OUR STORIES.

Timaru Herald, Volume CVI, Issue 16227, 24 March 1917, Page 4

OUR STORIES.

CTIU-I. A.KRNJOY '' 9 ■

BY FEED ASHLEY. Author of _ 'Tho Mystery of Kingsmere," "The Millington Jewels," "A Woman's' licve," "The Temple of Fire/' etc., etc.

CHAPTER m. When William Moor© left Rayborne and h.s companions in .such ungracious li'shibn, ho v.alked r,picky lohrougu the Jog—tho neighbourhood being wellknown to him—till, ho, got into tho Pentonvillo-road, where he stopped and hesitated. Next, he turned back in an undecided manner, .walked on again, then stopped once more. A ccrfli'et was going on his breast, a conflict between evil passions' and obstinate temper on the one hand, and' the momoi-y of a gentle pair of . pleading eyes, and of a. soft voice that thrilled; him with its appealing accents, on tho other. Something about tho expression in those eyes seemed .to haunt i lliim—to follow him, look which way he would. Where had he seen eyes like them? Where had lie seen a face that this one brought to his mind? He felt mean to ha7e rejedced this young lady's 1 ' appeal at the very moment that she had come—on such a night, too—to seek his ftister. Still', the demon of bad temper had been aroused in his heart, and would no* give in, till suddenly another fthought came to him'. He knew the locality to be a very, rough one; ' Mr Rayborne had tfwo ladies with him. Theywoukl offer «a tempting and easy prey if they should encounter one of the gangs of prowling vagabonds who,, were always out on nights.' Hike.'.; this, ready to attack and rob anyone respectihly dressed; and Air Ra-yborrie's singleescort would he of little use .in such a' case. '...■

"Hamg'B nil!" he said to himself, "I ought not to have let.the .kindhearted) young lady., run any risk, when she came round to see .Maggie. The least I can dp is to go back aind see them safe home;«I can go to Donning's afterwards. .. -'V ". . ■ ,

And, with* that tl:dught, he 'finally, started towards the street 'in which he lived, as anxious now to get back there, lest .they should leave before he arrived, as lie had before been to get away frdm it. Thus it came ahout that! he arrived upon the scene at the moment when Ethel was supporting. Maggie's head in her arms, and Rayborne was at his wit's end how to summon assistance, fni he was natural!)/ reluctant to leave .the others there alone, nor did ho know his way about the neighbourhood Avell enough, in the fog, to find the nearest doctor. William threw himself upon his knees beside his sister, with a great cry, and his evident distress relieved Rayborne's mind of the terrible suspicion that had forced itself upon him. He, therefore, despatched young Mooro hurriedly for assistance, while ho and Mrs White did , their best to stanch tlhe : blood, which flowed from the (wound. | When a .doctor arrived, a brief examination showed, that iho poor -. girl ■was just iiiive, and Ithat was about all, and, from William's hurried explanation, it'seemed that when she fell, the "back of her head must have -/strucK urion the jagged metal corner- of thef • old box. '..'•'

"She might-have died from! loss of Wood if she had, not,,been ,the doctor said, and lie 'ordered her immedhito removal to tlio- nearest When a cab had been found—no easy matter in the ,'was carried ■gently and tenderly ; into it, a. policernnn lighting the way with his lantern, and deposited at, the hospital, after what seemed to alt a terribly slow and tedious journey. A further and more careful examination there resulted in the opinion that the case was a critical one, for mot only was the wound serious in itself, but the sufferer appeared to bo in such a state of emaciation and weakness from want of proper-food.iiand 7'ouri.shmenit,' that the Inss bfX blood nlone might prove eventually fatal. Such was the: house-surgeon's view, and he _ counselled ( Mr ' Bayborne Jco take Miss,,yorney and her companion jiway and see them, homo, promising' to iond ndwg should any change occur. , "Therens no usejin waiting,!' he said; "she is likely, to remain iuiconscious all night ;Vand,; if she gets better at all, it must be by sucli; slow degrees that it may be days before she is able to speak or be spoken to. - '' It would be quite useless,-therefore,' to wait about here for news,aTld' the fog may get worse."

Rayborne saw the wisdom of this, and, after some argument. /•• pensaaded Ethel to comply with it. She was in a state of the utmost distress, and -kept repeating: ' 'Five minutes I Think of it! Only five minutes! If we had only been five minutes sooner!" ..

"Nay," said'Rayborne, gently, "do not dwell upon that; rather think: how ifchankful we. should be that we. arrived when wo did; and that would not have been the ease; Miss -Verncy, but for your insisting upon going at once. I should never have dreamed of suggesting upon such anight, and it was your yielding to your own heart's kindly promptings that took us. there tonight at all; otherwise I should have arranged to go to-morrow." •.'''. But if the gentle Ethel's grief was great, William's was something dreadful to behold. He refused to leave, and said lie would stay until he heard bettci news, even if ho had to remain outside all night._ Ethel pressed a little money on him, which at first he indignantly declined; but eventually Rayborne talked him into a .calmer state.df mind, and induced him to take it and get himself food and lodging, poinding out that not to do so would only l>e causing additional distress to Miss Vemey. "For your sister's sake, poor girl, too," he said, "it is your duty to do now what is asked of you. Bo so, then, and come to me and bring me news in the first thing in the morning." / As "Ethel was staying with some friends in Guilford, street, Rayborne was 1 able to see her to their house in a cab in which they had brought Maggie ; without going far. out of his way home. Next mornlmg "William,-'called early with the news that the doctors thought that there was a slight improvement in his sisters condition. He brought with him some papers, which, lie said had belonged to his father, who had always seemed to set a good deal of value upon, them. "I have smashed up that old box," ho informed Knyborne. "I felt I could not enduro the slight of it, and have token away two or three things we had ■there and left the place; I couldn't go back there to live. And would you he kind enough, sir, to take charge of these papers for me for a time? I don't know what they are, but I do not like to 'destroy them, in case they might some day turn 01.1b to be important." ""We will make them into a parcel," Rayborne replied, "and seal it up, then T will toko charge of it for you until you want i!d again. And now sit down and toll me_ exactly all about this deplorablo affair." This William did, asserting in the meat positive terms his innocence ot the theft of which he had been accused and convicted, and finally mentioning Maggie's suspicions of Mike Donning.

'Rayborne lioi-ed '\'»<i through, and rernn.inerl for sonic time, in deep thought when he. had finisher"!. The younjr fnlJ|?»h\s e;ii-jK>t manner impressed Imn

favourably, and he reflected that if, indeed,, he was innocent, he mu'siv'have been through cruel suffering—quite sufficient to explain, if it did not justify, 'the explosion of ill-temper that had had such disastrous results. . "Welly" he observed at last, "if what you say is true, you aro certainly much to be piitied, and 1 am very sorry for you. "But in tliaD case, uo seems to mo- highly your sister may have hit, by : intuition, upon the right explanation. It so, this man can h:ivo no friendly intentions towards yon, and I should advise ydu to keep away from him." •: "I begin to have the same idea, sir," AVilliam replied, " a.nd I'll keep out of his sight for'the future, never fear. I wish—that is, if poor Maggie gets better: —to get away altogether and go to sea." , "We will see what, can he done," said Rayborne. "And now go round toMisg Verney and tell her about your faster's state this morning; hero is the address, she will be anxious to know." CHAPTER IV. That evening, in a parlour in a low public-house near tho docks in Poplar, a man sat watching for*his "pal," Mike Denning, when _that_ worthy suddenlv bnist in ,npon him with an awful oa.th o'i his lips and dismay and rage in his face. "Done!" he exclaimed —"clean done nil round. That drunken fool, Barnoy—the broker's man, you know —-never brought .tho papers, but left 'em there, in an old box, 'e says.. And William Moores never came down to me last night, as 'o said V. would; and now" both 'e an' ''is sister 'ave gone!—flown, clean flown—an' I can't find out where, tf. But I'll 'ave 'em yet; yes, an"I'll make it unpleasant for you, too, Miss Verney, sea if I don't!" The public-house at which Mike Denning was" wont to meet his "pal." Tim Coney, was known at "The' Sailor's Fiiend;" bul it is t(> be feared that, if the truth were lold, it scarcely bore out its title. It 6tood near xorie of. the entrances to, a large dock, and its windows overlooked tho river, suggesting tl at it had once beeir a pleasant riverside roBort; hut now the genuine sailors who patronised it were few and far between. ' >

When, ; Denning burst; into the room where his "pal" sat alone, waiting for; him, Tim-could evidently scarcely take i.i what he said, -inrl. half -thought he must be mad drunk; though, be it sa,id, Denning was seldom known to give way to drink. He was too cunning and craf-. ty for that, and understood too well' thf advantages it gave to others in the give-and-take game he had always in hand here or_ there. He was a thick-set. man, of medium height, with a cleanfib aven faoe, on which anyone who lookel carefully could see written the records q| vice and cruelly; hut yet he had a bland, deceptive smile when he chose. Ichat rriight well have taken in—and often did take in—young men—and older men also—who lacked! experience in the wiles of characters of this class. , After his lirst outburst, he sat down before the fire, lighted a pipe, and smoked on for somo, time in silence. "Ain't yer goin'-fci order' nothin' ter drink, Mike?" >asked Tim, after a while, w'i,th a suggestion of injury in I'is tone.' "I've bin waitin' 'ere for more than an hour for yer"; an' now yer's come, yer don't offer ter treat a fel-:, ler!" ;■'-; ;- , ■■• . • '/■...-,... "Treat .yerself," was Mike's surly answer," and -'after; that silence again l ensued. ■."• ~'.," .■']■■,. x- :■;.!•- ..". '\. v Presently, Denning gotitipy. rang the bell and ordered a,pot ofctfe'epi. and two glasses; by degrees/'thW two launched out into conversation., ■ 'Yes,!'' said Mike,..Vl bin tc-day. Thought' I might soft'sawder 'em, you know, an'"get- at them papers?" Would yer believe, the old box was smashed up into smithereens, an' the, papers was gone, >in'" 'they was gone. D'ye wonder I feels mad like'?" "No,"'said Tim, shortly. "In course,' it's too' bad that—-reg'lar sell. Only, I den't see as yer need drop down on a pal for it, all the m-me." ,

"I- 'ad it so nicely v.orked out, too," Mike went on; —without heeding the other.' "If 'e'd'.only come down last ] night, I'd a "caught 'im—an','pr, too— | 'cos I'd/plannedi'it/heautiful. "When she 'eard 'e-wasii: a ntesq-, she'd sure to 'a' como, an' I should have trapped 'er, too, neat, as a drum-stick But j dubno'what I'll doi" It's all put off indefinite as they says." .. They Loth smoked' on gloomily for some minutes,, and then Tim said: "All th'e same,.l. think I should.'ave a try at the old 'un if I was you." Mike shook his head. , "No use, my hoy, no use," he declared. HI ain't bin waifcin' all these years, foolin' about with old Moore, an' keepiu' me patience uo ter go and, make a r ; mess of it. now. No. If the peach must hang longer ter get ripe, why it must 'ang, that's all. Can't yer see, 'twouldn' t h'i likely ter-succeed, unless we got 'em both inter disgrace. I got the boy inter a hole.—that's ■ all right—but 'tain't enough. But, if I could get the gal inter a mess o' some sort, it'd tell ton times better. No; jou leave me alone for knowin' what I'm a-doin? of.'.' "You don't think the gal—t'other gal, I moans—worth tryin' again?" "Lor, not I!—at least, not till I've Igotsomethin' better ter shut 'er un ! with;" said Venning, drawing a long I breath. . v I "But yer didn't even explain it to [ or, did yer? Yer knows who I means ,—that—what's her name?"

. 'Verne,v. you mean. No. She never let me get so She's as sharp as n; needle, for all she looks so quiet. 'Ah !' says she], I see—l understand. It's blackmail you're thinkin' of. Now leave this 'ouse, sir. at once, or T'll 'ave you turned out and .given in charge.' An' von wouldn't believe 'ow she looked; er eyes seemed to' stab yer; thev rog In.r flashed. I never would 'a' believed it of such a nuiet, soft-lookin' slip of n, gal." Tim laughed.

"Seems +0 me you was frightened by a ga], an' let 'er bully yer, Mike," he said. .

Never mind," Denning returned, moodily. "But I'll 'iS VG ' er next time _ that s why I won't go agen till [ : m quite rove. Then—ah ! we'll see then wot yer'li, say, Miss—Miss Ethel—Vorney!" . "..,.•

And the the rufftlan gave a coarse vicious, suggestive langh. ' '•Well, it's all IT P for the present, if yer cant f,ud either o' these two, nor yet the. papers!" remarked Coney. "An' I don't see what more there 'is to be done; so lot's ho off and see about that other affair we've got to look after I"

And, after a little further talk, the two rascals got up and weut out.

Meantime, Maggie was slowjr eominn: back to life; but days passed, as the doctor had predicted, before she could talk Twice every day Ehel Vernev called at the hospital, and she would remain an hour or n !o re each time hv tb n_ patients bedside. And as she sat g-zing upon the drawn, haggard face that told so plainly its tale of miserv suffermg, and pnvation, she felt irr'e sistibly-attracted more and more towards the poor girl. In the glance she bint -upon her there was the oppression ci an infinite tenderness rind compassion that the sufferer, gazing back at her, seemed to rccrgnise and imdo'rstend; for, after looking gratefully for a while, she would give- a quiet, satisfled sigh,- and go ofF into a peaceful sleep, though before Ethel's arrival sho might have been restless and disturbed The nurse, looking on with sympathetic interest, notired this, and observed more than oi'cc:

"Ah, miss, you seem to bring her irore good than do the doctors or the sleeping, draughts."

I And Ethel felt glad to think it was

'l'])en, one day, Maggie's look liad a question' in it,, an anxious, yearning inquiry tliab Ethel quickly interpreted. Leaning doun, ;he whispered: "Be at peace, my friend, your brolljer is safe in our care. . Wo have kept him' away from that man, Denying, whom you feared." And at this there came -a smile of gratitude and relief upon the troubled face ore, as before, she sank again ipto sleep. i Prom that time the sufferer began to mend more rapidly, and. in another !day or two was able to speak and sit up for a short time. Soon both her brother and Rayborne viere- allowed to see' her for a, few minutes, and the ■first': meeting of the brother and sister was a sight tha.t seemed Lo the tenderhearod Ethel more than enough to -repay her >a. thousandfold for what she had done for them. But what interested and surprised her more ■'than all, perhaps, was to observe the change in Maggie's face, as'she grew stronger, for, as her convalescence progressed, and the lines ?nd hollows softened, it assumed 'si beauty that she had been wholly unprepared for, and never suspected. / -.Each day this became more and more manifest, until Ethel "used to wonder to herself almost whether., this' could indeed be the same young girl whose pinched face, its prominent cheekbones, and old-young look, had so roused her sympathy. When, at last, Maggie was able to leave the hospital, Ethel insisted on taking her for a while into the country near her own home. She had arranged this with Mrs "White, her old nurse," whose people lived in a,'cottage not far from Mr Vcrney's residence; and thither Maggie was conveyed so soon as she could safely make .the journey. Ethel went away with her charge-, full of innocent happiness at th© results of her visit to London and of thankfulness that it had bean permitted to her to' give this timely help to an orphan, gu'l whoso trouble was so sore - . , ,'• i i " But she left a shadow behind her, a shadow that was a joy and a, trouble joined in one, for Charies Rayborne felt as though the sunshine ' had gone out of his hie with her departure. 1< lglrb against it as he would, strive his utmost, he knew that his life could never be the same as before that well remembered night when Ethel Verney had asked him to assist her in her errand of charity and mercy. But ho bravely and resolutely put tlhe feeling from him, so far as he could, and took up his burden again, endeavouring to imd a solace by interesting himself in his work amid the sordid and painful surroundings in which it had, perforce, to be carried on. ■ Before Maggie returned to London, her brother had sailed for' Australia in the sailing-ship "Silver Cloud." Aided "by a letter of introduction from Mr Verney, which Ethel had sent on, Rayborne obtained for him "the opportunity the young fellow Had long earnestly dosired. By the kind invitation of Ethel ho went down to Fairminster before his departure Ho say good-bye to his sister, now' qtiite convalescent c and then set out, to try his fortune as a sailor. ' - - . CHAPTER.V,' It was nearly two t montns ..'befor© Maggie Moore returned*-' to'vLoflßpn jto enter;;"once more ~ upon ' the tl weary, struggle-for'hare existence that; is the" unhappy lot of millions of toilers great Metropolis. A thoughtful writer •fDr Allan.) has said that "it may be easiei' to do work of a General' Gordon ' than to live the life'of a /.'ondon seam- [ stress. True heroism is qftenest found in tlie struggle, endeavour, and settsacrifice of common life."

And truly Maggie's life 1 was an excample, a. case in point. ' The life of a young girl without relatives or friends,

living alone in London, and striving to earn her own livelihood, i b hard almost > beyond belief. It is a cruel existence—- , sordid monotonous, cheerless, lull of | dangers to health and character. It is j devoid df all that may go to make life ■ tolerable, trying alike to heart and mind and to the body. In Maggie's case it was, for some time, rendered harder and more difficult than other--1 wise would have-been the case by reason of a strange ill-fortune that peemed ]>ersistently to follow her in all her efforts. True, sho had Miss Verney's pi offered help; but this she gratefully but firmly refused, after she had once made another 6tart to kp<*p herselt. She had formed a high resolve that sbo 4 woukl justify the kindness she had received in the past, by proving that she could be worthy of it in the future." "I wish Miss Verney to have the satisfaction of knowing." she said to Raybome, "that she has saved me to become an honest, self-supporting worker :■ not to turn out a semi-pauper, willing to be.partly kept bv the- goodness of another, .even though that other may she is to me —tho kindest and most" lovable friend a poor gir,l could possibly possess." And Rayborne could only acquiesce, and speak a 'few words of assent and encouragement. So, putting resolutely aside 'the monetary help that her newly-found friend offered so sympathetically, Maggie started upon the task of "keeping herself," accepting, only from her benefactress a present of a sewingmachine as a sort of "stock-in trade."

And she managed to keep up a show of succass; but it was only achioved at the cost of. hard self-denial and constant heart-breaking work and worry. In tiu'ch, she only succeeded hv half-starv-ing herself, and by struggling bravely on through disappointments and that would have broken tho heart and spirit of many a girl of ouitwardly sterner mould. ' ' Indeed, a'ter a while she was obliged to admitj that the plan she had started Tipon was too precarious; and she was forced to seek a'situation. The repeated disappointments rendered this, as she at last sadly admitted, a necessity. It would be wiser, she felt, to accept a regular situation, however low the wage, than to trust to the c&ances of intermittent outside employment. But when, after' many failures, she obtained a situation, poor Maggie found 'that she hod only exchanged troubles 'of one kind for those of another. The room a\ 'which she had to work all dry, and oftentimes to late nt nighlt( was at one time oppressive for want of, proper ventilation; at another terribly, cruelly cold, being absolutely unwarmed during the severest weather. Then she found herself, of necessity, forc§S to associate with other girls of a character end disposition very different from her own; and with some '•69 them it was difficult to avoid constant quarrelling and unpleasantness, try as she would.

I These crowded workrooms of London sow seeds tha'D result ifa deadly harvests of consumption, brar/chitis, and many a fell diseasa amongst the class of help'less workers who, as matters stand, have no choice hut 'to submit to the conditions; and Maggie suffered cruelly at times, especially through the winter l months.

; Yet of all (thisshe thought hut little; [what troubled her was that she did'not , keep her'situations, poor as ihey were. (She soon had itaken End lost 1 tv-een each there had been a heartfeeaking tim?, during which she had jalmost broken 'down—a'rid it began to ;;Jook as'though she would never he able Hito keep/a place.i '• •■•• 1- This caused deep distress, no* only ' upon her own account, but also, -and i.even more so, because of the disappointment, perhaps even wAjng impressions, she'felt the minds wf her two friends. Miss Verney. and Mr Rayborne. ' '' The former wrote to her at intervnls —kind, coir-forting, thoughtful, letters tliey were, for she now lent her aid at a Sunday school .'in which he took an interest. About Ifchis tirise, too,-the. Carey'Mission, with, which he was connected, carried cub-a': scheme which had been long in' contemplation", but had been postponed from'time to time for want of funds. This was a club for poor workers-—there were two. clubs in ! fact, one for boys arid oiie 'foj' girls—I where they could pass their evenings—those of them who ever'had a'."spare evening—in '" harmless amusements or intercourse with others of their own class. Sometimes M; ggie. was able to spend an evening at this club, and Rayborne might come in while she was there; but such opporlunities were few r.nd usually meant, *for her, the mortifying fact that' she was again qtifr of a situation, ..

At last 'the '-:'■ growing anxieffcy that Eayborne could ren'd in her face,when tl.ey thus met led Liu? to inquire the cause; and he drew from her tha't she was being followed about .by the man Mike Denning, -whom she, so cordially detested and distrusted, though he had,' she was obliged Jto coi fess, never spoken to her or directljy i?±olested her in any way.

This wa* a sufficient" hint-'.to. KayI borne, afid he very, quuickly act-ed upon ' f'r. He shrewdly suspected that- some of her troubles might be. due to this man's machinations,, and he went round to some of the firms who had acted with such harshness towards her, and, after some trouble; goo at the 'truth. It turned out thalt'in every case Denning had dogged her footsteps, had called o'" the manager of the business in which, for ithe time being, she was employed, N and, under the seal of confidence, told tales about- her brother and narenlts. So artfully had these stories been concocted of mingled truth and falsehood, that .the recipients of his shameful "confidences," being in doubt, had decided the msv'tLer by quietly declining further emplov the girl. Bayboivno's explanations put a very different complexion on affa.irs; and frcm that 'time the manager of the place at which she was employed—and who had been on the point of dischargin< - her —became her friend. I Tims encouuraged, Maggie's natural capacities soon displayed themselves, and her cleverness in designing small pieces of work, and her persevering industry, did nfltb escape the sharp-eyed manager. Ere long she was promoted to be forewoman in her room, and was henceforward more employed in designing work for others than in doing it herself. She was now able, even, to put a shilling or two by every week against a "rainy day;" and she passed an evening every'week at a school of art where she worked hard still further to vato her nnitural talent for designing; find another evening she devoted to an evening class in ■ connection with the club to improve herself in general education. And when the early summer came, and she obtained the promise of two 01 three dnnVholiday at Whitsuntide, she gladly accepted an invitation from Miss Verney to visit her again. It,Avas .brought to her by Rayborne. who had, indeed though truly informed Ethel, that Maggie would have a few dt-ys free, guessing what: -\yas likely to ensue. "I shall be here myself for a few hours on Wbit-Mondnv," he told Maggie, "so shall probably see you there. T am going Ico see my old schoolfellow, James Dalton, and his mother. But you are to go down on gpturday evening." And on Saturday Maggie found herself once more on the road ito Fairmins+cr, joyous at the prospect of seeing ogam the one who had shown her such kindness, and innocently proud in the consciousness that 1.1 iss Verney wouVl ho able to feel that thnj'fc kindness had n.u been j.jl bestowed, but was bearing frui't. (To be Continued).