A Complete Story.

Rodney and Otamatea Times, Waitemata and Kaipara Gazette, 15 May 1912, Page 6

A Complete Story.

(All Rights Reserved.)

A FOOL IN LOVE.

BY G. MANVILLE FENN

Author of "Double Cunning," "The New Mistress," "High Play," "Draw Swords," "A Crimson Crime," "A Bag of Diamonds," &c.

"Here, I say, Lin, surely I haven't got a snout like that!"

"For shame, uncle! It's exact— the family nose."

"Stuff! It's worse than the last photograph."

_" 'Oh, wad some power the giftie gi'e us, to see oursel's as ithers see us."

The first speaker only heard half, for he dabbed down his smoking meerchaum pipe by the table easel, and thrust his fingers into his ears with an angry ejaculation.

"Don't! Haven't I told you fifty times over that.l can't stand Burns? Look here, that won't do at all. I'll never believe that I've got a beak like that."

"I never knew before that Cornwall was a place to make people indulge in slang, uncle dear," said the painter, gravely, as she applied the brush to palette and went on giving delicate touches to the organ in question. "Your language is shockingly depreciative of your—your —"

"Counterfeit presentiment, eh?" "Yes; it's the true family Roman

nose."

"Roman? Rum 'un."

"You always make bad jokes when you're out of temper, uncle. That nose, I say, is exact, or will be when I've added a little to the high lights."

"Stop! I won't have any more high lights put on. It looks now all coppery and shiny like that of some old whiskey bibber. And my hair isn't as grey as that, and doesn't stand up all over my skull like 'vhite fireworks."

" 'Oh, wad some power—:

"Do you want to put me in a passion, Lin? There, put that thing away. I wont' be painted on a piece of cardboard in water. If I must be done it shall be on canvas in oils, fast colors.—That's brutal. What a nose!"

"It's true to nature, sir," said the painter, "in spite of your unpleasant remarks."

"I say it isn't. I dont drinkmuch."

"Of course you don't, sir, and that warm, bronze tone is sun burn, and I'm proud of my work. It makes you look a fine, noble, grand old gentleman, and that's what you are."

"You're a flattering, good looking gJPsy- There, put the rubbish away, ~and I'll get a boat and row you along under the rocks."

"Not until afternoon, dear," said the painter, firmly. "You promised me that I should have all my morn.ngs for work. I'm going to have that big, bronzy, red old fisherman to sit for me when I've done this."

"Bah ! what's the use of it? Waste your time aiid energy."

"Noj uncle. I'm going to work hard till I can get something- done that's worth hanging. If I don't become a good artist it shall not be for want of trying.".

"You will never be, Lin." "Th<*n I'll be a fifth, or sixth, or seventh rate one." "You never will."

"Why, uncle?" said the girl, flushing slightly, "Am I so stupid?" "No; you're the dearest, cleverest puss,l- ever knew, but Nature says, that you won't make an artist."

"WJhy, uncle?"

"Because you're too good looking." ♦What flattery!" \

"'Tisn't. You said I was a grand looking old man?"

"I did, uncle; and so you

are.'

"And so you are a beauty, Lin, and.Nature says she has something else for you to do, better than daubing on colors." '

The painter frowned and became more intent upon the admirable sketch before her.

"It's just as I expected," continued the old man, smoking away now and glancing sideways at his niece. "They're both here."

The brush dropped on the carpet, and the girl sat up, looking scarlet, while her fine eyes literally flashed as the old man went on, speaking very sadly now.

"I wish dear old Jack had been clever enough to keep himself alive, and not been in such a hurry to get to Heaven after your mother." ''Uncle/dear! Please!" And the bright eyes grew softened and dull.

"Can't help it, pussy. I love my task, but I'm a stupid, indulgent old fool, and not .fit to have the charge of one who has grown up from a bright, merry, playful little darling into a beautiful woman who wants a mother's care. I've spoilt you, Lin."

"Uncle, dear!" cried the girl, throwing down her palette, and as she sprang up to throw her arms about the old man's neck, as she spangled his great grey beard with drops which glittered in the morning light. "You haven't spoilt me, You've always been so gentle and kind that if I did'nt love, you as you deserve, I should be the most ungrateful creature under the sun."

"Yes, yes, yes! That's the way of it." said the old man, pitching his pipe away impatiently, to draw the girl closer to him and begin caressing her and stroking her beautiful hair. "You love me well enough, pussy; but it's only uncle. It's all nature, I suppose, but I don't like it, Lin, ano*— there, I must speak, my dear. It wasn't nice of you to tell those two chaps we were coming here." "Uncle," cried the girl, passionately, as she laid her hands now upon his shoulder, to hold herself at arm's length and flash an indignant look into the old man's eye's. "Yes," he said bitterly, "it's uncle—only uncle. If it had been Jack or your dear mother who had brought you up, you wouldn't."

"For shame, uncle! To think that I would do' such a thing—do anything that Oh, uncle, I didn't indeed!"

"Eh? You didn't? Then how did they find out?"

"I don't know, uncle," said the girl, whose cheeks now began to grow pale, even as her hot words turned cold. "Perhaps you spoke of it at the club."

"What! I be so foolish as to tell these two foxes where I was going to hide my goose " cried the old man, indignantly. "I beg your pardon, my dear; I meant little dove, That's likely, isn't it? Why —hum—cr—bless my soul!" "What is it, uncle?" said the girl, taking advantage of both the old man's ears being rubbed viciously at the same time.

"I beg your pardon, my dear, I'm afraid I "

"Told Captain Brian and Mr. Severne that you were coming; here?"

"No —no —no—no!" shouted the old man, angrily. "But I remember I was telling the hall-porter where to send my letters just as those two scoundrels came into the club. And—and here they are. Pd just got over seeing Severne squatting on a rock shelf under his white umbrella below the big cliff round the point, daubing a canvas, and was down at the end of the pier calming myself with a pipe and wondering whose yacht it was that had come into the harbour during the night, when I was saluted with : 'How do, Sir Joseph?' in Brian's confounded drawl! He must have brought Severne "down with him.".

Ellen Lanport had walked to the window to stand looking out at the glistening sea, her head thrown back, and apparently too much occupied by her own thoughts to pay the slightest heed to the apologetic words of the old. man. "I really beg your pardon, Lin, my dear," he said, "I was hurt and; ; vexed. Severne is a gentleman, but that Brian always makes me feel gouty. I want to kick the puppy. Why can't he stick to his soldiering, and not be playing the sham: - sailor? He'll wreck that yacht before he has done. Do, for goodness' sake—l mean, don't, for goodness' sake, I—er—of course, its only natural, my child ; but when it does come off, I should like it, to be: —cr —Lin—Lin,my child —I "

The words grew slower, and more and more disconcerted, as; striving hard to hide the agitation quivering in her handsome face, Ellen Lanport walked quickly out of the room.

"Lin, my dear,-dqn't go. We'll pack up, and——"

At that moment k&\& door was closed, and Captain Sir Joseph Lanport stood glaring at i the quivering handle, for the ring was loose, before stalking heavily to the table, snatching up his pipe arid soft felt hat, thrusting the first into his pocket and placing the latter upon his head, giving it a fierce cock, before snatching it off again and flinging it down with an angry, laconic utterance into which was

condensed his rage against the two fresh comers to the far western harbour and against himself for his blunder. <

,11.

"I'd a deal rather have gone right away, my dear," said Sir Joseph. "Let's try the Riviera, Lovely place that. Coast all along, you know."

"You like Heston, Uncle Joe, and the sea?"

"Yes, my dear, of course; but that would be all seaside."

"Not English seaside, uncle; and it is very beautiful here. It wouT3 be undignified, dear." "Think so, my dear?'' "Yes, very. Uncle Joe, cannot you trust me?"

;Trust you? My dear, darling

"Then I will speak out. Uncle dear, you have always been to me as my father. You must be mother, too. Uncle dear, I cannot be blind to Captain Brian's attentions, but if ever he honoured me by . asking me to be his wife, his answer would be a most uncompromising 'No!' "Hah!" cried the old man, glistening with satisfaction. That's my own brave, true girl, and you've made me very happy—that is, jusv half happy, my child."

"Only half, uncle?" "Yes. Only halL my pet. You see, there's that other fellow."

"Mr! Severne, uncle?" said Ellen speaking very gravely now. "Yes, my child. A sensible, gentlemanly fellow, I must own. Making a fine thing of the paintin" he's doing: yonder. Let's see; he has been here a week now. Began his picture down here a twelvemonth ago, he says, and came- down to finish it. Rather queer that I should have picked out this place. Says he has been here regularly for the last five years. Seas and skies are so fine. Brian offered to bring him down this year, he said, last night after dinner. Spoke not quite frankly. Sort of apologetically." "Why should Mr. Severne apologise, uncle? The place is quite free." "Yes, my dear ; of course, of course; but he said—over a cigar you know, that we had together on the pier, while Brian stopped hanging about to listen to the music—" "Yes, he was in the drawingroom last night, uncle," said Ellen, quietly.

"Exactly, my dear; but about the apology. Mr. Severne was very gentlemanly and frank, and went straight to the point at once-"

"Uncle!"

"Yes, my dear. Treated me as if I were your father, and asked my permission to speak to you."

Ellen was silent for a few moments.

"You don't like him, do you, my dear?" said the old man, rather piteously.

"I have always found Mr. Severne very gentlemanly, and most intelligent upon art matters, uncle dear, and I was quite unaware that —that he thought so.much of me."

"And you don't love him a bit, my dear?"

"No, uncle," said the girl, calmly. I have never coupled my acquaintance with Mr. Severne with any such thoughts, and I am very, very sorry. Perhaps, after all, it would be better that we should leave here."

"Ha! Hum! Well—er—l don't know, my dear," said the old sailor, changing his tack, "perhaps, after all, it would be a pity. This place suits me exactly. We both like it, and you know you've made me feel very happy and satisfied, my child. I don't see why, because those young fellows choose to fall in love with you, we should be compelled to up-anchor and go somewhere else. Look here, Lin, we won't go. It would as you say, be undignified. We'll stay here. I don't understand much about that sort of thing, but I do know this, that when a young fellow makes advances to a lady who doesn't favour them, she has a way of freezing him up and sending him about his business; and if ever 1 knew a girl who could do that sort of thing you are the very one, my dear. No, we won't go. Captain Brian may sail away with his friend as soon as he likes, and I hope he won't run him ashore and drown him. There, now we've had it out, and understand one another. . When am I to sit again for my portrait? I say, Lin, dear, I'm getting quite reconciled to that nose."

"We'll go on to-morrow, uncle," said Ellen, kissing the bronzed face affectionately. And the old man went out, chuckling and contented.

"Bah!" he said. "It's all a seafog or mirage. She's as heart-whole as ever. I've been frightened of fancies. When the right man comes I'll take them by the hand. Heaven bless them both! But these two will never have the courage to propose; and a good job too! Bah! What a selfish old humbug I am!" 111. Hut, then, Sir Joseph Lanport was not behind the scenes. It was not for him to know that the yachtj ing young soldier was as jealous as he was vain; that he was apparently devoted in his attachment to Frank Severne, whom hie followed about like a dog, divining more than knowing the young artist's attachment to the woman of his

choice, and scheming constantly to keep him always in sight.

. "I'd get the fellow on board the yacht and \yreck him or pitch him overboard some dark night if he really stood in my way," he said to himself, with an ugly look on his handsome young face.

"Can it be possible," said Frank Severne to himself, "that she, so grave, so spirituelle, so deeply thoughtful, can care for a man tiecause he is tall and strong, and has what people call a manly face?"

Frank Severne was in doubty and he though a great deal, and went on painting his seascape upon a dangerous ledge in one of the mighty .cliffs, to which in calm weatfier he was taken across the bay by one of the fishermen; but in rough weather he was driven, to be lowered from the top of the rock by means of a rope. His friends of the Newlyn school vowed that this picture would win him the three coveted letters "A.R.A." at the end of his name, while, his enthusiasm increasing, his choice of so remarkable a spot was the talk1 of all the visitors to the hotel.

And' so the time went on till the day when Uncle Joe was proved to be a bad judge, as the conclusion of an interview between Ellen and Captain Brian may show.

It was in the drawing-room of the hotel one evening, when most of the people were on the pier, and a long-watched for opportunity had been seized—one in which Ellen was

alone

"I don't want you to do anything, rash, you know," said the young man, eagerly. "I've been waiting ft long time before speaking, and I don't mind how much longer I wait; so pray take time."

"There is no need to take time, Captain Brian," was the calm, grave reply. "It would be unjust and cruel to leave you in suspense. Let me say at once—: —" /

"No, no!" cried the young man, piteously. This is too hurried. I told you I'd wait, as I told Sir Joseph when I asked leave to speak to you. Don't condemn me almost unheard."

"I have heard you, Captain Brian, and I repeat that it would be an injustice to leave you in sus

pense."

"You don't mean to say that you won't give me any hope? lam rich, you know, and I'll do anything to make you happy. There's the yacht you see. I'll sell'her and build such a one as has never yet been on the seas. She will be the best money can get, and we'll sail round the world in her. Don't say no yet." "I must. Captain JBrian. What you ask is impossible. I never could be your wife."-

"Do you mean that?" he said, his manner changing, and a peculiar twitching making its appearance about the corners of his lips. Ellen gave a sad and sympathetic look as she bowed her head.

"Then he has been beforehand with me"—was flashed out.

"Captain Brian!"

"I—l beg your pardon," cried the young man, hastily. "I couldn't help it. You can't tell what you've made me suffer. Ido love you, you know—awfully, and it's like cutting one down. It's enough to make a fellow go aboard and sail anywhere till he runs upon the rocks and goes down out of this miserable world. There, I beg your pardon once again. You'll forgive me and part friends?"

"Yes," said Etfen, sadly, and she extended her hand, which the young man caught and held pressed close to his lips, kissing it passionately again and again in spite of all efforts to withdraw it.

Then there was an angry snatch in which it was torn away, for Ellen had raised her eyes to find that the whole scene was reflected from one of the great pier glasses of the room, which showed her, too, the back of Captain Brian as he hurried out of the French window.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Lanport," said a cold, clear, voice, which sounded free frorh all emotion, but made the listener thrill with anger. "I have just parted from Sir Joseph on the pier. He said I should find you here— alone.

There was a slight emphasis upon the last word, one which' seemed to come reluctantly, but told its tale.

"He must have seen"—flashed through its hearer's brain, and for the moment she lost all command over herself, standing as If utterly stunned, listening but only hearing imperfectly a repetition of the apology.

The next moment she was alone, and thinking in a way that was as new as it was strange. Her words to her uncle respecting the young artist came back now with a strange insistence, forcing her, as it were, to think of him as she had never thought before, while her greatest trouble, which mingled with her anger at being placed in such a position by the boorish declaration Ito which she had been forced to listen, was that Frank Severne should, of all men, have been a witness to the conclusion of the scene. ■ . Things go very contrary sometimes in love. IV. "Confound him; That was why," raged out to the disappointed lover, "he was coming to see her, and—— Ohj yes, that was why she held me

off. She couldn't have done so, else. No," he added, glomily, "it was final enough; but I'm riot done yet. I'm not the sort- of man to take 'no' for answer from a pretty woman." "

He haa gone straight down to the piety as if about to board his yacht, but he contented himself with lighting a cigar and seating himself upon one of the. granite mooring posts, planting his feet upon the yacht's cable, and thinking, as it were, to the rhythm of the outstretched rope when it slackened and tightened as the graceful vessel rose and fell to the action of the tide in the harbour.

"I should have thought any woman would have jumped at the idea of a voyage round the world; but she didn't bite a bit. Rather jolly to have had her, though, \ all to oneself, sailing away through the sunny seas like in a dream."

He followed the course of the cable to where it went down into the water in a curve before it rose again to reach the yacht's bows, its lower parts being lit up by the wondrous little phosphorescent creatures of the deep which encrusted it, as it were with gold.

"Plenty of . money, and a good vessel; but one can't always have everything one wants, and that last" is generally the woman to whom one takes a fancy. Hang 'em ! They're a queer lot. Nice, though, to gs sailing away when one's master.of them, whether it's on a steamer or a yacht, and I suppose it would be the same on board one of those little luggers that sail like the wind. Ha, ha, ha! 'Once on board the lugger, she is mine!' Good old times of the melodrama! What a pity they're dead! What nonsense one thinks sometimes! But I'm not done yet. A woman's no to-day may mean yes to-morrow. Why no? I'll try again. But what about Frank? I can't be friendly to the beast any longer. Suppose he saw me kissing her haijd? He must! Well, so much the better. Choke him off. There, I'm not beaten yet; I'm not going to be. I never have been yet where I've set my mind. Better go on as I've been going on with my Royal Academician in the egg. Even if he is making play, I may be able to spoil his little game."

It was at breakfast the next morning in the 'hotel coffee-room. •

Brain had met Ellen and her uncle and set her mind at rest by hi<= grave, respectful manner. Severne was in his place when Sir Joseph came down, and the old man stood chattering to them for a few minutes about the picture and the strange position he daily occupied.

"It's a risky spot, sir," said the old man, dogmatically.

"Oh, I don't know, sir. Not unless in a storm. The waves never reach my ledge."

"I don't know so much about that sir. I've been all round the world, and I know what pranks the sea can play. It will be all perfectly cairn, perhaps, and then all at once a wave will come gliding in shoreward, and rise fifty, sixty, or seventy feet. How would you be if such an event occurred " >

"Swimming for my life, I suppose," said Severne gravely.

"You would. But what about your picture—your canvas?"

"Taken in hand to clean, Sir Joseph, by Nature," cried Brian, laughing.

"It's nothing to laugh at, young man," said Sir Joseph, sternly. "I should be sorry to see such good work spoilt."

"Then let us hope we may have no earthquake waves, Sir Joseph."

"With' all my heart, sir By the way, I should like to come one day and smoke a cigar on your ledge, and see you paint for an hour or two."

'I shall be most happy, Sir Joseph, was the reply. "The, view~~"from the ledge there is very fine."

"It must be I'll come. then. By the way > though, what about my niece. Can I bring her?"

"Decidedly not, sir," was the reply, firmly given. A lady could not ascend from the boat without difficulty, and it would be too unpleasant for her to be lowered down."

"Well, yes. Foolish of me to ihink of such a thing. But fhe* difficulties will not keep me away."

"I should have Tiked to take you, though, if it had been possible, my dear," said Sir Joseph, later on, and Brian sat hearing every word, though apparently engrossed with his breakfast. ' 'The view round the bay fror that end1 is very fine."

"We could sail round, I suppose," said Ellen, quietly.

"Yes, and that's what we will

do."

Just then the young man rose and passed out through the French window.

"But yacht,"

not said

in Captain Brian's Sir Joseph", with a

chuckle

That morning Ellen devoted to her painting, but progressed very slowly, for her thoughts would wander. At one time they followed the trail of smoke issuing from the funnel of Captain Brian's yacht, which glided away from the harbour and was. for long enough* in sight, during which time she felt a certain amount of pity for the rejected one. the more so that he had been so grave and reserved that morning in their intercourse, look-

ing as if he respectfully accepted the position.

Later on, in spite of brave efforts to dismiss the thoughts, she found herself dwelling long upon Frank Severne fainting away at his picture on the shelf of the cliff, and the more she thought the more interest she took in that picture and its progress, even to wondering, .whether it would prove the great success his friends prophesied. She was quite alone, for her uncle had gone out soon after breakfast, where, she had not troubled herself to think, and as it was getting toward luncheon time when the thought struck her that probably he had gone to join Frank Severne upon the rocks.

There was no reason why she should color slightly, but she did, and then turned with a movement full of vexation to continue her work at the background of her picture; but the brush had only made a few strokes before her attention was taken off by the sight of the little yacht gliding by the window once more tojvard the mooring in the harbour; but it stopped instead just at the end of the little peir, round which it was backed in and apparently temorarily moored by a rope. "How absurd it is," thought Ellen at last. "I might just as well put away my work and go and look for uncle. It must be nearly lunch time

now."

■ The next moment she had started from her seat, for Brian suddenly appeared at the window, to look in, see that she was there, and enter at once, crossing to where she had risen from her seat, and taking her hand. An hour had elapsed when Sir Joseph sauntered into the coffeeroom with Severne, chatting affably till they separated, each to go to his own particular table.

"My niece has had her lunch, I suppose," said the old man. "I'm very late to-day.

"No, Sir Joseph,"'said the waiter "She has not come back yet."

Severne looked up. "Indeed! Gone for a walk?" "No, Sir Joseph; she went down the pier with Catitain Brian."

"Went down the pier with Captain Brian?" cried the old man unable to conceal his irritation, while Severne bent down over his plate. "When?. How long ago?"

"About an hour, .sir, just before the lunch was ready."

"Well, hasn't she come back?"

"No, Sir Joseph; they went on board the yacht together, and she steamed away at once."

"Steamed away?" "Yes, Sir Joseph, toward the mouth of the bay."

"But why? What for? Here, Mr Severne, do you hear this?"

Severne rose and stood looking ghastly as he bent his head, for he could not speak, nor see anything but the repetition of the scene he had witnessed in the mirror overnight.

"Why don't you speak, man? Do you know the meaning of this— did you know that they were going?"

"No, sir," came the hoarse, strange voice.

"But— but— Here, where is that glass?"

The waiter ran out, and returned with the old fashioned telescope kept in the hall, to have it snatched from his hand by the old officer, who stepped out into the verandah, to focus it and sweep the bay, before closing the glass angrily and turning upon his companion.

"Look here, Mr. Severne," he said, sternly, "as a gentleman who professed to have some pretensions toward my niece's hand, I ask you whether you know anything about this business?"

"Nothing, sir." "But you are Captain Brian's friend."'

"No, sir," said the young man, hoarsely, "I am the greatest enemy he has on earth."

"Because my child has eloped."

Severne groaned, but he did not flinch from the old man's searching eyes; He would have died, though, rather than to have confessed to what he had seen overnight.

"Bah!" cried the old man. "A woman, after all. It comes natural to them to deceive everyone in turn, those they profess to love the most cruelly."

"No," cried Severne, angrily. ''Man, man don't speak like that! You do not know Captain Brian as I do. I cannot, will not believe that Miss Lanport is to blame. This is some vile plan of that scoundrel."

"Ha," cried Sir Joseph, eagerly, as he caught the young man's hand in his. "Thank Heaven for that! I've got an honest, loyal gentleman by my side to bring back a little of my faith. Ellen cannot be to base. You must be right. It seems impossible, for in these days such a thing could not happen. He couldn't have carried her off like this."

"It is impossible, Sir Joseph. There is more behind this than we know of."

"Yes, but look here, Severne, if harm has happened to my poor child, by Heaven, sir, law or no law, I'll shoot him as I would a dog!" . .

Nesws came before night to those who paced the hotel, helpless, for they could only come to the conclusion that the yacht would make for some foreign port.

The news was bad enough, and came from the keepers of the light-

house on the Black Rocks, thirty miles off the most' southern point of the Cornish' shore"The Peregrine yacht Sjtruck thisafternoon on the Grey Crag. Sunk soon after. All saved. Lady and gentleman much injured. Send

doctor."

It was late before the swift tug landed Sir Joseph, Severne, and the doctor at the jetty, where the Atlantic waves always broke heavily at the foot of the tall lighthouse,

whose dazzling rays had been their guide from the time the tug rounded the point. . "How is the lady?" was the first question blared through the speaking-trumpet as soon as tug was within hearing. i "Better. Has come to. The captain insensible still."

"Ha!" growled Sir Joseph, savagely. "Then I can't shoot him yet."

A short time later the old man

was sitting beside his niece, who lay on a hastily prepared bed in the lighthouse room, for the doctor had given him leave to learn the truth for which he was thirsted.

There was little to tell, and it was told hurriedly, the doctor insisted that the interview should be short.

The old man decended then to where Severne was pacing the lower room in agony.

"Well, sir?" he panted

"The scoundrel's legs are both broken, boy. I wish it had been his neck."

"Your niece, is your niece—

cried Severne

"Better, but too bad to move. Thrown on these horrid rocks. Bad cut and concussion of brain. The brute! I knew he was no sailor. Ran the yacht right on these rocks under the light. Good Heavens! Any school boy would have done better."

"But, for Heaven's sake, tell me all, sir," cried Severne, clinging to the old man's hand.

"Oh, to be sure—of course; all a cock and bull itory, sir, to get her to go with him in the yacht. Confessed to her afterwards that it was all lies, so that she might, compromise herself by going alone with him as far as he liked to take her, and' be obliged then to say 'Yes' and become his wife."

"Ha!" gasped Severne. with a sigh of relief.

"Told her that he had come straight from me who lay dying after nearly breaking my neck coming to see you at your rock studio. Poor darling! With such a message she couldn't stop to think, and came away at once. Oh', oniy wait till he gets well and I get at him!"

Captain Brian did get well, but Sir Joseph did not see him in the flesh till long after Ellen was Frank Severne's wife.

(The End.)