HER SECOND THOUGHTS

New Zealand Tablet, 24 October 1912, Page 7

HER SECOND THOUGHTS

Veronica's life was a hard and trying one. _ There ,-. were times when her trials were almost more than she could bear. For herself she did not mind very much, for she was young and had never been accustomed to ease and luxury, but the privations endured by her delicate mother caused her intense pain. Yet, do what she would, she found it impossible to make things more comfortable for her. - . , .- Veronica worked as a typist in a *bity office, but her salary was small, barely enough to feed and clothe one person, wholly inadequate for the support of two. In times gone by Mrs. Loraine had been a dressmaker's assistant, and her earnings, joined to those of her daughter, had helped them to live respectably. But all at once the poor woman fell into a low state of health, and work became for her an impossibility. Very sadly Veronica took her to a dispensary doctor. 'lt's a breakdown,' he said, after a careful examination of his patient. ' Mrs. Loraine has had too many hours in hot rooms. She requires rest and fresh air; with these she will, I trust, soon be well again.' * I'll do what I can,' Veronica answered sadly and full of forebodings, she led her mother back to their dingy lodgings. ' Something must be done ! But what V Veronica thought one evening, as, having slipped into' the free library on her way home from the office, she turned over the leaves of the Daily Telegraph and Morning Post. If only, only I could get something better to do! Someone might require a private secretary and pay more — Poor mother! if only I had a little more money I might— Ah ! Her eyes fell on the fashionable announcements in the Post, and she smiled sadly. 'Nothing in this column to interest me. The "upper tenbut stay ! This—yes, surely— Hon. Mrs. Dalrymple is—l know she is— cousin. She was a Loraine. I've often heard my dear father speak of her. When he offended my great-uncle by-following the profession that : suited him best—that of an —most of the big fortune that ought to have been his, and always was intended for him, was left to her. And she, being an heiress, married wellthe Honorable Conrad Dalrymple. Poor. father died almost a pauper: she lives a widowand immensely 1 rich. So her doings, goings, and comings, are duly chronicled in the Morning Post.'

The Hon. Mrs. Conrad Dalrymple reading from the paper before her' has returned from the Continent to 106, Grosvenor square for the winter.' Veronica flushed to. her eyes, then grew suddenly pale again; her hands trembled and her eyes filled with tears. " - • -"' - .' ,-'. - / 'I couldn't do it. It would be too horrible And yet—for mother's sake I might ventureovercome my pride and go to Mrs. Dalrymple. If she is kind she will see at once what I want and willbut oh ! , I cannot bear to beg fOr that— it as I will, asking for help— is what it will be in plain English. I could notwould not do such a thing for myself, but I must make an effort to save my darling. Posts are few salaries low. So ; I'll go to Diana Dalrymple. I'll tell her all, and if her heart is —smiling sadly 'as stony, as j her. name,, she'll do something to help us. To-morrow is ; Saturdaya half -day in the city. So I'll be bold and brave, : and venture to present myself to my magnificent cousin. It's really a good idea, and will be quite : easy to carry out.' But the following afternoon, as Veronica fastened on her hat and veil, the visit to her cousin seemed a useless arid trying ordeal. ' She'll scorn me,' she moaned, ■ and I'll be wild with humiliation. I can't! But I've promised mother, so I must face it, cost me what it may.' And, seizing her gloves, she ran downstairs. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, the ' girl walked quickly through the streets, and soon found herself in Grosvenor square. Her heart throbbing, her ' color coming and going, she went up the steps of her cousin's fine mansion and rang the bell. , I wish to see Mrs Dalrymple —on business,' she said, nervously. ' Impossible !' replied the footman. ' These are not business hours.' No; but I feel sure Mrs. Dalrymple would see me for a moment.' 'Have you an appointment ' No. But I think she will see me for a second.' ' I'm not so sure. In fact — But wait a bit,' softening as he met the girl's beautiful, imploring eyes; ' I'll just see. She's expecting somebody, I know. Maybe it's you. I can tell her it was a mistake, if she's angry. Follow me.' And he led the way up a broad, handsomely carpeted staircase to the drawing-room door. 'Here he paused, and, turning, said: 'What name shall I say, Miss?' .-' Loraine—Miss Veronica Loraine,' stammered the girl, trembling in every limb. But you had better ask Mrs. Dalrymple if she will see me.' ' No, miss. I'll announce you straight away.' He threw open the door and, standing aside to let the girl pass in, said in a loud, clear voice: ' Miss Veronica Loraine, madam.' Then he quickly withdrew. A tall, stately woman, with bright auburn hair, elaborately and fashionably dressed, stepped forward, her green velvet tea-gown sweeping softly behind her, diamonds flashing on her white fingers and amongst the lace at her throat. ' I have not the honor of Miss Loraine's acquaintance,' she said in a cold, slow voice. ' And I cannot talk to her now.' Veronica gazed at her cousin in speechless terror. The Hon. Mrs. Dalrymple was handsome despite her fifty years. But her manner was repellent, her expression haughty and forbidding. 'I must ask you to go —at once ' —she pointed towards the door ' lam expecting a friend, and cannot be interrupted by a stranger.' 'Oh! wait—one moment, please!' Veronica stammered. 'My father was your cousin—you must remember him Ferdinand Loraine. He was good, hardworking, but unfortunate, and he died poor. My . mother' —in a choking, tearful voice it is for her I ask your kindness—is in bad health, unable to work, and—' • Your impertinence is extraordinary, and,' frowning and annoyed, ' not to be endured.' She turned angrily and rang the bell.

• James,' as the footman, stolid and rigid, appeared -.< upon the threshold, ' show ; Miss Loraine out. I am not "at home" to-day to anyone but Sir Leonard Dalrymple. If you disobey my orders again, you must go.' She swept away up the long drawing-room, and Veronica, her head high, a red spot on each cheek, cast one indignant and reproachful glance at her proud, cold-hearted relative, and followed the footman' down the stairs. ' "' ■ ~ ...... : : .. 'My little venture has failed,' she thought. Well, I had no right to expect it to succeed. Only for mother —poor, dear mother—-II would , neither fret nor grieve. But on her account I am deeply disappointed. As Veronica passed out, a tall, soldierly man of three or four and thirty, with dark eyes, and a fine, intelligent face, went up the steps of Mrs. Dalrymple's house. He glanced admiringly and inquiringly at the girl, then slowly entered the spacious hall. ' Who is that lady, James?' he asked the footman. ' She seemed distressed.' - * ' Yes, Sir Leonard. She's a Miss Loraine. She r was very anxious to see Mrs. Dalrymple.' ' And she saw her, I suppose V ' . , ."■_. V 'Saw her, yes. But Mrs. Dalrymple wouldn't speak to her. The poor thing was upset and disappointed, though she struggled hard not to show it.' ~." ' She looked brave. Is Mrs. Dalrymple "at home," / James?' • V ■■■ - : ~*"~\ ' Yes, Sir Leonard. She's expecting you, so this young lady came at the wrong moment.' 'Ah! she'll have better luck next ; time, I trust. Then, laying his hat and stick upon the table, he followed James upstairs. ' 'Loraine! 'he thought. ■■.. ' To be sure: Aunt Diana was a Loraine. I wonder if that can ; be a daughter of the unfortunate actor-cousin, who 'was cut off so ruthlessly by his uncle. •By Jove!. She : is lovely, and looks sweet and good—but, alas! desperately poor. Something must be done. She must be helped. Aunt Diana has always been a spoilt child of ;•. fortune; she knows nothing about poverty, its struggles and its misery. I have been through the mill. That girl's face has touched me to the heart.' Mrs. Dalrymple greeted him with radiant smiles and held out both her hands. 'Now this is delightful!' she cried; 'I thought you had forgotten me till I got your note this morning.' He pressed her hands and laughed. 'Now, is that likely, Aunt Di?'•. - Don't call me by that absurd name; it makes me feel old.' . / : w;.. -. 'And you lookfar from that, Diana.' ; ; A A rather chilling remark, Leonard. However, I forgive you. And now, what's your news? Going to be married?' - " 'No,' shortly. 'l'm not a marrying man.' 'My dear Leonard ! But they all—laughing—- ' say that — the right person turns up. But you said you had something to tell me.' , -V 'So I have. I've bought Sunny side, the Gosspots* place in Hampshire, arid am going to live there.';., She clapped her hands. Good news Then we'll have house parties and bridge and ' Occasionally, perhaps. Not often. I'm going to cut the old pleasure-seeking, idle set, Diana, and turn over a new leaf.' ' Going to turn monk ? My dear Leonard, rl'ifl horrified.' He smiled and took a seat beside her. ' Don't be alarmed or horrified ; a monk's life would not suit me. But I want to mend my ways a bit and do some good to my fellow-men.' 'Leonard!' she stared at him. 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing, Diana. I am quite sane. But—well, I have been treated better than I deserve. My father, unlike any Dalrymple ever heard of before, made his own money in trade, and was honored with a baronetcy. I spent and squandered and lived a life he did not approve of, yet in spite of the disappointment the dear man felt in me, he left me everything. His goodness and generosity have touched me and filled me with remorse, and,.my earnest wish now is to do what I think he would approve of—help those less fortunate,

less well-off than I am myself. Wealth is a great re-... sponsibility, Diana. You arid I ought to do our best to spend our money well. Some day God will require us to give an account of our stewardship.' -; }, ; r >;, Mrs. Dalrymple stared at him in open-eyed amazement. * ,/ ' Really, Leonard, you talk wildly. Why on earth should you bury yourself after country folk and give up charming friends?' 'l've told you cwhy. But you misunderstand me. I only mean v to 'give up a certain set of worthless acquaintances, not friends. ' Oh, indeed !'■ with a scornful laugh. ' We are not all to be wiped out of your visiting-book?' 'Not all;. not one real friend. And now, Diana,' looking her, straight in the face, tell me why did you refuse to speak to Miss Loraine just now?' : My dear. Leonard, need you ask? I was expecting you.' ; . ; ".' '■:.•*-,. '■A., kind word would not have taken long, and I'd have waited. .Have you any idea what she wanted?' ' Every idea. , She was begging. The old story,' contemptuously; 'unfortunate fatherinvalid mother.' 'But I believe this girl is a relation of yours?' She frowned and flushed hotly. ' A distant one—yes. Her father was half-fool, half-knave. : She is suffering from his folly.' ■' Poor girl! But Ferdinand Lorainel remember his story —was unjustly treated. Every man has a right to lead his life as best pleases him.' Nonsense! A man should respect his family. He should, consult the wishes of his relatives, or take the consequences.' .' 'He did so and suffered. He was an honest, upright man; though unfortunate. This daughter of his is very lovely. I wish you would do something to help her.' • ■ '.[{};'■■ 'Well, perhaps I may,' carelessly; 'who knows? However, it's not your affair. Your aunt-in-law's distant cousin is nothing to you, Leonard.' "-■_,"' Nothing. But considering all things, seeing that you reaped such immense benefits through her father's misfortune, it would be onl)'- just ' ' 'Don't lecture me.' Mrs. Dalrymple frowned and raised her hand quickly, ' and tell me what I ought to .. do.' ' ' I won't. You know what your duty is, Diana. I'll say no more.' ' Because the girl has a pretty face she interests you. I've known you pass many . deserving creatures without dreaming of helping them.' , ' -.■■" is an exceptional case.' . 'Enough. Pray say no more.' . He bowed. -..■■'<! - -■•■• 'l'll never mention it again.' ;■ ;•"'.-'' 'You'll take a cup of tea, Leonard?' , ' Thanks, no ! Not to day.' .;. • : :"% ' Then good-bye,' coldly, and ringing the bell as" she spoke, 'James,' as the man appeared, 'show Sir Leonard Dalrymple out.' ' The impertinence of that boy— he is a boy to me!' she cried, as the door closed. 'Fancy him lecturing me! Because he means to turn over a new leaf he thinks all the world should do the same. He i s But come—after all, perhaps he's right. Anyway, I wouldn't quarrel with Leonard for anything. I was horrid to that girl— nearest relation I have. But it's not too late. If only to please Lenny I might do something. James,' as the footman appeared with the tea, ' did Miss Loraine leave an address V 'She left this note, madam,' handing her a letter on a silver salver. 'The address may be inside.' Mrs, Dalrymple tore open the envelope. 'Yes, this is what I want. James, order the motor, and tell Elsie I am going out. Look sharp I must get off in twenty minutes.' She sat down at her dainty satin-wood bureau, and, smiling, opened her blotter. 'My dear Leonard, second thoughts are. best,' she wrote. ' Come round hero again soon. If all goes well,

I hope to introduce you to my pretty cousin, Veronica Loraine.-Yours as ever, ' -v, '*>' Dalrymple.' ' ' Six months later the old house l in Hampshire, so happily called Sunnyside, was full of life and ■ merriment. It had taken a, considerable time to furnish and put it in order, and s when it was finished and looking a picture of comfort and t peace, Mrs. Dalrymple insisted that Sir Leonard should give a house-warming. '} ' You need not have a big, party,' she urged '/>'•• just ; a few choice spirits, those you like and admire so much. I've got Veronica several pretty frocks, and I • want them to be seen. A few days in the country would do the child good — looking pale again of late.' c 1 >' Do you think so?' he cried anxiously. And do you really believe she'd like to see my house?' Like it ? Of course she would; and her mother, and though,' laughing, of course we don't count for much nowadayswould like it, too. So send out cards, Leonard, and give us all a really pleasant time/ 'I will. Name your day, Diana.* Everything shall be as you wish. You have acted nobly; you deserve your reward.' ■-..*. ' Perhaps the reward may not be altogether on my side, young man,' she murmured,.as he left her. 'My second thoughts have done a good deal—yours may do —bring about the happiness you. so earnestly desire. Veronica is coynot to be easily won. However, I see. signs and tokens that promise a bright future for you both.' '""..""'■ ' , ' To Veronica and her mother Sunnyside seemed like an "enchanted palace. Since Diana had so kindly come to their aid, and, having rescued them from their miserable surroundings, had placed them in a tiny flat, simply but comfortably furnished, they had made many new friends, and had seen many charming houses. Engaged as her cousin's secretary at a good salary, Veronica had been treated more as a loved daughter, and had accompanied Mrs. Dalrymple on visits to numerous fine and imposing country mansions. But neither she nor her mother had seen anything to compare with beautiful Sunnyside. Their rooms were the best in the house; the view from their window across a shady garden and quaint old orchard, opening into the park, was a dream of loveliness, and Veronica was enraptured and delighted. Before she had been a week in Sunnyside all signs of pallor disappeared. People looked at her in ■ wondering admiration. She >; was radiantly lovely, and -her bright spirits were infectious. To be near the girl made . everyone feel happy. And then, as the days flew past all too quickly, and the time for departure drew near, Veronica drooped a little; her heart was almost sad. ; - ~ .' ' It has been a dream, and, like all happy dreams, must end—a little abruptly,' she told herself one day as she stole away to a shady seat under a big apple tree, glad to be alone for a while to think of her own thoughts without fear of interruption 'just give us a peep, brief and unsatisfactory, into something we would fain know more of. Ah, well, it would be ungrateful to complain, or wish life here to go on for ever. It has all been wonderful. And now I must go home with a brave heart, and determine not to repine because all I hoped, prayed for, has not., come to pass.' 4, t'A. step, on the gravelled path brought the bright color to her face, ; and she half rose from her seat as Sir Leonard Dalrymple came hurrying towards her across the grass. /' > \ ' .• ~ ,•>:>•?..!? . 'I was looking for you everywhere,' he cried, gazing at her, his eyes full of joy and happiness. 'Aunt Di and a number of people have gone off for a picnic tea in the woods, and I was afraid you were in one of the first motors. . And now, here you are, and thank goodness we have the whole sweet place to ourselves.' 'Yes.' Veronica sank back upon her seat without raising her eyes. But I did not know about the tea. I ' ' You are sorry,' his face clouding, 'to have missed it? Then let us go after the party.' -. 'No, no. Ireally would rather stay here.' 'You like Sunnyside?' with a hardly perceptible little sigh of relief at her words.. '

' Indeed I do. ,It is the loveliest place I ever saw.' , ' You would not pity anyone who had to live here?' . v She laughed ; gaily. ' Pity them ? I'm afraid I'd envy them from the bottom of my heart.' • . t; '•-■ My intention,' he went on, without looking at her, 'is to live here. There is work to be done on the estate and amongst the poor tenants. I mean to do what I can for them—make their interests mine.' ; ■■'■',' That will be good work,' she said earnestly, ' and will, I am sure, make you happier than an idle, pleas-ure-seeking life in London.' 'So I . think and believe.' But you—you would rather have the gaieties of town than the peaceful monotony of the country?' " 'l?' Veronica 'turned a pair of beautiful, indignant eyes upon his face. 'Nothing of the kind! I love the country— rather live ' She stopped short, crimson to the roots of her hair. 'At Sunnyside?' he whispered, laying his hand on hers. ' Would you be happy here, Veronica, quietly with me?' • She bent her. head, but trembling with emotion, made no reply. My darling, stay here always. I love you, Veronica. Can you love me well enough to be my wife and help me. in my work?' ' Yes, indeed I can.' She raised her beautiful eyes to his. Then, suddenly casting them down, she burst into tears. My dear one!' he exclaimed, as he caught her hand and drew her gently into his. arms. 'Thank God! As Aunt Diana prophesied, her second thoughts have brought me good luck and happiness.' ' I hope —I trust so. Oh! Leonard, I —l' she stammered. Then, blushing and confused, she hid her face upon his breast.