A SHORT STORY.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 334, 28 July 1914, Page 6

A SHORT STORY.

BY FLORENCE HOPE,

(All Eights Reserved.)

In Three Parts.

' Pretty Corner.

Author of “The Colonel’s Joy,” “A Love Knot,” “April Folly,” “A “Marriage of Trickery,” “A Vivid Impression,” &c.

PART 111.

“Is it true?” she whispered. “Have I been blind? Chrissy—Chrissy!” She felt stifled. All at once her courage to bear things seemed to go; she was shaking ail over—-a tremour of fear at this thing that had happened. It would be for Chrissy’s happiness; lie would take her away, and — but she would have'to tell him of their great trouble, to trust him with their secret. Would it make any difference, or would he give the girl, up as the other had done? She did not think he would. “Mark Waters to marry Chrissy—lie would be my brother-in-law.” She spoke the words out loud, as if to impress them on her mind; her voice was harsh, and jarred in the silence of the room.

That evening she watched them closely, for he. came out to them where they sat under the low boughs of an old apple-tree, and he sat down crcfsslegged on the grass near Chrissy’s feet and teased her, making fun of her latest sketch. A man teases where he loves, Madge told herself, and the pain in her heart hurt badly. Chrissy was wonderfully bright that evening, and laughed as her sister had not hear a laugh for ever such a long time; her eyes were shining, her cheeks pink, and Madge noticed that Mr. Waters’s voice was tender when he spoke to her, and his eyes softened. She could not sleep that night, but tossed and turned, restless and uneasy. Once or twice she fancied she heard strange sounds —a stealthy footstep —but assured herself that it was her imagination and she was getting to be troubled with nerves.

■ It was barely dawn when she got up, unable to lie in ner hot bed any longer, and then she distinctly heard the cottage stairs creak, and the door at the foot of them open and close. What was happening? Someone was moving below. She hurriedly slipped on some clothes and her dressing gowm and crept down the stairs, but stopped short before the shut door to listen, for there were voices—she knew them both —and her heart thumped; she pressed her hands over its loud beat, as if she could silence it. Those voices—Mark Waters and her brother! “What are you doing here? Are you such a villain as to come and attempt to steal from ' two lonely women? You, Curzon Leith, forger and thief: and I let you off for this?” “What does he mean? Oh, Heaven, what does he mean?” whispered the listening woman, shaking in ail her limbs, “He knows his name!” she muttered, in fear.

“What arc you doing, Mr. Waters, in my sisters’ home?' ’ retaliated the' other, hoarsely. “Your sisters! You lie" cried Waters. Then the staircase floor opened, and through the dim opening there appeared-Madge Lorrimer’s tall figure. Her thick hair hung down her back in a long plait; she looked much younger, a girl, as she came towards the two men, so thought Mark as his gaze dwelt protectingly on her. “You! Why have you come? Leave me to deal with this man,” he said.

<r He is my brother. Why have you come here, Curzon ? We have Aothing to give you, you have had everything. Are you in trouble, disgrace again?” said Madge, a huskiness in her voice that she strove to keep steady. “Then it is true?” murmured Waters.

“Yes, it is true. We changed our name, took our dead mother’s, for the other name had been disgraced. We sold up our home to save worse disprison—and it killed my jather, then we came here, the worst was hushed up; but what was that I heard as I stood on the stairs ?—1 never knew there was more. What have you had to do with my brother?” demanded Madge. “I knew him at one time, helped him with a loan, that was all,” answered Waters, whilst the other man turned away towards the window through which the light of dawn was growing stionger, and there was a faint rose in the east.

“That is not all. How did he repay that loan? Ah, don’t keep'things from me. I heard, tell me the truth, J must know,” breathed Madge. Then the man near /the window turned round. His face was pale, and a streak of light fell across it as he spoke. “I forged .his name. He left me in his.room, the cheque-book lay there to tempt me; it was found out, the signature wasn’t good enough; but he told the bank it was all right, and I got off. I’m at the end of my tether now. Heaven knows what is to become of me, everything has gone .wrong. Listen. I swear that if I can get out of the country I’ll begin afresh) I wpn’t trouble you again. I—l know I’ve given promises before, but ” He couldn’t go on, and stopped short. “Shall we give him another chance?” ■Mark Waters turned with the question to Madge. “We cannot. I have nothing but just what I earn, he has had every*

thing from us,” she said, hopelessly.: “Then will you leave it to me? You can trust me, let me help you, please,”said Waters, looking her straight in the eyes. Her steadfast gaze met them, but she made no reply, she was choked by his goodness. “Come into my room, Leith, I am your sister's lodger. No, Miss Lorrimer, do not come with us, men are best alone,” said Mark, and the other man followed him into the little sitting-room.

Madge remained where she was for some minutes—ages it seemed to her—• then at. last they came out. tier brother’s face looked moved, there was shame in it, but it was the right kind of shame.

“Get him a meal of some kind, will you?” said Waters. “There is a rrain leaves Crunchley at five thirty-nine. He must be in London to-day; and tomorrow I will join him and see him off from Tilbury Docks. I am going up by a later train this afternoon. We have arranged everything, haven’t we, Leith?” The young man nodded.

Madge busied herself over getting breakfast for her brother, and begged him to try and eat. He did his best; but food was difficult to swallow just then. Curzon Leith's heart was melted by kindness, and a great shame was , overwhelming him.

When he had finished Mark went out, and left the brother and sister alone. - “There is no need to wake Chrissy. Give her my love—and say I’m sorry. I’ll ask your pardon when I’ve done something to win it, Madge —and I will, too. Some day you shan’t be ashamed of having a brother. It’s Waters who has done all this for me—given me hope, courage.” He paused a minute, then, when he spoke again, his voice was stronger and more confident.

“Good-bye, Madge, I’m going. You shall hear from me when I get to the other side. I’ll get a fair start notv, and—and it’s all owing to him.” The .woman kissed her brother, and in the dawn he went away. When the gate fell- to behind him, Mark went back to the room where he had left Madg-e, and found her wjtb her head bowed down across her arms that lay along- the table. She felt his hand on her shoulder; then it crept to her hair with a tender gesture, and she sobbed out the words: “How can I ever repay you?” “Easily, if you will give me the right to do all things for you. I w’ant you for my wife, Madge, and Chrissy for my sister. Can’t it b,e, dear? Aye, and Curzon for ihy brother. I have never wanted any woman for my wife before; never loved as I love you.” She was still crying w-hen he raised her up and took her right into his arms, and her tremulous mouth was steadied by his long, long kiss. “I cared for you before ever I saw you,” he told her later, “when I heard your voice saying those brave words: “ ‘Life is mostly froth and bubble, Two things stand like stone, Kindness in another’s troubles, Courage in our own.’ ”

(The End.)