Chapter XXIX.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 4257, 13 July 1895, Page 2 (Supplement)

Chapter XXIX.

The cruel word her heirt so tender thrilled,

That sudden cold did run through everjr vein : And fctouey horror all her senses tilled With djing fit j that down sho fell for pain. Sfjsxseb. IT was Sunday afternoon, and although a bleak, cold day, the streets of Gloucester were thronged with people dressed in their best. Amongst the loiterers, Frank Armitage threaded his way with a bi-isk, even step. He had acquired the habit of walking with his eyes fixed straight ahead, looking neither to right nor left. He might pass many who knew him, but none who would care for his salutation. A lonely man, already fast losing the appearance of youth ; his face becoming daily more deeply engraved with stern, hard, proud lines. A man nnder a cloud. "Hullo, Armitage! Where are you off to?" The speaker was a smartly dressed young man, with his hat on one side, and a large cigar between his lips. " I am going to Chosen, Mr. Smith," replied Frank, stiffly. " Ah ! Chosen — well, I don't mind if I go too." "I'm going to church," said Frank, curtly. Lonely as he was, the offered companionship of Mr. Smith did not please him. The little dandy looked doubtful. He ■was anxious to make friends with Frank, but was it worth so great a sacrifice ? "All right," he said.presently; "we'll go together ; can't say I very often go to church. About time I turned over a new leaf —eh ? " Frank was silent ; he had no faith in Smith's virtuous professions. "Easier said than done, ain't it?" continued Smith, with a portentous sigh ; " people talk big about a fellow turning over a new leaf — seem to think it as easy as winking ; much they know ! " i Frank smiled. Was the fellow trying to draw him out? " Have your praiseworthy efforts been thwarted, then ?" he asked, sarcastically. " Thwarted ! I believe you, my boy ! There's old Dale, to begin with, puts on his spectacles, just as a judge puts on his black cap. ' I'm always willing to help a man to retrieve his character/ he says. ' I will give you a chance of turningover a new leaf" — mighty poor chance it is ! Then he turns you into the count-ing-house with ' Black Sheep ' branded on your forehead, and a jolly time you hav,e of it." Frank coloured and bit his lip. Did Smith mean to draw a picture of his own case ? It was painfully true. "Mr. Dale's manner is not exactly encouraging," he said, calmly, " but he is a good man. Tou know, it is not every one who will give the ' Black Sheep ' a chance, however poor a one." "Oh! it's all very well for you, Armitage. . Tou can carry a stiff upper v 'lip and look as if you didn't care a brass f artbing ; but that's all my eye ! Tou do care, and, for that matter, so do I." ' Frank clenched his teeth. Had he then sunk so low that this rowdy little (blackguard could claim him for comrade? ' " I have no complaint to make," he replied, in a cool, hard voice. " Stephens is a good fellow; I have a great respect for him." » "Oh! I daresay he's good enough; a^l I can say is he does not make goodness attractive to a poor beggar who is trying to pull up." | Frank looked thoughtful. Was it .possible that he had Wen unjust to his companion? If the -poor fellow was .really trying to do right, he ought to ,nelp him instead of standing aloof, i Surely he, of all men, ought not to be jnisled by appearances. {'- "Don't be discouraged, Smith," he sail, in a softened manner. "If you do your work well and prove yourself trustworthy. Stephens will soon learn to treat you with confidence. But these things take time, you know." A look of triumph gleamed for a moment in Smith's eyes, but Frank did not see it. " I'll hold on if you'll stand my f nend, Armitage," said Smith, meekly ; ' but really you have been very stand-off with lac ; almost as bad as the other fellows." 1 "I am sorry/ returned Frank, eenonsly ; "we will start fair to-morrow and try to help each other." i Bj this time they bad reached the ■mint little church, set like a watchjumer upon the summit of the hill. I »• Queer old place," remarked Smith, frith scant reverence. " Isn't there some hkmm^^^^r -~- - -

— xo De sure tnere is,~ answered Frank. " I thought evei'ybody knew the history of Chosen Church." " I'm not a Gloucester man," observed Smith. " What's the story ? " " Once upon a time, so runs the legend, the good folks hereabouts resolved to build a church. Living in the valley, of course they did not want to set 1 heir church upon a hill-top; but, as you see, that is precisely what they were obliged to do, for, each night, their work was undone and the materials carried to the summit of the hill by the Foul Fiend himself." " Well done, Old Nick ! " cried Smith, laughing; "the site was Chosen with a vengeance; but why you should patronise this church of all others beats me. I suppose you admire the ' Old Gentleman's ' taste." "1 like the walk," replied Frank, shortly. The flippant manner of his companion jarred upon him, and he regretted having told the legend. He did not. however, forget that Smith was the first man who had voluntarily spoken to him since his arrival in G Joucester. He was undoubtedly a fool, but he must also be kind hearted, or why should he seek him out ? He was a weak youth, and possibly needed a friend of stronger fibre to support his wavering resolution. It was inexpressibly soothing to Frank to find that there was still some one who looked up to him and relied upon him for support. He qpuld not like poor little Smith, but he could at least be kind to him, and he was. This new alliance did Frank no good at the office. His steady application &nd grave dignity had procured some effect, upon the minds of his fellow clerks Stephens still held aloof; but in his heart he relented, forir. was not possible for anyone {olive in daily contact with Frank without acknowledging the nobility of his character. " What do you think of our new clerk, Stephens ? " asked Mr. Dale,one evening, as he buttoned up his great- coat, preparatory to going home. ! " Armitage, sir ? " responded Stephens. " No man could stick more steadily to woi - k. Until lately I have seen nothing — in fact, I have seen nothing now, to find fault with." . " Humph ! You rather contradict yourself," said Mr. Dale, drawing his heavy eyebrows down over his keen eyes. •'Something has aroused your suspicions, I am sure." " Suspicion is much too strong a word, sir,' 5 replied Stephens, uneasily. " The fact is, I observe that Armitage and Smith have become friends. They walk j down to business together, and they ' leave together; also I have met them on Sunday ; but there's nothing wrong in that." "Only you think them 'birds of a. feather/" said the old merchant, with a grave smile. " Well, well ! we shall have done what we could for him — and for Smith, too. If they fall again, i shall wash my hands of them." " Of course, sii-," assented Stephens. Mr. Dale had not the least doubt how the matter would end ; it was a question of time only. When a dog has a bad name, he is sure to deserve hanging sooner or later. j Meanwhile, unconscious of pitfalls, Frank was happier. Smith was not a congenial companion, but he was better than nobody, and the interest of watching over his conduct and trying to keep him straight did him good. Unselfish, care for others ever brings its own reward. Mrs. Armitage rejoiced at the change. Frank might be cold and hard to the world, but his tenderness toward his mother never failed. Resolutely he schooled himself to smile and talk cheerily that no shadow should dim the brightness of her home ; but a mother's eyes are not easily blinded. Mrs. Armitage read in the lines of his face and the gravity of his eyes how bitter was his lot, and her heart ached for him. She sympathised heartily in his desire to be a true friend to Smith, and that his motive could be misconstrued never occurred to either of them. The little Quakeress had altered much since leaving Brookvale. Her step now was slow and feeble, and her delicate face shrunken. Watchful as Frank was, he could not altogether shield her from the storm. His visit to Friend Naomi had not failed in its object. She had renewed with warmth her old friendship for the fragile little widow, and her example had been followed. But although one may influence one's neighbours in this way, it is beyond the power of even a Naomi Deane to rule the tongues of meddlesome women. Mrs. Armitage had no lack of friends, but they were not all discreet. All small communities are great in tittle-tattle, and the little colony of Friends gathered around the old meet-ing-house at Grey Friars was no exception to the rule. They took a lively interest in the doings and misdoings of their neighbours*— especially the misdoings—and had little delicacy in expressing their opjniqn.s. Pla'm speaking is a virtue dear to the heart of Quake,rdom. From the first, Frank Armitage and his supposed crime hjjjd be.en the favourite subject for conversation at every tea-table in the community. Ruth and Mary Allen had talked themselves into the belief that it was their duty to put a finger into this terrible pie. They did not dare to exhort the culprit themselves, but they were not at all afraid of haranguing his mother, who they greatly feared did not " see her duty." The sisters presented themselves at an hour when the widow wa9 likely to be alone. She received them graciously, but with a slight feeling of alarm ; the unusual formality and solemnity of their address warning her ' j the visit was not one of ordinary _riendliness. "Dear Dorothy Armitage," began Ruth, sitting primly erect in her chair, "we have felt moved to pay thee a friendly visit. In the hour of trial 'Friend should comfort one another." A delicate pink colour rose to the widow's thin cheek, and her heart fluttei'ed. She understood the ways of Friends, and knew what was coming. "I thank thee, friend," she said, quietly; "sympathy is a duty we should all try to practise." Friend Rjith knitted her brows slightly, andwaved a mittened hand, as though tacitly declining to enter the gentle paths of sympathy. "Our dear Lord useth afflictions," she resumed, "as a godly father useth the rod ; and, verily, no chastening for the present seemethto be joyous, but grievous. Nevertheless, afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness." Pausing to take breath, her sister seized the opportunity to put in her word. "It behoves us, dear friend, to bethink ourselves in what manner we have displeased our Father. He doth not afflict willingly,' thon knows ; there is a needs-be for every rod." Mrs. Armitage was stronger in spirit than in body ; she received the homily , with a placid smile. ' ..I «a obliged to thee. good friend.

but, mcth inks', thou art somewhat in eiTOr. Thy kindness butli led tlice to magnify my troubles. Tn good sootb, I have more need to thank God for His mercies than to uionvii over uiy griefs."Mavy Allen looked disconcerted, but her sister was not so easily silenced. " The Lord hath indeed been good to thee, Dorothy," she said, nodding her poke-bonnet impressively. "He might have suffered thy son to run his evil course unchecked. But, in His mercy, He hath corrected him, and doubtless the young man will profit by the warning." This direct attack shook tho nerves of the little Quakeress; she paled to the lips. , " I regret to find tliou hast been misled by the voice of scandal. Friend Ruth, my son is as innocent as thou art thyself. Bethink thee, deav friends, of our Lord's command, 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.' " Ruth Allen Unshed with anger. The biter never likes to be bitten— never, indeed, allows any teeth to be used but his own. " Thou art deceiving thyself, Borothy Avmitage," Bhe said, coldly. " I counsel thee to shun idols of the heart. As the Elders of Israel set up false gods in the Becret chamber of their hearts, so hast thou made a god of thine affections. , Beware lest carnal love lead thee into the error of Eli, who restrained not his Bons when they did evil in the sight of the Lord." Mrs. Armitage's strength Vas failing, her breath was quick and feeble, and her sight grew dim. "My boy is good and true-hearted," she said, faintly. " God will reveal it He will prove it." "Nay, Dorothy; thou dost wilfully blind thyself," said Mary Allen. "If thy son were good, he would take pleasure only in the society of good men. A man is known by his friends. Dost thou know that his chosen companion is that son of Belial, Joseph Smith ? It is thy bounden duty to deal faithfully with thy Oh, sister! What is the matter ? " she cried, rising in much alarm. The tender heart of the gentle mother could, bear no more. She moved her lips, but no word could she utter ; a moment she struggled for breath, then she sank back in her chair insensible. - Fortunately help was at hand. Reprobate as he was, the old ladies were thankful to see Frank enter the room. "Thy mother hath been taken ill ; suddenly," said Mary, in a quavering j voice. " Methinks it might be best to summon assistance." Frank bent his brows threateningly upon the shrinking sisters, but ke said not a word. His sole care was for the' slender, lifeless form, which was, ah ! so light to carry upstairs. He laid her upon her bed, and ran for the doctor, leaving the sisters to minister to their victim. They were much terrified. . " I cannot feel her heart beat, sister,'" faltered Mary. "I fear we were too harsh with her. What if she should be dead! Bethink thee what Friend Naomi told us." She began to cry. j "Tut, tut, sister!" replied Ruth, stoutly ; but her face was pale, and her', hand shook. " Thou art always frightened at nought. This is but a faint." "I never saw a faint like it," sobbed Mary. " Oh, Bister ! I wish we had not come." In her heart of hearts, Ruth ech< the wish, but she would not acknowledge the weakness. She was still assiduously rubbing the patient's hands when the doctor arrived. " She has had a shock," he said, casting a searching look at the two visitors. " Miss Allen, you -.vere with her at the time of the attack, Mr. Armitage tells me. Can you account for the seizure ? Was she agitated in any way ? " Fora moment no one spoke. Mary wept silently, and although Ruth was not the woman to shelter herself behind a falsehood, she did not like the position of culprit. " We have neither said nor done anything but what was right," she said, looking dignified. "It is our bonnden duty to comfort the afflicted." " Comfort ! " echoed Frank, with angry scorn. " Miss Allen, I must beg you, in future, to*abstain from any interference in my mother's affairs; she i 3 not strong enough to endure the style of comfort ■which is, I hope, peculiar to yourself." " Quite right," said Dr. Seymour ; " this must not happen again. I have said before — I say again, the consequences of agitation may at any moment prove fatal." He spoke with s*ern gravity, but in a low voice, for now the quiet figure upon the bed began to show signs of returning life. Absorbed in attention to his mother, Frank seemed unconscious of their presence; and, thankful to escape notice, the sisters stole noiselessly out of the room. . " Would we had never come, sister," sighed Mary, as they left the house. Ruth made no reply; she was much subdued. [lO BB Co2mirDE:D] ,' ,\1 ,7,1 J