APPLES OF GOLD.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LVIII, Issue 14344, 24 October 1910, Page 5

APPLES OF GOLD.

By JOHN IC. PROTHERO, Author of “An Ej t o for an Eye,” “The Way of Transgressors,” “A Strong Man Armed.” “A Modern Esau,” “Tiie Silent Witness,” “A Woman's Love, etc., etc. [COPYIUGHT.] CHAPTER A v .—Continued. Murolla did not accompany l/ove to the agent’s the next day. Ixm* was m need of a .salutary lesson; slio had io learn that even youth and beauty have • at times to give way, and nowhere, Murellu reflected with a sigh, would she learn that lesson so quickly or sharply as in the ante-room of a theatrical agent’s. Lore went up the crowded staircase of the office without a tremor. I he crowd of men and women that pushed hy her interested but did not perturb her. Chorus girls with huge hats, showy blouses, and much crimped hair; comedians, showy of waistcoat, gaudy of tie, loud of voice and gesture, stared at the tall, slim figure with the golden hair, but her air of aloofness did not invito confidence. She passed through the crowd in silence. At the top of the staircase she found herself in a large room, whose walls, hung with photographs of “stars present and past, were lined with scats where sat and talked and snicked the “out-of-work” in the theatrical world. Loud and insistent was the conversation, laughs redolent of the footlights, echoed through the room; the air was heavy with scent and the peculiar odour of grease point. Love, her chin upheld, gazed at the faces of the women, not wholly innocent of rouge, and flushed at the. thought that her mother had perhaps sat in this very room. She walked towards an aged-looking youth who kept guard at the barrier which divided the outer waiting-room, from the inner and sacred precincts of tho agent’s office. The boy gazed in bold admiration at Love. At the moment the agent himself, a small man with a large head, in a perpetual whirl of hurry, rushed from nis room. His prominent black eyes flashed on love. She was a dainty figure in her blue gown and picture bat, with a bunch of violets in her bodice. “Como in, my dear,” ho said, and beckoned her into the ofucc. Love over after thought tho small room crowded with photographs of women, in every imaginable post and costume, as a spider's web, and the agent himself as a particularly objectionable and bloated spider. . She sat and gazed at him with a dignified resentment that amused him hugely—Love was not yet aware of the stage custom that calls every woman “dear,” and classes performers ot fifteen up to fifty as “girls.” “I want,” sue said, calmly, “to got an engagament in light comedy. ? No, I’ve not been on the stage before. The agent chuckled. , * “Will you pay a premium, my dear?” he asked. , “Certainly not,” she felt indignant. “Then how the dickens — ’’only he used a stronger word, “do you think you are going to get a shop I" Now, if you like to go into the chor,us l you vo a protty face and a shapely figure, I might get you an engagement.’' Love shook her head, and intimated that the chorus was immeasurably lower than her aspirations. “At least you could get me a small part,” she asked. . “What 1 with no experiencehie laughed. ‘‘Toll you what though, I might send you on tour to understudy in Bentwcll’s Shakesperian Company. You’ll have to pay though. It’s no uso protesting, my dear, if you want a part you’ve got to pay for it.” Love returned from the interview Hushed and indignant. The wretch had squeezed her hand, and looked as if he’d like to squeeze her waist. And she had endured the horror of tho interview for nothing. Other calls at other agents' resulted in the same fashion. For all her bcautv and her charm, it seemed she could only begin at the bottom of the ladder —unless she were prepared to pay for the privilege of acting a small ''"she would not dp that. She. set her lips in an ohdurative curve, and shook her head. As for tho chorus! ,She shuddered at the thought of tho girls in tho showy blouses, with the crimped hair. She could not bring herself to accept tho ordeal. ' She went back to Chelsea infinitely discouraged. For once Murelia was not in attendance. She was closeted with a queer old man who came to see her sometimes, and who stared at Lovo with keen inquisitive eyes. The man in question, had Love only known it, was Lionel Benthorn, and her grandfather. Tho two were closely discussing Love’s future on tho stage. But all unconscious that help was so near at hand, the girl gave herself up to gloomy thoughts and forebodings Her money was dwindling fast. That, in her ‘present mood, was cause enough for depression. Dynvor, who hitherto had charmed away every anxious thought and foreboding, had disappeared, and with him her great hope of success on tho stage. She was alone, miserable, and it seemed to her a failure. Her thoughts turned to Wales and to Rodney, to whom of late she had given but little thought. How very far away tho old life seemed, that life in which the magic city of London, with its golden streets, had given an unknown world. Her mind went back to their old trysting place by tho seashore, under the shade of tho rock shaped like a monstrous frog. Her blood surged at the memories of those moments. How brave, how strong, how tall was her lover ! The influence of Dynvor removed, he became once more tho central figure or her life. She longed for him, and suddenly and without reason, fell to kissing a handkerchief ho had given her. She lav awake and though of him all night,‘and in tho morning ached for his dear presence. She was rine for his coming, when at tho stroke of noon, all .unexpectedly he arrived. “Love!” Ho came towards her, Ins face glowing, his eyes ashine, and held out his arms. She ran to him with a little cry. Oh, tho joy of his embrace. In the delight of feeling once again tho old zest of living, tho old gladness of existence, she could deny- him nothing. She was tired of London; she told him; she hated Chelsea, loathed tho stage. Would she go with him to Africa i Tho notion thrilled her, she saw herself adored by tho miners, picturesque men like the heroes of Bret If arte; worshipped hy the Natives who regarded her as a white queen. The picture was enchanting, and as unlike the facts of a sandy desert to a blossoming garden. “I shall have plenty of money' to buy my darling everything she wants, and if things go well, and tho mine

proves rich ,wo shall be millionaires. Ton’ll come, Jxm*P” ~ “To the world’s end, my Heart, she answered, and at tho moment she meant every word. “We’ll bo married the day after tomorrow,” Rodney declared, and Love agreed. lint the next day a fresh factor was imported into the case. CHAPTER XVI. NEMESIS—LAME OF FOOT. It has been said that the gods punish their votaries either hy withholding their petition or hy granting it. Loam belonged to the latter category. She had prayed to the god of Luck to give her Whitcladies that she might there alone. And her prayer had been hoard. Bid. il'o triumph she had hoped for, tho delight she had anticipated, was ~:.L Line. She had vowed she would do anything, pay anything, to achieve her cud. And the price she had to pay was the presence of Kineaird. The. grim, gaunt figure with sallow face and sunken eves haunted her day and night. Tho sword of Damocles held for her was the fear lest the solicitor should suddenly regain his speech *, and in speaking lose to her tho greatest thing in life. Not Whitejadics. not the. fortune that wont with tho estate, nor the social prestige that it earried. None of things were threatened; her dread did notT lie in discovery. Tho cause of her disquietude, the fear that sat with her at meat, spoiled her sleep ami dimmed her check, went far deeper. (To be continued.)