A Heroine in a Small Way.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 December 1900, Page 211

A Heroine in a Small Way.

By Rkv. C. Uakisii.i,.

Llhislratcd hy E. B. VumjhitH

y xcSj T the north side of Algernon r™| Square, near the British Museum, Qr/' is Bentick Street. It is a short street, and contains about fifty houses, which all have very much the same appearance, and on the door of which may be seen in different designs the words " Board and Residence," " Private Hotel," or " Furnished Apartments." One afternoon in early autumn a cab drove up to No. 10, Beutick Street, with a small trunk on top, and two passengers inside. The one was a female somewhat advanced in life, and though comfortably attired, her general appearance indicated that she belonged to the lower rather than the upper middle class. Her companion, who was much younger than herself, was her nephew. From his dress it was evident that he was a clergyman, but his general appearauce left the impression that his wordly affairs were not in a very flourishing condition. He was tall and well built and not bad looking, had dark hair and eyes, but there was a certain crest-fallen manner about him which prevented him appearing at his best. Still he had that air of refinement which usually distinguishes members of his profession. He was a favourable contrast to his companion, who was a short, stout woman, with a red face and small spiteful eyes. Notwithstanding her inferiority, it was evident from the attention her nephew paid her, she was mistress of the situation. Also, what is very rare with women, there was not the slightest respect in her manner towards her nephew, although in holy orders. The nephew got out of the cab first, and then assisted his aunt.

"Now, Grarge," she said, " bo quick and ring the bell." Her uephow ut onco complied with her l-equest. " Dear me, I hope they'll soon answor," she continued. " I feel the damp a-risin' to my legs, and I don't want to bo laid up with lumbago this winter." Before the nephew could reply, the door was opened by a pleasant-looking maid. " Grot any rooms to lot, young woman ?" said the aunt. " Plenty," answered the girl " I'm afraid you're ivifc doing very well." " Oh, we can't always be full," remarked the maid, carelessly. " You see it's our dull time. The gents haven't yet returned to town ; the medicos are still awuy, and boarding house folk haven't yet made up their minds where they mean to pass the winter. But here comes Missus." At that moment a woman, still young and comely, appeared. There was a kind of dignity in her manner, though sho seomed be oppressed with care and worry. Sho was a fine woman, tall, well-developed, somewhat past thirty, but with a downcast look which took all the life out of her face. She might also be called sullen-looking but for the pleasant look which at times broke across her countenance. As soon as she approached her two visitors she was struck by the clergyman's appearance. An expression came over her face as if she recognised in him an old acquaintance, though sho had never seen him before. She took an interest in him at once, and strange to Bay the same expression might have been observed on the clergyman's face. But for the presence of the old

woman they would have shaken hands with each other as a mark of sympathy. Taking her eyes off the clergyman, she addressed his aunt : " I pi'esume you require rooms for yourself and this gentleman, who is ," and here she stopped. The aunt, being by no means proud of her nephew, and not wishing him to be regarded

as a nearer relation than he actually was, hastily replied : "He is not my son, only ray ! nephew." ,

"Indeed," said the landlady, whose name was Miss Bickton.

" Are you the mistress of this house ?" asked the aunt, wishing to get all the information she could from Miss Riekton about her private affairs before she discussed the subject of bedrooms.

" Yes, but what rooms do you require ?" answered Miss Rickton, vainly endeavouring to divert the conversation from himself.

" Well, I must say you are rather young, and I would add, inexperienced, to have charge of a house this size. Would it not be better if you had some elderly relative or friend to assist you in your duties?"

This remark sent the colour to Miss Rickton's cheeks, but being accustomed to rude observations, she did not resent it, but calmly said :

"We cannot always pick and choose, madam, how we shall conduct our business in life, but do the best we can under existing circumstances. Would you be so good as to inform me what rooms you require, as I have much to occupy my time ?"

After this remark it was impossible for the old lady to pump Miss Ricktou any further about her private affairs, so she replied in rather an offended manner :

" I don't require a bedroom myself, but my nephew might take one if it suited him."

" We have several to let, as we are rather empty at present. There's the front room on the first floor at three and a-half guineas ; one on the second floor, two pounds ; two on the third at thirty shillings. Of course this includes board."

" Much too dear for my nephew's means," said the aunt, in a very determined way.

" I have two on the fourth floor at twentyfive shillings ; they might suit."

" I may as well have a look at them, though the stairs are very trying for my breath."

So the three ascended the stairs together, and with much hard breathing the old lady managed to reach the fourth floor.

" Young woman," she said, gasping, " I'll sit down for a few minutes to recover my breath before we resume business." Then after the requisite rest: "Twenty-five!

You ask too much. Haven't you anything less expensive ?"

" There is one other room, but I rarely ever let it, because it has no fireplace."

" Fireplace, indeed ! What does that matter. Surely you don't think my nephew requires a fire in his bedroom? Let's see

it.

Miss Rickton showed the two into a small room, with a sloping roof, in which a man could only stand upright in the centre. "Your nephew can have this for a

guinea."

" A guinea ! Nonsense, young woman. I'll offer eighteen shillings, and I call it fair and square. If ye don't like it, leave it alone; we can go elsewhere. You must decide at once, for I can't stop here in the draught, haggling about the price. I'm afraid of a chill striking me."

This was rather too much for Miss Rickton's patience, and she was about to refuse in a very decided manner, but a glance at the clergyman made her alter her mind. He looked ready to sink into the ground with shame ; he blushed scarlet up to his temples, and there was an imploring look in his eye that went straight to her heart. She at once accepted the offer, and this act proved the turning point in her life. How seldom do we know at the time when we act the best for our own interests.

The aunt was elated at her cleverness in obtaining the room at her own price.

" There," she exclaimed to her nephew in triumphant tones, " how thankful you ought to be that you have an aunt to look after your interests ! If you'd been left to yerself you would have been diddled over this business. I suppose I must pay for the cab. Well, there's a shilling, and if the driver asks for more, call a policeman and give him in charge. When you've paid him, Garge, and taken in your luggage, wait for me at the bottom of the stairs, as I shall require your arm to Basingstoke Crescent."

Ruth Rickton was the only daughter of a well-to-do farmer. He had given Her a good education ; her mother had taught her the duties of the household. When she died

Ruth kept house for her father. Then came the agricultural depression, and Rickton, like many others, stuck to his farm, hoping for better times, but unfortunately exhausted his means in trying to make both ends meet, and at last the crash came. He was obliged to give up the farm, sell his furniture, stock and produce, and, after settling with his creditors, only a very small balance remained. Broken in fortuuo and health ho soon died, rather from bitterness of spirit than any bodily complaint.

After the death of her father what was Ruth to do to gain a living? A difficult question at all times to answer, espocially when you have no capital to commonco with. She objected to become a governess, had no talent for dressmaking, and aftor duo consideration she determined to open a boarding-house in London. With great difficulty she managed to scrape together some portion of the money, and to borrow the remainder, which was necessary to purchase the goodwill and furniture of the late proprietors of No. 10, Bentick-streot, and entered upon her duties.

Being a strong, active woman, endowed with much resolution, she felt confident that she would succeed in her undertaking. But she soon found that good resolutions do not go far in the business of life, though they may be necessary for a commencement, After the first excitement of her new life, she became a prey to bitter disappointment, which led to a terrible depression of spirits. She felt the change terribly. Tho confinement was very trying after the freedom of a farmhouse; the hours very long. Still these trials were bearable in comparison with her difficulties with her boarders. Few callings offer better facilities for understanding human nature than managing a boarding house. The peculiarities of disposition shown by persons cooped up in a small space are marvellous. Ruth Bickton had to bear with the infirmities of her fellow creatures in order to make a living out of them. In every dispute she was wrong, and was compelled to accept the justice others meted out to her. Under the smart

of injustice she had to smile, and talk amiably to persons who were making large demands

upon her resources But what added still more to her suffering was the growiug feeling that she was a failure. One gleam of success might have sh-ength-ened her for sustained effort, but it never appeared. The bleeding feet never brought her nearer the desired goal. She could not make her house pay. Her lodgers beat her down so unmercifully in prices; they were so exacting; they must have the best, and yet would not pay for it.

From such a condition of life is it surprising that terrible thoughts entered her mind ? She felt as one in an awful solitude, though surrounded by the presence of her boarders. No one gave, her a word of encouragement; no one gave her a glance of sympathy ; all were absorbed in the selfishness of individual interests. She had no friends, no resources. Of a night when she heard the rain pattering against the windows and the .wind sweeping round the houses she thought to herself: "It is only the thickness of the wall which separates me from the cold, cruel streets, what a fate ! To tramp the streets all night — cold, wet, weary, hungry, exhausted, and hopeless* And yet, oh my God ! lam coming to it ! What am I to do ?" she asked herself as she sat up in bed and pressed her hands to her aching brows. Then an awful thought, like a flash of lightning, ran through her. "No, not that!" she exclaimed. But a mocking voice replied, "You will come to it in time like many a decent woman before you." Pale with terror, she pushed baok her hair with one hand, and with the other pointed to what seemed her own corpse. Then she jerked out her words in

hollow despair, " May I never come to that!" As she sunk back exhausted on her bed, kindly sleep spread its curtain over her. So far she was fortunate that she did not wake till her cheap alarm rang her up at half-past five.

But the impression once made never altogether left her. It seemed to enrich her, and to give her a last I'esource when every other had failed. Yet at times it filled her with shame ! Her life had always been scrupulously respectable ; she had shrunk from any action that might be regarded as questionable. What an end it would be for one whose good name had always been her treasure ! Why should a respectable woman ever resort to so violent a remedy ? Society would coldly demand. Was it shame or misfortune, or was it the misfortune which springs from shame ? Would she hear from another world the remarks of others upon an act disgraceful even in its tragic elements? But notwithstanding these drawbacks, she derived consolation from her resolve. At times, when unduly pressed by the hardship of her lot, she would repeat to herself in firm desperation, " I will do it, yes, I will take the fatal plunge; it will soon be over ; it will only require a little courage and firmness." And then her face would become ashy grey with despondency,

and her eye so dull from the exclusion of all hope that you could scarcely say what was its original colour.

So Rath Rickton went about her daily work with the prospect before her that the day would come when she would make an end of herself. She would lead an honest life and do her duty to the end. Yet she knew that the crisis must come when the water and gas wei*e cut off, when she could not purchase provisions and coals, when her landlord clamoured for the rent, when an execution would be put in for the rates and taxes. It would then be satisfactory to have a pre-arranged plan to meet the catastrophe. Yes ; she would go straight to a certain bridge and take the fatal plunge. This resolution left a certain impression upon her. It gave a dignity to her carriage, a weird mystic look to her countenance, a calm deliberation to her manner. She was so patient, so gentle, so resigned that a kind of wild sweetness seemed to have settled over her womanhood. Even the boarders ohserved it ; but common souls know nothing of the struggles of the spirit; their ills, like themselves, were of the flesh. Still her strange manner filled them with a certain sort of awe, and they treated her with a little more respect and consideration. Ruth Rickton had reached this state of despair when the Rev. George Dawnton appeared upon the scene. He took a vacant seat beside her at breakfast the first morning, and insisted on carving the ham, a duty she always attended to herself. Boarders invariably hacked hams with wasteful results. She feared for the consequences in this case. But to her great delight, the reverend gentleman cut beautiful thin slices in a way she could not have surpassed herself, and his good offices did not end here. He kept up the conversation, talking in a pleasant manner to everyone at the table. Perhaps having to talk when you have nothing to say, and are disinclined for conversation, is one of the small martyrdoms of life. He also assisted Miss Rickton in ninny other

ways ; in fact, there was 110 end to tho services he rendered her. He wroto her letters and kept her accounts ; ho not only carved but presided at the table when she felt indisposed. He kept order unionist the men, and paid little attentions to the ladies, arranged games, and took a hand at whist when necessary, or turned over the music for fair performers, and afterwards complimented them upon their brilliant execution. Thus the affairs of the house went, much smoother and pleasanter for his efforts, and the burden of life did not seem so heavy to Miss Kiekton. But what she valued more; than all was his sympathy. He had at last found one person in the world who could understand and feel for her, to whom she could open her mind, and from whom she might receive advice. Precious were those evenings when she could have some private conversation with him. Sometimes he was alone in the small drawing-room. Then MisH Riekton would steal up from the kitchen, and he would hear her step in the passage. "Is that you, Miss Kickton?" ho would ask. "Yes." " Come in here, and let's have a chat." '* Oh, I don't know." "Why not? Ls it wicked?" "No ; it's not that. I ought not to waste my time, as I have so much to do." " Surely conversing with me cannot bo a waste of time. You work a groat deal too hard, a little rest will do you good." Then she would let him persuade her to take the chair upon tho opposite side of tho fire, aud tell him about her household affairs, her trials with the boarders and tradesmen, the condition of her finances, and how she hoped to emerge from the rockfi ahead. He would listen to all she had to say, and give her such comfort as he was able. But their conversation went further than the details of their daily life, for they told each other much of their past experience, Each showed to the. other in what the burden of their existence consisted. They gavo each other the support they.iequired, and

the necessary strength for fighting the- battle of their lot. But no expression of feeling passed between them. Courtship is a dangerous matter for the mistress of a boarding-house, unless vows and sighs lead to an immediate action. So after a pleasant conversation Miss Rickton would remark : " How late it is !" "Not much after eleven," Dawnton would reply, unwillingly, that the conversation should cease. " Time I was in bed. Good-night, Mr. Dawnton !" " Good-night, Miss Rickton !" She would at once rise from her chair, and pass out of the room, without a look, a sigh, a word, a touch of the hand, without any indication of a growing passion, and yet both knew that for them the wise course was not to entertain a question which in examination might prove singularly attractive. The Rev. George Dawnton took Sunday duty when he could get it, as he had no permanent curacy. He did pretty well when he first came to live at Bentick Street, but gradually the duty fell off, and he had nothing to do except read at the Museum. In course of time he was obliged to inform Miss Bickton of his circumstances. She implored him not to let the matter trouble him, as he really ought not to pay anything. His food made no difference among the others ; she could not let this room, and his assistance was most valuable to her. In fact, she did not know how she could manage without him ; besides she had perfect confidence in his honour, he could pay her when it was convenient. Dawnton would ,not have minded so much if Miss Rickton had been doing well, but he knew that she herself was hard pressed at the time. His position revealed to him more clearly the real feelings he entertained towards her. His one desire was to assist her, and yet he was adding to her embarrassment. The thought was torture to him, and yet he dare not take the deoisive step which might ..bring' deliverance to both of them.

One evening they were sitting alone in the drawing-room. Dawntou looked pale and worried. Miss Rickton, though anxious, tried for his sake to be cheerful. For a time they sat in silence. At last Dawnton spoke. " Who was the man speaking to you in the hall to-day, and saying that he should come only once more ?" " The gas collector." " How much do you owe him ?" "Five pounds." " Can you pay him ?" " Not at present." " What are you going to do ? If you don't pay, the company will certainly cut off your gas?" " I can't say." Though she was in a position which threatened speedy ruin, she smiled pleasantly as she spoke. He did not return her look, but rose from his seat, clenched his fists and said : " Yes ; by God, I'll do it !" Miss Rickton quickly went to his side, put one hand in his, and the other on his shoulder. " George, you mustn't do it, whatever it is." She had never called him George before. " I cannot see you in your present position and not try my best to relieve you. Besides, it's my fault. It would not be right to leave you unassisted in your difficulties." " But what do you think of doing ?" " Applying to my aunt, Mrs Tasker, for a loan." " Why is that so dreadful ?" said Miss Rickton, in a tone of curiosity, rather than one expressing a desire for assistance. " You little know what kind of a person she is. You regard her only as disagreeable, but that in itself is not of much consequence. I cannot tell you all she says to me if I ask her for pecuniary asssistance, though I am her only living relative, and she is very well off. I have at times been in dreadful straits. The last time I asked her to. lend me a small sum for a week, she brought false accusations against my dead

mother, and I told her I would never ask her again. She is a terrible woman, and yet, if she would let me, I should like to be on good terms with her. But, to-night, I shall break my vow, for I cannot witness your distress without making an attempt to remove it." " Don't go, Mr. Dawnton, I shall manage to pull through somehow." "But I must," said Dawnton, making for the door. She followed him into the passage, and assisted him to put on his overcoat. The wind was blowing hard, and the rain falling heavily as he left the house. " Mind you come back to me whatever happens !" she said, as she stood on the doorstep. "Perhaps." "No perhaps ; you must !" " Perhaps." Then the man was lost in the darkness and storm, but the woman stood still on the doorstep. The wind and rain beat fiercely upon her face, but she paid no heed. Pressing her hand on her bosom she cried in piteous tones : " Come back ! Come back ! What shall I do without you ?" Dawnton strode on to Basingstoke Crescent, where his aunt lodged. She occupied the best bedroom, was the most remunerative boarder, drank sherry at lunch and dinner, and on the strength of her means gave herself airs, and domineered over the others. Her dislike to her sister, Dawnton's mother, was the old story of Juno and Venus over again. The pretty sister married a half-pay officer, lived in distress, and died in want. She herself married a grocer, and when the worthy man departed this life, he left her very well off, especially as they had no children. Dawnton found his aunt in a vile temper. She had been beaten in a dispute on religion by a Scotch lady, who had arrived that afternoon ; and when she tried bullying she was met by the cool rejoinder that we should never lose our temper or forget our manners, even when worsted in argument. She received her nephew in the presence

Vol lI.— No. 15.— 16.

of the other boarders with the tosty remark : " What do you moan by coming to sco me at this hour of the night? Come at the proper time, or don't como at all ! " " I should uot havo troubled you, aunt, at this late hour if it had not boon a tuattor of great importance. Perhaps you will be so good as to see mo in your own room, as what I have to say must bo for your private ear." Most reluctantly she rotirod to her room, and when seated comfortably in her armchair before the fire, sho said : "Now let's havo it, and mind you cut it as short as possible." " I will be very brief, aunt," said Dawnton, with cool determination. " I havo not been able recently to obtain any Sunday duty." " That's your own fault. You Bhould get a curacy, and not hang about a boardinghouse, because you think the mistress has a pretty face. Tisn't respectable nor propor in a clergyman." " We will not discuss that to-night, aunt. What I wanted to say is that I owo Miss Rickton six pounds which I cannot pay hor, and I am aware that she requires the money at once to meet her liabilities. You kuow that I should never have asked you for the money under any other circumstances on account of what you said about my dear mother the last time I requested tho loan of a sovereign from you. But I can't sco that woman ruined because I owo her money, and therefore, however unpleasant it may be to me personally, I havo como to borrow the money of you." " Hoity, toity !" she exclaimed. "So this is your little game, is it, but you don't find me napping. It's my humble opinion that you and the young woman have made it up between you. Not a farthing do you get from me to-night, so you're only wasting yer time stopping here ! " " Am I to understand, aunt, that you refuse my request ?" " Well, I thought I spoke plain enough." "In that case I cannot return to Miss Rickton's, but must go forth into the streets

a ruined, homeless man, a beggar and a vagrant, to be dealt with by the laws of my country."

He looked his aunt straight in the face. There was something in his glance which made her quail. For the first time in her life she felt afraid of him. Still she could be spiteful to the last.

"If you wander about the streets of a night when respectable folk are in bed, you'll be took up by the periice and brought before the magistrates."

"I know 1 shall, and to prove my respectability, I shall subpoena my respectable aunt."

Without saying another word Dawnton made for the door. He had opened it, and was out in the passage when she cried : " Stop !"

He returned to the room, and found her fumbling at her pocket in a great state of confusion.

"Dear me," she said, "I have only two five pound notes, and you have no change F"

" No, aunt, but I must have some money to go on with, so I will borrow the two, and repay them as soon as I can. .Good night !"

Without another word, he went downstairs into the streets. The wind had fallen, the rain had ceased, and the moon was shining. The man's heart was full of joy and exultation. He had fought, what was to him, a hard battle for the woman he loved, and had gained the victory. He was not long in reaching Bentick Street, but before he could get his latchkey out of his pocket, the door was opened by Miss Rickton, all smiles and delight.

" Oome in," she said, seizing both his hands, and blunging him into the drawingroom. "I knew your step. I have such good news to tell you — almost too good to be true. No sooner had you left than an old gentlemau from Yorkshire (such a funny creature, but one of the right sort) came for rooms. He wanted one for himself, one for his sister, and two for his daughters, and asked me if I should require a reference. 1 told him it was not necessary.

"'Ah, but I always give a reference,'

said he, and he put a five-pound note down on the table. ' That's the best reference a man can give, and there are many more where that came from,' and he sat down in the armchair, put back his head, and laughed to his heart's content. I could have cried for joy, for now it does not matter whether you have been successful in

your mission. I'm sorry you're not stopping ; I think you would enjoy the old gentleman's society ; he's an original."

" But I am not going, Miss Rickton." ; ' Yes, you are. I intend to turn you out of my house early to-morrow."

She looked into his face so pleasantly, and her eyes filled with such a soft expression of love, that Dawnton was quite puzzled to make out what she meant.

" Don't you know, 0 man, that it never rains but it pours ! I have also a piece of good news for you. Whilst I was talking to the old gentleman a letter, marked immediate, came for you from the clerical agent. Not knowing when you would

return, I opened and answered it. You must go at once to Weatherston, in Berkshire, for a month's duty, the Hector being suddenly called away upon important business. You will be lodged and boarded at the Rectory, and receive two guineas a week for looking after the parish and taking the services on Sunday. You have to start by the train which leaves Paddington at eight o'clock, but I shall be up to give you an early breakfast." She looked at him with an inquiring glance, but did not ask him how he had succeeded in his undertaking. She was afraid he had failed, and if he had, she did not wish to hoar the details as they might mar her present happiness. Dawnton divined her thoughts, and was pleased at the surprise he had in store for her. "Aad I have news for you," he said, gravely. " Bat I don't want to hear it. It can now be of no consequence, as I have sufficient money for my present wants." " But yon must hear me." " No, not now — another time." " I'm not going to distress you, Miss Rickton, for my news is good. I was so fortunate as to obtain ten pounds from my aunt. It will be a great comfort to me to leave you to-morrow free from anxiety as regards pecuniary matters." Of course the two corresponded during Dawnton's absence. Though they kept to the ordinary form of epistolary communication, yet it covered a good deal which both understood regarding their feeliugs towards each other. In one of her letters Miss Rickton informed him that the boarders missed him very much, and added, " I think Ido a little." Then, her cheek burued as she wrote it, " Come back as soon as you can." The reverend gentleman was quite willing to accede to this request directly his engagement ended. When he reached Bentick Street, the door was opened by Miss Rickton almost before the cab had stopped. With flushed

countenance and outstretched arms sho again received him, but did not invite him to enter the house. "Oh ! Mr. Dawnton," she said, " they have already soul, three times from Basingstoke Crescent to say that your aunt wishes particularly to see you, and that you are to go to her immediately. I'm afraid sho in very ill. Please start without any delay." Dawnton, much surprised at tho news, iustautly sot out for Basingstoko Crescent. When he arrived ho was at once takeu upstairs, and shown into his aunt's bedroom. He was horrified at hor altered appearance. The last time ho saw her she was a strong, stout- looking womau, with a rosy complexion, now she was? blanched, withered and shrunken. But tho startled expression of fear in hor eye distressed him most. Sho had tho fatal terror of one who felt her sin, but not its forgiveness, and the only relief sho sought, before it was too late, was to redress somo of the wxong she had committed. Sho saw clearly there was much shy could not alter. Dawnton felt a tender compassion for her suffering, and kneeling by hor bedside, covered his face with his hands, and prayed : "By Thine Agony and 'Bloody Sweat, by Thy Cross and Passion ; by Thy Precious Death and Burial ; by Thy Glorious Resurrection and Ascension ; and by tho Coming of the Holy Ghost !— Lord have mercy on her." Touched by the words, his aunt put hor hand upon his head and said: "Thanks, Garge ; Christ will listen to you. He would reject my prayer, it is too late for prayer now. What remains of my life must bo devoted to justice. Listen, Garge, for I can only say a few words. Soon I shall have to face my Maker, and I have nothing to plead iv defence of what I have done. I wronged your mother, because I was jealous of hor, for she was very beautiful and much admired. I falsely accused her, and drove her from her native town, Garge, lam sinking, can you forgivo me the wrong I did your mother V" "From the bottom of my heart, aunt."

" But there is worse still. When she was dying — Oh, God ! I see her sweet eyes fixed on me now — she said to me : ' Elizabeth, I freely forgive you all the harm you have done me on condition that when I am gone you are kind to my boy.' You know how I have treated you ; but I have tried to make amends during the time God has smittten me. I have left you every thing I possess, and you can now marry that young woman at the boarding-house. I feel sure she'll make you a good wife." " How kind of you, aunt." " Kind, did you say ?" said his aunt, rising in her bed, and pointing at an imaginary object with her finger : " Kind ! did you say ? No ; I am a fiend — See ! there she is, your mother — Arabella, ray sister — how beautiful she looks ! An " The wretched woman never finished the sentence, but fell back a corpse. The doctor and nurse rushed in at Dawnton's call, but one glance was sufficient, her jaw had fallon; she gazed at something beyond time. Dawnton returned to the boarding-house in a sad state of mind. The death-bed of his aunt, with its awful revelations, had depressed him. He could not speak of them to anyone. They filled him with a sorrow that looked to the outside observer like disappointment. It was thus that Miss Rickton read his countenance. She said to herself: "His aunt has left him nothing. All her property has been bequeathed to a charitable institution ; we cannot now marry but mnst part." Then her former depression returned to her. Suffering was hard to bear after her recent happiness. What a pang it would cost her to yield up the man she loved ! But it must be done. Two persons, who could not between them earn a living, must not marry. - Dawnton could not at present give her the details of that last scene with his aunt, and yet he naturally yearned for that comfort whioh only she could give. He bore up without it as long as he could until one day in the dining-room he began :

" Ruth, you must be aware " Before he could finish the sentence she had left the room, fearing the communication he was about to make. Thus these two suffered, as is often the case with faithful lovers, untold misery through a misunderstanding that a word might have removed. The funeral had taken place, and a few days afterwards Dawnton had been made acquainted with the contents of his aunt's will by her lawyer. She had spoken the truth on her death bed. Everything was left to him. He was surprised, not only at the quantity, but at the variety of her property — land, houses, shares, plate. The lawyer insisted upon lending him a hundred pounds for present expenses, as it would be a few weeks before the formalities of the law could be carried out. Thus he left the lawyer's office a rich man, without a single encumbrance upon his lately-acquired wealth. The wave of a magician's wand had removed the ills from which he had suffered during the whole of his life. Yet if that woman declined to share it with him, he would prefer to return to his old penury and privation. To all appearance she would have nothing to do with him. He had evidently mistaken her feelings towards him. She had been prompted in her behaviour towards him by compassion, not love. What did she care for a seedy parson ? Still he would have a last try. So fixing his hat on his head with dogged determination, he hailed a hansom. " Cabby, drive as fast as you can to Ben tick Street." There was a look in the eye of the reverend gentleman which the experienced cabby interpreted as a promise of more than the ordinary fare. "Right, sir," he promptly answered, as he touched up his hoi*se with his long whip. In a few minutes they were in Bentick Street, and the cabman was not disappointed in his expectation. Fortunately for Dawnton, Miss Rickton was in the drawing-room alone. She was sitting on the sofa, and as he entered the

room she raised her eyes to him with a weary look which startled him. He tried to speak but faltered, and stood still in awkward silence. The situation was embarrassing, and as usually happens in such cases, the woman took the first step to put an end to the dilemma by asking a commonplace question. " Mr. Dawnton, have you any duty for Sunday ?" "No, I have not, Miss Rickton," answered Dawntou, in a most indifferent mauner. "That is rather unfortunate." " I don't think so."

" But how will you manage if you do not

obtain work ?"

" Miss Rickton," said Dawnton, visibly agitated, " I will tell you all, and you shall hear me, whatever you determine to do afterwards. There is no need that I should take clerical duty. I, who have been so wretchedly poor, am now a rich man. My aunt has left me everything she possessed. I have just returned from her lawyer, who has made me acquainted with all the details of her will — but, Ruth, what is is all this without you ? Oh ! have pity if you can ! "

Here again the woman came to the rescne of the man. The fagtp of the cage became

clear to her. Sho had not only made a mistake, but had been unjust to tho rnn-n she loved. Rising from the sofa in great excitement, she strotchod forth her hands towards Dawnton and exclaimed: "() George, my true love, I have lovod you since first we met. Come to me for I am yours ! "

Then Dawnton took her in his arms, and their lips met in their iirst kins. Afterwards he drew her to the sofa, and she leant her head on his shoulder, took his hand and burst into tears.

When her emotion had subsided she raised her head, and smiling through her

tears said as she kisserl Dawn ton : "You don't know how much I love you." " Well, dearost," answered Dawton, " I am delighted that I oan give you tho opportunity of showing it. I consider that our present circumstances could not be improved," " I am not so sure of that, .sir." "How could they be improved ?" "I should have liked to have had the money." " Then you would not have married a rusty fellow like me!" And this was their first difference of opinion,