Novel

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 367, 21 May 1903, Page 2

Novel

By Adeline" "SiRGEAifT.' ~i or

CHAPTKa MYSTERIOUS DIS . AFPEASANCE. Here ¥« no sign ofliiejn the old man's face. Hia eyelids d!ii%ot riieker, hi» taouth did not move, hi* band lay cold and limp between Hedworth's warm, strong fingeie» The- doctor bent over him, and made acme observation in a loir - feose to the nurse j bat he did not stay more tf an ten minutes, for, after all, there vaa nothing for him to do. The end was coming fast, and Mrs Pollard--s kne wit ae well ■» he dd hi msejf. Gilbert knew it too. Bat Hedworth—with his warm heart beating rait, and his quick through his veins—Hedworth did net know. «■ • Won't yon speak to me, dad ?' he said at last, in a tone of piteous entreaty. * Won't jou look np and give nSe a single ; * * ■ S-; j 'He cant hear you, Mr.Hedwort h,' the nurse whispered sympathetically. It seemed to her that Hed worth was the : otJj peraon in the house who had any affection for her patient. 'He may be cenacioiu by and by.* Gilbert covered his eyes wiish hia hand. He was thinking whether his rather absolutely meant those five thousand pounds to be paid out cf the business to. Hedworth, and whether he himself had premised to do so or not. If he had not promised—and he did not think he [had—there was still time to get out of it. i A lamp had been brought in, and by the light that it cast upon the led, it .became evident* after a time, that Matthew Pollard's consciousness was returning. His eyelids twitched and opened; a healthier colour seemed to tinge his cheeks. He turned his read vere slmhtiy' and looked at Hed worth's hand, which retained its hold on his thin fingers.! *ls it—ycu—Heddy P* he a=ked. J The use of the old pet name snowed" well enough tt-at his affections were still aiire for the son who had been to some extent a prodigal. > ' I'm here, dad,' said Hedworth hoarsely. 'That** light, my—my dear—boy.' ' Ton forgive me, dad, if I've behaved badly to you P* ' Yce—yea—yee, lad. But—you couldn't —it anage—the business, lad; ycu must leave that tr—Gilbert. You flung—aw*v—all your chances—' ' Jost as ycu l'ke, dad,' said the young mar ; and there was a sob in his throat. ' But I've spoken to Gilbert; he'll mzJte it all right. Gilbert!' ' Tie voice was growing weaker. Mrs Pollard leaned forwaid and toughed her stepson on tfa o arm. ' L.<j your brother ecme nearer,' she said. *He waits to a i ei k to hit father, too.' Hedwcxth weald have moved aside, bat his father's hand closed like a vice ui on hie finf era. Still he nodded assent when Gilbert ala> drew near. Bat hie strength « M railing. He cculd say little now. 'Yon knew what we said—you'll do everything that's right. Gil—' ' Everything,' eaid Gilbert. Tnen the voice grew husky, and the v ords became almost unintelligible, bus the brother?, listening intently, caught a By liable here and there. ' Gil—Heddj—the money—make np——' And then, vi'h a final effort," his fair share.' 'lt .will be all right, father,' said Gilbert, soothingly. 'I understand. Heddy and I will make things square, I premise yen, father.' The old man made a sound of relief and comprehension Then took Gilbert's hand and laid it over that of Hedworth. Gilbert let it stay. Hu brother gave him a quick, grateful look, and then turned back to the father's grim, yellow mask of a face, which began to look already as though it were modelled in clay or carved in atone. And all this while, little Effia lav on tie floor, hidden by the folds of the curtain-, which were voluminous enough to conceal a einet bigger person than herself. She hid been completely forgotten, and was m t diacovered until dawn, when the nurse carried her eff to bed in the deep sleep which had completely and mercifully enveloped her long before Mr. Pollard died. The wife and bous watched for some hours before the end came. It was when the dawn was breaking that life finaliy departed, and the watchers could rise from t'-eir cramped pesiuons and leave the dead alone. Hedworth held out his hand inpolaively to his brother as they left the room. ' Let bygones be bygonea, Gil,* he aaid. 'We can be friends ttiil' ' I hope ao, I am sure,' skid Gilbert, with more than warmth. But he meant we 1 by his brother, and intended to carry out hia father's injunction?, so he bad no hesitation in returning Hedworth's grasp of the band. He meant to go to Lis own room at once, but Mra Pollard, locking worn and anxious in the m rning light, waylaid him to pass on the key which Effie had given to her. 'l'm going to lit down now, and I thought you might want it, she said. ' I hope everything is eafe.' ' Did I forget it f said Gilbert, etarine at the key. 8 'Y f; Hedworth and Effie found your desk open at the • See.* "That's queer. I never did such a thing in my life before I suppose Ihi d better go down to Legge's at once, and tell him that ifs ail over—my pooi father's gone. I'll be at the office about nice. Go and rest, mother; you look at

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if you needed it' A sob burst from M?a Pofiard*a dips as her son kissed her.' «Oh, my boy, what I've gpne through! But I got him to sign the will at last—while you were cut. The old will, you know; the business and almost everything ebje to you, and nothing for Hedwoith at all.' ' He told me,' said' Gilbert. ,' Don't let us discuss the matters now; go and rest/ He had resolved against mentioning the sum which his father wished Hedworth to receive until he had fully considered the -matter. 'I promised nothing definite,' he was already saying to himself, as he went down to the old Red.House to speak to William Legge. He thought that nothing would make him Bleep when he gained Hb own room a gain, and he wrote a little note to Doris, to Doris before he lay down, but sleep was lying in wait for him,' in spite of his anxiety and his grief! and he Blept until nine o'clock in the morning. He was hardly surprised when he reached the dining-room, to find his mother there before him. He knew very weU that no loss or. bereavement in the world would induce her to; absent herself from the family meals. Mrs Pollard never 'gave way.' She bad breakfasted at eight, and was already deep in corres-. pondencey while the servants vere harrying hither and thitber en errands of importance, with an air of bustle which seemed to Gilbert a little out of place. He tcok his seat, at the breakfast-table, however, without making any remark. Hedworth was sitting in the room, with his hand curved over his eyes. r It was noticeable that he seemed io- feel bis father's death much more than anybody else., Gilbert nodded' Good-morning' to him, and helped himself to 'coffee and a piece of t:ast, «Mother/ he said at last, when a third . or ionith message had been brought to Mrs Pollard by one of the servants, ' can -youjaet let business wait a litttef' |p||rlp*hpold it wait IfMP sjpplvii: **vtey great deal :ftcfthn|k|jpf jkjiw that J0)i« pooi?father'* •*gone. gYcn wiß see Mi Knagga afeleven £ ' f Wm*F& '*- ***& up suddenly. 'Did my father leave a will after all?' , . . . . s «Certainly he'did. I can tell you what its contents are, if ycu like. Gilbert has the mill *"/ • j '.".";■ ! ' ', . \ f ; ' I know that already.' 'There is an annuity for me,and a sum of five hundred pounds '.for Effie; also Eome legacies-to the .Workmen and servants. Gilbert has everything else. Yon must renumber that you had your eh are when you went to America/ ' ' I understand sill that,* Bald with great gravity. • The only thing I regret is that he did'not live long enough to show the world how entirely he had forgiven ray past misdoings.' Gilbert pushed his cup away from him. He was reminded disagreeably that he had it m his/power to show the world most undeniably how.kindly his father had thought of Hedworth in the hour of his death. ' •We will talk of these things later,' he said impatiently. • Certainly, Gilbert,' hia mother relied, with an assumed obsequiousness which was not lost upon her sons. ' Of course, you are the master now; we have not even the right to stay here unless we are invited.' • Bubbish!' said Gilbert, elevating his shoulders. He went out of the room without giving another thought to the subject; and did not think, until it dawned upon him later, of tfce possibility that hia mother might goad Hedworth almost to madness by reflection upon the dependent position in which he wouldnow find himself. He came back from the mill in an hour's time, lcoking flushed and vexed. Ifc was so natural to him to consult his mother, that he went to her at once to say: • There's a most mysterious thing at the office Can I. speak to you about it?' •Certainly, Gilbert, I am expecting Mr Bodney and Mr Kuaggs every minute, but : they will probably be a little "late. In the meantime, there isa note for you.' She pushed it towards him across the dining-table, with a .little glenm of triumph in her eyes. Gilbert took it with seme surprise. •Why, ifs Hedworth's handwriting,' he said. The note ran as follows: \ 'My dear Gil, —Your mother |seems determined to make the house too hofc>to hold me. I stood it daring the dear old dad's time, but I'm not going, to stand it now. I don't believe you wish me away, but I know she does, so I'll oblige you both by going up .to L ndon for a day or two. Sou can say that I've urgent business in town. Let me know day and hour of funeral Have heard of a berth* likely to suit me.—' Ycurs, «H.P.' ' He's gone away!' said Gilbeit, putting down the letter with a gasp. •Itfe all the better,' Mrs Pollard responded, significantly. Gilbert turned on her with indignation in me tone. 'Mjther, how came you to quirrel with him on the very day of latner'a death ? It's cruel, it's indecent, to have a quarrel now! Thiak what everyone will say !' ' We had no quarrel,' said his mother. ' I had occasion to eay a few home truths

to him and he took offence, 'thafevwaa rail. [ think it is a good thing he jan have peace and quietness ic We House.' • I shall write to him to come [ • You will be very foolish if. you do.? The look of the thing does not matter with Eedworth. And there-id nothing for him to stay for? ijss* - Mf; -£.■ -",. ' All the more reason—at least, it would" have looked better if he had stayed. But that 'lB not the only thing—l had a question to ask him—' •YeB?» said Mrs Pollard. The blinds were drawn down, the Bible was open on the table, eh 9 had already donned a.biaek gown, and Ihe subdued jair of one who ha£, been bereaved; and yet there was a scent of worldliness about her, a suppressed, eagerness, a furtive interest in business' 1, flairs, which struck disagreeably upon Gilbert's mind. ..He. wished.hohadnot to enter upon the question which was at that moment perplexing him, - »/ . * A very odd thing ; has happened? he said, in the lowered voice which.people involuntarily adopt in the houseof mourning. ' I left a banknote for fifty pouads, ip my desk laet night; and tc-iayUfcis. gone.' .„. _, , , ,-,'fog-Wt jour 4esk ppeij&Jroa know,'

Gilbert/ M \ \?^H.m\ ■* Ye*! Of *coureei gfeveraC f|aople bad a c?Bß*i»~tha't roonf" while l'waß away. Bat Legge, who was sitting in the. room . opposite mine, with the door open, says he could swear that nobody entered, the tffiov after I left it. He saw me go, thought I- had locked up, and therefore, never went into the.<ffi;e himself; at.all Who gave you the key, mother?' • •EffiV ; v i ; /Where is she?' I ■'ln bed. The nurse won't let her be disturbed; she says her nerves have had a shock.' : 'EffieP But she was not alone ' 1 No, Had worth was with her.' *,Hedworth I' Gilbert sat down and looked before him • 1 here was a long silence which even Mrs Pollard did not like to break. When, the sound of knocks and opening doors showed that the expected visitors had arrived, '■ she ventured to murmur ono sentence,' and only one. ' Perhaps Hedworth's absence-is explained,'she said. Gilbert turned on her almost furiously, but there was no time for more He had a difficulty in escaping from the visitors who were announced—Mr Rodhey, the minister, who wanted to condole," and Mr Knagga. the lawyer, who was a little disposed t> congratulate—but he slipped away at last. He wanted to think the matter over, and there was a s'range sinkißg a f < his heart. He wtnt straight to EfhVs room. She was awake, but not up yet, and the nurse was sitting betide her, reading a story aloud. .... ';; ' ' I want to ask Effie something—it won't take a minute,' said Gilbert. ' Erne, you and Hedworth were in the mill yesterday, were you not V -q He wondered why she Idoked so frightened. As a matter of fact, she was desparately afraid of letting him know that she had seen bim kiss Doris Lane.; She told him mnch what she had told Mrs; Pollard; and Gilbert; liatexu din silence. He could not betray his suspicions to her; bu f - he came as hear to the point as he COUld. i : gft ' I find I have lost a paper,' be said. 'A paper—of some value. I think it may have fallen out of my desk and been lost. Did you see or hear anything of a loose paper, Eflie?' ' I heard a sort of fluttering, as if s *"' paper had fallen down, just when Hed-. worth put «ut the gas,' said Effio fHa asked if he should IL-ht the gas again for me to see, but when 1 paid I thought it was only a paper, he said taey would find the morning And t ; pn we cauiei away. Was it a newspaper, Gi.'b }t't' ' No, dear. It does not matter. I can ask Hedworth if he saw it when he. comes h*me.'

' Haa he gone away ?' said EflK raising herself on ene -elbow and looking at Gilbert with dilated eyea ■■*■:. 'To London for a few days... He will be here again On Tuesday,' : '■-'-. »•: | J Ob, Fni glad of that.'.,., £f -:; ./Ycitare fond of E|dworth, Effia!' if 'phi- ; saJ4" J tmpha3iß. £H6. fa'so -kind,' '-And helwilßO fond of ■ poor Uncle Ma of the mill and gie Bed who rethink fce would like to live here ail his life.' I ' JBut he can't do that, my dear. You, st e—he ie not going to manage the j will ■Ton . are . old. enough to understand that you'had better; not talk about Lis affection for the mill and the old house; -there are a good many vexations' mat tare mixed up with' these old associations.' ' Oh, yes; I understand,* eaid Effie, compressing her lips and widening her eyes is she looked at him. 'I know a great many' things that I'm never going to speak cf—' 'That Hud worth told you Hever # speak of P* 'Well—some'"of them,' replied Effie, turning very red. , She,.was very much relieved when Gilbert left the room without asking any more .questions; but she would have beeu distressed beyond measure had she known that her answers tended to increase the painful suspicion that had entered his mind. Hedworth mußt have'picked up that JKO'note which.Gilbert had so carelessly left, expf sed. It was possible t hat he had at first meant to restore it to his brother, bat* i had: "afterwards refrained. 'He had learned from his father's lips that he was nit to have the elder son's portion—the headshfp* of had been looking forward, and there had been no time to speak to him of the legacy Which his father wished him to receiye. As far aa he knew, Had worth had beeriMfc, penniless man that morning, dependent on toe brother who had taken; hi 6 place. He had gone away—and probably the bank-note was in- his have been an irresistible temptati; n. Perhaps r-e bad salved it over jfo his .coin .science by a resolution to . wiite from London and fell Gilbert what he had done. In that case, Gilbert reflected, he could generously, cancel the debt, and add to the fifty pounds a sum of money which would give Hedwr rth a start in life. He bad not yet decided how much the sum of money was to be/ Bat—certainly—not five thousand pounds, i . ' (To be continued)