THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 5010, 18 May 1889, Page 4

THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER.

-LITERATURE-

‘ Yes, but the solution of that mystery does not lie beyond mine ; and it is not only between me and the post that the post that the matter will have to be settled,’ said Warriner, doggedly. ‘But there’s no use saying- anything more about it just now. As the melo dramatic ruffian observes, “The time will come.” Excuse my interruption.’ ‘ Well, to conclude, I couldn’t stand seeing Elorry s sweet little tace getting thinner and whiter each day; and so at last I made up my mind to start off after you, without telling a soul of my intention. So I packed up my traps, and here I am.’

‘God bless you lor your kindness, my dear old Triend ! ’ said Warriner, again seizing Mr Bolitbo by the hand, ‘ You have, indeed, made me a bankrupt in gratitude ; for I can never repay what I owe you in that coin.’ ‘ Nonsense, my dear boy. Said Ito myself, I’ll go and break every bone in the villain’s body,’ observed Mr Bolitho, in a voice choked with emotion ; ‘ and this is how I’m doing it.’ ‘And now, Mr Bolitho, what do you think I’m going- to do ?’asked Warriner. ‘ Go straight home with me by the first opportunity.’ ‘ Exactly so. I shall throw up my appointment here on the QuartermasterGeneral’s staff, which, I believe, has been a mere sham; and as lam on the wery best of terms with the General and the Governor, I have not the slightest doubt 1 shall be able to get leave to proceed at once to England on urgent private affairs. There’s a Erench despatch vessel starting for Marseilles to-morrow. Will that suit you ? ’

Old Bolitho brought his hands together with the report of a small thunder-clap, rubbed them vehemently for a few seconds, and then expressed his approval of the plan in the most emphatic terms.

As quickly as steam could carry them over sea and land, Mr Bolitho and Algernon Warriner travelled to Puddleton ; and here thrilling intelligence awaited them. The town’s normally even pulse was beating feverishly. Following the pernicious example of Bradingfield, Puddleton had broken out into open riot. The operatives had put forth impossible demands, and their refusal had led first to a general strike, and then to open defiance of the law. There had been a serious riot ; hut .the Mayor, though urged by his brother magistrates to call out the military, had stubbornly refused to do so. The consequence was, the mob, emboldened by immunity from pains and penalties, had proceeded to acts of greater outrage, until, in order to protect valuable property, and still more valuable lives, the Mayor bad read the Eiot Act, and empowered the local police to fire. Two or three of the rioters had been wounded, one of whom had since died, and Mr Buddlecombe was denounced as his murderer. Puddleton was at present chiefly engaged in the mobocratic amusement of hanging Mr Buddlecombe’s straw effigy in chains during the day, and burning it at night. There were, however, ominous symptoms that this pastime was beginning to pall upon Puddleton’s now vitiated taste, and that it craved for a more satisfying realism, of which this was only the shadow. Warriner was to be Mr Bolitho’s guest for the day; and as the two drove together in a fly to the latter’s residence, through the streets of Puddleton, knots of sulky operatives, who had either not been to bed all night, or had woke up from their drunken slumbers before their brethren, were gathered at the corners doggedly nursing their wrongs until the opening of the public-houses would furnish them with a more potent incentive than words.

Mr BMitho’s return was welcomed with the wildest joy by his entire household, whose principal duties during the last fortnight had consisted in dragging the neighbouring horseponds for their beloved master’s remains. The old housekeeper wept tears of joy, and then, suddenly changing her tactics, rated him soundly for the fright and grief he had occasioned them.

One of the very first acts of Mr Bolitho on arriving at home was to despatch a note to Florence, telling her of his return, and asking her to come over at her earliest convenience.

A barb and a change of clothes, and Mr Boliiho and Warriner sat down to breakfast. They had scarcely commenced when the former jumped up from his seat and rushed out of the room, exclaiming : ‘There she is, coming along like a little fairy, bless her ! You wait here, Warriner, my dear boy, until I bring her in. I must break the awful intelligence of your return.’ As Mr Bolitho spoke, Warriner saw through the window Florence hurriedly walking along the by-path which the reader has already been told connected Mr Bolitho’s house and Mr Buddiecombe’s. With a swelling heart he gazed upon the slight graceful form, and then, as she came nearer, upon the sad pale little face. As she beheld her old friend advancing to meet her, she rushed forward and threw her arms round his neck. Then old Bolitho, as he bent fondly over her, whispered something ip her ear which made her break away from him, and gaze up into his face with a kind of bewildered joy. In a few moments Algernon and Florence were face to face, and, as the readar may imagine, he had even less difficulty than he had with old Bolitho in proving his loyalty. Later on in the morning Mrs Buddlecombe, to whom the joyful tidings of Mr Bolitho’s return with Algernon’had been communicated by Florry, came over, and was good enough to rescind her bad opinion of Ikt daughter’s lover.

-But though Florence, Mrs Buddie-

combe, and Mr Bolitho were quite satisfied with Warriner’s own refutation of Sir Tripton’s calumny, he was not the man to allow such a matter to res f until it had been thoroughly sifted. The following day he proceeded to Bel ford Court, bearded Sir Tripton in his own hall, and elicited a written as well as a verbal confession from the old dandy, who, to do him justice, when be found the unexpected turn affairs bad taken, was most anxious to set matters right, and did not spare himself in his efforts to make the amende honorable. Having settled this matter, Warriner returned at once to Puddleton, and the following day Florence received a long letter from Agatha Madingley, full of love and congratulations. There was yet one tangled knot which had not been unravelled—the disappearance of Algernon’s letters. But, by a tacit understanding between the two lovers, the subject was allowed to drop. Elorry, for her father’s sake, kept her suspicions to herself; and Algernon Warriner, for her sake, was equally reticent. A review of the situution now disclosed to the lovers- that the course of their true love, as far as it was influenced by Mr Buddlecombe, had taken a retrogressive turn. It was a case of ‘as you were.’ Under the circumstances it was agreed that they had ‘better bide a wee’ before reopening negotiations with him ; but that in the meantime they would be ready to avail themselves of any favourable opportunity that might present itself. The opportunity came rather quicker that, they expected or could have hoped for.

Puddleton became more and more demoralised. Tremendous capital was made by the professional agitators out of the death resulting from Mr Buddlecomhe’s by no means premature order to the local police to fire, and the worshipful gentleman was held up to the scorn and obloquy of the mob. They called him a murderer, but in their eyes be was guilty of a still more heinous crime than murder —he was a man in authority over them. Three nights after Algernon Warriner’s return from Bellord Court, Mr Buddlecombe, who had sat up long after the household bad retired, was in his dressing-room, divesting himself of bis clothes and wishing with all his heart that he could as easily divest himself of his cares and troubles, public and private, when Spigot rushed in terror-stricken.

‘ O your worship, for the love of God send for the soldiers I ’ implored the trembling and pallid Spigot. ‘ The house is surrounded, your worship, and we shall all be murdered in our worshipful beds—leastways, I mean—o, send for the soldiers, your worship ! ’ ‘ Surrounded ! Bless my soul ! ’ faltered Mr Buddlecombe, standing aghast in the very airiest of costumes. ‘ Are you sure you haven’t been dreaming ? ’ he continued, as he walked to the window, and, drawing the blind a little aside, peered cautiously into the darkness. (To be Continued.)