SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 15, 14 April 1904, Page 24

SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

' O dear ! I wonder if my life will ever be anything but " Make up the blue limen into a skirt loi Alice " , " Wash the drawmg-roofri ornaments yourself ' r> , " Maggie says you may finish tiie cushion she began for the hospital bazaar, and send it with hei complitaefnts " ; " Mend the lace on t,hat green blouse of mitae " ? '

And Cicely Bai,on laid down the tletter containing those and other commissions with a hand that tremblejd, and presently pressed itself, still trembling, nrst to her hot forehead, then to her eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Rimmer and family had betaken < hemselves from Liverpool to Margate for a> ho'hday, which, in the lady's opinion, afforded an admirable opportunity for having the house thoroughly cleaned. 01 course, some one had to stay at home to see that the work was properly done ; and equally of course tjhat some one was Mrs. Rimmer's orphan niece, who paid the penalty of having had a father who had been an indefatigable imitator of that portion of the Oood Samaritan's charity which consisted in calling at an nin , consequently he had left his only child totally unprovided for — matters of history whereof Cicely was frequently reminded by her cousins.

Mrs. Rimmer esteemed it a virtue in herself that, in spite o£ her brother having been a spendthnM, she had gfvem a 'home to his daughter ; but she laid less emphasis on the fact that Cicely saved her the expense of a servant The girl had 'so small a sense of duty, propriety, arid gratitude ' that sihe had engaged herself to a yioung banker's clerk— a misdemeanor exaggerated in the eyes of her relatives by the circumstances of hia being good-looking, well-bred, amd not much better ofiE financially than Cicely herself. Mrs Rimniei was fon|d of saying that the engagement would never come to anything ; and in dark hours Cicely agreed with her, though finding consolation in the thought that, at any rate, it had 'brought her a good deal of happiness and all Jack's love ; and she was content to wait for him, even if part of her probation were to be spent in the grave.

After the little "' grumble ' provoked by her aunt's letter — arriving as it did on a day when Cicely had felt rather overpowered by the amount of work already allotted to her— she re-read it, wondering which of the new tias'ks should be undertaken first : and then she was S'u'dideinly, incomprehensibly, irresistibly seized with a longing foir woods and glens and acres of purple heatlier, for the scent and sound of the sea, far away from the odors of paint afrd soap, and the wrangling

of plumbers and chairwomen. It is a long lane that hasn't a turn, but Cicely felt that into that lane she had got, and, to her own astonishment, burst into tears. ' What on earth is the m'attter ? ' She looked up as these words fell on her ear to behold that constant occupant of her thoughts Jack Walmsley, standing before her. What a silly, ungrateful creature she was to cry, when, whatsoever she had not, she had him ' ' Look here. Cicely,' s-aid Jack, without waiting for an answer, ' put on your hat and come with me lor a stiroll in the Park. It's a shame to waste an afternoon like this indoors, iso 1 came straight from town to take you out. The house must get along without yiou for an hour or so, anyhow.' Presently they were strolling together through the alm)o,sit deserted fashionable qtuarter of Sefton Park, its terraces and drives a realm of brown-papered, shuttered wlndowis, here and there a forsaken cat gazing wistfully at a closed door. The Park itself was quiet ; a few boys idled on the shores of the lake sailing tiny boats - A in the haze of heat tihe geraniums flamed, white butterflies flickering over them. 'My mother wants you tio go to Llanfludno with her for a few days,' observed Jack. • Now, don't say it's impassible, if you have any affection for me lat all ! ' 1 Why should you think I have ? ' said Cicely wickedly She had forgotten worry and overwork, forgotten the anxiety to please joining hands with the certainty, of displeasing her relatives, in the joy of walking beside Jack through balmy air, whilst blackbirds called from the green boughs swinging above. 'It is certainly imiposisible for me to leave home until aunt retsurns.' ' Well, When she does return. Mother will be gi/ving a lit/tie dance in honor of my birthday, arid you must be there.' 1 But I a/m like the girl in tihe story. I should like to dance,, and I am sure I could, only the music puts me cut, and the man gets in my way.' ' You wilft have to dance "by yourself, then,' laughed Jack, ' and in solemn silence. It will be very interesting to loiakers-on.' Thlus talking they perceived a solitary, shabby man seatdd on the grass with a piece of paper spread upon his knee, from which he was picking bits from wedges of bread that apparently had been cut with a view to quelling appetite by brute force. Misery ha,d written her autograph all too plainly upon him. Thin, gaunt, wretchedly clad, he was a blot upon t}he landscape. ' O Jack, lodk at that poor man ' ' whispered Cicely. ' Go back and gave him this, please ! ' 1 Keep ycJur money, pet ! ' said Jack, returning ' this,' and pressing her hand at the same time. ' I'll have a talk with the poor fellow He loaks very ill.' A few strides brought him up to the man, who raised his eyes with an aggressive inquiry in their depths ' I couldn't help noticing that you were ill,' Jack explained. ' But you could help speaking to me, I should tihink, and you ought to do,' replied the other, in accent a that contradicted his appearance , suggesting as they did ' better days,' when refinement and culture had played a part in his life. ' I am not respectable. Can't yau for yourself ? If you are deceived by the sumptuoiusness of this repast and the dazzling splendor of myi attire, permit me to inform you that I begged tihe one and have no understudy for the other. I am a vagabond, an outcast—' ' I was not questioning you,' mildly interposed Jack. ' I only want you to accept this money. It will procure you food and shelter, and medical advice, which you should get without delay. You must take it, if only to save me from a sleepless night. I eoiuldh't rest if I left a fellow-creature in such distress without trying to help him. I should deserve kicking if I did.' The man's mouth quivered ; his defiant, mocking manner gave way. ' Thanik you !" he said, hoarsely. ' It's all my own fault, so don't waste pity on me. I had a goad home and good chances of advancement in my father's office ; but I got into bad company and debt, and did everything I shouldn't have done. My father turned me out, and from bad I went to worse, from worse to this— starvation, death in the workhouse if not in the streets So ends the career of the only son of EdgeeonVbe Bxiarly, merchant in the city of Liverpool !' Jack's face flushed with excitement. ' Is ytfur name Edmund ?' he asked. 'Do you know that for some time there has been an advertisement in the ' Mercury,' saying that if Edmund, son of Edgecom'be Briarly, would communicate with a certain firm of solicitors, he would hear of something to his advantage V

' I never read newspapers or anything else now,' replied the man, a faint reflection of Jack's eagerness showing itself above his apathy. ' B,ut you should inquire' into this,' said Jack. ' The name strtuck me as peculiar when 1 read the notice, which is why I rememiber it. The solicitors ara in Castle Street— Messrs. Croft and Owens. Can you your identity ?' ' Yes. I had a dim hope of one day going home like the prodigal, so did not quite blot myself out. if you would, care to know what the " something to ray advantage " is—' 'Of course I would,' answered Jack, warmly. ♦ There is my address. Call, or send a note. With all my heart I hope you are on the way to something good.' He hastened to rejoin Cicely, who listened with deep interest to his narration of his remarkable conversation with the man. llt is like a page from a story,' she commented. ♦ Jack, don't you hope that there will be a " happy ever after ' ' for the poor fellow ? ' Several days later Japk received a letter dated from a nursing home in the city. It stated that Mr. Edmiunri Briarly was lying there seriously ill with pneumionia, and had expressed an earnest desire to see Mr. Walmjsley. With the smallest possible loss of tame Jack betook himself to the institution, and was soon in the presence of txhe unfortunate man whom he had befriended, w;ho could only gasip forth a few broken sentences of gratitude, and a brief summary of the concluding portion of his sad life history. 'My father died a few years ago. Thank heaven, he forgaye me, and would have taken me back, but he could not find me. He never altered his will, and his fortune comes to me too late — too late, I mean, for me to misuse and squander. The solicitors had me brdug^it here. Thanks to you, I am dyi,ng in comfort. I am thinking that if he could forgive, and if you, a stranger, could be kind and pitiful to a wretched outcast, surely the One Who died for me— surely She who told him, " They have no wine," will compassionate my greater necessity.' * You are a Catholic ? ' almost gasped Jack. ' Oh, then>— then let me fetch a priest ! ' When Jack left the institution an hour later, \he repentant prodigal had gone to that Father Who is best ,pleased when His children are safe home with Him. The valley of the shadow had been brightened by the sacramental presence of the Redeemer and by the heartfelt prayers of ' kindred in Christ.' * ' I distinctly told you ivy leaves, Cicely ! The idea of sticking roses into a toque like that ! You are a selfish, careless little monkey J ' Miss Rimmer, returned from holiday-making, bounced into the sitting-room, the offending headgear in her hand, but she paused at sight of Jack Walmsley and wished that she had spoken a trifle less loudly and harshly. ' Don't mind me,' he said, genially. ' May I mention that you will soon have a chance of getting your millinery properly done, as Cicely is pledged for the future to trim my toques only. We intend to be married in September.' ' Mamma will have something to say about that,' declared Miss Rimmer, with rather spiteful significance. 1 Mamma ' had indeed mucri to say, hut it was all of an approving and complimentary nature when she •learned that, tihroug'h a succession of strange circumstances, Jack Walmsley had become a wealthy man. To him had Edmund Briarly bequeathed the whole of hjs money.—' Aye Maria.'