THE STORYTELLER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9913, 30 July 1910, Page 2

THE STORYTELLER.

' PICTURESQUE JUSTICE.

(By MARIAN BOWER.)

[All Rights Reserved.]

Ermine Devigne sat before the inlaid bureau that had been in her

father's study as long as he lived. Since his death, because he had al-v-.ways . written at it, his elder daughter had moved it into the .' turret room, the little octagonal apartment that she made peculiarly her own. The quaint old . room, oak panelled, with a wide fineplace taking up' one side, with, a window looking on to the garden at the righ't hand, had yet another window. ?) This second one looked , down into the . ball, and because the day was un- . usually warm both windows were wide open. > , i ■ : The scent of the lilies in great tubs by the heavily carved oak balusters floated upwaras to Ermine; the perfume of the mignonette growing close against the warm brick walls in the jborders without rose up to her. She ' paused a moment just to tell herself /that sbe was happy and blest. The ■'sihile still lingered on her lips as she dipped her pen into the-ink, and pulled a sheet of notepaper to her. She js&- ; .lected one from a pile of opened letJ ters beside her, ana, pulling out the sheet, re-read the invitation it contained. It asked her to dinner; it made no 'mention of her ■ half-sister. Ermine frowned. " Daphne ought to have •been asked as well," she murmured. Miss Devigne knew that her halfsister was 1 omitted because sho was x poor, and that she, Ermine, wa<s asked because she was rich, so she began • impetuously: '' Miss Devigne regrets " -■ • ' She lifted her head as she got so> far. Someone had come into the hall ;below. She heard voices; she listened :idly. Her mind was more than half .oocupied by an,.0ld A thought, by an old ..regret. Her father had left- her all ; he possessed, this beautiful old house, .all his money., To Daphne he left nor thing. - The, will was " years oild, made . when Daphne was a baby, made a few . months after his second wife left Mr ..Devigne. Ermine was persuaded that her father had always meant to make another will; meantime Daphne wanted for nothing. It was only at moments such as this that the difference in fortune was brought home to the sisters. Ermine did not immediately resume her writing. Involuntarily she went on listening to what was passing in the 'Hall. * "Daphne and Edward—of course," she thought. . Edward was the man Ermine had promised to marry. The engagement was but three weeks old, and not yet "public property. The " of course," the comment that _Bhe had thoughtlessly added herself, "struck Ermine. It seemed to point to Something; to ask her to observe something.' She lifted her head quickly. "'Her "half-sister and the man. who was to be her Tiusband had come almost "directly under her open window. Daphne seemed.about to go upstairs; .Edward was .protesting against being "left:. _ '/ ' "I wish to go," the girl insisted in a troubled voice, "you must see for -"yourself that I ought not to stay." v For answer Edward came still nearer to the stairs. - • Daphne," he returned, "you were " kinder to me at the Thorntons. I sometimes dared to ■ think then that you cared for me." . You were: not engaged to Ermine . then," the girl retorted. she'went up a'step.' Edward caught liuld "0.l her arm , begged her to listen - to him but for a moment. You thought/' cried out Daphne, freeing herself as she turned round to face him. "then, that I was the rich Miss Devigne." ; ;. " I did," Edward Pelham confessed, /'but I loved you. for yourself. Yon may not believe me. It is hardly likely that you. will believe me. It is true none the less. But how much I loved you I never realised until I saw you here, until I was obliged to turn from you, until I was compelled to act towards another as I wanted to act to you." " Yon say," he went on impetuously, -for Daphne had evidently murmured a word that did not rise as high as the •turret room, "that I have only myself to blame. It seems so to you. You .do not estimate the driving 7 force of circumstance; you cannot. I am a younger son with a younger son's portion. I am an attache at Vienna. Diplomacy takes money. 1 am deeply in debt. The Jews only consent to wait

"Because," cried out the girl, "you are about to marry Ermine, who is rich."

Edward Pelham threw out his hands towards Daphne. This time he pulled her down into the hall. Every nerte in the girl's body was tingling. She .wanted to refuse to listen; sho wanted to leave him. But Pelham had a way with him, a compelling way—end only such a very little time ago she loved him dearly. Against her better judgment, in 6pite of herself, she lingeredEdward saw that he could still persuade her, force her. 5 "It is true," he went on, his voice urgent, passionate. "The Jews will /only wait because they expect to be paid. If they did not wait I should be ruined. Don't you see that whichever way I turn I am. trapped, that, do •what I would I must lose you." There followed a pause. Edward did not speak again. Daphne had nothing ■to say. The rich woman, Ermine Devi gne, in the turret rocm, sat motionr' less before the old writing t*ble. "I am not old; I am not ugly," Er.mihe cried in her heart. If Daphne was barely twenty, she was but thirty, and she loved—had loved—"Edward Pelham. She had rejoiced in him, she had been proud of him, she had been glad she was rich as she had never been glad before because money would help him. Now she had learned that he only wanted her money—not herself. She swept the invitation to dinner on to the floor, tumbled' her own halfwritten reply atter it. The whole world ' had changed since she wrote those three words to vindicate Daphne. Sho tried to think what she must do. In her agitation she began to open one by one the little_ drawers under the pigegn holes facing her. Each little drawer was curiously inlaid; each was . provided with, a brass ring attached to a lion's mask for a handle. Mr De~ vigne had stored the most miscellaneous papers in these little receptacles. Ermine had never felt nearer to her father than when she went through their contents after his, death. Perhaps that was why. she pushed them in and out ,°°Sho began at the right hand. In the first drawer she had found a curl of her own hair cut off on the day when sho was a year old; in the next she found a.- cameo bracelet—a tiling of no value that had been her mother's when eho was a girl. The third held among ■ a mass of letters her own first roundhand efforts to her father. The middle ■drawer was full of legal papers, tilings that the average man would at least hav® filed away. She began to open that drawer now. It was taller than any of the others. It resisted. She jerkedi it, pulled it right out. Mechanically she put her hand, into the space it left to see what had impeded it. She .drow forth a stiff parchment envelope. .It was longer than its breadth. It had evidently just fitted in the space between the drawer and the back of the writing table. It must hitherto Jjavo stood upright, and so she had no* tjweeived it. Now, probably since sho had pulled the drawer out quickly, it had wedged itself slantways. She looked at the words on the envelope. They ' were in her father's writing.

SHORT AND SERIAL.

They said: "To my daughter Ermine."

Miss Devigne sat an instant with the unopened packet in her hand. She felt instinctively that the letter within had reference to Daphne. To come upon it to-day of all days. Her first impulse was to thrust the letter back, to close the drawer tightly en it, to let it Ire-* main hidden. She had been more than just to Daphne; she had been generous. The girl had never wanted for anything, and what had been given had. been given so as not to wound. The very day before Ermine had written to her man of business asking him to prepare a deed of gift so that Daphne mignt bo amply provided for before she married. She had not mentioned this. She had meant to keep her secret until her wedding morning; to telll Daphne when she could not well refuse. Ermine had said over and over the little speech that she meant to make to Daphne. "Little sister," it had been intended to run, "don't mind taking my money, you will but be adding to the happiness of the happiest day of nrylife." Ermine threw up her head. She had been planning this, intending that. But yesterday and the things or yesterday wore passed, to-day and the things of to-day were present. The temptation was ended. E-irine broke the sheet of the envelope; she unfolded the sheet. There were words on it, words written by the father who had loved her so dearly. She forced back her tears. She began to read. Mr> Devigne told his elder daughter how he loved her, how he trusted her, how he relied 011 her. He Went 011 to say that latterly he liad been troubled by misgivings at leaving Daphne penniless. Yet he sm-ank from altering nis will. It had reposed in the lawyers office for years and he could" not bring himself to rake up past history by having it altered. So he had decided to leave the matter to Ermine. The conclusion was characteristic, though Ermine did not perceive that at the moment. All his life Mr Devigne had shrunk from initiative.

"If, my dear daughter," the letter went 011, '' you think it well, make over one quarter, of your income to your half-sister. It will, amply provide for •Daphne; it will leave you a very rich woman. But I beg of you keep silence and wait a while before you do this. Observe how Daphne bears dependence. Mark carefully whether she grudges you your fortune; whether she has inherited her mother's lightness. An opportunity to f make sure. will sooji come. Daphne is beautiful and opportunity hastens after good looks. Daphne will be tempted; you cannot prevent that. See, whether left to herself, she would stand or fall. If she makes a fight for principle, then fulfil my project; make over to her one quarter of your income. Money can do no harm to a woman who has the strength to resist the voice of passion; if ( she falters, withhold the gift, care for her, provide for her day by day, but give nothing. Money to a light woman is but an impetus to ruin."

Ermine read the letter twice. Her father (the letter was so very like him) might have foreseen this very day. The scene that had passed below, what she had involuntarily heard, answered every one of Mr Devigne's possibilities. Daphne had been tempted. Edward Pelham had tempted her. The girl had scorned him. She was entitled to the money.

Ermine, rose. She stood upright, she looked slowly round the room. Daphne rich, the last barrier between her and Edward Pelham was swept away..

Miss Devigne stayed but a moment. She walked into the hall. It was deserted. The sun was sliining in at the windows, the jjeams, as they passed through the stained glass 'in the casements, patterned the floors with squares of red and green and yellow. Tli9 lilies were as fragrant as before, the sun shone as gaily. The breath of summer cam© in through the open door. The lordly pleasure house was hers, and not an hour ago it had seemed but just good enough to shelter the man she loved. Ermine rang th© bell. "Go out/' she said to the servant, "and ask Mr Pelham to come to me." Then she Tang again.

Another man answered this time. " Ask Miss Daphne to come to me," 6he said to him. \

Edward came through from the porch as Daphne came down, the stairs. He looked from the woman standing straight and silent in the middle of the room, to the girl by the tall lilies with trouble in her eyes and with qheeks nearly as white as the blossoms, themselves, and a shade of apprehension came nto his face.

Ermine spoke at once. " Daphne," she began, " I have just found a letter my father left. He desires me to make over a quarter of my income to you. Ido it willingly, dear. To-morrow, you too will be rich." The girl stood still. Her eyes grew rounder, wider. She looked at Edward Pelhain.

"Daphne!" he cried out, forgetting Ermine, decency, reticence. "Daphne!"

Had Miss Dovigne not known before, she must have understood. She stood still, she made no sign. The three in the room waited a little. All her life Ermine remembered the long-drawn-out suspense of this moment, the peacock that called from the sunk fence, the church clock that tolled up the village. Then Daphne began to move. Ermine watched her. Edward wat-ched her. His frice lighted, he evidently thought she was coming towards him, for one instant Ermine thought that too, and it seemed to hurt more than all the rest.

Then Daphne stopped, stood up so young, so fair, so girlish, just under the banner that a Devigne of old bad died so save his King. The girl looked at her sister. "Ermine," she said, "may I ring the bell?" '

"Why?" breathed Miss Devigno. "To order the cart for Mr Pelham,," answered Daphne; "he will wish to Jeave us at once."

Ermine heard and understood; Edward heard—and he understood, too. "You send me awaj to my ruin I