Untitled

Otago Witness, Issue 2719, 25 April 1906, Page 86

SHORT STORIES

FHE SECg|T OE^UCgESS. <" -^;_<\~ - 3yJ.Y!-B; L^ 1" '- " .-'"•- -".-'"-„' "-{Forthe -Witness.) "- ; tramp~!" "^ ' -_- . . ..' - ; <j?ield Heriot^^wo&e frbin-his- day-dreams, "_- jSnd -leaned on. the- armchair in"*- a- listening ,"" "jttta&de". _«X - --;' • I _-/. rV , 7 » L*^_ A'Tramp,, tramp, tramp.!" , t -;-^Hncerialh "steps werev. ascending the-.^-I'flight "of stairs "which led to the second Z -ioorj rajreinarkable;. or at least rare, occur- ;. jx4o.es for that; hour and day. -" :,s " _ ,-.,-• ~ : '\ \"J.- wonder who,; it "can^be?"- -murmured he mechariicallylset about put-ting V'-iu^-^ndio--in.~-order SL in "case.."of-a v yisitor.^-'-""JTo-one"fdr.'m"e t -anyway^ " It's /&, "stranger '- Bxxplonbt— some" lost' -person lookiiig^for a- / lajwyer-'or oomimssin;agenC"",jy(rell,"tS'e?foot- --. -t^-is^nplb,, artistic^ -:; Ah I . perliaps ."one ; of the 'l-^i«te^-^-littlevmuac"'-IteacEer'si-pnp3fi,; or • iloyeis. There, are." dozens:^ of the •|a.tt«r — : " onght ,-lto be,' TLT L shovld " think. " '~- But she \ : =!ixar€}.y - appeals ' on Wednesdays^— may -be /^Th-ere" all- the same." - W. ../-'-,.. ,- -f>"Tramp, tramp ?' -,■>'.-- .- y'A. timid foot-, was on the landing/- and a " ~wmeht later a J dubious hand tapped cau-' " tipusly "on pne..-of r thV.many doors ~- which formed' a jnMlitary-like rowon either side .of - "the 7 3ong corridor; 1 ,This._do6r was decorated-hj-£sL< neat card*, on which ; ;was in .' plains-letters r Heriot, lartißj. " ' ' /'"Gome in!" ' ~\ \r - * • ~ TfaTe .artist s.poke.more from force pi habit than desire. ,He Tras "suspicious, and intended on second thought to go to the door, when the curtains flew back arid a youth, . -still' in- the early - teen's," lurched into .the srooin. ' . The ;ljpy -.was not: well 1 "dressed, though., a n*nd^attempt". to be. rpresentaT>let»uld be discerned." Some ;p^culiar characteristics of =this new-comer ".baffled the artist ; . but. he" 60oiL : 'murmured tcr himself in .-surprise^, "A "Jew. or an Italian;, c Yes, -. but-'fl can't tell, which." -"Nice .man" for a % comic paper -I'd -make!" c^.',"' -'''-', - " "'' ""Take a chair,?- said the' artist politely. - '^-Tb'e boy stumbled into the handiest piece :"' o^': iurniture, which- /was 4 anl^ easy-chair,- "- Hfliojugb' rendered "uncomfortable JtJ&y. -'the' /3ozeh-jDr, so nunjber6»bf^<in"arf magazine; '-tlsdowa earelessly^uponvit: ■". Tie^youngster; "1 (3id not seeaiHo miad f " *~\-*f ' ' , ' _ _. . " ' , ', /iWnat ;is .it?''".Melid, spoke; Mndlv^.bnt ,witJi^ftTi -air ; of -^suspense^.which .. became^ t^e.- - {Atu^ion/' . r^':l^'^/' l^f'^~''^ s f'"'.''-' '' > ,- "Twagt-ijtb 'ib'e^u^pupil^and: learn- how ; • jtpjpam|f//"t^e" v bo/-|aia ; bluntly. s \'''''.;.r'J '" ._ '~^!myf fqes. areVhigh; 'and so..if my-.TeputaV - , "t»n.;"*»put"-there^isV r a limitation about-both-that keeps me/'jnp here — nip here," 'you '- snow."- Field with a waye \oi rliis hand . sndicated-the studio. Why -he talked thus he did not altogether know Himself; but , much brooding » id loneliness had nurtured a. mild eccentrict-y which at one time he . strove hard to quell. .c. c "That's" why T - me," said -the boy with - juvenile delight. .^. :-".."." - ' :% " • -'_ "That- is — which?"-, the artist questioned, eagerly.,' - „ r , ' --_ -' - • •, "Evferything ! . " "" Because, you are not cheap"; because you have a nkiae.; because' ; you. have limits." : .{-'{, - ,* ' - , > The' 'last -.words ""staggered ' Field. ,Tliey carried % sacred confession Udly cast wW» he deemed no one- could. find -it, this i«»t of any. " " *-■■<■' /-. - . <. . - jf. limitations prove vypur honesty," *>«... i od.the youth' gleefully, "and that matters ' most. As. for the cash/- I've got that — easy." Heispoke the- last -word after a pause of considerable duration— the" habit' of boys when they wish to be .emphatic. 'Tn' advance?" Field, was lost in thought, arid spoke carelessly and without consideration. The Jjoy" produced five golden sovereigns and an equal number of - ehdllinss. It aras^now too late. for the--.artist" l;o* draw c'baci>' evenr\had_'h.e -srished, . an<l ie- commenced 'Writing a' receipt*. - ' - ' 'The name?" " ; - ' - >-' --..--> •„; "John. Smith.? - \j '■.-",'• -\-*~; -_ ■ - '"Fahr-*WliatrbosU' Goldstein^ or AfiStrellar.!. } -- "' "'^" >i - '-.rV-.r* . l,;-' " ' , ' ' ' ifimiitfi-'iay -iaiher.: :^\\ t^i^ai.i .-'-fisn.^^o., , ; Vtir adopted ; J/ut thafcVTnaW no' difference,- . ?or-I •never .kriew^anyoody e?&e in-the parent ' line.' The rest— snystery I" " . - "What's he?" - - "Carpenter. Drinks a bit, and's often trat of woi'k; but mother does thoughtheading—tells girls their fortunes, and all that." fa ' "What do you follow?" "A book — a bookie. Not near the top of Xhs tree all the same." "WJiat day will suit best?" ''Saturday." "How'll 2to 4 do^ you?" The artist jooked up from his diary. J "Grand." "Good-bye!" ■ /'Good-bye," came the boy's reply as he Tidied toward the door. J JPield went to his desk, and, taking out . lis . roll-book, added the name of John •pmith-to a not extravagant list of pupils. 1 f He did the work slowly and methodically, Jind then turned to his easy-chair. Here -he seated himself comfortably, and was about to flee to the land of dreams, which was his habit on fine afternoons, when, a-aishig' 4ns '-head, he noticed ' that" John. Smith was* still in the room, standing by 'the/curtains in a listless, waiting manner. "Not away! What's wrong?" said the half angrily. _ / "I- want to tell you 60-m.ething — a secret/ , 'the new pupil said slowly. . c "Now, then, I don't want. any of your *traehy : secrets. What do you want playing ihe .fool with me for,?'' The artist was '. bhgry. He did not like that class; but ".jgold is gold. - Smith's countenance changed, and for the "arst time he lost hia temper — bad temper % contagious, — and said rather loudly: _ ,Oon't be a fcol ! I came here on business, fixed it up all right. That's square. •

Nojr .'.iere's little thing to fix, and I\'wwt'"foThipw-if'''yiou*<^n*do it. '■ I will trust, you, "even though T think ' you don't trust -me; Yes, you've got rough- edges ; you're not. plausible, but Til trust you." -"I. have paid a high price for my honesty , and- r dare not sell it cheap now— shall cot," ejaenlaied=Pieid I --Gonciliat.ed, no doubt, by thfcvbpy's flattery, c - ~ ' ' ' , to tell you," blustered Smitl "with- = much boyish crudeness and excitement, J'that you'll - the. great artist and other things you want to be. Well, you^ll get rich, anyway, and' in a short time too; but you .must- stick to me. I don't want to work for, nothing. In- fact, though Fam proud to be your pupil and' love art, let me-tell' you" — he. stopped here, straightened himself, and then proceeded — "that-.1-came here to make a fortune, and -am determines to get it. All I want you t") do* is to promise that if you become rich in less than a year, and know that the , money would never, have been-yours but ior my assistance, -that I get paid — paid, weil, s.ay; half."' - '".j • <.v ', /-The; artist gazed for a moment at what he considered- a* dangerous luEatit:, and then, for; mere safety's sake said, Ut I'll pro-misfi,'-"of'.course." -;- -_ „-"- -■• ,""Write"it : pn. paper, and sign, it," put "in , the .boyvneryously. . ' -:"- v '~1 don't wa,nt t» be- altogether /silly, but 'I'K '-promise,"' the -artist" smiled: J - , . . "I want, ifc oh paper," shrieked the boy, -riow-n/ tears. - - -'~. = "Field; half against his will, again moved to his desk, and wrofe and signed a short agreement.- . -The boy arranged one also.They changed papers. " " _ "These won't stand, for much in a court; but-, they'll brighten our memories ' when: that- is- required," said the boy, taking off one of his boots, and placing^ the piece of paper carefully in Us sole. ' ' > f *"-*ty* - - '* i "Oh, I don't- know/ a signature's a signature." ■ .- - "It" can't go that fai,'" "quickly put in. Smith. "You^.are too honest' a .man.". ■ J"But, if I may ask, what is ihe" secret?" the artist volunteered. • "The secret -of success !" said the new pupilas he -rushed -to the T door, and Field, -could hear' him. going, down the stairs, step "after step, till he reached the street, where, the sound, heard no more- in dignified loneliness, to. swell noisy roar" of a "^busy ' thqrdughfare. ><V C . *- r v" ' n.\-. r!L ;,,v, -.. ' ' Though , he • had_ 'only .'spent '-'a. quarter, of•'a.; century" dnfthfs "planet, - jFieJd^^Hesiofe- ' owiied.% history." ' -/Hehad tilled-iiis* little t oi.' t|ine strenuously ixbm the earliest; -years-, of consc'iousnfea3. : tliai--tliere .-was'such^ greatness' in" the-' .world;* "ancl. -I&'at-Jfc was \worfh- fighting* for,"" and 'with, success. 'His*-circle T was"n6tlarge,- but he vtas; the'Meader/oi :"'itv '"tf I -".get. into larger, sphere it .will be-all the, same,"' he' used to say. . . » When ' barely over 21" he entered the ; Legislature, and , his constituents thought him fit to be' Premier bri the spot.' So he did, "too ; 'but-it- is- useless -to consider what a young man thinks, especially when the subject is himself; Just before en- ■ tering, the political " arena ' he painted a picture -which competent critics considered i "thefonly work showing great genius ever ".produced"- in the colony — a picture that ! -would live. Besides all this, he had lean-ings.-io science and philosophy, his specu-"latiqns-b^eing -well worth notice. But .an Illness' that seriously impaired his intel-lect,-and took; the fire out- of his brain, visited- him while he was preparing, to ascend the higher heights, -thereby wreck-] ingtthe career that promised to be so bril- ' liant. '• A man cannot rest on his oars — I mean a young man. Field was forced -to resign | his seat in the Legislature; he could not give the necessary energy and passion to his painting, while thought — hard thought | was impossible. He had determined to [ pile success upon success, and leave bt- | hind him a name of which his country vWbuld ,be justly' proud. ..Now not only were' 1 his {great ideals d«thrbhed and his .-prospects' annihilated^' but/- the J means of even a livelihood were taken away. ' This necessitated /cheap- quarter©,' « and pupils / He lived in his "second-floor rooms in trueBohemian style.. Like "most artists, he, was* -"Bolieiriian' at Jjearb, _ ami iii^ % rooinj ;in whiclt\w^/previpnsly .met "Join, Smiths /was^'a sfudyr -The walls- were 2avisrh?yhtang with elegantly-framed pictures-; all .sorts of qxiaint ornaments" and busts peered from out-of-the-way corners in strange life-like humorousness. Rows of books taxed the long shelves to their last degree of strength, while magazines and newspapers, many with wrappers unc.it, were piled in every conceivable place. In such rooms our Bohemian lived almost like a hermit. He had gone up like a rocket, and, not of his doing, came down like the stick. Enemies had prophesied it. If his name had been established! he might have received, simply as an old ruin, many visitors, some, no doubt, with axes to grind even then. Thus he lived a lonely life, teaching his few pupils, nursing his deep sorrows, and waiting, almost hopelessly, for the far-off day of emancipation — waiting, waiting. Fame was the first call, and at one time he believed there could never be another ; but though his brain was spoiled, his heart was still jsecure, and into this heart, despite its Bohemian surroundings, love slowly, and. surely crept. Love is a hard taskmaster, especially when a person is sincere.- Love in this case showed Field his failure in the worst light. If! — but he was' only one of the, thousands crushed by Fortune's wheel instead of being borne on by it. Saturday came, and in the afternoon, with his armchair in a favourite position, he sat listening to the little music teacher putting the soul of Chopin into melody. How often he had listened to this music ; but how much more often was the interpreter of it in his mind. He had never spoken to the lady, for people on the second floor seldom exchanged courtesies, nob even when they rag against each

I other on the stairs. He gleaned from [-'various sources the history of -her life, ; however, and on this he often used to ponder. It suggested many a subject for the small canvases which were now his ( favourites. They were not hard work, 1 and/ what was more, were saleable. - ,___ Sybil Arundal, for such was the little ■ music teacher's name, was a pretty girl ; l a touch of care added dignity to the charm • of an almost childlike countenance. She ! had learned her first lessons in music on 1 ground floors; and was the darling of a gay s suburb in which her father owned a charming home and appurtenances. Fortune at that time was a playful cub, petted by the Arundals; but, alas, it grew into a very fierce lion. The big house was sold, ■ but a 1 bright, fantastic villa, with lavish forest gardens, though many miles from town, was not a bad exchange. The villa was soon replaced by a sombre town house . in a quiet street, and this residence was j forced at last to . make way for rooms. j Sybil lost all -her friends, and* even an ~ alleged^lover, and, discovered' that, though music-teaching was. genteel, it : had little -t else to recommend, it. waiting" for Smith, but the music sppn' cast- all :tho"ughts of the mys-- .' -terious-pupil.'oufc of, bis mind, a fairer and ; brighter; subject "taking tneh placer - ' ". A shuffle. 4 , \ '•• " ■ - 4 VFunny- I 'didn't hear steps " before," soliloqiused the artist,, ''but that's not^my pupil." -. A- firm . rap • echoed through the corridor. Some one- was using the music -teacher's ' -knocker. - Prompted "by sheer inquisitiveness, he opened his door, and. peered int* the" passage in the_~direction *of - Miss ■ Arundal's i studie. " Standing" before the door, and talking in a vexed manner to Sybil, was a young man of about' his own age. This gentleman,- if dress -be lef£ out of consi-J deration, hid little in his favour. A retreating chin and deficient nose,,we-re rendered vulgar byak.elongated and sneakish •.eye:- "Field knew- that there' was s'ohiething wrong, and that 'this escaped stage ' villain was - on no praiseworthy errand. Five minutes, he listened to a harsh harangue: long >nough to discover that the fellow was, the old lover seeking money, f Almost without thought Heriot, stepped forward and ordered ' the man to leave the place/ quite ignoring the 'young" lady. , Her accents : had told her story, j * "Why?" put. in the stranger- sneerihgly. j - <*'■'- Field's/ temper j had now-.- reached,.,, white ,j i'eat, 'and' Be' called, ''Because you- are \si lltiiettf ' ' ;/^.' k >< --! v „«,>-; '"'-'* .'■ "H6w r can -you .prove it ?■" said his 'oppo■'neri?, c'almly;vfacmg t --the : -exasperated -artist. • j "Because-i Aai^his 'pupil!"< ' , '„ I " The. -three/t urned- round ' and - beheld jthe i ] fac^ of >' John.^Smith, aglow 'with deli^t^ Lappearing just above the landing.", - The j-stranget-'.made/a. 'hurried,., if not unpolitej rdeparture. ."" ' ■•' J Field, a moment later, pressing four deli- , ' cat.c fingers and "a thumb in his •warm | right hand, listened to Sybil telling how I strange it seemed to her that the villains j are the human pick-axes which bring to ! .light the golden, heroes in the mines of life. Gazing into her eyes that night he found more to break his .bonds than, if all his, mighty -ideals had been realised. For in those eyes he read the fairy story of love" returned. m. Heriot visited the young lady's home tha-fr evening in-^her company, and when he returned found the unfamiliar scent of cigar smoke pervading the staircase. When he entered his room it was some time before, he could distinguish the well-loved objects, so deep were they buried in white smoky clouds. i "Why, you seem to be a slave of the weed, Jack!" said Field, addressing Smith, who -was the perpetrator of the deed. j "No, I'm not strong on it ; only they say nicotine livens the brain on occasions — gets the gear into order, — and I have ' some need to get mine right to-night." ."Big- business, eh?" the-arti6t, said, carelessly. , - • ' "Yes ; big business for" both of us. Take a' ' chair." j , The artist drew a chair close to the one occupied by Jack, and sat down. - • 'Vioir. were ill" once, Mr Heriot?" whispfretT'tlip pupil." - [ :"Yes, jee'i" answered the artist patheti- ; catty, "You were attended by v doctor ; a Jew, I think; a mysterious kind of chap. ! "He's a great pal of Smith's. The old woman used to nurse his wife before she died. But he's gone to the dogs since then. Suppose you know?" "Ha! Old Isaac Levy. I remember him well. Had great chances — great chances. Not the worst of the click I should think." "The very best, the real white clay ; but ' he's gone to the devil now, and that means fortunes to you — and to me."' j "What do you mean?" The artist was interested. j "Well," said the boy quietly, "when the , doctor was young he had ambitions, great ambitions, and he sympathised with you because he understood; others didn't, couldn't. He had a great heart ; yes, and a great head." "Ah !" "Well, he saw that if you went on worrying the way you were doing your fine intellect — he said you had a fine intel- ' lect— would be spoiled. So what do you think he did?" I : "STo — don't know," said the artist ■ breathlessly. j "Did what no other man in these islands could do," the boy answered. "He hypno- ' tised you^ so that you could only work and , '• worry within certain limits. That was a' ' great deed." | "What else?" the artist panted. : "He was a 'cute gentleman, and deter- , " mined to come and tell you when he ■ thought you were fit to receive the news, i ' He expected money for it, but thought ' that perfectly just " ' ; "And?" — the artist's eyes glanced fire. 1 "Well, he went wrona, and hasn't got 1 the stamina, or some bloomin' thing, to bring you back to your real sphere, though ;

he : is continually raying _abqu| -it. When Tie's drunk "lie talks of "nothing 'else. ,1' .listened 'to his talk, put two and two together, hunted you up, and found everything correctr." "What more?" "Only one thing: lean save you. lam no mesmerist, but I^have what the doctor calls human nature^not much of it, but just enough to reclaim, that' low -hound for 10 minutes. With those precious minutes your future lies." "Send the agreements' to the winds. ; : I shall taKe tithes of my fortunes "for your sake, Smith, and I am a man of my word." ""Yes," said the boy, "I trust you; but the agreement must be fixed up by lawyers ; it must be on parchment. This is one trait of my human nature." "I will agree to anything, and trust you to the last," the artist answered triumphantly. ' Before a, week had elapsed- the lawyers had , arranged the agreements.! : In , that <week,- alsp, -John Smith brought the almost dead- life; of the, old doctor to 'ite "youthful , vigour— nofc,, for a -long time; but' for, time enough .to/break fhV'shagkjles which" bound" < Field 1 Heriot in tjie- slavery; of mediocrity, 'j Field, .made a rieyr start,- with -the "fair j j Sybil atriis "sideband imahy_ lessons culled; I from a "-bitter 1 experience. ;! • ■ .' -, -■- - - - : [ For; the" sakVii John Sniilb/, I may ,'m«n- • tion -that 10 "years-after the above event ' the ' Right Hon. Field' Heriot, * R.A., F.R.5.,- Prime Minister 'of ,*was proud of his youngest Minister, the Hon. Isaac Levy.