SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3510, 21 June 1921, Page 65

SHORT STORIES.

EVANG UNL’S CAR!EId,

I>Y

Clara Mulholland.

[Coptbight.] It was afternoon tea time at Fair View h°ute, Biompton, and the paying guests wine flocking into the drawing room, eager to enjoy a cup ot the beverage that cheers and does not inebriate, before it had become unpleasantly strong fraui standing too long- in the pot. walked together, in twos and threes, some grumbling, some laughing, a good many gossiping and pulling their neighbours- to pieces, others abusing the boarding house and the treatment they received there. “Such bread and butter, - ’ cried a lady, arrived only the dav before. “It is more ftt f , or Ploughmen than civilised beings.” A »- And the milk watered and chalked,” laughed another. ‘‘Don’t use it tor your complexion. Miss Duff, or the result will be-disasterous.’’ “No, my dear, not likely.” “Talking of complexions, has not the girl who sat near you last night a lovely one?” “Exquisite! But it won’t last. Who is she ?” “Our belle, Evangeline Frowd. She is studying singing and has tl.cv say a wonderful career before her.” “AV bo says “the clergyman cf her parish in Sussex, and 1 believe her masters.” 1 wouldn’t give tiiat;” snapping her fingers, “for a clergymans—that is a country clergyman's—opinion of singing.” ‘ Indeed ! And you have had some experience of country choirs?” . “Bather, since I've lived in Kent all mv life, till yesterday. la our parish the screeching was awful, and the rector and curate thought it sublime.” ‘We i, I hope in this case they are not mistaken. The girl is charming, and great things arc prophesied of her.” “She’s poor, of course?” “J hat goes without saying. A hundred pounds or so constitutes her whole fortune. But before that is gone she will be earning well, 1 hope. AA ith such a voice and such a, face her career must be a brilliant one.” “Voices wear out, faces grow old,” replied Miss Duff pessimistically. “She should have made hay whilst the sun was shining, and married the squire, or the rector of her parish. That’s the career for a delicate .girl like her.”, “Even though she didn’t love either squire or rector?” “Pish ! That for love. Any girl Here the drawing room door opened, and the ladies paused in their chat, and looked round, then smiled at one another, and nodded wisely, as a slender girl in deep mourning, a roll of music in her- hand, came gliding in. She smiled and bowed to the group, and took a cup of tea from the trav. “How are you o-etting on. Miss Frowd?” Risked Miss duff. “I hear you have an enchanting voice.” Evangeline turned a pair of luminous brown eyes upon the speaker. “Thank you, I ain doing well. I have two new engagements, and another agent has sent for me.” “Dear me! That is promising,” said Afire Duff, throwing up her hands. “Your career will be a brilliant one.” “I trust so. 1 am full of hope." Ami she passed away with a graceful inclination of her dainty little head. Grossing the room she stepped through the long windows on to the balcony, which ran along the back of the house. As she did so, a tall fair man ruse from a chair near the railings, and came forward to meet her. “Y'ou'.'” she said, with a slight start, and a faint change of colour. “I thought you were miles away.” “I came back an hour ago, awfully down on my luck. I'm the most unfortunate fellow alive.” Her eyes, full of sympathy, met liis, then fell abashed at what she saw there. “I'm so sorry. But what ha- happened: ’ Sin- sank into a chair and laid her music on her knee. “The old fellow whose port: tit T was to paint for quite a goodly cum. dropped dead this morning. My picture lias been rejected. They will have none of it at the Royal Academy. That’s enough bad luck in one da*-, now isn’t it?” “Afore than enough.” Her sweet voice, so kind and sympathetic, was music to his heart. “But don’t be dejected Air Ooniston. The darkest hour is the hour before the dawn. One old man has died, hut there are plenty left. And as for the Royal Academv rejecting yon. Don’t, fret about- that. They are a set of.old fogeys, and don’t know—or don't take time to know—a. good picture when it comes Before them.” ITo threw back his fair head and laughed heartily. “What a sweeping assertion. But there’s comfort in it. And T feel better,’’ lw cried. “And now. how goes the world with you, Mi s Frowd?” ‘Well, my prospect*.” smiling radiantly, “arc brilliant.” “Good. Between that and your sympathy I feel another man.” And drawing a chair to her side he sat down, his- eyes resting will) delight upon the soft brown of her hair, and the beautiful curves of her exquisite profile. Two rears before, Evangeline lived fn a quiet village in Fussev. Then her mother had died, and finding that h--v entire fortune was hardly two hundr< - pounds, she resolved to earn her hr. ad 1-v ringing at concerts. She had a fine voice, and had long been the pri-ua donna of ihe village choir. True, she had had little teaching. But, that she could easily get in London. Ko to London she went taking up her abode, by tl;o advice of somo friends in ,tlio Brqmptou boarding house. Here she

(net Raymond Conist-on, nephew of a wealthy landowner in Sussex, whom she and her mother had known for many years. Raymond was a charming fellow, a hardworking but very poor young artist. He helped, advised, encouraged her all he could, and the in her turn, did the same by him. When Evangeline had been in London some six months, Raymond hurried home early one evening, hoping to get her to sit to him for half an hour before dinner. His fancy portrait of the girl as “Spring” was the finest thing he had ever done, and he was anxious to get it finished. As he entered the drawing-room, an elderly and rather portly gentleman knocked up against him. “Uncle Luke!” Raymond cried. “You here ?’’ “Yes; but I didn’t come to see you, y* ung man. I’ve been asking Miss Frowd to marry me; and she will—though not yet. So don't fancy you’ll get my money.” And he stumped noisily on downstairs. “Gjpod heavens! As if she would.” thought Raymond. “She’d see you far old man. But you may leave your money where you please.’’ From the first, things went' well with Evangeline. She made rapid progress. Her voice developed marvellously, and lier engagements were scon numerous. “The life is not fit for her,” Raymond would cry. as he saw men gazing at her upon a platform, her sweet pure voice thrilling him to the soul. “If I were only rich enough to dare to win and take her away from it all! But alas! I’m a failure—a —— Oh ! Evangeline, my love, it drives me wild to gee you stared at—admired by the crowd !” Then, in the height of her success Evangeline fell ill. An attack of influenza laid her low, and for several days all thought she must die. But her youth triumphed, and she came slowly hack to life and health. One day, Raymond found her in a big easy chair upon the balcony. She looked white and worn, and as he came near he saw that she had been crying. His heart throbbed violently, and he gazed at her through a mist of tears-, almost overcome by an intense longing to take her in his arms and comfort her. “Miss Flow'd—Evangeline !’’ he stammered, laying his hand upon hers. “You are in trouble.” “I— Oh, how shall I tell you? The doctor fears—-I know—l shall never sing again. My voice is gone! My career ended !” “My poor darling.’’ he cried, and forgetting poverty, prudence, everything but his love, he threw his arms round her. “Never mind, I will work for you —take care of you—if you will only love me and be my wife.” “Raymond—oh, Raymond, your love” blushing and trembling, “is precious. For I have loved you since the first day we met. But to marry—that,” with rising tears, “would be folly. Yet—” “I fear so. But some day I will—l must get on.” “Some day ; ves. Till then we must be patient dear, and wait.’’ He sprang .t-o his feet and strode up and down the balcony. “Patient—and wait! What a dreary outlook for us both !” “Telegram for you. sir,” said the hoardin g-house ‘‘buttons,’ ’ coming unseen to his elbow. Raymond tore it open. “Come at once,” it said. “Mr Coniston died this morning. You are sole heir.” “Evangeline!’’ He caught her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. “Oiir waiting need not he long. Uncle Luke is dead, and Lindenvale is mine. Look up and rejoice, sweetheart. Our happiness is now T assured.” But Evangeline uttered no word. Overcome with emotion she had swooned away, her head upon his breast.