THE BARTONS' SECRET.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7268, 22 July 1893, Page 4

THE BARTONS' SECRET.

LITERATURE-

CONTINUED) The outlook of things in general grew extremely sombre for Mr Dogdyke. It was all the worse for him, because he had bean altogether pursuaded that the secret of which be bad knowledge would maintain him, if not in affluence, at least in ease, for the remainder of bis natural life. He had groWo so accustomed to that belief that it was very, very bard to part with it. Hobody wanted to buy his secret; nobody was willing to be blackmailed. There were millions—actual millions sterling—in the bands of the people whom the secret affected, and they ' could well have afforded something out of their own abundance. The contemplation of these facts grew, at momenta, to be almost maddening, and the wretched Dogdyke would pause in the streets to groan aloud, to the astonishment of the passers-by. Since be bad abandoned his lodging he had no courage to face the waiting lahdtady, and he was compelled by his own cowardice to leave his belongings in her hands. He found employment of a sort in selling sewing machines on commission on the heir system, but business was extremely slack, and Dogdyke was far from thriving. The work held body and soul together, and that was all. After a while he summoned up courage enough to write to Burton and his wile, and when be had once dispatched the letters, he was always leaving bis employment to crawl off to the address be bad given to see if a response had yet arrived. Day after day passed, and no answer reached him. He grew desperate, and followed op bis appeal in a note of sesquipedalian pathetics, in which be represented himself as being on the very verge of starvation. He besought Barton to remember that he had once had it in bis power to be of service to him, and'he dwelt a: length on the affection which he had always felt for his infant charge, and the interest with which he had watched his growth to manhood.

Dogdyke’s letters made both Barton and bis’ wife angry, for it was beyond dispute' that tbe little man bad behaved with great ingratitude; but one day Mary, having some shopping to do in George Street, saw the woebegone Dogdyke from her carriage, and read a change in him which seemed pitiable. His clothes had always been too large for him, but now he shrank within them like a withered walout in its shell. His nose was pinched, and bis eyes were almost colourless ;it was warm weather, yet be walked in a kind of shiver, bis hands tncked under his great coat-cuffs, and bis feet tottering as if they felt the burden oi his shrunken body too much for them. Qe made a face of dreadful entreaty when he caught sight of her, end clapping his thumb and forefinger on his stubby chin, stood with a cringing air, uncertain whether to advance or no, and not daring to open any sign of recognition. Tbe carriage was at a standstill at tbe curb, and the shopman was in tbe act of placing a parcel within it. Mary beckoned to tbe abject little man, and he shuffled nearer, still with thumb and finger at his chin and his contorted into the most tearful aspect be could contrive.

* Come to the house,’ she ordered him. r I shall be there as soon as you will. Ask for me. You had better tro at once, for you’d hardly like Mr Barton to eee you.’

‘ Thank you, madam, thank you,’ reamed Dogdyke, end at once made off at bis best pace towards the Grampians. As he reached the drive the carriage swept past him, and Mrs Barton, alighting, waited (or him at the door. ‘ You can go in, Dogdyke,’ she said, * and 111 be with you in a moment.’

He bared bis bead with great humility, and choked twice or tbrica by way of expressing a gratitude too deep for words. Tbe coachman Lad driven away the carriage, and they were alone. ’You said in your letter,’ she questioned him, * that you were starving, Are you hungry ?’ Dogdyke laid both his bands upon his epigastrium, but answered not a word.

( Go to tbe kitchen,’ she continued, accepting his silent assent to ber question, * anl come to me when you have bad something to eat. 1 will give orders to tbe servants.*

* Ttmok you, madam, thank yon,’ said Dogdyke, and once more shuffled away.

Half an hour later, somewhat comforted and 100 kin or much less forlorn and aged, he presented himself in the dining-room. He-was amazingly meek and furtive, and accepted in silence the severe lecture with which Mrs Barton greeted him. But when she took a pocket-book from tbe table beside her, and drew from it two notes for five pounds bis eyes spat kled for ao instant. * Now mind you. Dogdyke,’ she said, 1 this is tbe very last help you’ll get. I give it you on one condition only—vou promise mo to go away—-go to Melbourne, and go at once. Write to me, and tell me your address, and some employment shall be found for you. I promised you that Tom should give you work on tbe old terms, but he is so angry at yon thai, even if you had offered to come to him, he would not have taken yon. I am glad to see/ she added, ‘ that you have been too much ashamed to make vour appearance at the offices. That is the only sign of -good I have known in yon for many a day. Now take that and go. Sbe handed him the notes, which she ' fbldbd tightly together in the vigour of her speedb, and Dogdyke accepted them with a bow. i

‘ Thank you, madam,’ said Dogdyke. ‘ Thank you. I hope you will believe that lam really thankful. Literally, madam. lam starving, and for a man who has known better days, as I have, that is bard, Mrs Barton ;it is extremely hard. 1

He cried a little, and wiped bis eyes with one of bis coat cuffs.

‘ There, there/ she said, easily mollified. f You have only to behave yourself' to escape anything of that kind in the future. Go (o Melbourne —go at once—write to me when you get there, and you shall have work given you to do. After that, everything will depend upon yourself.’

Dogdyke promised he would take the train that very day. He would be glad, he said, to escape from Sydney, where nothing but misfortune bad followed him for a long time. He was going on to say that his benefactress would have bis prayers, but at this Mrs Barton cut him short with an unmistakable decision, and be took bis leave.

He prowled about aimlessly for the few hours which inurvened between bis leave-taking and the departure of the train for Melbourne, and in due time reached the station. He had no. thing in the way of baggage, but he bought a pipe, tobacco, and matches, and a newspaper or two with which to beguile the journey, and thus provisoned be took his seat in the hindermost compartment of the train. There was a considerable amount of bustle on the platform, and Dogdyke saw and recognised General Mallard, who was there apparently to see off a friend. The train started, and Dogtiyke, who bad made himself as email as he could in his corner whiht there was there was any fear of his being seen by the General, put his head out of the window, and saw tbe General standing almost alone upon tbe platform waving bis hand in farewell to some person in one of the front carriages, who shook a handkerchief out of tbe window in response.

(To be continued.)