CHAPTER I.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXVI, Issue 12, 22 July 1898, Page 23

CHAPTER I.

It was a winter day, and the soft, white flakes of snow that fell from the leaden sky were «oon transformed in"-o mud and slush bsneath the feet of the passengers in Lower Gardiner street, Dublin, and Norah. O'Malley shivered as the d impness penetrated the thin shoes she wore. She had almost reached the house where she and her invalid brother resided whea she heard her name Fpoken and she stopped suddenly. ' Oh, Doctor Stephens, I didn't see you,' she exclaimed. ' No,' the grey-bearded medical mm replied, ' you look rather preoccupied. I have been in seeing your brother. He is not improving as I would wish, Miss O'Malley. He requires great care, very groat care indeed. Let him have plenty of nourishing food' port wine, beef tea, and new milk. And it is absolutely essential that he kept free from any — ahem — little annoyances, You understand ? ' 1 Yes,' the girl said. ' I left a presjription, too. Have it made up at once.' ' Yes,' the girl said again. ' And let him be amused as much as possible.' ' Yes,' Norah repeated for the third time. ' Very well. With care, great care, he may do nicely. Good day, Miss O'Malley.' The physician moved on, and Norah O'Malley with an effort dragged herself to the do >r of the house she lived in. It was opened by an overworked maid servant. Contrary to Norah's usual custom, she did not look into her brother's room, but sought the little apartment belonging to herself. Mechanically she removed her outdoor garments and hung them up! Then she sank into a chair with a half-hysterical sob. ' Port wine, beef tea, and new milk,' she said, • and the Ladies' Sanctum discontinued.' Three years before Norah's father had died. Her mother had been dead many years previously. Mr. O'Malley had been supposed by everyone, his own children included, to be a wealthy man ; but at his death it was found he had been engaged in several speculations, most of which had turned out disastrously. When his debts were paid there was but little left for son and daughter. Neither of the pair had been brought up very judiciously, and both were unsuited for ja (struggle with the world. One «of their father's relatives had procured a situation for Gerald O'Malley in a big brewery, and for the first year or so brother and sister managed to get along fairly in their new life. Norah had fondly imagined herself capable of making a fortune with her pen by reason of having a tale or two accepted by one of the weekly newspapers. That this was an illusion, she had speedily learned, but the trifle she earned as sub-editor of the Ladies Sanctum and an occasional guinea for a sketch or story helped with their housekeepings. Then Gerald, never very robust, developed a cough, and was forced after some months to resign his situation. ' And now,' Norah questioned sadly, ' what is to be done ? The trifle of money we had saved is rapidly disappearing, and no one seems inclined to keep anything I write.' She rose to her feet as bhe spoke, and opened a large desk that stood by her bedside. Many folded manuscripts, bearing traces of travel, bore witness to the truth of Norah's remark. Whatever little talent she possessed for story-telling had been blighted by the hard struggle of the past year, and no one realised tins more quickly than Norah herself. She took two or three of what she considered her best written stories, and, after trying to give them as fresh an appearance as possible, redirected them. Poor Norah had little of Charlotte Bronte's belief in herself, and she sighed as she affixed the necessary stamps. •Of course it is waste of money,' she thought, ' still it is a chance.' As she replaced some sheets in the desk her eyes happened to light on a neat roll of manuscript, and she drew it forth. The handwriting was a man's. ' Oh, dear ! If I could but write like Basil Power, whoever he was 1' Norah said aloud. 'If I only could, Gerald need want for nothing.' She spread the manuscript before her, and, cold as she was, commenced reading it, though it was not the first time by many she had perused it. It had come into her possession quite by accident. She had gone into a stationer's one day almost nine months before to make some small purchases. The place chanced to be very crowded, and Norah was glad to gather her few articles together us soon as might be. It was only when she reached her abode that she siw she had taken another's property with her. She conjectured that some customer had laid the manuscript on the counter, and that one of the assistants had placed it among the articles she had bought. It was a story, an exquisite prose idyll, and it was signed 'Basil Power.' In the right hand corner was the address I'J, Meri-ion square. The next day Norah carried it to that address, but she found thi place closed up. In answer to her ring an ancient maii-servaut appeared at the door, and her question regarding Mr. «<asil Power brought forth the reply that he was dead. He had died luidenly that morning. Norah had been too much surprised to at once disclose the nature of her errand, and the door was shut befo^ s-ho had recovered iiom her astonishment. It so chanced that Gerald had been much tt'ur* than usual at the time, and she had thrown the manuscript in her desk and forgotten all about it just then. Nor did she ever maku any further inquiry regarding Basil Power,

She read steadily through the pages regardless of physical discomfort. When she reached the end she sat gazing- straight before her for some minutes. ' Why should I not use it T she said slowly. 'It would bring me the money we so badly need, I am sure, and I would wrong no one living by so doing.' She laid the manuscript down, and paced up and down the narrow limits of her room a few times and shivered. She had not felt the cold before ; now she realised that she was both trembling and hungry. ' I have only three sovereigns left,' she said, examining a small purse , ' only three. And now with the La (Hex Sanctum discontinued what am I to do ? For one thing I must not let Gerald know.' She replaced the manuscript in her desk, and passed on to the room where Gerald lay on a sofa by the apology for a fire. ' Home, Norah ! Are you not early ? ' the boy asked. He had not heard his sister enter the house. ' Perhaps,' she said evasively. ' The doctor was in/ Gerald said. ' Yes, I met him. And now let me see about some tea.' Despite Norah's efforts the meal was by no means a cheerful one, and having seen Gerald take himself to a book, Norah again sought her own room and opened the desk. The sight of Gerald pale and thin, turning from their meagre fare, rendered her desperate, and she took Basil Power's tale, ' A Good Ending,' resolutely forth, and sat down to transcribe it ; but it was not till the following day that her task was completed, and the newly- written manuscript sent to the publishing office of a big London monthly. Weeks went by before she learned anything of its fate, and in the meantime poor Norah had much ado to keep the wolf from the door. Two or three short stories were accepted and paid for by a local newspaper at the rate of a guinea each, and a firm of solicitors gave her some copying to do. She was almost at the end of her resources when a letter came from the editor of the Regent Review. It contained a cheque for twenty pounds and a request for more stories like 'A Good Ending.' Norah wa3 rather dismayed at the success of her dishonest venture, and for several nights her sleep was broken by visions of irate editors and injured authors, but the fact that the landlady's bill was cleared and that Gerald had some of the luxuries ordered by the medical man was a solid and consoling one. She had almost forgotten Basil Power by the time his story was published in the Regent Review, under her name, but she was extremely careful to keep the publication out of her brother's hands. ' Gerald, of course, wonld recognise it at once,' she Baid to herself, ' and he would be displeased. He could never understand how I was driven to it. And I would do it again for the money was useful. If Gerald continues to improve he may be able to resume work shortly.' The next forenoon, as she sat fruitlessly endeavouring to write something not unworthy of the author of ' A Good Ending ' her landlady entered : *" ' There is a gentleman asking to see you, Miss.' ' A gentleman ? ' Norah repeated. ' Yes ; and I showed him into the front parlour, not liking to bid him climb the stairs ; and he's there now' ' What does he want ? ' Norah asked in a sudden fright but Mrs. Laverty shook her head. She was, however, intensely eager to know what business the visitor had with her lodger. ' I would not keep him waiting, Miss, for he seems to be in a hurry,' she counselled good-naturedly ; and Norah, with her heart throbbing painfully, made her way to Mrs. Laverty's best parlour. The gentleman, who turned from the window at her entrance was young. He began the conversation at once. ' ' You are Miss O'Malley, I presume.' Norah, from "beer inability to speak, bent her head. ' And the writer of this ? ' The gentleman held an open copy of the Regent Review towards her. ' I— do— Vhy do you ask ? ' Norah faltered. ' Because (the visitor's tones were cold and scornful) it happena that I wrote this particular story.' ' You ! But I thought you were dead ! They told me Basil Power was dead.' ' Ah. no doubt it was my uncle's death you heard of. Still I fail to see how even my supposed decease could leave you free to use my manuscript as your own. Did it not strike you as being a rather dishonest proceeding ? ' < Oh ! ' ' I have always heard that a woman's conscience is elastic ' Basil Power continued in withering accents. Afterwards he recollected thab the slight figure before him was poorly clad and that the thin, pale face, lighted by wonderful grey eyes 'bore traces of care and want, but at the time he was too angry to' think of anything but his grievance. ' How you obtained possession of my papers you know best ' he added after 'a pause, 'but be assured I shall at once acquaint the editor of this magazine with the true facts of the case. I sincerely hope his action will be such as to prevent other -' the gentleman did hesitate a moment—' other literary adventurers from attempting to imitate your reprehensible conduct. If I ' Mr. Power got no further, for Norah, with a bitter cry, covered her face with her hands. ' Oh, do what you will, only stop, stop,' Norah cried, ' stop till I get away,' and she darted to the door. Mi>. Laverty was in the hall and she gazed after Norah in bewil iur.nent as she raced up tlu' stairs. The good lady had been unable, with the best intentions in the world, to understand the conversation between her loduor and Mr. Power ; but she saw that Xor.ih was distressed and annoyed, and she entered the room, where Mr. Power still stood gazing at tha open door, prepared to do batt'e I for her on the slightest pretext.

' Has Miss O'Malley been an inmate of your house for a length of time ? ' Mr. Power inquired as he moved to leave the room. ' Yes, sir, she has,' Mrs. Laverty answered with asperity, ' and a good modest girl she is ; though, sure, 'tis her heart is broken entirely with one thing or another. . There's her brother lying sick while she's slaving night and day to earn their bread. And then people come worrying her who have never wanted a meal I'm sure, in all their born days.' Mrs. Laverty stopped for want of breath. ' Is — is Miss O'Malley in such straits as that ? ' Basil asked, feeling himself suddenly a villain. 'I am not going to discuss her affairs with strangers.' Mrs. Laverty replied with dignity, 'but'— Mr. Power was in the halibut if going without the comrron necessaries of life means being in straits, Norah O'Malley knows something of it.'