A SHORT STORY.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 167, 20 April 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

A SHORT STORY.

AFTER MANY DAYS.

By ETTIE ROGERS

From "Spare Moments."

Down upon the olc round table Portia tossed her things helter-skelter—-the empty purse and much-mended gloves, the shabby umbrella and the black cloth coat with its edges beginning to fray, and tho hat which she had trimmed with her own clever hands with an aigrette which once belonged to her grandmother. Then with a bitter sigh she flung her'elf despairingly upon the cretonneupholstered ceal box which served as a sofa. Portia's long-tried and long-enduring patience had failed her at last. She was cross, as unreasonable in her vexation as a naturally sensible and sweet-tempered girl can be when everything—fate, the world and everybody jjj it—seems to have conspired against her peace and welfare. She dici not cry. She lay quite still, her pretty hands clenched, her lips tightened painfully, her faco looking pitifully pale and peaked, win e her big grey eyes were star.ng straight befoie h «I can do no more, and there's no use trying," she murmured. It s like beating one's bare hands against a wall dfiron . I don't know what will become ou ° Man has forsaken me and Heaven is deaf to my prayer.. 1 Wouldn't worry so much only tor httle Rov. I couldn't part with him I Near her an open door disclosed a little cupboard of a bedroom and a tow cot upon winch lay a sleeping child, noldint fast in one chubby hand a decaiitaTed horse, while with the other he hugged a kitten to his little bosom. PorSK gloomy eyes brightened as she said tofierself, nSvVdone more than my duty by him Why should I make a slave o m\self for my Mother's motherless S,ld when that brother has wrecked mv lite 'But I promised to help mnny KyS; and a promise to the dymg-s was tea years older than his sistar Portia. As a boy he was a wild and reckless youth, and to early manhood was no better. He a the first-born and the best-belovec child of his widowed mother, who when dyto* extracted from Portia the promise SSt she would never forsake mm; that bewoiud always assist andde end bm no matter how wild or wicked he might X mother's grave was Hardly made before he became involved * * J* reputable affair, and was threatenea with sure and speedy punishment "Give me all the money you have Sis and I will save you the disgrace g indubious an 1 will be a credit to you yet, he sail t0 an expert with the needle and biush, and she was employed by a Sm who made a speciality of decoraSA They paid her libera wages, and she had saved quite a littlesum which she had meant to use for her We For n portia at that time was betrothedf and be r marriage day was appomt-

ed F6r a moment she looked at her brother in mute, reluctant apFeal ••How can 1 let you have the money, Danny? You wouldn't want me o put off the marriage, would you: she tai tered at length. . „ ,- ••Why not?" he said, coollv. lou are too l young to marry a: .mow-not ! St .seventeen! And Daventry is on-Evenly-one. And you won dn t wan me to go to prison, would you ? Didn t y? u promise mother to do all you could t0 » There is no naed to remind me.of that "'aid Portia, trymg to repress her Jl«riage°with Vance Daventry H/could not entirely conceal his disappointment, but he betrayed.no write Son, no inclination to reproach her, as many a lover might have done- " Onlv" he remarked once m his tenderest manner-/ only, my deare I ( n,- it ;« in unw.se precedent, uanny tain to squander the money and etlnt fresh difficulties. And then he wi 11 demand more of your earning. by, and Porta had neither seen her bother nor heard front she had again considerable amount from hci eainngs S she and her faithful young infer bad once more decided upon the date ol their marriage. -, Daventry had taken a pretty InJc house in the suburbs and was getting;J dainty home-nest ready tor U.s house U mustn't spend all my money for finery 1 shall nud so many little things for housekeeping, i olt '' l ;'!' . to herself one morning with a tend* b mile and a happy blush. She was going shopping w tli once tahtday, and she was already dustfU tor the journey. . Th. doorbell rang just then ••It is Vance,' sl.e thought, and a look of rapturous pride mingled witn the smiles and blushes. But it was not her lover yetIt was the postman bnnging her a letter—a letter from Danny! She- opened thj ominous envelope with shaking fingers; her apprehend eves Hashed a swift glance oter t enclosed missive, and then she dropped faintly into the nearest chair. -I am in trouble," she had read wtn bated breath. " For our dead mothei „ sake Portia, come here to me at once. I must have money-fifty pounds at least! If you haven't m> much Daventrv will lend it to you!'' 'For a moment she sat stunned. -Don't go to him, dear \ou Have already done your duty by him and ho has no right to demand more, conn''died her betrothed, who entered the room a little later. •'Oh, Vance, don t you sec that 1 must 20?" she wailed. . n r"blushing face was wl.t,. now and prief stricken. She was crying lielpmy dear, it breaks my heart to think that I must cause yon .o much pain," she added. He took her in Ins arms and kissed the t?ar-drenehcd face. "Yon mnst do whatever seems rght to von "he said tenderiy. It is na i.Mlat I should protest when I see vn, in- made the v-tun of your thers selfishness. Butl shah'i ß *JsJ |„vc vou, my Portia, and 1 shall no e „|U you to blame yourself for am distress and disanpointmcnt 1 maj ■- dnonvd to hear' , Again the bridal day was delayer . n ,i Port'... hastened to her broth.- , as he had beeped hor ,o do qi.r. found Dannv liehind prison bar, He had persuaded a charming you;.g

girl, barely more than a child, into n clandestine marriage, ana the girl's grandmother —a greedy an dunscrupnlous ola virago—had charged him with abduction.

"She will withdraw the charge if 1 pay her in cash for my wife," Danny explained. "And I adore my beautitVl Stella, I can't live without my litt'e jrirl Oh, Portia, pay her the money! Give me back my freedom and my little bricc and I will bless you as long as I live." Portia settled the matter somehow. although it nearly beggared her. After sending Danny and his childwife to a distant town, where she had managed to secure a place for nim as accountant in a business house, she went back to her own home and to her wonted labour. With Danny married to a wife he loved. Portia tried to believe that she might at last dare to be rappy herself. A year anc something more elapsed without any tidings, good or ill, from him or concerning him. , . She was sitting one* evening singing over a bit of needlework; her lover was playing the violin beside her, when all at once the door was pushed roughly open, and Danny staggered into the pretty little parlour. His eyes were hollow and bloodshot, his hair was tousled and his face wis haggard and colourless; his clothing was almost in rags ,and' in his arms iie carried a wee baby only a few weeks old. •'lt's the same story of trouble, Portia!" he began wildly; "evil companions and bad habits. My wife is deadkilled by neglect and privation ! And I hav 0 brought you my motherless boy. I3e good to him, Portia, for our dead mother's sake." He laid the child across hei lap, and before she could' utter a syllable he was gone again. Portia looked at her lover with startled eyes. His young, manly face was white and stern, and that stern pallor was like a knife thrust to her heart. "Oh, Vance, this is the end of oui happiness?" she cried in a tortured voice. "I cannot let you bear my life's burden; I cannot Ut you share the anxieties of caring for my erring brother's child. "These burdens and anxieties add to the reason why our marriage should no longer be deferred. My dearest, your cares are mine," Vance replied with passionate earnestness. Portia shook her lovely dark head. "I set you free," she replied gently and firmly. "I must tread my thorny way alone. And—and you—you will seek some more fortunate girl than I am for your wife. In time you will teach yourself to forget, and to be happy with a later, better love. Fate is against us, Vance" "My best, my f.rst, my last, beloved, if you will not be my wife, 1 suall l.ve and die loveless and wifeless. In sending me away you are making shipwreck, ot both our lives," he remonstrated. But Portia would not be persuaded. And ioi the first time in their lives Vance parted from her in auger. He came the next day, and the next, and the next. But Portia's resolution was neither to be weakened nor overruled. Fmalij Vance resigned his situationhe was superintendent in a large wholesale house—and started on an aimless journey. "1 can't stay here, he said to rortia wlien bidding her farewell; "I can't stay where everything reminds me of you. Wherevei the whim of the moment directs me, thither snail I go. And' if ever 1 meet your black sheep brother, he shall have cause to remember that meeting as long as he lives." And thus lie departed, and the silence of years settled between them. Whither he went, whether he ever met Danny, or whether he were true or faithless, alive or dead, Portia did not know. . She had been too busy to brood much over "what had been, and might never b<-again." . . , Danny's child had been a care whic.i occupied heart and hands and mrn-l alike. She had become fond oi the. sturdy little chap and begrudged him nothing. But he was an expense which prevented her from saving, as she had always been able to do heretofore. There had been baby ailments, and a doctor to pay; days when her work was neglected that she might nurse him. , ~ , And then her old employer retiree from business, and for months she had been searching vainly for the work which was marc necessary now tha-.i ever before. Durmg those long months of enforced idleness she had been compelled to strip her little homo of everything saleable that she might provide Roy and herself with the bare necessities | of existence.

And now her last poor resouice was exhausti d .She had speut her last sovereign. She lay motionless on the cretonneupholstered deal box, just as she had flung herself when she entered the room that rainv afternoon. Her dry. feverish eves wore fixed despairingly on the child, as he still slept with the white kitten and the headless horso hugged tight in bis little arms. "I must let them take bun to the workhouse. Thro is no other way. And then, when little Roy is safe, it won't matter about me," the unfortunate girl muttered to herself. She was heartsick, she was ill bodily and msntallv. 'I he strain ha 1 been too severe, the grief and need too hitter. Presently the dusk shut the sleeping child from' her sight. The stars glimmered through her windows: the moon shot a pale beam athwart the gloom of the half-dismant'rd rooms. Still she lay motionless, staring into vacancy. In the morning she must send Boy away from her! And then she would go—whither? Perhaps to the dark, rolling liver! She had no strength, no cour;!g.., to prolong the useless struggle! Perhaps it would be better il she had not been quite so proud! Then somebody would have let her have work. There must be kind and generous hearts somewhere in the world. But what did it matter 5 Vance would never come back to her now! And in the dark, Then she slept—a sleep haunted by mocking dreams-a sleep from whicn she was awakened by the sun shining warm on her face. Somebody—the workhouse people for Roy, no doubt-was rapping outside her door. She opened it and then stood wondering dumbly if it were only part ol her dream. . Dannv, dressed like a gentleman ol means '.' Danny, looking like a man who was honoured and upright and prosperous! The "black sheep'' brother returned after many days, bringing ba'-k multiplied a thousand-fold the bread slip had ea~t unon the waters. •'And I think I have come none too soon.'' the reformed man said with emotion. "Don'tcry, S s: your brother and our mother's sou c-ouhl not always live a vagabond. I am rich now. and it's nil for you and the boy." His own eves were wet as he embraced Portia and his child. "I 1 anpened to meet a wandering youth a few weeks a?o S.s. v he continued as bo turned suddenly to Cue door. "I brought him with mo, and here he

One- wild look, a sb angling cry, and the girl was in Vance Daventry's arms. And there we leave her. The martyr had gained her crown. The sacrificing sister, the noble sweetheart, had won her proud reward.