THE JEW'S HOUSE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2894, 1 September 1909, Page 77

THE JEW'S HOUSE.

By Fekgtjs Hume. CHAPTER IV.— THE QUAKERS. Barrington Wain «ras by way of being a Theosophist, although, as regards the teaching, he understood only a parlio!} of the whole. Still, that portior served him fairly well, as it accounted to his mind for the unexpected, enabled him to endure the unmerited • troubles ■which, mope often than was pleasant, came • hie way. His simple belief was •that the happenings of tttis present life ■were pre-ordained by the doings of the last time he assumed neb. Thus, when, his personally-made Fate took him down uncomfortable ways hs went philosophically; firmly convinced that he merited the disaigreeable journey. "Otherwise," said Wain ppsitively, "such beastly bad luck would not be permitted ,to befall me." And this remark accounted for the resolute way in which he considered 1 PtTGvidence -divinely -loving in- spite oi plain esidenee to the contrary,- taking into consideration - ihe misery of man.S» belief included ako the meeting of those in this life "wr£h : Vhom "he had-"been •connected Tn. the lasfcT "I have," he said, "to pay off debW for evil committed, ■when incarnated before, or to receive payment for. good done. Thjer.ef.ore, when 3h-anr unexpectedly brought into contact, with tnis person and the other, and not of my own volition, I know that they have to pay me something or I have to pay. them."-. In this way, Wain accounted f<yr his accidental — as it appeared — straying down the side lane wthich had brought him to the Jew's House, to be present when BenJEzra was denounced as a murderer. He considered tihat he must have some previous life-tie with the Jew, eke he wonld not have been thrown into his company at so critical a mom emit. The question was whether Ben-Ezra had to pay him a debt or whether he was Ben-Ezra's credfitor? At the present moment be could not understand. Hitherto he had heard nothing but evil of the man, and — although he had «some faint belief in nis innocence^ — was not inclined to champion him. But what he should do was pointed 'out to him by his meeting with certain people w"ho — for tfoe first time in Wain's experience — spoke well of the Hebrew. And the unexpected happened in this case, as it had happened in the other. . On leaving Lazarus. at the gates of the fallen Dives, the reporter took his way up the lane to gain the High street, ihe lane, a« has been said, was more or less b'lock«d -with motor" cars, " bicycles, *" peOpl© on foot and people in vehicles. Wain pushed his way through the crowd, and found -"at- the- head of the cul-de-sac a market cart laden with vegetables, drawnby an aged white hoxse, and driven by .an extremely pretty girl, who seemed rather, fo have lost, her heatd in the hub- ■ Knl>. " "As ,shtf wbri ; pped--lier' ancient "steedinto the High street a motor-car, humming swiftly along, boie down on. her and struck the cart fail' on the right wheel. The, girl was hurled to the ground amidst the - consequent wreckage, and although the chauffeur had pulled up his machine, she'-woirid- undoubtedly have had her brains kicked out by the terrified white horse had- not Wain acted, the pairt of a knight-erraoit. Almost without thinking he plunged forward and snatched the girl from under the very Hoofs of the c&artled animal. The cart was a wreck, the contents .were on the ground, but the horse was uninjured, which is more than could . be said of its driver. In being thrown- out she had come into contact with the stony road *o violently that she 'was stunned. " Here, clear the wav," commanded the reporter, and carried the girl into a near chop, which by chance happened to be a chemist's. " Look after the cart, you people, and I'll look after the girl." Wain's chivalry was rewarded by finding that he ' had rescued one of the prettiest women he had seen foi many a long day. The unconscious girl, whom the- chemist and his wife were trying to revise, "could not have been- more ihan nineteen, - but was tail for her age, and pbssesed of a very well-developed figure. She seemedf to have reached' maturity at a tiirile when "" other girls are still more or less . scraggy. Her face was oval, with fine contours, and she had a wealth of eilky, bluish-black hair tucked away un<ler a plain figured linen sun-boninet. Her super-b figure was clothed <n an unadorned gi>ey dress, well cut but unfashionable, and she wore a broad linen collar, spreading on the should<ers and fastened- at the neck with a silver 'brooch in the form of a five-pointed star. Brown shoes, cuffs on her wrists, and a coarse holland apron to keep her frock from contact with the vegetables completed her costume. But W-aiu saw little of this, co intent was his - gaze upon her face. Be Wished to see »ci heavily-fringed eyes open and the •rich damask cplour . return to those white cheeks. " She's the beauty of the world," he said while the chemist held a anrellingTjottle to the girl's nose and the chemist's wife unloosened her broad Eton collar — it looked like one to the reporter — and slapped her handls. ""I wouldn't go go Tar as that,"' caid the chemist's wife, who was a pretty woman herself, 'but she's the beauty of Brunt lea by common consent." "You know her, then?" " Oh, yes. She often comes here witn her father. Judith Verily is her name." "Humph! That's extremely Biblical." "Quakerish, you should say," remarked iJie chemist, smiling; "her father is old Phineaa Verily, who has his farm aoout two niitee'frbm Bruntlea. Dear me, how put about he and. his wife will be at this accident." "But she's not badly hurt, I trust?" asked Wain .anxiously. "Oh, no," .said- the chemist's wife, "more frightened than hurt. I fxpeot ihe vege-

tables and the baskets saved her from dashing against the stones on the road. Theee motor people should really be more careful." At this moment, as if ip answer to her observation, the owner of the car entered the shop to apologise foi his chauffeur's negligence, although the man was really not much to blame, owing to the unexpected way in which MLs Verily had emerged from the lane. The owner was a young man with a heavy, olean-shaven face and a- heavy, squat figure -which under no circumstances could look attractive. He was dressed Ln deep black, even to tie and gloves, a,nd. his ayes were swollen, as though he had been " weeping. "I am very sorry," he said in a shy, nervous voice j "it was quite an accident, and Thomas stopped the car as ">oon as pebble." "He should be more careful," snapped tha chemist's wife, aggreFsively. "He »vns careful," put in Wain quickly. "The accident wa.s really caused by Miss Verily coming incautiously out of the lane." At -the sound of her name the girl opgn_ed her eyes, and then Wain saw that they were 'large "and ■ dark, something like^ those of a deer. Whon they lighted, up her beautiful face, to which the colour was" -rapidly returning, Wain's thoughts flew to Keats's comment on the lady called Charmion: "She has ' a rich Eastern look !" That- sentence exactly explained the impression produced on Wain's mind by Judith Verily. He wondered admiringJy if her voice matched her loveliness, and was not disappointed. "Yes," she isaiwl faintly, in mellow, bell-like tones, "it was my fault. 1 lost my head with all the -" she paused and closed her eyes. "" "Don't talk, dear," said the chemist's wife soothingly. "Here, take this sup of brandy and water. You'll soon be >.U right." "But the cart — the horse — —" "I've had them seen to," said the owner of the motor car hastily. "The horse is ■ quite safcj but the cart lias bean (smashed and the vegetables scattered. Never mind, I'll pay for everything." "But ifs not your fault," said Judith, opening her eyes again. - "It is, in part. Thomas was going too quickly. And Miss Verily nas to thank you> sir," said the young man, addressing Wain directly, "for having saved her life. But for you she would have " "All right — all right," interposed Wain with the uneasy dislike of an Englishman to a .«en.s»e — "all'r well that ends well. But how can this young lady get home?" "I can walk," said the girl, whose face was now much monr healthy -look ing. "No," 6aid the young man bluntly. "Thomas -shall drive you in the car. And I'll see that the cart is sent to the farm later." ~ '"Thank you, Mr Dove,' said the girl, and Wain opened bis eyes when he heard the name. " This, then, was the son. of the dead man. No wonder he was in mourning and looked as though he haji been weeping. "Sir Reginald now," remarked the chemist officiously. "Don't speak of it — don't speak of it,"' muttered the young man, and hastily went out of the shop. "I thought that the late Sir Giles was a knight only," remarked Wain. "A baronet," replied thr chemist's wife, throwing a rebukeful look at her tactless husband ; "his eon takes the title and all the money. And my word, sir, there is a lot of money. Fancy that dreadful old Benjamin Ezra murdering poor Sir Giles ; not but what Sir Giles had a bad temper." "I don't believe that Mr Ben-Ezra murdered Sir Giles," said the gi-l, getting on her feet. "But, mv d^ar, he " " T know what you will say. Everyone is againM. the poor man." The chemist's wife looked at the flushed face somewhat maliciously. "I thould think for certain reasons you would be against lam al?o, my dear." "We are told to forgive our enemies." "Ah, that's a very Quakerish <=entiment, my dear." ".'Humph-!" ««d Wain, rathe*, gruffly; "thai ifi tKe first time 1 ever heard a Christian sentiment narrowed down to one mc*." , "Oh, you mustn't' take me seriously, said the chenouVt's wife, her pretty face dimpling into a smile "My bark is worse than my bite." Judith kirsed her. ."Everyone knows that you are good and kind," she said promptly. "Look how you've attended to me. I'll get mother to come and thank you. But this kind gentleman" — she looked gracefully on her (rescuer, who flushed under her gaze — "will, i hope come home with me to hear what father and mother have to say." "I'll escort you home willingly, Miss Verily ; but I want no thanks." "You shall have them all the «ame." said the girl, s-nriling divinel) , as Wain thought: "but the cart " "Sir Reginald Dove will attend to all that,'" interrupted the chernost's wife ; "the horse will be led to the farm, and the cart and vegetables placed .omewhere for safety You can tel 1 your father that all is well." "Oh, Phineas Verily will be quite content to know that the aDple of liis eye is safe," said the tactlers chemist. Judith— Wain already called hei that in his own mind, as he thought that the stately name suited her rojal beauty — kissed hen- hostess again, md, smiling at the chemist, went out of the shop. Wain followed, and the two found themselves in the midst of a crowd busily removing the wreckage of the cart. The horse had already been cent home in charge of a sympathifer, and on learning this Judith consented to mount the expensive motorcar which had been placed at her disposal by the young baronefc It was a, 50 .h.p. Hadrian machine, luxuriously fitted up and driven by a smart chauffeur, who touched his cap and apologised profusely to bis unexpected passenger. Shy

of attracting so much attention, Miss Verily hastily snuggkd down amongst the soft cushions of the car, and Wain swung himself up beside her as chaperon. The orowd divided, and the machine spun down the street, purring like a wellpleaded cat. While they ran the two miles to the Quaker farm Wain, like a wise man, improved the occasion. "You don't speak in the usuaL Quaker way, Miss Verily," he remarked. "Father and mother do," she replied, while be admired the rich hue of her complexion; "but I an? engaged, to be married, and my future husband wishes me to speak like an ordiaaa-y person." Wain felt rather a pang on hearing that this desirable damsel was an "apple on the topmost bough," and therefoie beyond his reach. Judith was not only beauliful, but simple and unsophisticated, as was proved by the artless-ness of her last speech. She was thus entirely acceptable to a man somewhat weary of the over-cul-tUTed women of the day. "I suppose Quakers don't speak as. Biblically as they did," he observed in a careless manner ; " they have con-e into line with- the common conversationalist." "Father and mother have not,"' said Judith, shaking her h-esd, "but they call themselves very > old-fa&hioned. Mr., Ash-ton- is «s fond of father and mother" as he is of me — almost," with an afterf* thought. * " . " Ashton ! ABnton,! That is the name of the' old general .who, owued tlw Hall." "Lancelot is his grandson," said Judith simpiy. "Lancelot';' "I am engaged to mari^ nim." Wain stared, as the most famous name' iii Arthurian romance woke a sleeping memory to his brain. " I used to know a man called Lancelot Ashton," he said musingly, "three or four years ago. -He was -'a barrister, or was going to be a, barrister. A tall, handsome, brownhaired chap he was, clever and agreeable, although I saw little of him. A mutual chum intoduced us in London,"' ' "That's my Lancelot," cried Judith, clapping her hands and flushing delightedly at this praise" of her lover "I am co glad you like him." "Liked him," corrected the reporter, smilingly ; "you forget that I told you I had ■sot seen him for three or four years. Is he now successful?" Judith's face fell. "No. He writes articles and stories to keep himself alive, as he is very poor ; but no one has given him a brief .yet. And until he is successful we camnot marry," £.ie lamented. " lent it dreadful, when you think he should be rich !" "In what way?" Juidli-th opened her dark eyes to thair widest. "Why, Lancelot ought to own the Hall, you know. I told you he was the grandson of General Ashton. But that horrid Jew cheated the" general, and now Lancelot has to live in a poor, cheap villa, with hi« old cousin, Miss Merton." "Yet you defended the Jev,-~" Wainreminded her. Judith codded. "Father and mother won't hear a word against him.'" she said, with emphasis ; "they admit that he dc2>s wrong; but declare that he is j very kind-hearted all the same, though people don't think so." " Humph ! You are the first person who has spol:-3ii well of Ben-Fzra. " Wait until you hear father and mother. ' ' , "Oh, her*, we are," cried the girl, as i the car slowed down. "How quickly we have come, ar.d how smoothly. I wish I had a motor-car." " You will, when you are Mrs Ashton and your husband is th? Lord Chancellor." Miss Verily leaped lightly to the giound, having apparently entirely recovered from her rough shaking. "I'll be an old woimn by then." '.he replied, and tben turned to the chauffeur : " Thank you for driving ma bere." "I am dfligbted to have had the jhance. Mies Verily," said Thomas, who appeared to be a gentle-man, .?ven though he touched- his hat servant-fashion ; "after smash-ing your cart, it was the bast Sir Reginald could let me do. Can 1 drive > ou.. back, sir?" he asked Wain. - "No, thank you ; I'll walk. Goodaay." " Good-day, sir," and the Hadrian swung off smoothly ilouix the brocx* country road, which was bordered with slender poplar tre^s. The machine was out of sight m no time, but Wain continued to stare until he was brought to a *ens>e of his position by Judith impatiently tugging at his sleeve* " Here is mothar." she said, pointirg to a gate : "she's always on the lookout." A comfortable, comely woman, in the quaint Quaker dre^p, more accentuated than that of her daughter, emerged from? th"c gate arid cams hurriedly towards the pair, cp.lling- out as she advanced : " Judith, child, how is it with thee, my dear? Art thou ill, and why ha-<-t thou returned without the horse and cart:"' " I have had an accident, mother, darlincj. and " "An accident !" Mrs Verily's face grew pale, and she damped Judith to her motherly breast. "Art thou hurt, child?" "M.b* Verily is only a little shaken." explained Wain, taking off his cap. "Sir Reginald Dove's motor car ran into her cart, and she was thrown out." "But the horse is all right, mother," put in Judith hastily. "Never mind the horse, child. We can get another ; but if we last, thee ' ' Tears stopped her speech, amd she pressec l her daughter to her heart anxiously. "I should have been killed but for this gentleman," said Judith quickly. "Oh, take all the thanks I can ffive thee,'' said Mrs Verily, relinquishing Judith — ■whcfie hand, however, she still retained — and catching Wain by the ami. "This child is the light of our eyes. Dear! dear ! to think she should be so near death and we never knew. Merciful is the Lord, Judith, child, that He hath

spared thee" to thy parents. Phineas! Phineas!" In answer to her call, a man appeared at the door of the farmhouse, which was no great distance from the road. He was stout and grave- looking, with- an air of prosperity and r remarkably quiet manner. Arrayed in quite a William Perm costume, knee breeches, homespun stockings, buck! 2^ shce«, and a broad-brimmed hat, with a tailed coat and a lengthy waistcoat of ho'dan-grey. he looked a typical member of the Society of Friends. On looking inquiringly at his wife, he was furnished by Judith with a hasty account of her adventure and rescue by the stranger she had brought. The farmer did not lose hip ■composed air, but his gratitude 2ould be seen in his moistened eyes and in the hearty \\ay in which ha shook Wain's ha.nd. "Thou hast beer an instrument in the hand of the Lord to save vts from sorrow," said he in deep, organ-tones, "and the Lord will requite thee, because thou hast fulfiled His purpose. Judith, child, go within to spread the table, if thou art able. Ruth, invite the strangei to our board." "Nay, he is- no stranger." said the Quakeress, who was scarcely so composed f&g-ltopr grave spouce, ""One who hos saved out "ewe lam'fr'i^a^frie'iid fo th.ee 'and me, "Pi^iea«=, henceforth.**- "- v * v ' "So-tf-bs. it,'' Verily, axrain .sh'tffcing hantfef witfr Wain, a£d this was a wonderful sign of emotion with «0 solemn -tf*man. had the repottcr^bttt known then, as he did later. "By what name are we to greet tbse, friend?" "I am called Barringtqn Wain, and my occupation is that of a reporter." Vtrily's face clouded. "Thou hast come hit-Her to report this wicked crime which hath robbed the wealthy- o{ life?" "No — no!" Wain* assured t-be good farmer. "I came down before Ben-Era shot the man."* H-: purposely said this co as to hear Verily's reply *'n' defence. It duly came. "Judge no mar until thou aTt sure, friend Barrington." "I am sure. I saw Ben-Ezra, standing over the body of his victur with the revolver in his hand." , Verily nodded, but did n<>t appeal to be much disturbed. "I heard somewhat of this from John Corder, my ploughman, and Eliza James, the housemaid, but I speak not my -mind until I heat more of the matter. Thou vrert an->eye- witness?" "No — not exactly. But 'inniediately afterwards " "Nayi then I cannot accept thy testimony, friend Barrington," "aid the Quaker austerely : "if thou didst not beliold the Hebrew'slay the man, there is hope of bis innocence. But this i* idle talk while thou art fasting. Gome within and break bread with us, and say how we can repay thee for what thou baeb .done." "You can repay me by telling me all you know of Ben-Ezra/ aid Wain boldly. Verily looked at him steadily. "Thou wilt bear naught but good of tl»e Hebrew within the walls of my abode," he said gravely. "Enter, I pray thee." "Ben-Ezra "has' one champion-, at all e/eats," Wain muttered, while obeying. (To be continued.)