JUST BOY AND GIRL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9092, 23 November 1907, Page 2

JUST BOY AND GIRL.

(By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.)

Author of " A Life's Atonement," "Joseph's Coat," etc., eto.

[Aia Rights Resebved.]

There were two young people In a garden, and each was anxious and dis-' turbed in aspect. One was standing by a flowering rosebud and was plucking the petals of a growing flower and suffering them to fall earthward one b^ one. There was something in this trifling act which seemed to indicate a surrender in the mind. The other stood with his hands rammed hard down into his jacket pockets and frowned thoughtfully. " Look here, Jane," he said, suddenly; "we two have got to stick together. It's of no use to talk about parting, and I'm not going to stand by and see you break your neart." " Jack," she answered, looking up at him with a flash of tears in her eyes. " both father and mother are against us." "I know," he said. "But we're living in the twentieth century, darling. You're a free agent. Of course, you owe a duty io your parents, and they have a certain right to decide your conduct. They choose to say that you shan't marry me, and there, until you are your own mistress, they are within their rights. But when they say that you've got to throw yourself away on old Stonecroft, and be miserable for life, I say it's a monstrous tyranny and a crime. The man's old enough to be your father. His eldest daughter's within a .year of your own age. And besides that, you detest the fellow;" "Oh, no, Jack; you mustn't say that. I'm sure I don't detest anybody. But I don't like Mr Stonecroft. I don't think he is sincere, for one thing." "Sincere!" said Jack with a short and scornful laugh. ' He's as oily an old hypocrite as Tennyson's scoundrel in ' Sea Dreams.' I just loathe him, and he knows it. But whenever I meet him he smiles that fat 6mile of his, and shakes hands and calls me his dear young friend. Only yesterday he gave me both hands, and beamed at me till I could feel my left just tingling for his ribs. I shall amaze him one of these fine days, I know." " Don't talk in that way, Jack. < It isn't like you. But, there s one tiling I. haven't told you yet. Father is coming out directly to tell you that there can never possibly be anything between you and me. He gave me a quarter of an hour to say good-bye. Oh, Jack, dear! how can I say it?" "Don't say it," said Jack. "I had his consent so long as I was supposed to be my uncle's lieir. His marriage puts an end to that, and I've got to go out into the world and make, a living somehow. That prospect doesn't frighten me. We're both young, and we can afford to wait. You're not. going to marry against your will, anyhow. We're going to be brave and patient, m^ darling, and we've got to have faith in one another. You're my promised wife." " Jack." the girl answered, " that is all over." " No. It isn't over. It can never be over, till you come to me and tell me that you have changed your mind and ceased, to care for me. Ihat would put an end to my claim, but nothing else will so long as I've a pulse of life left in me. Here's your father. Let us go and meet him." But the girl shrank from the coming interview and stood hanging her head Two separate teardrops fell heavily and starred the dust on the earthen garden path at her feet. Her lover wound an arm about her' waist. She struggled faintly to escape him, but ho declined to relax his hold. "' I've got to assert my rights, my dear," he said, seriously, " and I'm going to do it." Mr Ackioyd came easily and even jauntily down the path. " Good morning, Sinclair," he 6ang out, whilst yet a score of yards away, flourishing his walking-stick in salutation. " Good morning, sir," Jack answered, lightening hls grasp on the girl's waist by jnst a trifle. " Run indoors, Jane," said papa, airily. " I have a word or two to say to this young gentleman." " We'll have it out together, the three of us, Mr Ackroyd, if you please. Jane's position is very difficult, and neither of us wants to make it harder than it is. The best thing for her will be to understand quite clearly and unmistakably what is our attitude to each other." " Very well," returned the father. " Possibly you are right. Now my attitude is one of uncompromising hostility. The hostility isn't personal. It lis purely pecuniary. lam a needy ! man. I always was and always shall be. I was bred to considerable expectations, whichdid not materialise. In that respect we are in a position - ito sympathise with each other. I am without a profession, and have no means of increasing an inefficient income." "I beg your pardon, Mr Ackroyd. I am three-and-twenty. I speak French, German and Spanish. I am worth a fortune to any great firm which does business on the Continent." " Perhaps. But what will the great firm be worth to John Sinclair P I presume it has yet to be discovered. The firm, I mean." " Yes, the firm has to be discovered. But the point is this, Mr Ackroyd. I 1 have youth and energy and brains. I'm not in the least disposed to be despondent as to my own future. I have two thousand pounds to start with." "Call it seventy pounds a year, said Mr Ackroyd. ' "I'm not to ask Jennie to marry me until I can maintain her in comfort, but we're going to wait foi each other. I don't think we shall have to wait long." "How longP" asked Ackroyd. "A year?" " One might not be able to do much in a year. But however long it may be, we shall stick to one another. I have Jennie's promise. I had yours, sir, six months ago." "My promise, my dear boy," eaid Mr Ackroyd, " was given to the potential, probable heir of Sir Arthur Sinclair, Baronet. It was withheld, you remember, until I had communicated | with him and had received his assuri ance — which, in the light of later events, appears to have been rather cynically given — that the proposed union would make no difference in his testamentary intentions towards yourself-" . _ x-., I " Well, sir," Sinclair answered, still keeping his arm round his sweetheart's waist ; "my future wife's promise was given to me in my own proper person, and not to anybody's nephew. I shall | hold her -to it until she tells me that it !is distasteful for her to keep it. Then I trust I shall find the grace to retire, but until then, sir, I look on myself as her property." " All right, my boy," said Ackroyd. '" I like you — you have a breezy and refreshing gift of cheek which may carry you on in the world. I" wish you well. But you and my daughter both perfectly understand . the position. My wife and I are both agreed that your altered circumstances put an end to the engagement. In the matrimonial market, Mr Sinclair, a woman's youth is her' capital. You will not be allowed to waste my daughter's fortune. What- . ever authority bei parents can exercise will be used against you. I shall forbid my daughter, to correspond with you, and I shall impound any letters which may be addressed to her by you." "Very well, Mr Aokroyd, I shall trust to Jennie. We- love each other, and IWe peer feot. faith in hex.. Good-, .

bye, darling. Heaven bless yon and keep you always. I shall find a thousand ways of communicating with you. I haven't the least little bit of a quarrel with you r Mi Ackroyd, for you're bringing just a pinch of romance into our love story, and we shall both live to bo thankful to you for having made us love each other tenfold better than we should have done if everything had gone smoothly witih us. Good-bye, Jennie." He stooped and kissed her. and she, carried wholly out of herselr by his brave words, threw her arms around his neck and cried without restraint upon his breast. The unconventional young man stood with a proud and tender smile, and was no more concerned for Ackroyd than if he had been a thousand miles away. " I shall make a flying visit to my uncle," he said, stoopping to lay his cheek to hers, " and then I am off to London to seek my fortune." She kissed him once, and they melted apart from each other. " Good morning, Mr Ackroyd. Good-bye, Jennie, I'll be back before you know it." He was gone with a farewell flourish . of his straw hat, and Ackroyd turned to his daughter, and, taking her gently by the hand, led her unresistingly to the house, when she Tan to her own room to ory her fill in solitude. Mr Ackroyd, sitting down to his morning cigar and ihe "Times," dismissed the small domestic tragedy from his mind. He was interrupted in his reading by a servant bringing in a salver with Mr Stonecroft' s card upon it. Mr Ackroyd was at home to Mr Btonecroft, and the visitor entered, a large fat man, with a large, bald head, large white hands, of unusual plump softness, and whiteness, and a smile so broad and U-'Ctuous, it ooi-veyed the impression that he carried his emotions in a hath of warm oil. "Good morning, Ackroyd," said he, with a voice to match the smile. " Good'morning." He took Ackroyd's hand in both his own and fondled it a little. " What delightful weather we have vouchsafed to us. I must not disguise from you, my dear Ackroyd, the fact that I am here upon a selfish errand." The other egotist looked at him and said that if he could be of service " Well, the truth is, my dear Ackroyd, that you can. You can be of inestimable service. You are not ignorant of the supreme attraction I have found in,your charming homeP I have refrained from speaking openly, because I am perhaps unduly sensible, of the disparity of .years between Miss Ackroyd and myself, and I have been scarcely conscious of the attachment with which she has inspired me. I need not debate upon my position, because you are more familiar' with it than any other of those dear friends upon whom I occasionally trespass in search of advice on business mattera. Nor need I assure you that I am prepared to behave fittingly in the matter of settlements. My own brood must, of course, be provided for — the little darlings are only two in number, as you know — but I have been largely — even superfluously — blessed with the goods of this transient world, and v I have proposed to myself to otter a settlement which will be entirely without condition, of one hundred thousand? pounds." Mr Ackroyd's breath left him, and for half a minute he felt a curious swimming in the head, as if he were about to swoon. " Stonecroft," he declared, when this sensation had abated, "your proposal is like yourself.- It is princely. It is majestic. Nothing could be more calculated to appeal to a father's heart. But there are difficulties in the way. The fact is that I allowed my daughter to engage herself to young Sinclair, and — you know something of human nature, Stonecroft — she has some little romantic idea that her promise should be inviolate." - " Yes, yes," 6aid Stonecroft. smiling as if he did it for a wager. " I know of that, of course. That ie a mere affair of boy and girl. You will be able to bring her to see things in. a different light. Might I suggest that if you and your charming wife, upon whose influence I hope I can rely " " I can pledge myself for that, Stonecroft," said Ackroyd, breaking in upon him with an almost solemn fervour. " I can pledge myself for that." " I suggest then that I may not unreasonably hope that my felicity may be accomplished in, say, three months' time, or, maybe, four. It should not be delayed for a longer period than four." " I don't know," said Ackroyd, doubtfully. .. "I have great faith in time and patience. Say six." "Well, my dear Ackroyd. Well, if you can abbreviate the time of my impatience I need not say that you will find me very willing to discuss that other little matter you broached last Wednesday." With this welcome intimation, the conference came to an end. As the parties to it shook hands in temporary farewell, Jack Sinclair stepped into a smoking carriage in the train which was to bear him within a mile of his uncle's gates. Swinging swiftly along a country lane an hour later he sighted Sir Arthur himself on a stout, old brown cob, riding at a walk not more than a hundred yards away. '"' Hello, Jack, said the Baronet, in answbf to his greeting. " What's the news with you P" "I am going up to London, sir, said Jack. " I must find something to do, and I want to ask you foT an introduction to some of the people you know in Parliament." "Ay, ay!" replied Sir Arthur. " Come up to tie house and talk it over. We shall have the place to ourselves to-day. My wife's gone over to Leicester, shopping with her mother." "Is her ladyship's mother staying here, sirP" asked Jack, more to mako conversation than for any other purpose. " She is, my lad, she is," the Baronet answered, in no very cheery tone. " I didn't b_rgain for it, but I'm afraid she'll prove a fixture." He sighed heavily, and laying the reins on the cob's neck, he began to fill his pipe. He smoked iri silence, until they had passed lodge, and had entered on tlie noble old mile-long avenue which led to the Hall. "Jack," he said suddenly, "we've got to nave it out together, now or later. There's no time like the present. I suppose you've been pretty i soro about it. " Sore in a way, of course," said Jack. " You see, sir, I've lost a good deal of time, and, what's even of more consequence, I'm just fresh from being warned off the ground by old Ackroyd." "Ah 1 You were engaged to be married to his daughter." "I was," said Jack very quietly. " We all thought I was coming into a pretty good thing, but since matters changed Ackroyd runs rusty. It' 6 perfectly natural, of course. I don't think I should have done it myself, but I can't blame him for it. I'm going to fight him, and I'm going to win. The girl's as true as steel, but she'll have a bad time of it. There's an old bru.te down there who's paying his addressee to her. She hates him worse than poi- .. son, but he's got sacks of money, and .if they could force her into a match with him, they'd do it." " We ain't in the Middle Ages," said the Baronet. " I've done you a bad turn, Jack, and if must do what' l can to make it up to you." " Well, fair's fair," said Jack. "I think you ought." . P It's you lor. speaking your . xdX-dVV ,.

his uncle answered. " But you're quite right, Jack. I hope we're going to be good friends." I'Well, sir," Jack responded, "I think I'm a level-headed sort of fellow, and its a man's first duty to do justice to his neighbours. I should be a fool if I denied your right to do what you like with your own life, sir. I'd no more right to ask you not to marry than I had to ask you to blow your brains out, and let me into the property. But you let me live in the belief that I should have everything. You encouraged nte to live without a trade. - You allowed mo to engage myself to be married to a girl who will never inherit a sixpence. You ask me if I haven't been sore about it. I've never- been ass enough to blame you for getting married, but I have been disappointed and injured, and I think you owe me as big a compensation as you can make in reason." " That's nothing more nor less than the plain truth, Jack; and it's exactly what I was saying at breakfast yesterday. Her ladyship's perfectly reasonable, but that old cat of a mother — look here, Jack, never you marry a mother-in-law. I've doubled your allowance, as you'll find if you'll call on Stringer when you go to town, and I'll lay myself out to serve, you in any way you can point out to me." " I'm very much obliged to you," said straightforward Jack. "And that's the line of country which I knew you'd take. There isn't a shade of anxiety on my mind now, except for the misery I know that old Stoneoroft's persecutions will inflict upon that poor dear little girl." „ "Whose persecutions did you eayP Stonecroft? You don't mean Abraham Stonecroft, do youP Millionaire twice over. So they say. Lives at France Hall, down Ackroyd's wayP" " That's the man," said Jack. . " How's he persecuting the girl?" asEed the Baronet, knocking the ashes from his pipe, and cocking a sidelong eye at his nephew. "By his attentions," the ' younger answered. " I've been telling you. That's the man her father and mother are trying to persuade her to mar"Oh!" said the Baronet. "Ah l I see. Have you got any sort of a kit in town, Jackr* " Oh, yes. I keep on the old rooms in Warwick Court. V " All right. We'll go up to-night together. I'M justjlrop a line to her ladyship to say I've been called away on urgent business. I think I can put a little spoke in Mr Stonecroft's wheel. I don't know. I don't know. If I can I shall be very pleased to do it. for I owe him something. of business, years ago. He swindled me, Jack. Had me for ten thousand of the best. Maybe it's my turn." He chuckled, and rubbed his hands as he alighted at the door of the hall, and gave his cob into the hands of a servant who came running out to meet him. "" Fm a bit of a heathen, Jack," he said, "a bit of a heathen. I can't bear to be had, and I can't forgive the man that has me." The Baronet's portmanteau was packed, he and hie nephew were driven: to the railway station, found a carriage to themselves "on a restaurant train, dined snugly and comfortably en route, and made their way to tjpte Cecil. There Stringer. Sir Arthur's man of business, i found him in the morning, and the Eair Were closeted together for half an our. So far as Jack knew, for -he time being, nothing came of the interview, and his uncle went back home next morning, after giving his^nephew one or two valuable introductions to the kind of men he wanted. * Jack found employment, which promised much for the future and yielded nothing for the present. He pegged away assiduously at his duties, and earned golden opinions. There is no finer sspur than love, and he ws in love full fathom five, and was determined, for Jennie's sweet sake, to succeed. . And since he _iad a genuine talent for,.>-af-. fairs, and was in grim earnest, he made great' progress. But the days and the weeks went by, and no news came from Stringer. His uncle wrote him < once a week, but- had nothing to say in answer to his inquiries except that investigations were proceeding, and that he wanted to be quite certain of his case before' he proceeded with it openly. Suddenly, when Jack had almost given up thinking about his uncle's: friendly intentions towards Stonecroft, he received from him a telegram, which read: "Meet me at St Pancras, one fifteen." He made his excuses at his office, and drove to the^ stationStringer was on the platform, arid shook hands cordially. " Sir Arthur has news for you, Mr Sinclair," he said, " but he prefers to impart it in his own fashion." The train came in punctually, and with it Sir Arthur, redder than a windy morn, and scenting of the country. "We have a clear half-hour for luncheon," he said, "and then a little journey." " What is it all about?" Jack asked. "In one hour and forty minutes," said the Baronet in answer, "you 11 know all about it. I've been pretty busy in your behalf, Jack, and 1 have gathered together a little company to which I hope tb introduce you. ' There came an hour's journey by rail and a walk of five minues, which led them to a well-kept little country mansion. Here they were received, by a courtly gentleman of ' professional aspect, who shook hands with Sir Arthur and with Stringer and ushered them all three into an apartment; in which, to Jack Sinclair's prodigious surprise, were seated Jennie Ackroyd and her parents. Mr and Mrs Ackroyd bowed stiffly. Jennie looked radiant and confused, a compound of beams and blushes. " And the other member of our party?" asked Sir Arthur. "I am in momentary expectation of his arrival," 6aid the professionallooking gentleman. As he spoke there was a ring at the door, and the professional-looking gentleman excused himself and went out into the hall, returning in a moment with Mr Stonecroft, who paused at the door, and stared about him with so ludicrous an amazement that Jack laughed, though he knew no more. than Noah what had caused it. .*'*' "Mr Stonecroft," said Sir Arthur, " this is Mr Stringer, my legal adviser. He will be happy to afford you any information you may desire as to my reasons for bringing about this little meeting." " Stonecroft," said "Ackroyd, " I regret to say it, but you are an abject scoundrel." Stringer meanwhile had drawn from his pocket a little sheaf of documents. " That is a copy,, of a certificate of marriage between Abraham- Stonecroft and Margaret Whitcomb at .- St Ab- , bott's, Darley, on the twenty-first of March, 1878. That is a copy of the document by which the lady was certified insane by Arthur Cunningham, M.D., and Walter Merriman, M.D.,,0n the eighth of August, 1882. She came into the care of Dr Fletcher, the proprietor of this establishment, on the thirtieth of that month, being introduced to him as the sister-in-law of the person who made himself chargeable tor her maintenance — Mr Abraham Stonecroft, here present. This is Dr Fletcher's attestation' of those facts. This is the joint declaration of Lucy ; Hutchison and Jane Hawkins, professional "nurses, who attended the unhappy lady in the earlier stage, of her dementia, and who recognise her as be-' ■ ing now an inmate of this establishment. 1 think that is all, Sir Arthur." "I think it about all that is necessary. I don't think we need detain yon longer, Mr Stonecroft." • Stonecroft said nothing, hut ho trembled a good deal, and' rubbed his fat, white hands nervously; together. Finally he stumbled fronf x "|he. roota^

»nd the proprietor ©f the _-toUiß_an___^ followed him. __■■'__ ii' " And ndw," eaid tho Be_j>ndL "we're all friends here. Mr Sfcnngef has laid my teetamentery __.positioa|_. before you, Ackroyd, and I learn that you think it satisfactory. Jack, * nave done the best I could for you, an«| her ladyship has behaved like an angel* You young people will have a good deal to say to each other, but Mr and Mri . Ackroyd and Miss Jane have promised to spend a fortnight with my wife ana me, and I've made arrangements at tht ' office, and you'll haye v time to exchange news." "Sinclair," said Ackroyd, holding out his hand, "I'm honestly glad tq ■ have you back on the old footing. To tell you the truth," he added, alnkintf lus voice to. a whisper, "I always had a distrust for that rascal, Storiecroft."