A FELATED VALENTINE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3250, 28 June 1916, Page 69

A FELATED VALENTINE.

Dy F.x.lxot; Covehidce.

(Copyright.) "I suppose to-morrow, being the 14th, ; will bo your birthday, Miss Valentine, '■ and that you took your name in compli« | merit to the flirtatious old saint?" " I fancy I was named after him, Dr I Dick, although I came a week ' behind i the fair.' My birthday is not till the 21st. | But here conies daddy, and he knows all I ab )ut it." At this moment Dr Anthony Forsyth ! entered the room—a tall, spare man, who I was obviously as strong in mind and pur- | p >se as in build. But this strength was I tempered by an unusual gentleness of exi pression. His glance, although piercingly ; and. indisputably comprehensive, was an I embodiment of kindness and sympathy. Ha was the indulgent and idolised | father of Valentine and the universal I friend, physician, and adviser of Beacf- ! end. Beachend was a straggling village ! on the rugged coast of beautiful North i Devon. j " The Lair "-—the doctor's house —was I as quaint and weird looking as its nam© ! implied. It had been planned and erected . about sixty years before by an eccentrio • misanthrope, an uncle of Dr Forsyth's, | and was a rough and irregular building. I But its somewhat lonely and exposed I position was entirely counteracted by the cosiness and cheerful comfort of its j interior. It was a happy, contented trio which ; gathered round the log fire that evening j in frosty February. The young man, familiarly known as Dr Dick bv the daughter of the house, was Richard Dunn. I M.D., Jato house physician at one of the London hospitals, at present medical assistant to Dr Forsyth. Although he had filled this position for only a few months, he was already accepted as an ultimate friend, and used as a ready " right hand." Valentine made room for her father on the roomy, well-cushioned old settle, saying : ''We were discussing my rather ridiculous name, daddy. I love the second one, ' Prudence,' because that belonged to mother, but the two are a funny combination. I suppose you called me Valentine because my birthday came so near the 14th?" "I gave you both, you v names for your mother's sake, my little girl. If you care for an old-timo love story—you two—you shall have it now. It is very simple, a bit tragic, but altogether sweet, as few true life tales are." Valentine drew a little nearer to her father, her pretty face iit up by eager curiosity. " Care to hear it, dad? Why %ve are dying to, -aren't we, Dr Dick?" " If I don't intrude, sir," said young Dunn. " I, like Miss Valentine, would be more than interested. Still, as an outsider " " But that is just what you are not, Dunn," hastily interrupted the doctor, "or I should not be telling tales tonight. " Well, to start, we must put the clock back thirty years. " Thirty years ago I came down from college, and spent the Christmas holidays in this same old house with my uncle. Captain Fellowes. He was my mother's only brother, and many years her senior, and, a? I remember him, a cross-grained, crusty old salt, and a bookworm. He was. taciturn beyond telling, and seldom mentioned his past. '• What I knew of this I learnt from other-, and this much 1 gathered: In his early twenties he fell blindly in love with a mo t beautiful but unprincipled woman, whom he met in a Spanish port. With the insatiable greed of her kind for winning hearts, she first fascinated, then captured him, then finally threw him over for the wealthy magnate for whom she had, been angling all the time. This very common story had its usual ending. The allirrer succeeded in spoiling the life of her dupe, and destroying his faith in all womankind. After retiring from the navy my uncle built 'The Lair,' and lived her* with hi? books and at passive variance with all the world. " As you may conclude, a healthy, high-spiried youth as I then was, found the house drear and desolate. I made friends with all and sundry, but my special ' happy hunting ground ' was the Hall. " Sr>uire Buller and his lady wen youngish people then, with a growing family around them. But none of then attracted me. T was drawn to a prett] little Quaker girl whose name was Pru. deuce Maine. She was nursery governesi fit the Hall, and just seventeen. "It is needless to add that she wa.a well born and cultured, as well as passingly winsome in her sweet Puritan way, hut, havin ; been left an orphan and totally unprovided for, she was obliged to earn her living at that early ape." " .Ttist my age next week, daddy," said Valentine. " My poor little plucky mother! Oh, it cops make me feel selfish, and absolutely useless!'' "You useless, little Val? Whv. you've kept my heat", olive and my faith alight for nearly seventeen years. But no tnterrupt'om, please. "To tell you what von both already know. T fell in love with Prudence Maine —o er tend r.nd cars in love, and wb.-n T left. Poorhcnd for home, T left my heart, In-hind." "Dear funny dad, to be in love i*' said Valentini'. adding with a yhr glow in her eves, "We cannot fancy him a philander' ir-r swain, can we, Dr Dick? Y'':t " TX - Dick'; " v.: :■ dl- read;, tongue "To get on with my story, Val," con-

tinued her father, " St. Valentine's Day fell that year on a Sunday, and I decided to run down to 'The Lair' for the weekend and try my luck in the then up-to-date way. So on the Friday T took ticket for Beachend, after duly providing myself | with the ammunition for Cupid's bow. "This had boon ft lengthy business. After wasting much time outside various stationers' shops, I had selected one of the papery lacey valentines then in vogue —a wonderfully embossed affair containing a heart of abnormal shape in crimson satin with the usual accompaniment of pictorial doves and lover's knots, and a flowery quotation from Byron. "My second ordeal consisted in entering a draper's 'emporium' and choosing a pair of dainty gloves to encase the pretty hands of Miss Prudence Maine. Taking the advice of a painfully obliging and palpably inquisitive young lady behind the counter, I bought a pair of what she recommended aa 'pearl-grey kids. "How screamingly absurd it seems, daddy. Red satin hearts, and pearl-grey kids!" "If you ask mo, little Val, both sexes compared quite favourably with those of the present day ! "But to get on. I enclosed a little note in my parcel—my first love letter, Valentine ! "I begged her acceptance of the giver along with his little offerings, adding 'would she—as a token that I might hope —wear the gloves in church on St. Valentine's morning?' I signed myself as hers 'now and for ever.' "With the small package, carefully sealed and addressed, in my pocket, I reached my uncle's in due time. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me, but chaffed ine during dinner on being preoccupied and dumb. I believe he guessed my errand from the first. "I decided not to call at the Hall until later, but to post my valentine, and let that be the first intimation of my arrival. I was leaving the house on Saturday afternoon, when Uncle Fellowes asked my destination. On my replying 'the post office,' he offered to take my letters for me, adding that I should find several manuscripts in his study, which he would be glad for me to copy, and which would probably occupy me for aeveral hours. "I had often'made myself useful in .this way before, so could not well refuse now. With ' a decidedly self-conscious air, I handed him the precious little parcel, and saw him and his ever-present dogs off to the post. I then—-reluctantly I ownstarted on my scribbling in the study. "The fourteenth dawned bright and fair. Uncle Fellowes seemed less grim than usual at breakfast, but did hot accompany me to church. "I went early, experiencing rushes of hope and fear, but I realise now that the former predominated. Just on the tick of 11, I could hear_ the Hall family proceeding up the aisle. The Bullers' pew was in the chancel; they passed me on their way, and respectively took their seats, or fell upon their kneea with more or le3B commotion. "At last I glanced at Prudence Maine. My eyes travelled to her busy hands. One was employed in steadying 'Baby' Buller, as she stood on her tall hassock, the other was occupied with the prayer book of Peter, the Hal] 'pickle,' thus endeavouring to prevent the usual resounding crash of that missal." " Quick, *quick, dad ! What about the gloves?" broke in Valentine, standing up in her excitement. "Imagine, little girl, my bitter disappointment. Not a vestige of 'pearl-grey' in sight! "Prudence Maine was wearing on that warm spring morning the same substantial pair of woollen gauntlets—dark and dingy —which has done duty all the winter, end which I learnt afterwards had been the Christmas gift of Mrs Buller, as being 'so suitable and useful for a young person in Mi3s Maine's position.' "My heart went <rown into my boots, Val, yet I would not quite despair. Thinking there .might be some good and simple reason why my little offering was not in evidence, I determined to overtake the Hall party as they loft the church, and I should 'possibly be enlightened. "I soon caught up with them, and although I found the squire and Mrs Buller as genial as ever, and the small brood over-anxious to be familiar, it was plain that Prudence did her best to avoid me. t "No greeting, no smile, not even a glance, her one aim being to look in any direction but mine. At length, taking a hard of each of the two youngest hopefuls, she delighted them and' distracted me by .-tailing at a canter. Why this change in six short weeks? I could come to only one conclusion—my love was not returned. "At lunch that day my uncle was unusually festive. In the course of conversation he mentioned the Bullers, dropping a careless hint that the pretty little Quakeress was about to 'do well for herself.' ''Putting a strong control on my voice, I ''Going to get married, do you mean, uncle?' 'That is Avhr.t it comes to, I suppose, ray boy.. _ and good luck to her, if' she deserves it.' "He turned our talk to other channels, but to this day I cannot recall a word of it, or any other circumstances of my visit. "I left Beachond by the first train next morning, and early aa it started I was waiting on the dreary little platform for a full hour. Not only had the neighbourhood no attraction now for me, but it seemed the most miserable, de.~olate spot on earth. "I got ba-ck to work, and in due time I qualified. A position was offered me as ship's doctor, which I gladly accepted, and for some four years T spent my time on the sea. At times the home instinct was strong within mo, but I could not settle in England. When I was about twenty-eight T acquired a practice in Natal" There I settled and remained for nearly six ye=ws. "I was Interested in my work and made some very good friends, but Prudence Maine never had a rival in my heart." Valentine drew closer. "How very dear

of you, dad!" she whimpered lovingly and somewhat shyly. "I love you for that! What do you say, Dr Dick?" But Richard Dunn dare not say at that timo one word of what he thought.

"Well," continued Dr Forsyth, "one line morning the unexpected happened. 1 received a lawyer's letter, containing the intimation that my Uncle Fellowes was dead. He had left all his possessions to me. This meant 'The Lair' and some ten thousand pounds. "I had never seen my uncle since that Monday morning when I had left Beachend a disappointed man. I had dutifully written him once a year —at Christmastime —but otherwise had tried to forget him, as hi* memory seemed to recall a bad dream. Thus I cannot pretend to have felt much grief on hearing of his death. Neither did my good fortune elate me as it would have done under happier circumstances. I was a lonely man, and already' possessed fully enough for my modest needs. "I set sail for England with the intention of settling up affairs as hurriedly as possible, selling 'The Lair,' and returning to my practice in Natal. "On arriving in London I went straight to Bedford Row, and interviewed the man of business. My uncle had left everything in order, so all was plain sailing and soon arranged. While I was in the office the solicitor gave me a .sealed package, saying Captain Fellowes had left instructions that he should present it to me personally, and that I should open it alone. "On reaching my room at the hotel I broke the seal. There was a small round parcel enclosed and a letter. The letter read thus: — Dear Nephew Anthony,—l have .been glad to hear from time to time that you are doing well, also that you show your sense in remaining a bachelor. Women are a curse and a drawback. That is why I stepped between you and the little Quakeress. Seeing how matters stood, I felt justified in that fairy tale. For aught I know she is still unwed. To make a clean brea.st of it, I did not post your 'sentimental trash. Neither did I destroy it —it is herewith enclosed. In your maturer years you will thank your stars for my wisdom. I called at ttie Hall that Saturday night, and intimated in the little girl's presence that you were about to make a wealthy marriage. So her hopes were also smashed. I do not apologise. I did this for your happiness. I leave you my all, except the dogs. They are to be shot at my death. They would miss the old mam. You are the only human I have loved for over fifty years.—Your affectionate uncle, Fklix Fellowes- " I removed the other wrapper of brown paper from the other enclosure, and discovered my first and only valentine intact. The ' pearly-grey kids ' remained in the same immaculate folds, the satin heart still flashed red, the boyish lovewords «ti,ll rang true. But Prudence Maine had never read them," "Oh, daddy, daddy, go on quick!" cried Valentine. "It is almost too beautiful, and quite too sad! But I want to hear the end—how my dear old faithful day was repaid." and she nestled very c'.o?e to her father. They made a pretty picture in the firelight —one which was fully appreciated by the only spectator, Richard Dunn. "It gets late, little Val: but my story is nearly done; How in the first heated moments I anathematised that misguided old man—how I denounced my own stupidity for being ' gulled,' I need not tell you. " Pocketing my old valentine, I took train for Beachend, and made straight for the Hall. I found the house and surroundings much as I had left them twelve years before. But Prudence Maine had gone! "All I could learn was that Mrs Buller had been ' quite sorry ' to lose her; but as the children and their intellects expanded a cleverer instructress was required, so Prue, who had spent the best years of her life for them, had to find another home. They had heard from her two years ago—she was then in a family in Edinburgh. With the address in my pocket-book, I went to seek Prudence. The good lady believed she was now teaching in Cornwall.

" Without losing an hour I started for the sleeply little Cornish town w-here I hoped to find my love. And I found her —still my little Puritan. Twelve years older, a dozen years more tired and worn, but she was twelve times more sweet and dear.

" True to the old days, Prudence tried to appear not too glad to see me, and wanted an account of the years gone by. So I showed her first my uncle s letter and then my lit fie old packet of love—and—l won my Prue."

Here Valentine, finding her voice too husky to speak, satisfied herself with a surreptitious kiss.

" Well, this great joy altered all ' my plana," continued the dor'tor. "We were married within the month. Natal lost all its charm for mo, and we decided—Prue and I—to settle here in the dear old spot where first wo met—our years to be one lo'ig harmony. " T now blended my uncle Tor making it possible for me to give Prudence many comforts and pleasure, which she could not otherwise have had. I woidd devote my whole life to her, trying to make up for the love and r<are she had missed in f.ho.-o early days. And T believe T did, for that beautiful twelvemonth. If any man can experience perfect bliss on earth, T did that year. "And then, came the 14th of February

seventeen year.-? ago. and we talked about the old valentine and a little new one to come. A week later, little girl, yoii wore born, and a few hours after you opened your eyes on life, she cloned hers, and slept away. She just had time to whisper, ' Take her, Tony, my valentine to you, my little love token." " that is how you came by your name, little girl."

Taking a packet from his pocket, and unfolding the paper worn and thin, he showed the two listeners the old-time love offerings. " Oh, daddy," said Val with a sob in her voice, as she gently stroked the red satin heart, " old valentines don't seem senseless now."

Later when all the house was still, and the two men were having their final quiet smoke, which to-night was even more silent than usual, Richard Dunn said : "Doctor, your beautiful love story has made me bold to speak. I love your Valentine; may I hope to make her mine? I have not" much to offer, nothing much as yet, hut love- —but that is strong and true "

"Dick/' interrupted the doctor, and it was the first time he had called him by this familiar name, " the fervent love of an honest man is beyond price—it is the ✓forerunner of ali oth.vr good things,—and, knowing this, and knowing you—l'd rather you should have the child than any other. But, man, you must wait—well, wait till St. Valentine come- round again."