what I knew was coming. But Mrs Jones was determined to bave it out. " And so your father and Herrick are off on their wild goose chase," she said abruptly. " Well, there's no fool like an old fool ; bat I should have thought that Dan Meredith would bave known better." " What do yon mean ? " "My dear, excuse me, but what do you know of this man Heirick, or whatever he caUs himself ? " "Mr Herrick ? Oh, Mrs Jones, we know him very well. He has scarcely been out of our house during the past month." " I know that.— everybody knows it. But that is nothing, uotbing-Rt all. What do you know of bim in reality 1 of " " His birtb, parentage, and education, I suppose, you mean 1 " " Yea, and of his antecedents generally. Where waß he before he came to' the valley, dropping from the eky as it were, and taking you young ladies' hearts by storm ? " II Why, you know where he was. At the West Coast with Lord Wendoves and' the other shareholders of the Rosebud mine." « Are yon sure of that I *

" Certainly ; my father told me, and he knows." " How can he know, when ho never set' eyes on the man till he met him In the township a month or six weeks since 7 " •* Father doe* know. Mr Herrick brought him letters from old friends." This was not true, though at the morn?nt I thought it was. Afterwards I remembered with a cold shudder that Herrick bad spoken of letters, but that my father had not seen them; but nt the time I had forgotten that, and thought that it was. as I eaid. " I hope so, my dear ; lam sure I hope so " ; and from the tone of her voice I knew that she neither hoped nor believed it. " I suppose your sister Is engaged to him, is she not ? " • • No, not engaged, but I think perhaps they care for eaoh other." "It looks like it. But I hope for her sake they are not engaged — it will gave her many a heartache, poor thing." " Ob, Mrs Jones, how oan you cay tbat ? lam sure Mr Herrick is a good man, and if he lovm Sophie she will be a very, very happy woman." M I think otherwise," said the lady, with a curious snap of the jaws. "I don't think much of Mr Herrick, and I fear that you and your father and Sophie have been taken in by him." " Oh, what do you mean ? " " I mean what I say. Do you remember Sir Jonas Westcott ? " •• I—lI — I have heard of him." " I should think you have. He made fools of the lot of us. He was a good-looking fellow, too, and bad a decided look of the Westcott family, as they appear in prints and photos. But he was a humbug, my dear — a regular sell, and no mistake." " Was not his name Westcott 7 " "No more than yours is. I don't know wbat his real name was, but it wasn't that. And he brought such letters from half the nobility and gentiy in England 1" " You 6ee that letters are not always to be depended on," I said, satisfied that I had scored a point. " Not in his case, for they Were forged or stolen, I forget which — perhaps both. Aoyhow all the big guns were taken in, and made the greatest fuss over him. He stayed in all the best bouses, and went everywhere. I remember there was a big bazaar got up for one of the charches, and he went to that, and invented so many ways of gettirg money out of prople'e pockets that theie never waa such a successful affair before or sit.cc." "He did some good, then," I answered mUchievcu&ly, mentally scoring a second point. " Well, I don't know about tbat, but I suppose the church was the better. Then he gave out that be wanted to buy a big property : you should have Been the excitement. Everyone wanted to sell — at a price. He could have bad the p'ck of the country. The biggest squatter was willing to part with his station on his own terms. Sir Jonas waa a&ked out more than ever. There was quite a quarrel as to who should have him next. And he mnda himself at home everywhere — even to the extent of borrowing a £5 or a £10 cote, because it was ' too late for the bank,' or his banker had neglected to forward 'his remittances.' And he was not mean with bis money; he threw it about like a prince ; stood treat for everyone, and never accepted Change. " " More Jike a digger than a prince." * "Perhaps so; but we all believed in him, and half the girls in Central Otago were in love with him." "I don't call that love," I said hotly. "They cannot have known anything of the man." " Well, you gee, they thought they did, but of course they were mistaken." She looked fixedly at me, and I felt my colour rise. " And how did it all end ? " I said hurriedly. "Oh! of course there was a big smash. It began at a dinner party given to Sir Jonaa by some of his admirers.* There were a great many strangers present, and among them a tourist who knew the Westcotte, and Boon perctived that our visitor was not the real Simon Pure. In a very thort time everything was found out, and the gentleman made himeelf scarce." " What became of him ? " "I don't know, or care. But I fancy there are more of his kidney about." ** Mrs Jones I what do you mean ? Do you think tbat Mr Herrick " "My dear I I think nothing— nothing at all. But I hope your father will be careful. It would be a terrible thing if he were to lose that money." Everything swam before my eyes. I sprang to my feet. "You do mean something. What is it ? What do you know ? Wbat have you heard ? " I kcew her for the greatest gossip in the dis'rlct. A kind-hearted woman, but a terrible talker,' who knew more of other people's business than they knew themselves, and never scrupled to retail the stories which she had invented or improved. Undoubtedly she was a dangerous person, but she had many friends, or perhaps I should say acquaintances, because she was good company, and had always plenty to say ; and people listened to what she paid and repeated it, though they know, or suspected, that it was only half true. She was a stout, motherly woman, with a fair, uu wrinkled face, and the loudest, most persistent laugh I ever heard. She had a&kcd Sophie and me to stay with her fora few weeks, and we had gladly accepted the invitation, but already I began to repent. Father and Herrick had been gone only a few hours, and she had begun to Bpeak evil of him. Of course it was not true— not a word; I knew that. But 1 was glad that Sophie did not hear it; it would have hurt her. But S-pbie had wandered into the garden to think and dream alone, and for once ia her life I knew that Bhe did not want me, and so I bad let her go alone', and went in to sit with our hostess and listen to her gossip. Little did I dream of the direction that gossip would take. Of course it was fake— false in every way, but it was dangerous, and must be stopped if possible. " Dear Mrs Jones," I said gravely, " you need not be anxious about Mr Herrick. Father knows all about him. He is satisfied, so am I. Nothing would make me think ill of Mr Henick; I know him too well. But of course it will be a bsd thing for him if you tell other people what you have just told me, because lie is not here, and because be is a stranger ; and so I hope you will not repeat it to nobody eke, for certainly it is not true." " Molly Meredith," said Mrs Jones impressively, " I believe "hat you are in love with John Hsrrick yourself." I could feel the hot blood surge upwards to the very roots of my hair. How coald she — how could any woman be so cruel ! 41 Htrrick ia in love with Sophie," I answered steadily, " and what you Bay is an insult." She burst into a taunting laugh. « " Look in the glass," she cried, " and tell me iE lam wrong. How do you acd S pbie know that the man is not married already 1 " " Perhaps he is," I said steadily, " and if he is>, it is no concern of oure, and In that case I can only say that I am sorry for him " ; and I went out of the room. Mrs Jones called to me to go back, but I did not heed, except to hasten my Bteps a little. Ift It annoyed and sngry, but it was of no use to be vexed vrith Mrs Jones. She did more mif chief than any other woman in the district, but withal so unconsciously that it was useless to show her her error or to argue with her. She always began agsin to the next person as if she bad not heard a word. It was not worth while to be annoyed with such a one. Tbe garden door was open. It wac slways open in fine weather, and the lovely spring sunshine, bhz'rg through it like a golden picture framed in Bepia, drew me irresistibly. Tbe tuia were calling to one another in clear, liquid notes as they flitted from branch to branch of the tall bhuguma, and near at band a pair of lovely green mokis balanced themselves daintily on tbe twigs of a fiowerirg currant and sipped tbe sweet juice of the pendant red blossomF, a feaßt which the bees delighted to share ; fantails flashed hither and thither in the shade, and a wattle covered with a veil of plumy golden balls reflected the sunlight and filled the whole air with a faint delicious peifume. How beautiful it was, tbat simple colonial garden with its union of two hemispheres —violets and wattle, primrt ses, and bluegums growing side by side. The "best of both, just as the true colonial himself should ba. The golden sunshine, the parfcefc day, drew me outside and wrapped me round and round \?ith its sweetness. I had been angry with Mrs Jones and with all the meddling, mischief-making scandal-mongers of whom she seemed the type. But once in the golden garden, with all the ewcet eights and scenes, it did jjofc seem worth while to be argry. It was a pitj ; but after all it did not much matter. Everyone knew Mrs Jones, and no one believed the half of what she Eaid, though curiously enough they were all williog to listen to her and repeat her sayings. Yefe in spite of her goseipiDg propensities Mre Jones was a kind, hospitable woman — witness her present invitation to two homeless girls. At every step as I went down the garden my anger abated. Our old friend had meant nothing — it was mere talk, gossip, nothing more. No one heeded Mrs Jones. I was a fool to have taken her words to heart even for a moment; only I hoped she would not speak to Sophie as she bad done to me — Sophie, who, I believed, loved Jobn Herrick with all her heart, though she had never confessed as much even to me ; and who, even at that moment-, was dresming of her lover in gome quiet corner of the golden garden, where I was about to join her. Step by step from- the sunshine into the shade, and out into the sunshine »gain. Ia a golden world — daffodils, jonquils, primroses, auriculas below, tvattle, gopai, and -budding bluegums above. Everywhere the scent of spring flowers, the song of birds, the hum of bee?. How beautiful it was, tbe glow, the colour, the charm of the golden garden, the eternal promise of spring— the season of youth and hops and love; when this old earth yearly renews its youth, and glowfi as If new-born from the hand of the Creator.

Chapter IV. The Bolt Falls. I thought then, as I have often thought before and since, bow good is the world of Nature, and how infinite the patience of the Creator, wno Buffers it to be marred and spoiled and makes no siga. Sarely it pleases him that we should be happy and grateful ; and yet how little there it of either in this beautiful world. I gathered a buoch of the spoils of the golden garden and stuck it into my belt. Sophie was somewhere near. I would Had her and we should be happy, and never trouble about Mrs Jones and her foolish stories. I knew where to look for her — on a rustic, sheltered seat under the gums. For br'ght and warm as the sunshine was, the air was still biting in the shade, and the ground was damp after the winter-rains. It was not safe to sit on the grass, but under the bluegums it is always diy. Ah, there is the seat, and th9re is the gleam of Sophie's pick blouse. She has put it on because she is "sick of the dingy old winter frocks, and wants something to harmonise with the sunshine end Hie flowera." "There «be is. I will creep up behind and take her by surprise." No sooner thought than done. I creep up behind the tree, and putting my bands over her eyes, ask her, in aa assumed voice, to guess who I am. She starts so violently, and then flashes such a burning, fiery red, that I am heartily ashamed of my small joke, and speedily show myself. She looks at me and beyond me, as if expecting someone else, and then cajs in a confused tone : •' Molly ! Is it only you ? " " Only me. Who else did yon think it cculd be ? " " I don't know. I think I must have been asleep and dreaming with my eyes open. How you ttaitled me I " " I beg your pardon. It was a silly trick ; but this lovely day takes one off one's balance. I feel quite frieky." " And I — feel miserable." "Wt.y?" '• Ob, I don't know. Who can account for all the moods and tenses which go to the conjugation of this queer verb called life, which teaches us to be, to do, and to suffer." " NottbelaUer." " Why not ? Do you know, I wns just thinking what a sad thing life Is, for all it seems 30 fair. Ah, look there 1 " A little way from us a hen was proudly clucking to her first brood of ohicks. As we looked we saw a hawk drop suddenly from the sky and mount again with the prettiest chlok in its talons. The mother hen ruffled her feathers and cackled. Sophie sprang to the rescue.; but the robber was safe away. My gister was greatly diutreseed. "Oh," she panted, dropiirjg beck into her teat, "was I not right? Life is cruel. Look at that pocr hen." "She will soon forget all about it," I paid quietly. "You know, we geterally lobe half of every brood, but the mother stems quite satisfied with those that are left." a It is a pity we aren't made like that." " But I think we are. The very beat person who tver lived is not really necessary to the woild, atd when he goes his place is soon filled, and he is forgotten." "No — nc — no I " cried Sophie passionately. "Not forgotten — never forgotten 1 " I looked at her in surprise. She was strangely flushed and anxious ; she did not seem like herself. "Not forgotten by all, peihaps; I did not mean that. One or two persons go halt and maimed through life ; but though the scar may remain, even these eeem in time to forget the cause, and do not themselves realise what they have lost. This always seems to me one of the saddest things in the world. But if it were otherwise life would be impossible to most of us." " You have been reading • In Memoriam,' " said Sophie quickly. '* No, not for a long time." " I have," and she pointed to a book which was lying face downward beside her on the bench. " But I don't went to talk boob's and metaphysics to yr>«. I want tj a&k jou a qncbtion." "YVtll?" " It is about — about J\>bn Herriok." " What about him ? " " Have you heard anything ? Has Mrs Jones eaid anythirg to you ? " " What has she said to you ? " " Well, she has not said a great deal ; but she is always hinting thirgs, and it makes one feel very uncomfortable." " Sony for her, ycu mean, that the can believe atd spread Buch stories which havfl not a grain of truth." " But other people say the same. I have heard no end of hirits the last few days. While John was here I did not mind tfrem, but now they are constantly returning to my mind. If — i£ they should be true." " How can Iht<y be true ? " I cried in hot indfg nation. "Do you really doubt him 1 " " I—lI — I don't know," she said wearily. €1 When be was here I never doubted him, for then I had heard nothing definite against him ; but now that be is gone I can't feel so sure. I wish I could." " I would stake my life on his honesty ! '' I cried impnlfcivoly. " Would you 7 I wish I could say the tame. Renumber, we really know very little of him." " Enough to judge his character. We have seen a great deal of him in a very short tin c. When you come to think of it we have really seen more of him than of many persons whom we have known all our lives." « •• VY — c— s," Eaid Sophie, doubtfully. " But I wish — I wiah father had not put so much money into that mine." I stared at her in amazement. "What mire?" " The Rosebud Amalgamated, of course. What a ridiculous name I " she answered glibly. " They say — you know what they say ? " I shook my head. " Well, they say that there is no such mine, or that if there is Herrick has no right to sell shares in it." "He has not sold shares ; only one share," I said hoarsely. " Ob, well, it is all the same so far as we are concerned. It means ruin. It would be worse than the mortgage, for we should have nothing." " But, Scpbie, it is not true. It is false, every word of it. How can you listen to such stories. You know what a gossip Mrs Jones is. No one believes her, she exaggerates bo terribly." " She is not the only one." " If everyone in the townßhSp said it> I would not believe it." We were sileDt. My heart ached for Sophie. That she of all persons should doubt Herrick 1 It seemed too terrible. 41 Oh, Scpliie, trust him 1 Trust him always I " I cried impulsively, "It is better to trust than to doubt." " I am not co sure of that," she said slowly ; "it makes one look so foolish." Then I perceived that Sophie, though she was my own sister, was practically a stranger to me— that I could not follow the workings of her mind. Did she really love this man and yet suspect him, and admit even to herself the possibility of his guilt? Poor Sophie ! How much pbe must be suffering. I put out my hand and laid it with. a comforting pressure on here. She shook it off impatiently. " It makes one look so foolisb," she said again. " I don't think that matters. Not how one locks. One would not think of one's self at all in such a case." " I should." At that moment a ehiill voice sounded from the house. " Girls, where are you ? Here is a visitor," and a man's heavy foot crushed the small, loose gravel. We looked at each other. I believe we both knew whom to expect. John Herrick 1 He stood before us, smiled, bowed, and shook hands. If we looked emdoarrassed he did not show any consciousness. I glanced at Sophie — she was painfully flushed. For myself, I believe that I was white ; there was a einging in my ears; I felt f.s if I should faint. 11 You are surpiiud to see me ?" he said. Scphie answered something, I dent knew wbat. I was trying to understand what it meant, tut the sirgirg in my ears prevented it. " Wben we got to C last night I found tbat I had left some important papers behkd me. I begged your father to remain there a couple of days and wait for me while I came back to fetch them. And ap I passed this house I could not deny myself the pleasure of coming in to see you. My horse will be the better for a rest, and it won't hurt the man either. I can't go back till to-morrow. I came more qnickly tban I expected; the road^ are very good, and I tbirk that when one rirlcs alone one gets on faster. Your father decs net cAre for r&pid txavellirsg." So he talked on, and I gradually recovered my wit?, and thought how foolish I had been. "Did father send us any message?" "No; I left this mornicg before he was up. I only found out the full extent of my loss late last night, and I thought it better to start early and save my horse a little. So having told him last night that I must go, I left him a little note this morning to say tbat I had done so ; bo of course he could not send you any message. But he is quite well and jolly, and younger than ever. I suppose in this country one never grows old, the air is so DCrfeot."

Ho thr»w himself at onr feet, having refused to chare the bench with n», and leasing on one elbow, gazed up into Sophie's face. I bad never seen her more lovely ; — tbe red flush had faded away and left only a faint, eoft tint of delicate rose ; the wind had blown her rebellions hair into thousands of airy tendril*, through which the eun shone like a golden halo; her eyes, heavy with ur<Bhed teaw, glittered like misty stars. No wonder thai; Herrick could scarcely take his eyes from her face, and that even when he talked to me he looked at her. Wo talked for a long time — I cannot fell how long; it might bsve been half an hour,, an hour, two hours. We talked of all sorts of things — oi books, of men, of the Home country that we had never seen, though we still called it home— and the moments flew unheeded. Then all at onoe I fancied tbat they wanted me to go away; tbat they might have eomttbicg special to say to eaoh other ; that I was in the way. At this thought I grew hot all over, acd suddenly rose to my feet. "What's the matter?" said Herrick lazily. "Sit down again; dont fidget on fcuch a perfect day." " I think I bad better go and look after the tea. lira Jones said she was going out, and tbat we mutt take oare of ourselves." " She had hor bonnet on when I came in." " Just so ; she was going out. I'll go and look after tea ; I'm sure yon mn»t bo starving." - " I had an excellent dinner about two hours ago." " More tban that, I think. At any rate you'll want come tea. It mart be 5 o'clock." He reached out his hand and caught my drees. " D.;n't go, Molly ; be lazy for onoe in your life." Sophie said nothing. I thought she looked bored. Certainly I had done wrong to stop; I should have left them before. No doubt be wanted to spesk to her alone, and the expected it. So shaking his hand' from my drear, I ran lightly down the patb. I went into the kitchen and spoke to the little maid-of-all-work, offering to set the table for her ; and then I went into the parlour to do it, and laid the snowy cloth carefully, putting it down at the comers and pulling It very smooth ; placed a vase of flowers in the centre and some crystal dishes ol honey and preserve ; and all the time I wondered what Herrick was faying to S jphie — whether he really loved her acd would ask her to be his wife, and whether she would tell him of all her doubt*, and what people were saying about him. Tben suddenly I heard a heavy step on the verandah, and an impatient double knock. I ran to open the door. The man who stood there had bis back towards me — he bad not expected his summons to be answered so soon. He turned at once. " Me Ily I " "Fathtr!" I was so surprised that I scarcely know how I greeted him. He kissed me hurriedly, lockitg behind and not at me, as if he expeotcd to see someone else. " Where is Herrick ? " "Here in the gaiden with SoDhie." " With Sophie ? The &coundrel 1 " He stamped through tbe little house till all the p&Eßage rang. I .followed and caught him by the arm. "What is the matter?" " Matter enough 1 Tbe man ia a scoundrel and swindler. Stand out ol the way, girl, and let me get at him I And he is with Sophie, is he — philandering with my girl? By Q , I'll wring his neck for him, the false hound 1 Let go my arm — why do yon keep me ? " His voice trembled with passion, tbe veins in his neck were swollen like cords. He was a violent man, who listened to nothing when he was fairly routed, which was not often ; but on such occasions I bad always hitherto fled before him, for I have a Bort of pbysioal shrinking from any display of uncontrolled emotion, but now I felt no fear, and only clung to him more tightly ss he tried to get rid of me. " Let me go I " he ciied furiously, lifting his hand ; but I knew he would not strike, and faced him boldly. " Sfop a moment. You must tell me what has happened." " Don'c I tell you 7 The man is a scoundrel, a swindler, a common thief I' There is no Rosebud Amalgamated ; he has no share to sell. He has' stolen my money, and now he is going eff with it." " It does not seem much like it, as he has been here all the afternoon with ° Scphie and me. That does not look much like making off." "It's only a blind — perhaps he wants one of you to go with him and help to spend it." My heart stood still. Oh, poor Sophie I Bat I rallied my courage. " Who told you this ? " "Who 7 Dizeos and dczms of people. They've been hinting at it foi weeks, but I was such a fool that I did not understand what they meant. Now I know. He told me a cock and bull story last night, and this morning he was off before I wao up, leaving word for me to wait for his return. A good idea that. I was to wait kicking my heels, while he got clear cff. No, no, I'm not quite such a fool as that. All at once I remembered these stories and I was after him like a ebot. Don't keep me, Molly, or I'll lose him after all." " And is this all 7 You have no evidence against him ? Nothing ?" "Bless the girl, wbat more would you have? There is no mine, no shares. He is a second Jonas Westcott I" "How do you know ? Have you written to Lord Wendover." " 1 have telegraphed, and he is not in Cbristchurch. His secretary knowi nothing about it." " Nothing 1 " my heart fell. " No, nothing, nor does anyone else know anything. Where are all thi letters he talked about? I have never seen them. He is a fraud, a scoundrel, but I've caught him in time. I'll be even with him. I've got a magistrate's warrant out against him, and the constable will coon be here. Let me go." I dropped hie arm. He dashed into the garden. I followed him slowly. He made straight for the seat under the gum. When I reached, it Herrick bad risen to his feet and was speaking. " You are altogether wrong," he eaid ; " the Rosebud is a first-rate thing, as I have told you. If you felt doubts of its. bona fides, why did you not speak — why did you not make further inquiries before you put your money into it?" " I wish I bad," muttered my father with a curse. " I wish so, too. Unfortunately I can't refund the money. It's not in my power ; I sect it to England by the last mail. Bat if you will wait I'll write to Lord Wendover." " Lord Wendover is not In New Zealand. And it's my belief that he knows nothiDg of the mine or of you." For the first time Herrick's face fell, and his dauntlesss bearing changed — only for a moment ; he soon recovered himself. "IE that is so," be said, "you must abide by your bargain. You have bought the share ; you muet 6tick to it and await results I can assure you that ycu have taken advantage of a rare chance, arjd bo far as my poor judgment goes you are on the high way to fortune." " Give me my money back." " I cannot, and, if I could, I would not. It is not mine to give." " Then I givo you in charge as a swindler for obtaining money under falgf prfetences." The constable, who bad been standing behind him for the last few minutes, now advanced and showed him the magistrate's warrant. Horrick looked at him with amazement. " What does it mean ? " be said. "It moans that you are my prisoner. You had better come with me quietly." " Certainly. I could not make a disturbance in the presence of ladies. I will go with you, but the magistrate will soon find out his mistake. Excuse me one moment," and turning from the constable be Bpproaohed Sophie, who bad stood all this lime with her eyes fixed on the ground, and never once raised them to his face. " Sophie," ho said very tenderly, " I am sorry that this should have happened ; but It is only a mistake, and will soon be set right. Say you believe in me still." He beld.out bis band. She did not touch it. " Sophie " — there was a world of passionate pleading in the tones,— " though all the world forsake me you should be true. I swear to you it ia all a mistake." Still she did not move. " Don't you believe me ? " "" I cannot-." He shrank back as if she had given him a blow. "•Come, come," eaid the constable, " there Is no time to lose." He was turning away when his eye met mine. "Molly," he said. I sprang to bis side, and taking both' his bands in mine, clasped then* tightly. " I believe in you," I said ; " I Tinow that you are Innocent." ' " Thank you. God blesß you." He bent and kissed me on tbe brow, I still clung to his hand. "Is there nothing that I can do for yout"

" I shall be free again in an hour ; but if not, find Lord Wendovor and let him know." "I will. I will." He smiled again, * litUe sadly. . " It ia strange that you should be the only one to believe in me.' Hs loc kad again at Sopbie. She was still Btanding in the same attitude, With her eyes fixed on the ground and her face turned from him. " Oh, Sophio, Sophie ! speak to him," I whispered. She slightly shook her head. •• Never mind, Molly," he said cheerfully. " When you father finds out bis mistake and the magistrate discovers what; a mare's nest the whole thiDg is— and, in short, when I return in triumph, she'll be willicg enough to m&k<3 friends ' and in the meantime perhaps it is just; as well. I shall, howevef, always remember that one was faithful when all the rest turned their backs on me. Now, Constable, M'Elhone, lam at your servics. Lead, and I follow."