Leaves of Destiny

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 388, 23 June 1928, Page 22

Leaves of Destiny

Author or ”A Fatal Fnandth'p,'- «• Hit Fair Enemy.” Held tn Bondage.” Ac. Ac

Dorothea Corbould

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I.—Barbara Denning gazes at her last shilling. A well-bred, wellnurtured girl, she has lost both her parents and is now on the brink of starvation Her sympathies are divided between her own necessities and the sufferings of a little boy in the same lodg fng-house whose mother is a drunkard. She goes out singing in the streets that nighr, and with the money earned she gets a supper for both the child and herself The next evening two men speak to her. praising her voice, and she decides to sing in the afternoon for the future. One afternoon she is again addressed by one of the men who spoke to her on a previous night. He gives her his card, advising her to go to a Mr Simpkins. the manager of the Diadem Theatre. Barbara Denning visits the theatre, and is interviewed by Mr. Simpkins. CHAPTER ll.—Barbara Denning's interview with Mr. Simpkins is almost terminated at the commencement, but he calls her back. She sings and he is satisfied. He decides she will do for the Birds' Chorus, and introduces her to a Mr. Beal, the musical director. He thinks she could understudy the Nightingale, Miss MacArthur's speciality, as that lady Is often absent through Illness. The salary Is £3 a week, and £5 when she takes the Nightingale. The following morning Barbara attends a rehearsal. Returning to her lodgings she finds some excited women chattering Mrs. Brown, the drunken mother of the little boy, Reggie, in whom she is so interested, h.ys been run over and taken to the hospital. A hospital nurse has called to see about the child as the patient was so anxious about him. Mrs. Bloggs. the landlady, has five of her own. and cannot undertake Rec-gie Barbara promises to be responsible for the child, goes to him and takes him to her own quarters. Two days later Barbara is told by Mrs. Bloggs

that someone has called from the hospital. Reggie’s mother has not long to live. She has asked to see Miss Denning She wants to talk about the child. CHAPTER 111. —Barbara Denning goes to the hospital and is taken to the bedside of Mrs. Brown. The screen has already been drawn round her. She tells Miss Denning that her husband belongs to the upper classes, while she is a blacksmith’s daughter; that he has never dared to tell them of his marriage. They would not have- recognised her if he had done so. She places a packet in Barbara’s hands, and bids her to give it to Don. her husband, who is a soldier, should he return. Barbara asks her husband’s name, and while trying to tell her married name the woman dies. The nurse appears. but can give no more information concerning Mrs. Brown’s real, identity. Arrived at home Barbara examines the packet, but discovers nothing helpful. At the theatre she notes that Miss MacArthur has taken a deep dislike to her tin jealousy Shortly afterwards Miss MacArthur is ill, and Barbara takes her place, and her singing brings the house down. The following day there is verv favourable criticism on her performance This notice by the Press of Miss Denning's capabilities throws Miss MacArthur into a transport of rage, and she plans to discover something unfavourable about her, and to get her out of the theatre. Cunningly she sets to work bv inviting Barbara to join herself and Miss •Tames at Romano’s Restaurant for luncheon CHAPTER IV (Continued) “That was very kind of God,” was the reply in Reggie’s most solemn and devout tones, and after that Barbara gave up the attempt to talk to him about the mother who. to his childish mind, was a person to be feared above all human beings. At last the opportunity of speaking to Mr. Smith about Lizzie Brown presented itself. The new play at the Diadem was now an accomplished fact, and prelim-

inary rehearsals were being held for the purpose of selecting the best voices for the chorus. Hurrying home from the theatre one morning, for she was late and Reggie would be wanting his dinner, Barbara suddenly encountered Mrs. Bloggs, who, pale and red-eyed, rushed frantically to meet her. “Oh! Miss Dennin' ” she cried, “Reggie’s gone! We can’t find him nowhere! slipped out, ’e must ’a done while me back was turned, speakin’ to the dustman as ’ad found a shillin' an’ wouldn’t give it up, though I knowed it was mine as Minnie let it fall in the grate yesterday. I was that upset, as I ’ad ter go an’ tell Mrs. 'Arris next door, an’ never found out as Reggie 'ad took ’isself off, till I got ’ome agin. I've been ’untin' fer ’im everywhere, an’ told the p’liceman round the corner, too. What’s ter be done Miss Dennin’?” Barbara had gone as white as a sheet as Mrs. Bloggs poured forth her tale Reggie gone? Strayed away, and perhaps already run over and killed. “I—l must go myself and find him.” she gasped. “He can’t have gone far.” “Which Mr. Smith ’e give ’im a thr’penny bit this morning,” Mrs. Bloggs said, “an’ I expect’ e went off to spend it —said ’e was goin’ ter buy ’is Auntie somethin’ ’e did! I wouldn’t ’a let this 'appen for all the world Miss Dennin’, as yer know I’m fond o’ Reggie, an’ I’ve took that care of 'im ” “Yes—yes I know you have. I don’t blame you but—oh! I must find him,” and the terrified girl set off almost at a run, going she knew not whither. At length collecting her thoughts, she proceeded to the nearest police station and told her story to a sympathetic inspector, thence to where the shops were located, in the hope of finding Reggie making his purchase. But there was no Reggie there. “I must find him before this evening,” she thought. “I can’t go to the theatre and get through my part if I keep thinking of him out in the crowded streets all alone! What shall I do?” There seemed, however, nothing to

be done. After all she might be wandering herself in quite a different direction to that which the little boy had taken. She must go back to her lodging and rest awhile, or she would be quite unfit for her evening’s work, and then go out again. Perhaps Reggie might find his way home after all, or some kind person bring him. Faint with fatigue and anxiety, and a nameless dread of what might happen to the child, Barbara reached home and let herself into her rooms, where she sank into a chair thoroughly exhausted. Suddenly there came a loud rapping on the door and Reggie’s shrill voice called out: “Auntie Barb’ra! Auntie Barb’ra, here’s Reggie! I want to come in! Auntie Barb’ra!” Almost fainting with relief and joy, Barbara flung open the doors and beheld the little boy clinging to the hand of a man who stood beside him on the threshold. She recognised the latter at once. It was Mr. Smith, Mrs. Bloggs’s lodger. “I nearly got losted,” announced that young gentleman, before the man could speak. "An’ Mr. Smiffi found me an’ brought me home.” “Oh Reggie! How could you go away and give Auntie Barbara such a fright,” exclaimed the girl, as she clasped the wanderer in her arms. “She thought she had lost you! 1 don’t know how t.o thank you,” turning a lovely face all smiles and tears toward the man, “only think, if you hadn’t found him! I have been early distracted with fear as to what might have happened to him. Does Mrs. Bloggs know he is safe? She has been so upset.” “Mrs. Bloggs awf’lly cross with me,” came from the boy, with a solemn shake of his curly head, "says that I’ll be the death of her, an’ ought to be whipped, but you won’t whip me. Auntie Barb’ra, like Mummie did.” “Where did you find him?” Barbara asked hurriedly, “hut won’t you come in and sit down a moment?” CHAPTER V The man thanked her and entered,

casting an approving glance round the little sitting-room -which Barbara harl contrived to make quite pretty and comfortable. ‘‘Thank you,” he said, as he took a chair, “it was quite by chance that I decided to walk home to-day. or I should not' have come across Reggie. He spotted me first, as he was crossing the road at the corner of Drake’s Street, in charge of a friendly policeman.” “An’ Mr. Smiff brought me home in a taxi,” the latter added ecstatically, "awful fun it was!” “The poor little chap was tired, and I wanted to ease your mind as quickly as possible,” Mr. Smith said apologetically. "I knew you would be alarmed about him.” “It was very good of you. I arn most grateful. You see, I was so afraid of not finding him before I had to start for the theatre. I am in the chorus at ‘The Diadem.’ ” “Well, I am glad to have been able to spare you further anxiety.” Was there—or did Barbara fancy it?—a shade of coldness in the man’s voice and manner? He had certainly looked surprised when she mentioned her means of livelihood. “By-the-bye, Mr. Smith,” she said, as he rose to take his departure, "you were asking me about a Mrs. Anstruther. I have been wondering if a woman who lodged here recently had anything to do with her. I cannot very well tell you about her just now,” with a meaning glance at Reggie, who was standing by her listening eagerly to the conversation, “and Reggie must have his dinner.” “Yes. of course; but might I —would you allow me to meet you at the theatre after this evening's performance and escort you home? We could talk going along, and it means so much to me to find Mrs. Anstrufher and her child. Of course, if you have an escort already ” Barbara shook her head “No,” she replied, "except that a youth belonging to the theatre kindly see me to my bus sometimes. I have to go and come back by myself.”

“Then, if you will allow me, I will take his place this evening. If you can give me any information that will help me, I shall be everlastingly grateful.” “Well, I hope I may, in return for you finding Reggie,” was the reply, with Barbara's sweet smile. Getting back from the theatre at night was an ever-present bugbear to Barbara, always fearing that she might , miss her bus, and then the disagreeable walk from the place where she must alight, to Harker’s Buildings, ; and though hitherto she had managed tc reach home without any disagreeable "contrempts,” the fear of that walk by herself was always with her. It was therefore with a comforting feeling that for this evening at least 1 she would have the stalwart form of Mr. Smith as escort to the very door of her lodging, that Barbara set forth for the theatre—to find on her arrival that she would again have to take Miss MacArthur’s place as the Night- . ingale—for though the latter had put ! in an appearance as usual, she was 1 complaining of horseness and had been ■ prevailed upon not to run the risk of breaking down in her song, the only . consideration which would haTe in- ’ duced her to let another take her part. more esDectally Barbara Denning, fur > ot late Sir Lindsay Charters had fre- • quented the evening performance, and Lit had taken his coming as a flat- ■ tering tribute to herself in her par- ' ticular role, while, to add to her wrath . at having to chance places with 'he girl she hated, was the knowledge that the management was only too glad of the opportunity to give the solo part again to the hated rival, who had come with her beautiful face and l superb voice, between herself and ‘ne fame as a singer she fancied she had '(hitherto won. She refused to take Miss Denning’s place in the Birds’ Chorus, and having been slightly ap- ; peased by Mr. Simpkins’s invitation ■ to occupy a seat in the stage-box, sat and watched her understudy’s . triumph with set lips and a heart bursting with jealous fury and wild ! schemes of revenge. Sir Lindsay i Charters sat as usual In the front row

of the stalls, and Lil noticed that he joined excitedly In the applause which greeted Barbara’s appearance as the Nightingale, and the loud calls for an encore which burst forth at the close of her song. Never had Barbara Denning sung better than she did to-night, never had words and music been so perfectly rendered. Her triumph was complete. She did not wait for congratulations, or the manager’s words of praise, but hastily changing her costume for her every-day apparel, and fearing to keep Mr. Smith waiting, prepared to leave the theatre. When she reached the stage door, however, she was astonished and dismayed to see, instead of Herbert Knowles or Mr. Smith, no less a person than Sir Lindsay Charters awaiting her. She had encountered the latter one or twice behind the scenes, but had invariably met all his advances with discouraging coldness, making no secret of her desire to avoid him, to his great chagrin, for that he who was accustomed to be flattered and made much of by every woman whom he deigned to notice, should be given the cold shoulder by a little chorus girl was a new and unwelcome experience, and one which only made him the more eager to overcome her prejudice against him. “I have been waiting in the hope of having the pleasure of seeing you home. Miss Denning,” was his greeting. “I began to fear I had missed you.” “Thank you, but I require no escort,” Barbara replied coldly. “I am accustomed to going home alone—besides as it happens this evening I—” she paused. Why should she explain matters to this stranger “But surely you wont refuse my offer of a lift My car is close by. I can take you wherever you wish.” Barbara looked round her helplessly. Surely Mr. Smith had not forgotten his promise to accompany her home? What should she do if he failed her. i “Here I a.m. Miss Denning,” sud- ' denly came in Mr. Smith's voice, close |to her. “I’m awfully sorry if I’ve

kept you waiting—went to the wrong door.” Sir Lindsay turned abruptly to the speaker. “Hello, Anstruther,” he •*' claimed. “Where on earth did 7°® spring from? I thought yon ware »t the Antipodes.” There was more than surprise in Lindsay’s voice, there was a distinct note of annoyance. “I have been in England socie weeks, now,” was the reply, and Mr. Smith’s tone was also lacking in diality—evidently the meeting was no* a welcome one to either of the two men. "Well, as you have a prior claim as Miss Denning’s escort this eTeaing,. will defer the pleasure to some tutor* time,” and with an "au revoir” * n “ raising of his hat to Barbara, n Lindsay, after a curt nod to her companion, walked away. “I hope I have not intruded my company upon you unwanted, M Denning,” Mr. Smith began, but Barbara interrupted him with an eage “Oh, I am glad you came then had already refused Sir Lindsay* cort. I scarcely know him, aud tainly do not like him.” , . “I am glad of that, because may say so without seeming unpe tinent, it will be as well if y°“ . tinue to dislike him. I have known since our college days, and, exee that he is reported to be fabut wealthy, I have never heard anyt else in his favour.” „ -j... “He—he called you Anstruther, bara said after a pause. They walking in the direction of W f The bus which Barbara usual y . started from the corner of u Circus. h “That is my real name,” »■** ' tnply. “I have only used that oi to conceal my identity during search for my wife —” (To be continuedJ^^^^ (By special arrangement service in addition to u d in tn« source of information is i-tmihaeft®* comp. .:tion of the ° v =rseas ri ,ht» published in this 'S»ue. Zea'*J3 therein in Australia Ne * _— are reserved.)