When Shadows Die

Waihi Daily Telegraph, Volume IX, Issue 2571, 7 June 1909, Page 4

When Shadows Die

BY MRS E. I); E,' N. SOUTHWORTH.

CHAPTER XXI. t-VHIi i—a» I'll I', IT', Ml I'll) CONSOLATION. " In the evening Angle, ea culled mi mo again. " Mis lii.<!ilior was full of must ic-i-pcelfill sympathy, lie was my brother's dearest friend, lie bad acted in mv father's and my brother's absence as my own best friend; and. since he could not prevent, niy romantic escapade lie had attended me in the character of a guardian, to »ee that no fatal mistake was made through Saviula's ignorance of national laws and customs. Therefore. I luid every reason to trust in him and eoulidc in him as in an elder brother.

" I was alone, ill the little drawing room, when lie entered. I. received liiiu as wariurly. though more gravely, than when ho bail called at noon.

" When wc were seated I asked liini--lis I would have have asked my brother whether my husband had really, finally. abondoned me. " lie looked searehingly into my face, as if to see bow I would be likely to tab his answer. "Finding iu my expression no very distressing anxiety, but simply a wish to know tin* truth, In* replied; "' Saviola has disappointed us all. II 1 were not •peaking to you I should say that lie is idircely worthy of thought, still less of regret.' " ' Hut---are you sure! - ' lias he really and finally abandoned mo?' I repeated. . '"He. linb.' " ' You are sure of tliis?' " ' I Hill.' ''His words and tones were gravi\ swept and companionate, ■'"Where is be now!' 1 next iwitiired.. '"'ln Paris.' " I must write to liiiu again, then,' 1 said, with the idea that, although 1 no longer loved or respected the man, he was my husband, and to write to him was my duly. ' 1 will—will write lo hint to-night,'

"' You may do so.' he mid, gravely. and tenderly. ' Nay, I would even counsel you lo do so for Ihe relief of your own mind, and that you may never hare the slightest cauie for selfreproach:' Hut I warn you that itwill have no effect whatever upon Saviola. He will not answer your letter,' ''' He lias not answered any letter of mine since ho lei I for Paris, lint, mi rely. if I write anil ask him. plainly, whether he ever means to return to me. ""d beg hint to reply, so flint I may know what to do, he wil lansweiv "'No. he will not. Kill, lo satisfy yourself, write to him at once, Then you will know, KlfridaP " 111 the day* wllcn we tbree--.\n-ghvea, my brother and myself were as intimate and lamiliar a> the children of one house—lie had followed suit with Francis and called me by my Christian Mine, and sometimes by ils abbreviation. 1 had liked it then, and I liked it now, though this was the lir.4 lime, since my marriage, that, he bad given it lome,

" ' Yt»j. 1 will write to-night. I will write at once,' I said.

I lieu I will bid you good-evening. There is a mail that, clow* at eleven o'clock. II I leave you now you mav able to mure it," lie said, rising, lliaiik you, Angus. Come again tomorrow,' I said, llb j llß ,| l( , mm , bad been accustomed to give him when ho was the daily and beloved companion of m.v brother and myself. " He look my band, bowed over il and left tlio room.

"ion 1 sat down to my desk to write the letlor to Saviola in Parii;, "I did nut reproach liiiu, nor lament his nor write in any way iff?? kindly or sorrowfully to him. I simply rOUUlldcd llilll llo\V long lie had been gone; how many letters 1 had ivrillen that remained unanswered, and then inquired whether lie meant to return to mo. and if so, when:-' I ended by telling him that lny little son and myself were in good health, and begging him to answer me lo the point that I might, know what lo do, So I felt liini at,' perfect, liberty l« act for hims'olf. " When I had healed and directed this letter 1 rang and despatched it to the hotel bag that left the holts'.! al a quarter to eleven. *" Then I went to bed.

"My child usually (slept uith bin nurse iu a little room off'my bedchamber. Hut now I called her lo bring flm baby lome and I look him into bed anil drew liiiu lo my boom. finding comfort in I he. thought lhal my child would never desert me, and Hint no one earth had power lo lake liini from me. What a soothing balm that little form was pressed to my heart, " I lav awake nearly all that night, not with trouble or anxiety, bill, with thought, and plans for Hie future of my child and lnvself.

" I had made up my mind. It I should got no answer from Saviola I would make ready and leave Switzerland for Ireland. I would go with nn child to Weirdwaste, which was mv own, and live then* its I. had lived before the fatal journey to l!right<m. f would live among my warm-Jiearted Irish tenantu, who, poor as my forefather had been for many generations, liad never been oppressed, but always helped to the extent of our power. They had lou'd m.v mother, had loved me for

Authcresb'uf" Kor Woman's Low,"" The Hiseanled Daugliler.-'eic

her bake. Hiid tliey would now welcome »ii love my child, who would be th>< lieir of Wcirdeaslle. if of nothing more. 1 would live at Weirdwaste until the return of my father, when I would confess all my faults and follies to him. and appeal to his affections for forgivenew and protection. In Iwo years and a lew months I should he of age, and should enter .into the lull possession of ni.v poor, old csta 10. " I should live there always, ami bring up my boy to be a Christian gentleman and a good and wise landlord. "The excellent vieir should be his tutor and look afier his education, and Ihe amiable doctor s'lniill he his pbysilook after his health. "I'nincis, my dear brother, would visit me often. I felt sure. My I'nllicr would come sometime*. These wcro all I really cared to see. "We should b.e happy.-my little sou and I—in spite ol all that mid passed. He would never, from his father's example grow up to become a gambler, a wine bibber, or au adventurer, lie should bo trained lo become an honour lo bis name and a blessing lo his tenantry, "Thinking" these pleasant thoughts I fell asleep at last and realised all my anticipations—in my dreams! "Tito next day, and every day for a week, Angus Anglesea came to sec inc. "110 no longer spolto of Saviola; but lie talked to mo of my dear brother, his own dearest Irieml—a theme of which I never tired. 110 told mo that his ardent studies al lilon hud overtaxed his strength. His physicians recommended a long vacation, and a total change ol air and scene. Therefore, lie accompanied his father and stepmother fo the Canaries— Dr. Alexander and the Rev. Mr. Clement, of Weirdwasti', attending the party, as travelling physician and private tutor. "So,' said I, "that is the reason

why none of my letters addressed to my old friends at Weirdwaste. were ever answered. Hut since the vicar and the doctor were conscripted for loreign service, who. may 1 ask, was left to take charge ol the souls ami bodies of the poor people at Weirdwaste?"

"My child, clergymen and physicians are as plenty as wild berries. 'A curate without a parish and a doctor without ii practice were easily found lo till the places ot the hard-worked and badly paid old vicar and doctor, who needed rest and change about as much as any "I the travelling party." "So all my friends are in the Canaries I"

Except myself, Ellrida. I am here, mid 1 will remain near you, to guard you as an elder brother, until your fate is decided,"

"A girl's fate is supposed to be decided when she is married, but that does not take into account the possibilities of her desertion by hor hits-

.band," I replied, bill without any.bitIwiioss ■ of. .fj&oliug. "No" lie admitted, vary "uu, because well possibilities nre as exceptional as they ar* tragical. :But lake eon rage, Ull'rida. As 1 was your hrotlior'c trnost friourl and brother. so I will lio yours, to remain'near joii. to guard and assist you as lung as you may need mo."

"Thank you, Angus! Oh, thauk yon! I am glad that all my family am! friends art* in the Canaries, since it is rood for lliem to be there. Ami I. am glad-oh! so glad that you are hero. Angus! 1 do feel quite alone and helpless now that you are here. It is very good of you lo say that you will remain near mo until something is seltled. Hut will not your doing mi intei'tere with some of your previous arrangements?"

"Not with any," he replied. "I inn an idle man. Ami even if if nern not so even if I \ierc over head and ws in business I should let all go in oldei to be ol service to mv de;ii' Iriend's sister in her need. And be li'Wino, Ull'rida, I lind the grea|es| happiness in serving von." His generous devotion moved ,nie In tears. | thanked him In the must earnest words at my command.

'""io «'eek passed, and no letter came canto from Saviola. I was not for now I scarcely expected to get one. I reconciled mvsdf to my fate as a forsaken wife all 'he more cheerfully J'or my child's sake. ')« thus saved from the baleful elleets of bis father's evil example. " Tll ° passed, and though tin letter llo| ii Saviola, no word on the subject was spoken between Anglesea and myself." (Id lit' nwlittlinl.