CHAPTER XIX.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 157, 19 June 1886, Page 2

CHAPTER XIX.

A FATAL DELAY. Would'at thou have that Which thou cstoein'at the ornament of life, Aurt hvo a coward in thine own eßteem, Letting ** I daro not" wait upon "I would," Liko the poor cati' the adage? MAOBETn. He was 10 all appearance immediately for. gotten. As with mutual consent we all turned and f/iced each other, Mrs Pollard had ft stern, inexorable look in her dark eyo, which, while it held me enchained caused me to involuntarily lay nay hand upon tho document hich I had hidden in my breast. She- noticed tho movement, and amilod darkly with a sidelong look at her ton. The smilo and the look affected mo strangely. In them I seomed to detccu t-r entiling deeper than hatred and battled rage, and when in a moment later her son responded to her glance by quietly withdrawing from tho room, I felt such revolt against their seciecy that for a moment I was tempted to abandon an undertaking that pvonufed to bring me in conflict with passions of so deep and unrelenting a nature. But the impression which the pain and despair of my doad friend had made upon mo v, as as yet too recent forme to yield to my first momentary apprehension" ; and summoning up what resolution 1 possebsed, I took my leave of Mi\3 Pollaid, and was hastening towards the door, when her voice, rising coid and clear, arrested mo. " You think, then, tlv.b It i 3 your duty to carry this popor from tho house, Mr Barrows ? " " Yes, madam, I do, " was my short reply. " In spite of my protest and that of my son ? " " Yes, madam." " ihen upon your head be the consequences ! " she exclaimed, and turned her back upon me with a look which went with me as I closed the door between us, lending a gloom to the unlighted halls and sombre staircases that afiected mo almost with an impulse of fear. 1 dreaded crossing to where the stairs descended ; I dreaded going down them irto the darkness which I saw below. Not that I anticipated actual harm, but that I felt I was in the house of those who longed to see me the victim of it ; and my imagination being more than usually alert, I even iound myself fancying the secret triumph with which Guy Pollard would hail an incautious slip on my part, that would precipitate me from the top to the bottom of this treacherous staircase. Thafc he was somewhere between mo and the front door. I felt certain. The deadly quiet behind and beforo mo seemed to aesuro me of this ; and, ashamt-d as I was of the impulse that moved me, I could not prevent myself from stepping cautiously as I prepared to descend, paying as some sort of excuse to myself, "He is capable of seeing me trip without assistance ;" and as my imagination continued its work, " he is evon capable of putting out his foot to help forward such a catastrophe." And, indeed, I now think that if this simple clan had presented itself to his subtle mind, of stunning, if not disabling me, and thus making it possible for them to obtain his father's will without an open assault, he would not have hesitated to embrace it. But he evidently did not calculate, as I did, tho chances ot such an act, or perhaps he felt that I was likely to be too much upon my guard to fall a victim to this expedient, for 1 met no one as I advanced, and was well down the stairs and on my way to tho front door, before I perceived any signs of life in the sombre house. Then a sudden glaro of light across my path betrayed the fact that a door had been swung wide in a certain short passage that opened ahead of me ; and while I involuntarily stopped, a shadow creeping along the further wall of that passage warned me that someone— l could not doubt it to be Guy Pollard— had come out to meet mo. The profound stillness, and the sudden pause which tho shadow made as I inconsiderately stumbled in my hesitation, assured me that I right in attributing a sinister mo'ivo to this encounter, Naturally, therefore, I drew back, keeping my eyes upon the shadow. It did not move Convinced now that danger ot some kind lay ahead of me. I looked behind and about mo for somo moana of escaping from tho house without passing by my half-seen enemy But none presented themselves. Either I must slink away into the kitchen region — a proceeding from which my whole manhood revolted — or I must advanco and face whatevor ovil awaited mo. Desperation drove me to the latter course. Making one bound, I stood before that lighted passage. A slim, firm figure confronted me'; butit was not that of Guy, but of his older brother, Dwight. The surprise of tho Bhock, together with a certain revelation which came to me at the same moment, and of which I will speak hereafter, greatly unnerved me. I had been thinking of Dw ight Pollard. Strange as it may seem, I had not missed him from tho bedside of his father. To see him, then, here and now, caused many thoughts to spring into my mind, uppermost among which was the important ono as to whether he was of a naturo to lond himself to any scheme of violence. Tho quickness with which I decided to the contrary proved to me in v hat different estimation I had always held him from what I bad his mother and brother It was consequently no surprise to me when he leaned forward and spoke to me with consideration and force. I was only surprised at his words : ' ' Don't stop, Mr Barrows, " said ne, "Go home at once ; only" — and here he paused, listened, then proceeded with increased emphasis, "don't goby the way of orchardStreet. " And without waiting for my reply, he stepped back and noiselessly regainod the apartment he bad 'eft, while I, in a confusion of emotions difficult to^ analyse at the moment, hastily accepted his advice and withdrew from the house. The relief of breathing the fresh air again was indescribable. If I had not escaped the miasma and oppression of a prison, I certainly had left behind me influences of darkness and minister suggestion which, in the light of the calm moonbeams »that I found flooding the world without, had the effect upon mo of a vanished horror. Only I was still haunted by that last phrase which I had heard uttered, "Don't go by the way of Orchard-street," an injunction which simply meant, "Don't go with that document to ,the lawyer's to-night." Now was this order, given as it) was by Dwight Pollard, on© of warning or of simple 1 threat ? My good-will towarc this especial member of the Pollard family inclined me to think it the former, There was danger, then, lurking for me somewhere on the road to Mr Hicholls's house. Was it my duty to encounter this

danger ? It appeared to me not, especially as it was not necessary for me to acquit myself so instantly of the comixiision with which I had been intrusted, I accordingly proceeded diroctly home. But once again in my familiar study, I became conscious of a strong dissatisfaction with myself, indeed, I may speak more forcibly and say I was conscious of a loss of trust in my own manhood, which was at once so new and startling that it was as if a line had been drawn between my past and present. This was due to the discovery at the moment I had confronted Dwight 1 Pollard- - a discovery so humiliating in its character that it had shaken me, body and soul. I had found in the light of that critical instant that I, David Barrows, was a coivard ! Yes, gloss it over as I would, the knowledge was deep in my mind thatl lacked manhood's most virile attiibuto ; that peril, real or imaginary, could awaken in me fear ; and that the paling cheek and trembling limbs of which I had been po bitterly conscious at that instant were but the outward signs of a weakness' that extended deep down into my soul. It waa a revelation calculated to stagger any man, how much more, then, one who so relied upon his moral powors as to take upon himself the sacred name of minister? But this was not all. I had not only found myself to be a coward, buf I had shown myself such to another's eye?. By the searching look which Dwlght Pol'ard had given me before be spoke, and the quiet, hall-disdainful curve which his lips took at tbe closo of bis scrutiny, 1 was convinced, that ho saw fiho defect in my nature, and deppiscd me for it, e^en while he condescended to offtr me the protection which my foard seemed to domand. Or — the thought could come now that I was at home, and had escaped the dangers lying in wait for mo on the road to my duty — he had made use of my weakno-s to gain his own ends. The carrying ot that document) to Mr NicholJe's meant loss of property to them all perhaps, and he had but; taken means consistent with his character to insure the delay which his b- other had possibly planned to gain iv some more repreheneiblo manner. And I had yielded to my fears and let his will have its way. J hated, myself as I considered my own weakness:. 1 could find no excuse either for my pusillanimity or for that procrastination of my duty into which it had betrayed me. I found I could not face my own pcorn ; and, rising from my study-chair, I took my hat and walked out. I had determined to make amends for my fault by going at once to Orchard-streer,, And I did ; but alas ! for the result • The half-hour I had lost was fatal. To be sure I met with no adventure on my way, but I found Mr INicholla ojt. Ho had been summoned bv a telegram to Boston, and had been absent from the house only fifteen minutes. I meditated following him to the station, but the whistle sounded just as I turned away from his door, and I knew X should be too late. Humiliated still further in my own estimation, I went home to wait with what patience 1 could for the two or three days which must elapse before his return. Before I went to bed that night I opened the book which Mr Pollard hadghen me in the expectation ot finding a letter in it, or, at least, somo writing on the title pngo or the blank pages of the book. Buc I was disappointed in both regards. With the exoaption of some minute pencil-marks scattered here and thero along the text—-in-dications, doubtless, of favourite passages — I perceived nothing in the volume to account for the extreme earnestness with which he had presented it.