SERIAL STORY.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXII, Issue 12844, 30 November 1905, Page 2

SERIAL STORY.

THE BREAM AND THE MAN.

(By Mrs L. Baillie Reynolds.)

: CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) "I don't apologise for being unmannerly," Honor said. " I did not ask you to come, and you see I am very frilly occupied." "I see," said Hugo in a low voice; "I am relieved, I can't- help saying it, that —that is not -Alan's, boy. "It- would be a cruel thing for a child to grow up tiie son of a disgraced'man." She looked coldly at him.. "The son of Alan Morrow would have a brave man and_ a gentleman for his father," said she haugh-~ tily. » He looked at her as though scales had fallen from his eyes. He was determined to find out more about this marriage. He was certain, from what had passed between Jiim and Mrs Harvey, that it had been a patched-up affair; he would make assurance sure. " Mrs Morrow," he said, without preface, ''how long, had you been married when I first met you?" She answered slowly : "We were married the day be'fore, from Mrs Harvey's house." " Then Morrow married you in order to get the estate settled upon you?" She assented gravely. "And you!" lie cried, but remembered himself,- and dropped his voice to- its usual melodious key—'" and you —did you love him when you married him?'' " I have already told you twice that I married him for money," said Honor calmly ; " but you never seem to believe me." " And when he found the game was up, he cleared cut and left you?" " Oh, he did -not exactly leave me; that was part of the agreement," said the girl, who was regaining all her self-possession. "Part- of the agreement that he should leave you?" . » She made no answer; she -seemed not t-> be thinking much of him, nor cf what he was saying; her eyes wore a far-off-look.

He lose and came and knelt down by her chair; then she faced hiin with a ■wonderful brilliant smile. "You will not forget that I. am his wife," said she. The jingle of approaching tea things caused him to rise-hastily H " and Mrs Atkins brought in all the best china;, and a. plate of rather shiny bread and butter. Honor caretully laid down the sleeping baby oa Ms pillow, and poured out tea. " I am sorry I cannot ask you to stay long," said she, "but I • must- start directly to take Alan home. Will you have sugar?" ." No, thanks." He drank his tea withouta word," and as soon as he had finished he took leave, as she evidently expected him to. But it was with whirling pulses that he strode away —and she had not forbidden him to'come again. It was 3 '6fiariy' ten o'clock when the girl returned from' New Cross, and Mrs Atkins was -waiting up' for her. She went Tip to the kind woman and put her arms round her neck. "Dear," said she, "you have been- a- good friend to me, but I must leave to-morrow. I do not know how Mr Denver found out my address, but- I will not risk, a second visit from him. You must not try to persuade hie to stay, but help me! There is tka,t nice Miss Bryant, in Lovel street, who is a friend of yours—would' she take me in? If'she would, I should be quite near you, and could come and see you as often as I liked." Poor M.i< Atkirs bitterly regretted her

own impf- 'ence in admitting the gentleman; but • onor assured her that if blame rested any iere, it was with herself, as she had never rationed Lev not to admit him. " But," s;; I she, " I never thought of his coming, i was so sure that he did not know the-address.. Now, Mrs Atkins, this is urgent, and I have to go to business tomorrow morning; will you come round with me to-night, instantly, to Miss Bryant, and make Arrangements? I will not delay a single day." The good woman was now all eagerness to help.-"• They found that Miss Bryant could give a very small room, with the prospect of a better later in the season, arid the girl fastened back to pack her possessions. When she found herself alone in her room, the first thing she did was to unlock a little despatch-box and count her money. " Xo chance yet," she whispered to herself. "No chance to go to him until nextyear, at' the earliest. Suppose by then that he does not want me?"

Laid up; in the. same box, along with the portraits of her dead parents, the certificate of her own baptism, and her marriage-lines, was a bunch of withered daffodils. She kissed, them softly.' " When you bloom again, dears," she whispered, "next year—next year, I-will go to him and say, 'lf you do. not love me now, I will be your faithful sexvant.'i Oh. ivhy did not Mildred tell me that 1:;- w-ar.ted i«e? 1 ivnild have gene with him tier. —I would: Tam his wife; ai:d though I did. not knuw that I loved him then, it would have been better to make him happy than to ba here alone. But how could 1 tell? How could I tell? If he had just said. 'I love you! . . ." Weli. perhaps, after all. I should not have believed him—l might have thought he just did it to spare me. t;> prevent my feeling so bad." Hsr sdiirhi form quivered all over. '" That Mr Deny~T. who is not worthy to tie his shoe, should casta slur upon his name: . . . If only I were rich :.:u\ great :i;>tsu<l uf poor and little—if I could raise hini !*» his place.: and say to all she world. * Here is the ma a I am proud ;■? i-vel . Dreams—useless dreams I"

I A.< she.shut the «irawer. I\<? eye feil u|»>:» I something bright that >i>.nk»o«l «»n the ««or. I > She pkke-i it i:j>. It w.i- ;> .-..m*. which; | Hii£i> always wore !a>tene-.i ••:: h:> waich | ch»in. The thought tii'ied !;:r»*:_4!t her j mind th:it perhap- he h.i-1 j>i»rp<*.-e!y ih •»',>- ! jj?d it. to set ;> ch:>iuv t» cat! :<£;«::i. She j saw •!>..* there - ; v;i> a cre-t ar. i ni>:;>« • mi :t. ami. that !!■:> v.\.s pertnps j the Mi nmv crest, she bmvj::;- i: ti» the ::=-. and the -.v..:-' .. - •: !•-. r.-r Mr-? t- read t>.'c:.'.^:, : '.: v - "He- • :.*:nn. j rlre.'.ituvi chat \v>.:-.-": I'-and si>o j the crest • n auythir..; he!«.-.!u;i:i4 >" A'a:i. land so acquire.! the r..t:nr. <•:" i: T She

remembered with sudden distinctness : she first dreamed it the night before she saw Alan for the first time. It seemed extremely probable that " Domain " should be the motto of a family whoso name was Morrow. For the first time she wondered whether her dream-house was really Dellthorpe. But that idea was too extravagant, and socn put out of her mind. Still, it was curious that she should, before seeing any member of the family or hearing their name, dream a crest which Hugo "wore upon his watch chain.

She held the seal in her hand, striving to encourage a dim, uncertain memory of having played with one exactly like it in her childhood long before; and by very slow degrees her memory shaped the scene in which such a seal had figured; and it was the story of the Big Boy who cried. Years ago, when quite a small child, she had been taken by her father to visit an elder brother of his, who was farming very successfully in the neighbourhood of Tring. This brother was on the eve of departure for Canada, having, sold his ruin ous farm; and Honor's father had taken her to bid her uncle good-bye. On their return journey, by a very slow train, their carriage was entered, at a little wayside station, by a tall dark boy with a thin face. -" He flung himself down in the opposite corner of the compartment, gazing out of window with set teeth, and taking no notice of his two fellow passengers. But the little girl, solemnly staring, as children dp at a stranger, saw the tears gather in his eyes, and by degrees trickle down his cheeks ; saw his handkerchief silently pulled from his pocket—furtively used; finally saw his features convulsed with uncontrollable grief and hidden in his folded arms, while his shoulders heaved with sebs.

This was too much for the little compassionate heart"of the watching girl. Grasp-* ing firmly in her hand a wooden horse, quite small, 'which -was her dearest treasure, and which she carried about with her wherever she went, she slipped' off her father's knee, crept up to the Big Boy, and putting her arms about his n«ck, told him in her childish treble that big boys never cried. He started, and was at first inclined to pui>h her away; but she insisted upon climbing on his knee, and" finally, with many kisses, and the -careful wiping away of tears, solemnly presented him. with the beloved horse, whose name, for some abstruse reason, was Michael. Her prattle restored his self-control; the tears were dried, and he sat for some while with her uppn his knees., conversing about different things ; and when, at. Willesden, Junction, she left the train with her father, he retained Michael, with many promises never--to part with him, and with a final " Good-bye, you sweet little soul!" After the episode, Honor used to dream frequently about the Big Boy who cried, and it was soon after, that she began to dream the house also; and now. as she recalled the long-ago memory, she was sure tljat the boy had worn upon his chain'. a seal very like the one Hugo had to-' • day . dropped. As to the engraving, she had no recollection ; but the shape and size were remarkably like—of that she felt sure. She carefully placed it iu a little box. fastened it, into a neat package, and addressed it to its owner at the Cornwall.

CHAPTER XL , Hugo walked back to his rooms with his heart on fire. He felt certain that the marriage between Honor and Alan was merely nominal, and his'"'heart leapt at the thought: for he was in love, as he triumphantly told himself—seriously, triumphantly told himself—seriously, triumphantly in love at last. He was prepared to sacrifice mcsfc things if he might have Honor. His love was unselfish. ,He explained carefully that this was so to a certain Mrs Ashby, who hafl-been a great friend of his for some time; and she, being a clever woman, replied: "My dear boy, I should never have been so fond if I had not known you had it in you." He called the very next day, at about seven in the evening, at Kiidarff Terrace, to ask if his seal had been found. Mrs Atkjus, cold and gloomy, gave him the little package; together with the news that Mrs Morrow' had was not likely to return. He was quite clever enough to let no signs of consternation appear as he walked away; and, indeed, on consideration, he saw two things which forbade his looking upon this hurried retreat with dismay. Firstly, it was of no real use tor the girl to hide when he knew her business address and could so easily track her home; secondly, the fact of her disappearance showed that she feared him. For the very first time he believed that he held her in the hollow of his hand, and was full of exultation. If she feared him, it was because there was a traitor in the citadel. She feared him because she knew in her heart that she liked him. He thought of her, sitting there iu her white gown, with t:.i. baby 011 the pillow—of the splevclid movements of her supple frame as she lifted and tallied it and held it to her hcavt. " 1 could hi good always if I had her." he said to himself, and probably believed that if was true. Meanwhile, he could not see her that, day. he thought he might as weil accent the Aslibys" invitation for Ascot week. The few days' absence would he n test of the reality ami depth of the passion which had seized him so ur.expec'ealy. Tb»tt evening. \vhc;i Hw.ir r.-imc ii<-.;ti<: to her new. cramped. dtili qu.it!ei> ;n I.nvoj street, there lay a letter cm her tabic. Her hoivt liMped furiously for a nt<>iiicn*. s-he clutched it. to see if the |u>>"ni■•»:!; was African, liu: it was a -meat, wim-'i had been addre*>cd in her in the name of Miss l!'*'-: M«v->c! tJr.iy. wwdcr cue of Mr Harvey, nnd by hint fmwarded lioin his ntJioe.

She read thrntigli tlic rnrJr;i!s nr.cc: then mjp ;c.i«r them .» »co>;;<i lime: .isu: this ."he l.»r p.ts-sive in she g(r.->;T. her i.ue n>" white a* her handkoir-hif'. l"»-r some minuter s-he lay ;.». pe:k>:iy <}]}. her eyo (i.\e<s. like >-•»«• «i:i«'"i}w : "»v. -in-5 then, wish a deep .'••» h. j'c'l on her kuc-v. her (.ice hidden in her h-ir-ds. I*t»!«lc the tiih'c. Soh>. shwj; her : m«»i!e: h- she lifted in:- iWv.- j-.er :>nii< •Qui;-.' .jsiit-. <«: L .: <".: :. ,V ~. M"3 • . T:.e lei so-.- !.*>■*«•!■, !:»•- * -. rvV ;< - _- h y.Mien. St:.»i-hiH- :t «:p. .■-'.- «.:.:•.«.'■•,-.! st • t'i. spViM'i it he""-:, her. -mv! .!£•>;!» .«:•--. Her i-i»i-rc.*p"n>SeH!.- «or« .-> iim ■>:' ; *- vers in ToMir.;<>. execi'l<>s-- to the «:i's of she

late Edgar Marshall Witithrop Gray. who. dying nearly three years previously, had bequeathed his property to his on"y .surviving brother, Houcrius Giay. or, failing him. to his daughter. Honor Margaret. F.-r nearly three years the firm had tried adveitlsenient and all other means to trace the heirs of the property in question, but could get no farther than the vicar of Per.ge. who had 'lost sight of the family on the death of Honorius. But in the early February of this year a gentleman had made application to the said vicar for the character of Honor Gray. who. it was understood, was a candidate for a p-'st of some kind. It afterwards occurred to the vicar that- the gentleman in would certainly be able to forward a letter to the young woman's present address: but. being a very bus-y man. he had mislaid (he name and* address of Mr Harvey. Three months later, when setting his papers in order, he came upon the! letter, and atones forwarded it to Toronto. The writers begged Miss Gray, immediately on receipt of their letter, to communicate wkh Messrs Hazell and Bland, solicitors, of Waibroo'c. All she would have to do would be •;> satisfy them of her identity, ard the property was at her immediate disposal. It amounted to a- sum of—the figures danced before the eyes of the girl—a sum of between forty and fifty thousand pounds.