LOO.
LITERATURE.
A London Riverside Story. ( Continued.) They have carried the girl into an untenanted room below, and some one gives directions to fetch a doctor. This is evidently something worse than nn ordinary case of ‘ toeing,’ and the men and women who hang about below speak in whispers now. The doctor comes speedily from a neighbouring street, and Billy, from his post np stairs, sees his arrival. Ho hears the echo of Loos sentence floating about among the crowd outside the room where she lies. < Her face are all smashed in ; but. that ain't so much matter. Her back it’s broke and she’ll be a ‘ stiff an ’ before morning. I thought as much when X see her doubled np all of a heap.’ Then Billy creeps down the stairs. He is quite sober now, and needs not to hold by the clammy wall, except for the terrible col 1 chills that now and then paralyze him. The doctor has examined Loo’s injuries and pronounced her doom. But.he has not done with her yet. He is accustomed to deal with unruly and lawless people, and Coroners are stern in their reprobts toward medical men There has been foul play here, and he is prepared to deal with it, 1 1 shall take this woman’s deposition, for I believe she has been murdered. There is the mark of a hand upon her throat.’He looks round the room at the wild crew, at the coarse unsexod women and blackguard men, with a comprehensive glance of scrutiny. None of them flinch before his regard. The guilty one is not hero. The crowd has only gathered together from neighbouring houses to see a girl die, and to witness if she dies game, a great matter in these parts. They know that Loo has heard her fate from the doctor. They think that it is more than probable that she will wreak her revenge on her slayer, and with a dying confession, sign Billy’s death warrant. She was a stranger to most of them, for she had shared no convivial gathering or rowdy fights, and they were not prepossessed in favour of one who had kept herself aloof. She was a poorspirited, pale-faced chit, and he, Billy Davis, would deserve what he got. He should have taken one of his own sort if he wanted one that would not turn against him. Suddenly at the back of the crowd, in the doorway, an apparition appears —an apparition indeed,‘for this haggard-faced, wild-eyed man looks like one risen from the dead. Ho towers above them all, and his eyes rest upon the still figure lying on the floor of this bare chamber, propped np by a straw mattress, while he draws a long, shuddering breath. He asks no questions. The flare of tallow candles, held over Loo’s head, shows along gash down the side of her fi.ee and head. There are splashes of blood on the 1 1 .
She is conscious, and, as the doctor stoops over her, her eyelids flutter. Ho is moved by pity ; for she is young and delicate-looking, not of the mould of the womankind he is used to deal with. He seeks to revive her sinking senses, bathing her brow and giving her strong salts. In his hand he has paper and pencil, and writes down her words as she answers him. ‘ What is your name, my dear ?’ ‘ Loo.’ 1 Your surname as well, I mean.’ ‘ Loo. I b’long to Willyum Davis.’ * You are married to him, you mean ’ —■glancing at her wedding ring. ‘ Yes, married’—what a happy smile 1 —‘ at the Registry. We went to Rosherville Hardings.’ How pitiful the wandering words are I ‘ How did the accident happen ? Who pushed yon down the stairs ?’ A pause. Loo opens her eyes wide with a supreme effort. What does the question mean? It will harm Billy, surely. 0, the dull brain, the giddy senses and failing nerves I 0, for the power to declare him guiltless ! ‘I—I failed down—in the dark. There warn’t no moon, and no lighter to catch me.’ A long, an audible breath of relief passes like a wave over the crowd. They look at one another. After all, Billy would be saved his “stretching match,” and the girl would die game. The doctor lifts Loo’s head and administers a cordial. It is a blessed momentary relief, which sends back life to Loo’s fluttering pulses. Her purpose is not accomplished yet. She tries to turn her head towards the onlookers. If she is able, she must prove Billy’s absence.
* Willyum —has never—come home 10-night. Won’t one on yer fetch him —from the Neptune—and tell him—gentle, as .his Loo is a dyin’, and wants a word with him ?’ The crowd parted, as if in answer to her prayer, and Billy made bis way toward her. He stooped down beside her, and the girl raised her feeble eyelids and looked at him with the gladness of satisfied love. The doctor shut up his note book in perplexity, gazing in speechless surprise at the pair who seemed so altogether unconscious of spectators. Was this the look of a woman toward her murderer ? Billy lifted her gently from the ground, and lay her across his knees. She does not groan at his touch, though a spasm crosses her face. He holds her close in his great arms, with her bleeding wounded face pressed ogainst his rough cheek. A fluttering sigh of satisfaction stirred her, and even with fast glazing eyes she smiled serenely. 1 I’m glad as you coined in time, Billy. I wants to tell yer—as Jeremy hev been to see me sinst yer went away —this morn in’. I gived him some money—from your bag. He were in trohble. He’ll tell all to-morow, when I’m gone. Don’t be angered with him —he were-good to me when I were a little tin, Willynm—l am sofrry —as I’m agoin’ to leave yer—and—l wants
to tell yer now—as I hcv been—very happy sinst I b’longed you. What a pity I failed down agon.—in the dark ! Don’t never go for to say as yon’— With a parting breath of loyalty, little Loo fell back spechless forevermore, Billy’s light went out, in his anus, and belongs to another kingdom now. Has she lived here in vain ? Ah, who can say ? Billy is degraded now to the lowest rank of prodigal*; bargees. He is dangerous in his cnps, and equally so if he is ever out of them. His brawls and brutal assaults are ever more frequent. He is detained for longer periods for the good of his country ; but every visit to prison seems to harden him into more despeiale ways. Ho was never tried for Loo’s murder. There was none to accuse him, and none had seen that ghastly deed. Has ho forgotten his young wife ? It is ten years since her light went out ; and in these times Billy ‘goes along of Molly.’ He drowns all recollections in drink ? yet now and again I believe there come terrible moments in the early dawn, when, staggering down to his baige, he secs once more a vision of a little child seated there. The light of other days shines with pity upon the poor dissolute wretch out of forgiving eyes and a voice he never can forget says softly to him, 1 1 b’longs to you.— Henry King in London Society. {Concluded.)
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Bibliographic details
Patea Mail, Volume IX, Issue 1173, 7 April 1884, Page 4
Word Count
1,236LOO. Patea Mail, Volume IX, Issue 1173, 7 April 1884, Page 4
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