[All Rights Reserved.] The Woman Within.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XVIII, 31 October 1903, Page 7

[All Rights Reserved.] The Woman Within.

By

ATHOL FORBES.

Author of “Cassock and Comedy,” “A Son of Rimmon,” Etc.

CHAPTER XXV HI. On the way to the office Barking stopped at a florist’s. It seemed to him that he ought to begin to pave the way to the heart of his master’s daughter bv some little lover-like attentions. The thought flashed upon him as he stood bv the window attracted by the display of colour. After some haggling over the price, he finally determined upon white* roses. He had already explained to the lady in charge the purpose for which he required them, and she opened her eyes very wide when he wrote down the name and address. "Have you any card or message you wish to go with them, sir?” "Ah! happy thought. No, X haven't a card —on me,” he added, feeling in his pocket and wondering what was best to be done. “I can give you a blank card,” she offered. ■Thank you: that will do very nicely.” She gav* him one. and he wondered what he should put on it. He sucked the end of the pencil for a few seconds, then he resolved to take the young woman into his confidence. "Now. what’s usually put in such—l mean what should I write on this card?” "Well, it ali depends, sir.” and the sirl smiled. "You see if you are engaged you can put: 'with best love,’ or something even more passionate.” She was of a sentimental turn, and sentiment suffers from over nutrition in an atmosphere of flowers and people who buy and present them. "I am not exactly engaged.” he explained. "Oh! I see. just an understanding.” "That’s about it.” replied he. " ’Kindest remembrances’ or ‘To recall a happy hour.’ One gentleman that alls and sends flowers regularly, puts In mtmoriam.’ It is Latin, and always looks nice, besides, it does not convey too much.” "What do the majority of people put?” he asked, resolving to be guided by a well established precedent. "They simply put a piece of pasteboard inside.” "Eh! what?” inquired the puzzled youth. "A card mentioning the name. If you have not sent the lady flowers before, that would do.”

Barking agreed, and wrote "Dug. Barking,” his usual signature. He contemplated this for a moment, then ask ed for another card and wrote in full "Douglas Barking.” "They shall go at once, sir, and there will be sixpence extra for special messenger. Won’t you have a button-hole for yourself, sir?” she said, as she handed him the change out of a sovereign. "Here is a mee one, sir. for sixpence—unless you prefer an orchid, one and sixpence.” He shook his head. “I can get one for a penny, that will be quite good enough for me.” “Yes, I should think you could." was the reply. "Quite good enough.” It struck him afterwards that there was a lateht meaning in this last remark to him, whicn was by no means meant to be complimentary; and the omission of the appellation "Sir" grieved him. It was after eleven when he arrived at the office. To the chief clerks stern look of enquiry, he vouchsafed no explanation. With a careless, "How do, fellows?” he took his seat. Then he inquired whether the governor had arrived. The man on his rigiit, who was busy, answered, "No,” without looking up from his work. Barking hated to be ignored. It has been said that the more contemptible a man is, the more apprehensive he is of contempt. The mean minded man is for ever on the look out for insults and manages to give a jaundiced complexion to many thing in which more generous minds would see nothing. Barking in possession of a great secret, with money in his pocket, and a certainty of more for the asking, felt somehow, that his importance in tlhat office should be acknowledged. The chief clerk had already got the worst of an encounter with him. and this in itself ought to have set the others thinking, and to have placed him in the exalted position of being envied. To sit there feeling himself to be so much, yet receiving no credit for it, irritated him. He longed to blurt out the fact that he had the head of the firm under his thumb. That it was only the question of a few days and these men would feel the weight of his influence and authority. He had determined in his own mind that the chief clerk was to go, to be ignominous-

ly dismissed. That he had served the linn irum being a buy, and was a eleven, trustworthy man, earned no weight. lie had treated Barking with a calm indifference, and he had always been just. \\ hen ue had rebuked or found lault there was a real reason fur doing su. i ins made his offence worse. “Barking, ‘ said the man who worked by ms side, “has your mother inherited a fortune, or has she merely bought a mangle ?” “\\ hat do you mean?” demanded Barking, with a rush ot blood to the head. The clerks tittered. “V. hy. you ass, 1 mean that you will be getting the chuck out before you are very many days older. 1 thought perhaps because your mother had a mangle you didn't care a hang about Langthorne and Son's paltry thirty bob a week.” The senior clerk looked up through his glasses and a number of heads made a down wan! movement. Barking sat and gnawed his nails. “Cannot you find something to do?” said the elderly man. “1 am waiting lor the governor,” he replied, shortly. Have you resigned jjur position in this office?” "Not that 1 am aware of.” “Then proceed with your work. The chief will not be here to-day. When he does come you and I will interview him together.” Barking sat a few seconds, then, with out replying, took his hat from its peg and made towards the door. “You will not leave this office without permission." There was a note of anger in the chief clerk's voice. Ali the clerks looked up. It was a moment of triumph for Barking! With a look that was meant to spell defiance in capital letters he walked out of the office. CHAPTER XXIX. Before her'father was awake next morning Edith wa> up giving orders that he was not to be disturbed. Then she went into his room and sat down by his bedside. Shi* was thankful that he nt. What her father’s trouble was she knew not, but she was convinced that it would be less supportable with

other people’s comments, and alter the scene of the night previous she determined that her attitude toward him should be one of sustained, quiet sympathy. whatever his misfortune might be. If the loving, closed heart of a good woman could open before a man what a revelation it would often be. How much controlled tenderness, how many veiled sacrifice?*, how many dumb virtues would he find reposing therein! She heard her mother stirring in the next room, and with soft footsteps she entered. "Father is still sleeping.” "1 do not know what has come over him. Edith, but it seems to me there is some shadow of evil resting on the house.” The tears were in her eyes. "Don't, mother." she said, gently. "You and 1 can be brave. We won’t add to this trouble.” “I could be brave if 1 knew what it was. dear. It is the sense of a lurking, secret danger that unnerves me. We have never had trouble. Success has followed us through life, and 1 know in life’s great discipline, trouble is wholesome and necessary factor.” "Yes. mother. It keeps the heart soft and kind because it has to bear the weight of it; our successes the world helps us to share.” “Our hearts must be the sole confidants of this. Y’our father is too proud a man to go to others for help. I am sorry: I am afraid I worried him last night.” Edith assisted her mother to dress, then she took a book and went back to her father’s room. It was past ten o’clock before he awoke, then the two of them breakfasted together in his room. He was anxious to be up. but he yielded to her gentle persuasion. No sooner was he awake than she saw the cloud come over his face as he recalled the events <>f the night before. "Father.” and she nestled to his side, “you have mother and me.” A smile passed over his face and he tried to joke, but it did net ring true. She attended upon him anticipating his every want, and for the time the pressure of his burden seemed lighten ed- It is one of the things woman has in common with the angels, that she regards the place of suffering as her special sphere of usefulness. He was not anxious to go to the of

tiee, and it did not need much persuasion for him to send a telephone message to say so. Yet, in a way, he felt the cowardice of it all. "Uow is mother this morning?" he asketi“Uh. she slept on like the rest of usand is only now up.' “I am glad of that. She is quite well'!"’ he looked at her in a way she understood. ■•Yes, father dear, mother is quue all right. She is sorry she worried you last night.” I :■ morning paper came up. she read him the foreign news and then the lead ing articles. This led to conversation. Afterwards he read the stock market and Exchange news, she still sitting by his side. A tap at the door and her maid entered with a box. ••Bv special messenger," she said. A "flush of pleasure mounted to the face of Edith Langthorne. She cut the string and there was before her ss of white roses. She gat them all together and carried them •'■ to her room. There was no note, but as she began to arrange them a card dropped out. Her pleasure gaye way to indignation as she looked at the name- S started off at once with the card to her father, but at her door she stopped and rang the bell“These will lighten up your r-vtu. she said to her maid. "They are very fresh and sweet.” The voting woman looked surprised and formed her own conclusions, which were wrong Edith tore trie card intc small pieces and threw them into the fire place. “XV6 it matchless impuden ’’was ei onlv comment, but this act of Barking: started a train of thought whi h did not make her any the happier. She heard Her mother go into hei rathers r■■■ ■m. an.l then their '-,y c es ir conversation. Presently her mother en tered. -Where are the flower®’" she asked . ing 1 surprised. “Jordan is arranging them ” -Im said with her vack to her me'.her. “Jordan arranging them?" repeatei her mother. “Well girls havt since my young lays. Whet John _vour father —sent me flowers. ha, anvone attempted to touch them bu myself. 1 should have regarded it , nothing less than sacrilege.” Edit:: remained, silent. “My dear child, be sure of your owr mind before you encourage y .•••— < het wrnd further. lam afraid we have botl spoilt you.” “I am quite sure of my own mind, mo “Be sure of your own heart, girl. 1 think, after all. it is the best guide: ii must be s, in your -:--e." Mr Langthorne tapped at the door “Can von come and write a few letter for me. Edith?” She and her father were no soonei seated, than a servant brought in a card A hunted look came into his eyes an. instinct told her the visitor was Bark ing. "I told you that my father was not t< be disturbed this morning." “Yes miss: but the young man waver. pressing.”

“Tell Mr Barking that I am not well this morning." said Mr Langthorne. The man bowed and withdrew. Edith had settled to her writing again when the footman returned. “I hope I am acting for the best, sir, but this young man —I thought I had better come and tell you. sir." and he hesitated. "Yes: yes.” said his master, impatiently. “He refuses to leave the house, sir." CHAPTER XXX. When Barking entered his master s house his mind was made up. He knew he could not continue the game of bluff for ever: that he was. in a way. living on a powder mine which might explode anv minute and prove fatal to him and his prospects. Barking was sure that iie was a clever man. V anity prompted him to demand the hand of Edith Langthorne in marriage: safety urged him to press it. If the worst came to tiie worst, and his game be known to Mr Langthorne. though he would not -cruple to punish his clerk, it might be fairlv inferred that he would hesitate to bring a criminal charge against his son-in-law. Still a lump sum and America had its attractions: but he had read of felons being extradited, and he resolved to play for the higher and safer stake. He was always melodramatic. As he rang the bell he turned, for a moment, looked up at the sky and then along the gardens. -When I come out again from here. I shall be a partner in Langthorne a>.d Stn. and a prospective son-in-law. or the game will be up." he said, "and London will know Dug Barking no i>i" As we have seen, he refused to lie denied. “When I beard the lion in his d. n I am not going to fail with the harmless animal outside." he said to himself, when the footman had taken the card he forced into his hand. "Take a seat, young man." -slid the f.man. after some hesitation. "By gad: I will put a civil tongue into that fellow's head before long." It was Miss Langthorne who came in resp< nse to his second request tor au interview. He gave her an elaborate stage bow, and was just framing a compliment when -he cut him short. “My father is not well. -ir. He c:m---n.-r be seen this morning.” This was a use of the polite substantive which, he did. not quite understand. "But lie will see me?" "Y"ur c-arii was given to him. and he declines." "Miss Langthorne, it will be a serious matter if 1 do not -ee him." Her eyes flashed at once: "Indeed." she said coldly. "I think my father is capable of managing his own affairs independently .if your aid. sir." He saw his mistake. This high-spir-ited girl was not to be taken in by bluff. "But. Miss Langthorne. it means ruin to me. Inless I see Mr Langthorne this morning the consequences will be too terrible. I have news for him—for his done, of the greatest possible imp rtance.” She shook her head: “My father cannot be troubled this morning." Barking was wondering what his next

move was to be. when the library door opened and Mr Langthorne appeared. Without a word he beckoned him. The two men entered the room and the door was shut. Edith choked down a lump that came into her throat. She was annoyed at the persistency of the man. and the success attending it. Not that she was overbearing to her subordinates, but there wa- something in the youth that roused her worst nature. "It’s all out: the evening papers had the whole thing in last night." he whispered. with stage-like emphasis as soon as the door was closed. Mr. Langthorne felt a cold chill at his heart. Barking flung himself down into a chair and watched his master as he steadied himself against the table. "There’s the ‘Globe.’ You had better read it for yourself.” He took up the paper. Barking had marked the paragraph, which was double headed: “A H oman s Body Found in the Citv. Foul Play.” I thought you had—you told me vou would get clear of—the body." he gasped, as if the words caused him pain to repeat it. 'Couldn t do it. I deposited the bodv there where it was found. The other risk was too great. 1 have not slept since that infernal night." he went on. "and I seem to get no thanks for it. This morning, because I did doze off. and was a few minutes late at the office. I was grossly insulted. My head was in such a wuirl I could not work. It was iml«issible with that paper in my pocket -•> 1 thought I would come on and warn y ou. and a nice reception I got here.” "You have played me false." Mr. Lang theme said, but the firm face was firn

no longer. The muscle* quivered: de *pair and perplexity were there onlv r plainly. "I am game to play to the end.” -i Barking, jauntily, and with assuu bravery. "I am going to risk my ne,.. and if I lose the rub I am prepared t take the consequences — to takall the guilt upon myself, and if necessary pay the capital punishment certain conditions.” "I do not trust you. Barking. I do n t tru-t you.” said his master. "Here I am prepared to execute doci'jnent. my signature can be witness..! so long as you only read the confession in which I shall confess the murder . f Mrs. Langthome. That document v can use as evidence against me. if th. worst comes to the worst.” “That I could never permit, whatever the consequences might be.” "Well, you will admit that it shows n v sincerity, and my anxiety to savevou?" "Yes: I suppose I must admit’that. was the reply. "But I must have my price.” Some of the old dignity came to himaster’s aid: ‘‘Your price? It has come to that then?” "It has." said the unabashed Barking "Tou do not think, you do not serious’v maintain that one hundred pounds year is recompense for the risk I rut Suppose it is traced to me. How can I clear myself?" "I would give myself up; no mar. should sutler for my crime.” "Yes: now we are calling things bv their right names, so far so good, bur one can be very philosophical in a studv When disgrace and death face you. Mr. Langthorne. you might change your mind.” There was a second's pause. Then the distressed man got up and paced the room.

•Yes. Think it out/’ said the other, turning to the “Globe.” Suddenly he swung round: “Where ■nd how did you learn that the woman was my wife?* “I gathered that,” Barking replied, quickly, “and I heard part oi the conversation before you murdered her.” He dwelt with lingering emphasis on the word “murdered,” and it caused every muscle in Mr. Langtheme’s anatomy to vibrate. “Barking, you are a poor man. Ten thousand pounds would be a large sum to you. I will give you that, and you can seek safety in any part of the world you ehoose.” Here was a chance, but the greed of the man could not let him accept it. He shook his head, though he could not conceal the satisfaction of his mind. “Then name your price.” For a few moments there was a pause. “A partnership,"—Barking waited to see the effect of this. ■•Yes.” There wa« a long-drawn breath, then he completed the sentence. “ And your daughter.” “Marry ray daughter! Never! You are mad to make such a proposition.” “I mean it. lam not wanting in brains. Good clothes will do a lot for a man. I would work night and day for the business.” Mr. Langthome held up his hand: “Enough! I will not sacrifice my child: that is beyond discussion. And that you may know your desire is hopeless, I tell you she is promised to another, in her own station of life.” *>he shall never marry hint. I will prevent that bv a word. And. bv God! I will!” Tiie tortured man suppressed a cry of pain. . (To be continued.)