Chapter I.

Otago Witness, Issue 2258, 10 June 1897, Page 41

Chapter I.

Uncle and Nephew. HA.T on earth shall we do with her 1 " "Do with whom, Undo Roger ? " " Tnis girl, Dorothy Vance, my old friend GeoffreyVance's daughter Dorothy. She is on her way here, and will arrive soon ; in f aot, she should be in London to-night or to-morrow." " Oh, Jerusalem ! " was the intelligent comment of the younger of the two gentlemen, and he grinned as he carefully cut the top from his third egg and poured out another cup of coffee for himßelf . He was a good-looking young fellow of the foppish type, with close-cropped, hair, care-fully-pointed moustache, high-pointed collar, and immaculate boots. Fred Wellesley had a very high opinion of himself. The other occupant of the room, Roger Marcham, squire of Underwood, presented a fine contrast to his nephew. He was a man in his full prime, and carried a splendid figure, and noble head set on a pair of broad, manly shoulders. His dark hair was slightly tinged with grey, as was the short, pointed beard so becoming to his face. Hiß deep, dark eye was kind and keen and true ; looking into it you felt at once that Roger Maroham was a man to be trusted — ay, to the uttermost limit that human trust can go. He seemed perplexed by the letter he had just received, and the contents of which he had communicated to his nephew in an exclamation of surprise. 11 Bat what's she coming here for ? " queried Fred Wellesley, with his mouth full. " Underwood isn't quite the place for young lady visitors, is it 1 " "No, but she is not coming here as a visitor, but as a permanent resident. Miss Vance will make her home at Underwood," said Roger Marcham, not without a certain reserve of manner. " Phew ! Mystery on mystery 1 Why should she make her home here T Has she any claim on you 1 " " Yeß, her father and I were brothers in everything but name," returned Roger Marcham briefly. " I promised when I was in India eight years ago that, in case of anything happening to him, I would take care of his only child. He has died suddenly, it seems, and of course my promise requires fulfilment." " Very good of you, I'm snre, Uncle Roger; you're charitable to everyone but yours truly," drawled Fred WeUesley. "But if this little Indian is up to anything she'll enliven Underwood for a fellow. It's dull enough as it is." " You are too fond of it as it is, Fred. I only wish it saw lesß of you and the office more," said the elder man candidly. " You have no business to be idling your time here just now." " Ob, hang it ! Couldn't stay in town after the 12th. Only barbarians do it," said Fred, languidly. •' Let a fellow alone and he'll go up and work no end after a fortnight's shooting. Any common clerk has that nowa-v days." " You have too many holidays, Fred, and I'm going to take sharper measures with you, my lad," said his uncle quietly. " But to return to Miss Vance. You'll need to go up to London and meet her, Fred. I have two meetings to-day, from which I cannot absent myself. Can I trust you to do this without making a fool of yourself 1 " " Oh, come now, draw it mild," said Fred, with an assumption of offended dignity. " Remember a fellow's a gentleman, at any rate." Roger Marcham laughed. " One thing I must ask of you, Fred— not to speak so much slang before Miss Vance. It is offensive to me, and I do not wish my ward's ears to bs offended in the like manner. There are plenty ol wordß in the English language without coining them for yourself." " I'm not going to make a prig of myaelf, even though Miss Vance's ears should be

offended," retorted the young man, with a touch of sulkineis. "If she doesn't like the way I speak, she needn't listen." " I shall require you to obey me, my lad, while you are at Underwood," said Roger Maroham quietly, but firmly ; " and I shall expect you to remember my hint. Well, will you go up and meet Miss Vance 1 " - "If I'm to obey you I suppose I must," said Fred, kicking the table leg more like a sulky schoolboy than a man of three-and-twenty. " Where is sho coming from, and how.shall I know her?" " She is a passenger in the Indas, which is due to-day. You must ask for Miss Vance, and if she is not too tired, come down to Norton by the first train. Send a telegram, if not-, so that Kennard may have the carriage at the station." " Very well ; and am I to shut up all the time because I can't promise that I won't talk slang ? Bat perhaps Miss Vance may be a jolly girl, who rather likes things off- , band, and talks slang herself." j " I scarcely think it ; and I sincerely hope not," returned Roger Marcham. " Well, I must go now. If you make haste, you will catch the 10 55. I should not like the poor girl to arrive in London and find no one ! meeting her. She will be downhearted and lonely enough asifc is." i " I hope sha isn't one of the weeping wilI lows," said Fred, shrugging his shoulders — j "because I can't condole, you know. I believe in taking things easily. A short life and a merry one is my creed." I " Some day soon I think you will awaken ! to the reality of life, my boy," siid Roger Marcham, a trifle sadly. " I wish something would rouse you. lam often anxious about j you. There is only a step between idleness and »in, if indeed idleness is not. a sin." " Oh, draw it mild," said Fred, taking his legs from between the table, and rising indolently to his feet. " Don't make a fellow ! out a weed until he is one. I don't drink or i bet or do anything very bad." " You haven't even sufficient energy to do anything with all your might. 1 think if you had been left to your own rasourceayou would have mads a man of yourself long ago." "Well, it isn't very nice to throw what you have done for a fellow into a fellow's face," said the young man complainingly. " And I'm sure I work jolly hard in that wretched old office for my beggarly pittance. I'm no better treated than any other clerk. Not one of the fellows I know would take it so easily." If Mr Fred Wellesley's pittance was so beggarly, where did the diamond horseshoe in hia breastpin and the flashing brilliants on his little finger come from 1 To look at Mr Wellesley one would not have thought he supported himself on a beggarly pittance. His .uncle's attire presented a curious contrast to his ; but it was not difficult to determine which was the more perfect gentleman. " There is ho use arguing this vexad question, Fred. It is one on which you and I need never hope to agree until yon gather common eenes. But don't forget that I have left you at perfect liberty to leave our establishment if you think you can better yourself elsewhere." "Now, that's mean — after bringing up a fellow like a gentleman, to tell a fellow he can go and mix with cads," said the aggrieved Fred. " I'm your only relation in the world, and you should do something handsome for me. What are yoo going to do with all your money if you don't give me a share 1 " Roger Marcham's colour rose slightly. Perhaps the young man prscumed a little. He was hia only sister's aoc, but even thar, tie would not excuse such a speech. He made no reply, but turned quiokly on bis heel and left the room. Sometimes Roger Marcham'o nephew was a sore trial to him. Ha had no patience with the indolence and lack of manly independence displayed by Fred Wellesley. Thine qualities had ao part ia Roger Marcham's character, el*e he. bad never attained to such an honoured and wsponsibie position. With his own energy and untiring industry he had built up \h& business house of Marcham, Marcham, and Co., until it wao a. magnificent concern, yielding an immense raturn. But though now a very rich man, Roger Marcham had not abated a jot of his early industry. If he did not now sit on a stool in Jhis "own counting-house, the entire concern was still under his own supervision. Then he had numerous other duties devolving upon him as the master of a considerable estate in the country. He had undertaken various responsibilities in connection with county affairs, which he faithfully fulfilled, and it was bis endeavour to make himself acquainted with the oircumsfcences and requirements of all the people on his lands. It could not be said, therefore, that Roger Marcham led an idle life. But he loved to be in the midst of work ; it was tho wine of life to him. Many wondered why one so honoured and esteemed, so well fitted in every way to build up a happy home, which would be a centre of sweet influences, should live go solitary a life. If there was any past romance, any page of his young history -which might have accounted for it, it was not known. Roger Marcham was kind, courteous, chivalrous towards all women, but paid particular attention to none. He bad evidently not yet met the woman he could ask to share his heart and home. This being so, Fred Wellesley, the child of Roger Marcbam's only sister, who had made an imprudent marriage with a worthless man, was regarded as his uncle's solo heir. Perhaps this knowledge or assumption wa3 at tho root of the youth's idle habits and calm presuming on hie relative's kind nature, but Roger Marcham preferred to believe that Fred had inherited weaknesses to struggle against. Sometimes the lad's failings lay heavy on his heart, and he was utterly perplexed as to what course he Bhould pursue with him. As the squire of Underwood cantered into Norton that fine autumn morning, however, his thoughts were not occupied with his nephew. Memory was busy in his heart, recalling old scenes, old faces, old experiences, which sent a warm thrill through his whole being. He had loved Geoffrey Vance with a brother's love. Together they had sat on one bench at school and college ; together they had entered on life's battle, and were fighting with equal success when Geoffrey Vance's health failed, and he was t obliged to sail, with his wife and child, to i the shores of that distant laud whioh had

< — —3 given him and his darling a grave. Rogw Marcham's heart waß filled with sympathy, and sorrow for the young girl, orphaned in a ; foreign land, coming over the nea to seek a! home with unknown and untried friends'; He had never seen the ohild. When making a business visit to Calcutta Geoffrey Vance had travelled hundreds of miles from bis inland home to meet with the friend of his youth. He was a broken down man then, witb the shadow of an early death on his heart, and Roger Marcham had gladly given the promise to take care of his friend's child as soon and so long as she required his care. Now that she was so near that a few hours would bring her to Underwood, Roger Marcham felt a trifle anzious and perplexed. It had come upon him so suddenly that he could make no arrangements ; she must take them as they were, and depend, for a time at least, on the motherly kindness of the old housekeeper, who was as much part of Underwood as its master ; and then, counting up the years, Roger Marcham was amazed and a trifle dismayed to find that Dorothy Vance must be 21. So it was a young lady, and not a child, he had to welcome horne — a grave responsibility fqr a man who knew nothing about women, their ways and needs. " There's no use worrying over it," he said to himself, trying to fling off the apprehenr sion he felt stealing over him. " Child or woman, I must do the best I can for her for her father's sake." So he resolved, nob dreaming how very soon he would account it the highest privilege in the wcrld to do the beat for her fox her own sweet sake.