Chapter III.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5760, 2 January 1897, Page 1

Chapter 111.

It was a cruel hard winter, this of 188 — . So said Mrs Turnbull, whose husband !__•

been thrown suddenly out of work owing tb the colonel's death, and everybody else agreed with her. It was not only that the snow lay in grim drifts in the roads, and that, the water supply ran short, but the wind! . Surely there had never been a more evil, spiteful wind than this. He seemed everywhere. No sand-bags or shutters or curtains would keep him out. He made old bones ache and young faces blue. And there was no doubt that his onslaughts had been too much for old Mrs Tempany, who lay shivering and gasping in her little house that felfc damp and chill as a tomb.

On one very bitter day Miss Taylor, the district visitor, a rosy-cheeked young lady who woro a fashionable hat, had paid a friendly call at No. 1, Paradise Villas, and there deposited the Parish Magazine. What was more important, she had promised coals. "Yes, I'll tell the man to stop this afternoon," said she, standing at the open front • door and allowing the bitter wind to rush in to the little bedroom beyond, where Mrs Tempany lay. What furniture the old couple now possessed had been mostly moved into the sleeping room. The parlour was very bare. But the prints still hung on the dusty walls, and the medals on the background of red velveteen. Towards afternoon, Mr Tempany took up a post near the window and watched for the coal-cart. He was very nearly blind now, bufc he could just distinguish, he felt sure, the glimmer of the white horse that drew it. And surely enough, towards three o'clock, the heavily-laden waggon came creaking up the road, with its well-known animal looking drab-colour against the pure snow. It stopped a few doors lower down, and he could just trace a black outline descending with a sack and mounting the cart again. "Thank God ! she'll have a warm fire tonight !" he said, blowing on his fingers. Very slowly the cart came on, and old Tempany rose to his feet. No! It was impossible ; ifc was not going to stop at the Villas after all! A terrible pang shot through him. " She must ha' forgotten J" he Baid miserably, passing his hands through his scanty white hair. " And I've only twopence in the box ! O dear, O dear, whatever shall we do this night? Miss Taylor might have thought of the missis coughing so! O my gracious, that is a blamed bad job!" He tried to collect a handful or two of cinders, and took them into the bedroom. His wife looked up at him from the bed where she lay shivering, although covered with the wrapping of ragged fur.

" Wot was it, John, that hawfieer who come 'ere in the summer said about somo fund ? Wouldn't they let you have a trifle out- of it now it's got so awful cold ?" "Inspect he forgot, like the rest of 'em do," said the old man. " Never mind, my girl, I'll get you a cup o' 'ot tea when I've made up the fire." For he had resolved to go and ask Mrs Turnbull for a few shovelfuls of coal, which he knew she would not refuse, though 9he, too, was having a hard time "with her five children at home and her husband out of work.

Captain Abingdon had indeed forgotten, as is the habit of perhaps the larger portion of human beings. For one thing he had had an unfortunate Ascot, and this had quite put old Mr Tempany out of his head. Besides, as his soldiering in that veteran's part of the world was now over, Captain Abingdon had nothing to remind him of the tall white-bearded figure that housed to see so often standing at. his garden gate. Then, after Ascot, the young officer had fallen a victim to the charms of a lady with "yellow hair, pencilled eyebrows, and a lively disposition, and this episode was all-absorbing until Good•wopd.

It was not the fortune of old Tempany to he remembered by many people. He fetched his small allowance of coal from tender-hearted Mrs Turnbull and made a fire iv the little damp bedroom, and some tea and dry toast that got very much burnt, because his hands trembled so much with the cold.

All night he kept watch by the bedside, and he was happy to think that the old woman was better for the warmth, because she coughed less and less, and then not at all. She still slept when he got up in tho chilly dawn from his chair, feeling terribly stiff and weary ; so he moved as noiselessly as he could for fear that she should wake. At last he got anxious, and moved the fur cloak a little on one side. " Jenny, are you asleep ? Shall T get you a little drop o' cocoa and one of them nice biscuits 7" he said. But she was still sleeping, and so soundly this time that neither cold, nor pain, nor hunger, nor even the voice of the faithful old man who loved her, would ever wake hex again.