Novel

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 369, 4 June 1903, Page 2

Novel

[PUBLIBHED BY SPECIAL ABBANGEMENT.] THE ■ ConscienceofGilbertPoUard

By Adeline Sabgeant. i ;'<• COPYBIGHT. li

the subject. . Ton had .belter, not .ialk, about '-Heaw6rthr more—to any one, or only in the most general terms, - Too may do great mißchief it you begin ; to-rto chatter. You wou'd not like Hedworth to be sent to prison through some careless word of yours ?* ' "< ' Oh, no, no, dear Gilbert, I will be most careful! I will never speak of hun again,' said Effie. with a shiver of positive fright 'But I am so sorry—so sorry!-1 may think of Hedworth sometimes, mayn't I ? When I say ray prayers——' 'Yes, my dear child, of course you may. And now there is one thing more. You said something about going to school the other tday,. and your aunt And I have talked it over; and think it would be a very good thing for you. So after Christmas you will go to a very nice school that we have heard at—Boulogne.' • Boulogne! Away from England P' ' But you won't mind that. It is a very good school: it is the place where Miss Lane—Doris, yoH know—was educated.

heard of it from her. She Bays she was very happy. You can ask her about it, if yen like.'

Effie looked .solemn, but it was plain that the idea of school life was not at all distasteful to her. Mrs Pollard's over strictness of rule had made her by no means in love with Farmham and the Firs especially now that Hedworth was away and in dißgrace.. The proßpect was really rather exhilarating. ' • Well—go ahead,' said Gilbert, who waß not much in the mood for questions; ' If—if—Hedworth were to come home again, would you give him zny love ?' Gilbert looked up, with a softened eye. ' Although he has done wrong, you love him still, Effie ?' he asked, with a queer, wistful Bort of compunction in his tone. ' I think I love him more,' said Effie. 'Because he needs to be loved—there'l be so few people who will care fcr him, yon know/ she added, in earnest explanation. ■•'•■'■

'lf he comes back he shall have your message,' said Gilbert,.gravely; and then he kissed her and sent her away. But when she was gone, he did not immediately take up his pen. He sat motionless, with Mb eyes bent on the desk before him, as if he was very deep in thought. *I suppose/, he murmured to hintteH-afc last, 'that a child'B love is rearer God's thai almost any other.; Or is that of a woman as pure and true P' \-* - He waa- thinking a little- of 'Doris/ a little of Effie;- aadS-afc the bottom of sis heart—^aVgood 4eal Ml the God whoafhe once prbfejsedito Jove..'Why was ;rttbat it bad become so difficult for him to take within his lips that great and Holy Name P He said to. himself that he did not know; that the claims pf .worldly business,..perhaps,, inevitably tended to push Divine things further away; and that in a. little while, when he had married Doris, when his, mother waa comfortably settled in another bouse, affairs a more established state, he would again turn to hia Bible and his old habit ofc prayer, and seek that peace of mind which is promised to ail true believers and followers : Of ; Christ. It seemed to him quite the right thing to sin lightly every morning, to confess—just as lightly—at eventide, and to be? keve the sin condoned. As to abanaonisg it next day, when the same temptation presented itself—that was a matter which did hot come within his ken.

He was beginning to think definitely and seriously about his marriage, and this subject took up a gocd deal of his mind. He had been afraid that his mother would wish to continue to live with him ; but, to his surprise and relief, she had, of her own accord, offered to go away.

' I should like to be within reach, you know, Gilbert,' she said, somewhat grimly, although the taps of her nervous fingers on the table betrayed the agitation of tier mind. 'Yourwife that will be is a young creature, and Mrs Lane is not the sort of a person to know much about household matters. I should like to be near enough to iun in when she wanted help.* , , %J 'Oh, thanks, mother. . . .but I don't suppose she'll want much help,' said Gilbert, trying to be gracious and decisive at the same. ' You see, I think of making one or two little alterations in our ways. Doris ib used to a late dinner instead of a high tea, and we shall want a better cook, so that it will not be necessary for my wife to go into the kitchen—' ' Ah, what was good enough for your mother is not good enough for your wife,' said Mrs Pollard, with . unconcealed bitterness. ' I understand, and am quite ready to efface myself, Gilbert.' As she sat by the fire, with uplifted head and glittering eyes, Gilbert must be excused for thinking that she did not look in the least like a woman who knew how to efface herself. She would always secure a foremost place for herself and her family wherever she went. She proceeded in a smoother voice, but with no less bitterness of tone. ' I don't think that my worst enemy could say that I have done badly for my son It was my carefulness, my economy, that secured to you the fruits of your father's industry in early life,- But tor him, and for me, you would not stand as you do to-day. Considering wbat bard wcrk i had to get that will Bigned, by which everything was left to you, and nothing to that disgrace of the family, Hedwortfe '

' I quite acknowledge all you have done for me, mother,' said Gilbert, standing up and looking a little pale; * but 1 think there are some things which I would rather not hear in words. You have been a very go'id mother to me, and I am grateful—that is all I can Bay.' ♦All he ceuld say.' And he was not

California is famous for its enormous trees. One was recently, discovered which exceeds in sizj any that has so far been known. This newly-found tree measured six feet from the ground, is 164 feet and eight inches in circumference, from which it follows that it is about fifty feet in diameter. Fortunately the tree stands on a Government reserve, and will, therefore, be spared the attack of the insatiable axe. ■'- - " •'-."■- :. ?i

The Paris papers repsrt a gruesome discovery which, has been made by some military engineers who have been exploring the dungeon at the Chateau of Brest, where at one time a battalion of the 19th Infantry was quartered, A door has been forced, and a skeleton, with - the ■kull broken, discovered. Bound the wrists was an iron chain, which was fastened with a padlock. At the feet •ras another chain, to which was hanging a bullet. The dungeon had not been opened since 1650.

CHAPTEB VL^-(Cqi|tinued.

He seat for her one morning, with a certain amount of formality, which he knew would impress her greatly—sent for her to meet him at the office, where he wished to speak to her. It was a brilliant December day. and the sunshine made every frosted twig and every slab of thin ice in the roadside shine as if they were made of diamonds, Gilbert stood at the window, and watched Effie's childish figure making its way towards the mill. She came slowly, in spite of the cold, and the little face under the broad black hat was sinf ularly spiritless and dull. Gilbert turned irom the window to the bright fire that burned is the grate witb a movement of impatience. It was ridiculous that he shmld have to conciliate this child! But it was really necessary, and he must not shrink from th e task that he had set himself.

Effie cams m pale and trembling; she was very much afraid of this terrible interview. She ihcught that Gilbert was still angry with her, and that perhaps he was going to scold her again; and she was relieved to find that he was very kind and gentle in manner, and that he at once bestowed on her a box of chocolates, which he had purchased in town for her especial delectation: The affections of children, be thought, were so easily bribed 1 And when she was sitting by the fire, with her feet on the fender, and the beautiful painted box on her lap, he began to speak of the matter that was near his heart

' Effie,' he said, ' I've something rather particular to say to yon. Now,' my dear child, don't look frightened; it is nothing M all to be alarmed about It refers to that letter of yours to Hedworth the other

Etna's face grew scarlet. * I am not at all vexed about it, my dear, although I may then have spoken rather sharply. Of course, you are a child, and we do not expect children to.concern themselves with the affairs of their elders. Still, in this case you might have done very considerable mischief. However, I think it is all right/ •I am very sorry,' Effie began falter- ~ ingly. 'Yes, I am sore you would not have., liked to do anybody harm; and yen were | very fond of poor Hedworth, were yrjti 1 not P Effie, lam going to do a very un- I usual thing; you are only a child, and yet I am going to trust you with a secret. I believe you are a good, sensible girl; and if I tell you the truth about that nuney, and about Hedworth, you will keep it to yourwß: P* 'Oh, yes, I will, Gilbert,': said Effie, with a gasp of excited feeling, almost amounting to a sob. ' You say you heaid me promise that I would give Hedworth' five thousand pounds. lam going to put my story into as few words as possible, because it is a very painful one to me. After your uncle's death, I found out that Hedworth had taken money that did not belong to him —stolen, do you understand?—from his father and from me. It was only right and fair, Effi», that Hedworth should pay back that money, out of the amount that father had left to him. So, you see, there could be no talk about giving Hedworth a large sum of money when he had already—taken it.' He kntw very well that he was making use c£ a subterfuge. He was leading the child to believe that Hedworth bad robbed h»w of a much greater Eum than the fifty pounds which he had missed. Bat he said to himself that Hedworth's guilt was just the same, whether he had stolen fifty or five thousand. Effie's face turned quite white. The box slipped from her lap, and its contents rolled unheeded on the floor. Her large dark eyes, slowly dimmed with tears, had an unutterable pathetic expression; it was the look of one whose idol had been torn from its pedestal, whose ideal had been irretrievably shattered. In a child's face, this expression was peculiarly painful, and Gilbert did not like to regard it.

' I know .it ia a great shock to you,' he said; ' but yon will see for yourself that out oi| kmdaess to poor lied worth, you moat not talk about mosey matters with respect to him; you might in some way betra>J the truth to others—the sad, shametul truth that Hedworth is a thief.'

Then Effie threw out her hands, as if pushing something away from her, and bant into a fit of heart-broken sobbing. ' Oh, Btedwoxth, Hedworth 1' she moaned, over and over again. ' Oh, I can't believe it! It can't be true.'

Gilbert did very little to comfort her. He sat down at bis desk and lcoked before him ateadily, with knitted brows and compressed lips. He knew what he had done. He had betrayed his brother's guilt, in order to Bare his own charascer. It was not a very beautiful thing to do.

CHAPTEB VIX—A MYSTEBY SOLVED.

Erne's nobs ceased at last from pure exhaustion. And then Gilbert thought it best to turn towards her, and to say quietly: ' I knew it would distress you to hear this; but I think it is best that jou should know the facts, or else'—with a wry undid—'you might think I waa treating Hedworth unjustly, and withholding his inheritance trom him ' 'Oh, no, Cousin Gilbert,' said Effie faintly. She addressed him in that way sometimes, when she wished to be particularly respectful. Mrs Pollard had often said, rather sharply, that she ought not to apeak to her cousins without prefixing a title to their names. ' You sea the necessity for aiience on