NOVEL

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 363, 23 April 1903, Page 2

NOVEL

CHAPTER I.—(Continued ) •Where are you going? Why bavo you your hat and jacket on ?' * 1 was (oing for a walk with Hedworth. He said be would come and fetch me this afternoon/ Erne's dark eyes lighed up with pleasure as she fpoke. 'Hedwoith! Always Hedworth! He is not a good companion for you. Take off your things, and put them away. Th«re i- yoar patchwork if you are at a loss for ;oni?tbißg to do,' ' Oh, Aunt Maria! Please let me go 1 H( dworth wanta me! I must go!' The tears almost blinded her, the colour flushed her pale face from brow to chin. ' I must go! I must go!' she repeated ; and there was a touch of rebellion in the voice that was usually so subdued. Mrs Pollard was net likely to overlook rebellion of any kind. Her small thin hand possessed considerable force, and came down smartly on Effie's cheek. 'Ton dare to cay 'must* to me?' she cried, not loudly, out with an intensity of anger which caused the child to shrink into herself at once, ' 1 shall soon teach you be.ter 1 11 your poor uncle were not bo ill—however. I've not time to attend to you now. Go upstairs to your room and learn the first three chapters of Genx-is by heart I'll hear you say them this evening.' Effie retired slowly, her shoulders heaving with half-suppressed sobs as she went; and Mrs Pollard, after a vengeful look at her, went downstairs, removing her apron on the way, to the dinin.--room, where her son, Gilbert, awaited her. She was a iittl; flushed, and her lips were tightly set together as she tnrxed the handle of the doo", yet in some respects Bhe was better tempered than she had been previously, for she had ' worked <ff' her irritation at poor little Effie Morison's expen ie. But the blow had an effect upon her son's fortunes which certainly Mrs Pollard never anticipated. The house—named The Firs, because of a row or two of stunted conifers between it and the high road—was painfully new and light. Mrs Pollard blinked as she descended the thickly-carpeted shallow at airs with the polished and carved handrail, and met the flood of scuEhine which poured throngn the glass windows <f the porch and the side lights of the door—poured full and strong en the black and white tiles of the hall, tte elaborate white and gold of the bare and lofty walls,, the shining blank nees cf the ivory* paint on the wood-work, which represented wealth and splendour to Mrs Pollard's eyes. Gilbert was like his mother. So everybody said. Ha was lithe and slender; spare, even; of medium height, with bia mother's dark hair and eyes, and a little —a very little—t f his mother's subtlety of expression. His features were good and bis complexion pale; he was much more like his mother's family than that of his father, who, with almost all tbe Pollards, was of great height and breadth, with f «ir complexion and auburn or ruddy hair. Gilbert's face was a pleasant one : the thoughtful dark eyes were softer and gentli r than his mother's, and the fact that there was less strength ef will in the lin«e of the mouth, half hidden under the silk/ black moustache, was not alarmingyl apparent. Hi rose when his mother entered the dining-room, and for a moment mother and sen faetd each other in silence. ' Effie eaiu ycu wanted rue. What ia it ?' * Well, of course, I wished to know the result of the interview with Knaggs,' said Gilbert, a trifle impatiently. Knaggs was the name of the local eolicitor. who had just hit the houae- *I thought you wou'd be able to till mo what was arranged.' Mrß Pollard eat dor n ami placed her handkerchief on her lap, as if deliberately intending to UfO it by and by. ■ Nothing ib decided,' snu said in low", level tones. 'No inst'uctioES given for a deed of partnership r' ' None.' 'Nor—for a will?' eaid Gilbert in a pcmewhat reluctant voice. Ha sense of delicacy was revolted by the aliution to a subject about which it was, nevertheless, necessary to be precise. •Nor for a will,* eaid Mrs Pollard, looking at her handkerchief' * But, mother——' ' It's n » use speaking. Gilbert. He will have his own way, as ycu know. All I could do to-day was to say that I didn't think Hedworth would keep the mills if he had anything to do with them. I eaid he would sell them and ;o <.ff to America with the money. That mado him pause. He said he'd like Hedworth to premise fct at he'd do nothing cf the sort without your consent* 'I never heard Hedworth say that he would do any Mich thing,' er-id Gilbert uneasily. ' Nor m.V saiii his mother with perfect calm. ' But tr a<*s what he woutd do, without a doubt. So jour father erst Knaggs awsy to think over tt.o matter. The nurse is with him row. He says I e wants to see Hedworth presently.' 'Hedworth will talk him ever,' ifcurmurcd the younger son. 'I don't tbink he L&s got the v.itc to £0 that,' eaid Mrs Pollard drily • Tfce wits are on our side, Gilbert, it's 1 that m-.de your father jwhat he U —helped the- business too. Old Simon Pollard, your grandfather, cams to trie! a dozen times. Your

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] THE Conscience of Gilbert Pollard

By Adeline Sargeant.

ifALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

father would have come to grief too, but fcr mo. Hedworth'B a Pollard all over; he'li luin the concern; you're a Morison, and you'd pull it through. We are not as rich ae folk think us, and it's not a time to play with the business.' ' I ought to understand it if any one does,' said Gilbert, a frown darkening hiß face. *He took me from school when I was Bixteen, and put me into the office; and that's seven years ago. I know every detail of the business—and he, he knows nothing ?' He won't give up his claim for all that,' returned the mother. 'But I shall take care that he hasn't much chance of pressing it. You see—there isa't—there won't be—much time.' •Is my father worse?' Gilbert asked quickly, with real concern in his voice. He was fond of his father—he was eyen fond of Hedworth in a suppressed way; for he had an affectionate nature whieh his mother's exaggerated devotion did not altogether satisfy. -What does the doctor say ?' * Oh, what he has always said—heartfailure may prove fatal at almost any time. Your poor father »11 be a great loss to us, Gilbert'—the handkerchief went up to her eyes—' but that/s no reason why we should not try to arrange our business affairs in good time.' ' I don't know ; I don't like it,' said Gilbert, turning away hia mother, and leaning with one arm on the mantel-shelf in an attitude of dejection. 'lt seems terrible to think of the dear old man's death, and yet ' He stopped, and moved some china ornaments on the mantel-piece. Mrs Pcllard put down her handkerchief, ana watched him nervously. She did not want her. Dresden figures broken—even by Gilbert, to whom all offences were forgiven. ' You must think of it,' she said at last, in a rising voice,«if you don't want to see Hedworth at the head of the business, and yourself left out in the cold with a few miserable thousands to invest—and maybe a salary. How could you marry Doria Lane, I should like.to know, with prospects like those ?' The young man winced and muttered something that his mother could not hear. Probably she wculd have said more, but—luckily—there was a sudden interruption. A door was heard to bang; a quick, impatient footstep was heard on the tiled floor of the hall; a hasty hand rattled at the do: r. Mrs Pollar d and Gilbert looked at each other, the young man turning red, the mother white about the lips. •It's Hedworth,' she breathed. She glanced apprehensively at the door, but Gilbert turnpd to the mantel-piece orna ments again, and wbuld not look. Hedworth came in. He was noiay—he was always noisy and generally blunt of speech ; but his face bore little trace of the evil qualities that his stepmother was too fond of attributing to him. It was an open, honest, rather good-natured face, ruddy and tanned, surmounted by a shock or reddish auburn hair, and adorned with a considerable growth of red moustache, which made him look older than his sixand twenty years. He had blue eyes, that could be fierce and threatening when he chose, but infinitely kind and gentle when he was in the mood. He entered with evident disregard of the quietude which reigns in a house where there ie sickness, and dashed his hat down on the table. * Where is Effie ? I told her to be ready to (jo out with me.' * Effie is in her room,' said his stepmother coldly,' and if you have any consideration fcr your father, you'll be a ! little quieter when you go out than when you camo in.' ' Ycu know very well he can't hear a sound so long as he is in the bine room upstairs,' said Hedworth. « Well, if you choose to keep Effie out of my way, I must find something else to do. I'll go and 6ee my father for myself.' Gilbert made a quick movement, but Mj3 Pollaid looked quieter than ever, as she folded her hands over the white bandkerchief en her lap. ' You'll do nothing of the sort, unless you want yeur father's death to be laid at your door. He is not to be agitated or distressed.' « And why should I agitate him ?' asked Hedworth in a lower voice. He fixed his keen, blue eyes upon her as she spoke. * You forget, perhaps, that I'm his son—his elder son. You are only too ready to forget it. I hear that he has asked to see me.' * You are mistaken,' said Mrs Pollard frigidly. 'He does not want to see you at alL' * Does not want to see me P' The young man drew himself up to his full height, and stared at her as if he could not believe his c ars. 'He is near his latter end. He wishes to think only of Bacred things. The minister 15 coming to see him this afternoon.' \ Sju'.o I interfere with the minister ?' said H dA-crth, in a half-jeering, halfwounded tone. • Gil, what does this mean? You and I have always been I retty ..ocd friends Can't you speak up aud tell mo what yeur mother has in her head now r' Gilbert facr-d him reluctantly, looking pale and uneasy as he replied. ' Father 15 ill; he does not want to be troubled about—business mat ;erß, he eaid.

Hedworth clenched his hand. 4 1 don't believe it,* he said passionately. • I don't believe for one moment that my'dear old dad ever said that he didn't want to Bee me again. And I will see him in spite of you.' *lf you agitate or distress him, the effects may be very serious—that is all I can say,' Gilbert answered. ' I met Knaggs outside the gate. Knaggs has seen him. What'.'was he doing with Knaggs ?' Mrs Pollard drew herself up majestically. 'ls this a moment in which to concern yourself about your father's will,. Hedworth ?' 1 Very much the moment. It will be a question as to who is head of the business, whether I've to knock under to: "Gilbert, or Gilbert to me.' • '•£•§ 'lf you are anxious on that point. I think I can settle it for you/ said Mrs Pollard in her iciest tone. ' Gilbert understands the business, and will naturally keep the position that you threw up when you went to America and spent your money on that ranch. I dare Bay your father will leave you something, but Gilbert keeps the mill.' She knew very well that she was implying what was untrue. Old Matthew Pollard's will was not yet made, and she had no right to speak as if he had decided the future arrangement of his affairs. Gilbert started and looked at her eagerly, wishing, yet not daring, to contradict her statement. He had always been in bondage to his mother; and he had not the moral courage to accuse her of the lie which in his heart he recGgnised and disliked. Hedworth stood still for a moment or two, breathing hard, and turning a little pale beneath his bronze. It never occurred to him to disbelieve his stepmother's statement; but it was a terrible blow nevertheless. When at lart he gathered sufficient calmness for speech, it was to Gilbert that ho addressed himself, and not to Mrs Pollard. He spoke deliberately, with an ominous fl*sh in his stern, blue eyes ♦lf you've helped to bring that about' he said, 'you've done me a grievous wrong. And you shall pay for it.' Mrs Pollard rose to her feet, -Do threaten your brother ?' she said, pressing between the two men, as if she thought that they were about to do each other bodily harm. Hedworth burst into a fierce laugh, and fell back a pace or two, folding nis muscular aims across his breast. Gilbert, passive, but evidently somewhat dismayed and startled, also recoiled * I've not wronged you, to my knowledge,' he said indistinctly. 'We shall see,' said the elder,, ttan. 'Threaten? " Tea, I do threaten; I threaten to make you smart for it if yon cheat me out of my rights. Tell the old man lies about me if you choose; you shall pay for them every one.' He strode out of the room, and the door closed, heavily behind him. Mother and son nr.ie left alone. They dared not follow him, but they waited in an agony of fear for what would happen next. CHAPTER lI.—IN THE GRANARY Hedworth paused in the hall for a minute or two. The colour had died out of his face and left it unusually pale, but his lips were firmly set, and there was, a glint of fire in his blue eyes. He turned to the staircase and delibrately made hie way to his father's room. The trained nurse met him en the landing, and put her finger to her lips. 'Mr Pollard's asleep,' she said. 'l'm afraid you can't see him now.' She had closed the bedroom door, and stood in the little anteroom barring his way. It struck her that he looked danger us, but then she hadjbeen carefully imbued with the family views of Hedworth's violence and ill- temper. ' I want to see bim veiy particularly. Are you sure he's asleep ?' • Quite sure. And you know what the doctor's orders are, Mr Hedworth. It would be most wrong and dangerous to disobey them.' Hedworth retreated a step, tut he uttered an odd, savage little growl as he did so. ' Every one's admitted but me,' he said. 'Oh no,' said the nurse soothingly—she saw that he was going to yield, aud she could afford to be good-humoured—- ' nobody is allowed to come in when he's asleep, except Mrs Pollard and myself, you know. He'll be able to see yon very Boon, I'm sure.' ' Soon P How soon ? In half an hour ?' •Well, no; I'm not sure that you'l! be able to see him to-night. It's after five o'clock now, and. I shall have to give him his tea, and after tea he dozes iff again, and then I shall get him ready for the night. Ycu must come in'the morning, or earlier in the afternoon.' ' There's no immediate dangfr ?' said Hedworth. The words seemed to Btick, somehow, in his throat. ' Oh, dear, no; you needn't be anxious about that,' replied the nurse cheerily. But she spoke with the perfunctory optimism of her class, and Hedworth was not altogether reassured. ' He's very ill, of course; but you need not begin t& think of immediate danger yet. I must really go back to him. Good afternoon. 1 She nodded and tripped back to the sick room, while Hedworth gazed after her, half doubtful, half reassured 'lf I could only have spoken to him for five minutes, I should know what be wanted me to do,' he murmured ruefully. ' Poor old dad ! He was never rough on me ; though, God knows, I gave him a lot of trouble.' He moved down the corridor, where the light of the western Bun poured in floods through the wide window panes. He did not quite know where to go or what to do. But the sight of a small brown head tuid tear-disfigured face, thrust out at a half • opened door, recalled to his mind the engagement that he had made for the afternoon. • Hallo, Effie! What's the matter with you P Wouldn't Bhe let you come ?' * No, Hedworth' —with a great 130b, and a wistful rub of her still reddened cheek. ' And I said I must come—l'd promised you—and she was angry—and—and ' ' Did she strike you ?' said Hedworth, in a low voice. (To be continued.) FOOD FOR REPENTANCE. Qu<en Alexandra, when Princess of Wales, says ' Good Words,' came one day upon a tiny mite cf a boy crying piteously. He was in charge of a fat and comfortable old lady, who seemed quite unmoved by his grief. ' What is tha matter ?' inquired the princess, who iB very fond ot children. ' Is he ill ?* ' Wall, ma'am,' said the comfortable old lady,*'he isn't hexactly ill, but no stomach carn't stand nine buns.' DANDELION WINE. Dandelion wine is much esteemed as a spring tonic. Hope Daring tells ' Farm and Fireside' how to make it. One gallon of dandelion blossoms and one handful of dandelion roots. Cover with boiling water and let stand twentyfour hours. If there is not enough liquid after straining to make a gallon, add sufficient water to make that amount. Add three pounds of granulated sugar, and five sliced lemons. Bring to the boiling point. Let stand fourteen :.days, Btrain again and bottle. It will keep for years without sealing. I