COMPLETE TALES

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 42, 18 February 1905, Page 13

COMPLETE TALES

mm Fat was three years old she had tt pettiest face to be seen on a day's •Lev Dark grey eyes, with blue in lashPS - curly brown SfU could not help srmlmg. Small JS that such a delightful "'tout en!2e» fascinated Mrs Wentworth, a «i,MTp-a£red widow. who had SS'iSeSgham to buy Christmas JSeb for Wr nieces in New Zealand. little girl." she sai<L leaning ?S carriage window. "Here is a to buy °a doll with." small experience cr dolls, but j.. knew the. use of money, and stood on; 1- in the gutter, stretching out both ■fttaS. Mrs Wentworth'a kid gloves Xetfctt and slippery. The sixpence nfthe liorses moved, the wheels went nnd Pa* screamed as she found her! Swift* self in the mud. jammed silv between the carnage and the Zb 'stone. Mrs Wentworth scream d T o - a man on the pavement picked uv the child, whose left arm hung limp and, hebless. ! "Gfre her to mc," said Mrs Wentworth. "">*ow &™ t0 — St " ThO T 3 ; Eoepital, she was going to -=ay when .om£ sa dien im V^ 3e promprcu her to, jhange the words and substitute -Eaton; So it came to pass that Pat slept that | BJ-fct in fashionable lodgings en thei jZfi of Belgravia, waited upon by TraMrs Wentworth's maid, a gocdBatared woman who approved of philanthropy- She and her mistress spent | ffieir days like Arabs wandering over the feeeof the world, grievously afflict-J ed By boredom, which is most likely not | the case with Arabs. The little girl provided interest and excitement. Thfyi <ravQ Ber toys, picture-books, frocks and new shoes, and made her so happy that' at the end of three weeks whun herj iather came to fetch her, she st.imped; Set-feet, crying: j 'Tat don't want to leave yer." Thi* sppeal touched Mrs Wentworth's hnart.l "Travers," she exclaimed, 'I don't! think I can part with this baby. She! is the sweetest I have ever seen."' The little girl, though just three years! old,'had two sisters younger than hpr-j self. The father of this small family,' a coachman by profession. Wt willing to yield up the eldest daughter, but the! mother, who was Irish, cried bitterly! when the plan came under discussion. : "I must see the child once a week."i she sobbed. "And the lady must let her! come back for good when she's finished j her standards."' "What's this about a new christen-i ing?' , asked Newman, her husband.; "Ihe child was christened right enough.] '"In the chapel opposite, when I was] tot ill to go further." said hia.wife.j ""The lady asked if I had any objection; far let her be christened again—provis- '. ' iolialfy," she said, "f told her Pat was' onjy a name we picked up. Mary's the] iM one. Now she wants to add on a< eftond, Veronica." ■ repeated hrr husband.) "Smnds odd. I don't take to the no- ; titn." 'If you take to the notion of giving way your child in a present." s:iid hiTtife, "you have no call to ~ay a word I(ore. When Pat* gone, she's gone, and s new name don't count much either: Fora few months it seemed doubtful 'Whether Travers would not have more to, do with the training of Mary Veronica _ than her mistress. No word was :-aid 'oE permanent adoption, anrl tho child lived a great deal in the maid's company. Gradually changes came about. Travers married, and went to America, and! very shortly after Mrs Wentworth left london for Italy, takin* l her tiny charge with her. Pat proved a clever litrl<» mortal, to : "'horn learning was not difficult. >V possessed the traditional ounce of wit. *hich i 3 worth a pound of clergy. ILt heart also was warm and generous. Half ler pocket money went in buying pros- ; Hits for the children at •'ironic.' 1 During flying visits to London they Yrry- e invitoil wteat, and ciino in new frocks, looking •lwkTvard :;nr! shy. These London vi.-its grew rare as time Passed on. Mrs. Wentworth spent ever/ I jrarter in Rumo, and every summer in Switzerland, going to Paris and Dresden JetTOjG wMes. All idea of training Pa', w b<> a nursery governess ceased. The m forced the hand of destiny by developing unusual powers. Her violin piayiag wsfa remarkable, and she drew wry well. Raring in fact a talent for oriPnal; design. Mrs. Wentworth thought Mmetnßea of the little hou.-e in London »«ra with misgivings. Every y Par her aiuiety A *trons wornto might have out the knot of the dim being a weak one. Jfi 8 * t0 hok '*** ra thP face, ant -S 5\ sim P'y ignoring them. Her l 3, ed L dau - ijtsr ™' ™ Mw Wentttftf-'-. because i 1: «aved trouble, and br w* time Tiev twentieth birthday arrived, »n* was the beautiful Miss Went wort li ewnipuahed from all others. rill? 15 M y, thda .7 summer was spent in n sm\ lod Lelitnd - not far f^m Lot -- day w C P l2nsaTlt acquaintances. Th<s 7 after their arrival Pat came homo news. MfrJ**^ 1 Ih "y nave not wn him .»« ha accident. Do you remember tho Sh We WGre h " re - they tM ne thai ta horse fca in the Inuit -. nii field anil CedT rather and h,, had *«n wad to go abroad to re*t •" "He;-? ember '" said Mr? - Wentworth, *ho m,w^l an , SOn of Christopher Rivers, The wl 8 t d trans lations of Euripides. ««I sS T hpe " 'listiniuishfiet.' , Ot them " have been in the Cabieiftat 83 - lust now in the lanP -" inc. ffii held our °P en foir ilT rage people ' sa - y he is vcl "7 1 don't I! S ndt matter rauf,h t0 "- 5fe »" P Wehere Se ™ Shail meet him while BeSt? 4 ' Weet him - and qiuvfcly. kht P m V when tiie 7 ™™ eaid? ■ T,Ua ß*' tbe Vicar came up and *Wto'S?h l i3hCd t0 if the 7 ■*Wffered .!Si Park "— Pat felt sh - v ' an ' ! We ntworti, A c sa y no '" but Mrs - I'es" ■ L dld n °t hear her. and said "J* , ? andl h Mr, Eiver3 J° illed the of iHp» r i,r lejr i entered the Sr eat S ates jamt'ance h liked the new ac " Siirty t-u Waa twenty-nine or ■rtfc nn£ di3t mgui3hed-lookin2, ■ V-..ejjW dark eyes. His move-

ments were vivacious and quick in con- ; trast to his voice, which was particularly 1 soft and low. Before long the ■ broke up into pairs, Pat going first with ■ Mr. Rivers. j "I want to show you the Beech aye- • mie,'' he said. '"The Vicar keeps to the < road. I sec. If we go down trio avenue we shall reach home before they do." Pat gave a little cry of joy a.3 they en- ■ tered the avenue. It was a quarter of a ' mile long, and at the further end she : could see the old grey, weatb.er-boa.ten j house, which had resisted the storms of | - centuries. Her thoughts flew to tho • : i aisles of the great ca.thedral3 in Germany and France, where Mrs. Wentworth had • : sometimes taken her, and sue was not • surprised that Mr. Rivers lifted his hat ' reverently as they passed beneath the towering braneb.es. ~ ! He was much attracted by Pat. Her : ' voice pleased him, and so did her dark j blue eyes with that wonderful look of mystery and sadness? which belongs to Irish eyes all the world over. The girl's nature revealed itself In her face, joyous j and full of fun on the surface; deep, tena- ! cicus and mr.laneholy below. They entered the house by a postern . ; door, and he led her down a gallery lined with pictures to the great hall. 1 Then ha showed her the view j from the drawing-room- windows, and anI other room wainscotted vrith cedar, and : another room where Charles the First i had slept during the Civil wars. Last of all. they went into the library, and waited for Mrs. Wentworth to join them. "Do you see this spinnet?" said Mr. I Rivers. "It belonged to Lady Veronica jHope. whose pictnre hang 3 opposite. She j was engaged to be married to one of tev ! sreat-uncles. and died a week before the wedding day." "Veronica 23 my name," said Pat, in a ■ startled voice. "These Italian books : must have belonged to her too. They have the monogram V.tL" i '""You arc tired," said Mr. Rivers. "I i was thoughtless and walked too fast. I Let mc draw a chair into one of the win- : dows. My friends hoped that after my j fall I should be cured of a bad habit. j but you c cc I have a tendency to race. i just as before." Pat felt pleased to lean back in an ' easy chair. Through the window the ; green slopes of the Park, and herds of i feeding deer were visible, and this library I with its; atmosphere of creamy vellum, ! and mellow Russia leather fascinated I her. t All the thne Mr. Rivers was asking i himself who her parpnf3 were, and what j -oit of home she had come from: *>o j simple, and refined, and graceful, with I a history written on her face at an age ! when most girls have no history at all. Mrs. Wentworth dij. not look at the ! books when she came in. Phe looked at Pat and Mr. Rivers, .and her heart gave I a frightened leap. They were bending j over the spinnst, talking very quietly i about -one music just as if their ac- ! qimintanoe were of long standing. They j seemed to have the same preferences, to J share the same dialikes. to be able to ; grasp each other's meaning almost by a 'glance. Before the vi~it ended- the host : produced a book containing his friend's names, and asked for a contribution. Mrs. Wentworth inscribed her name in large floating, undecided characters, ; Pat followed, and wrote Mary Veronica easily enough, bur, after doing this, she ,'pauPcd and turned palp. There was an ' interval of ar least half a minute before she added '■Wentworth" in letters scarcely legible. The next day a note came, inviting 1 aunt and niece to join an excursion to Petworth, which Mr. Rivers had ar:ranged. ■ ""Can't we tell him I am not your I niecp?" said Pat. j "Oh. I don't think the subject con- ; cerns him." said Mrs. Wentworth. "Our I acquaintance is sure to b.e transitory." N The day after (his excursion, Lady Griselda Rivers called, a marvellous old 1 •woman of 77. with splendid ring<=. She ' was Mr. Rivers' grandmother, and very great on genealogies. When she heard j that Mrs. Wentworth was connected | '■ with thp Wentworths of Portisland. her i manner visibly wanned. They both felt i afraid of her, and were glad when she i had gone. Mr. Rivers called three times ' during the nert four days. Even Mrs. Wentworth. in spite of her careless I I words, fell- thoroughly uncomfortable. After the last of these visits Pat said she wished to go to London, and see her ! mother. : '"Pn-infla can go with you, and wait at the station.' , remarked Mrs. Wentworth, ; '"You needn't take her to the house." "I want to go quite alone," replied : " ' i ( The Mews looked dingy and dark,, but j ; Mrs. Newman welcomed her daughter 1 with a cry of delight. "Pat, my dearest.'' she said. "It's | never ymiT Have you come to look after ; your old mother. Give mc just one j kiss." j Pat gave her ten kisses at least, and • then they sat down, and talked. Mrs. 1 Newman had changed greatly since their i ! last meeting. She looked old and ill, and \ tired, and her eyes, which were dark blue ■ ■ like Pat's, kept filling with tears, as sue j ; related the family history. "Out rooms must look • shabby," sh* j I said. "Jf I had known to expect you I j would have put the best covers on the ! chairs, and hid that old horse-bair sofa." I "Don't- make a grand visitor of mc!" ! cried Pat. Then she threw her arms round her : mother's neck, and held her tightly. I "Deary mc. you mustn't cry." said Mrs I Xewrnan. "Your lady's kind, isn't she? j You arc dressed beautiful, and rings on ! your fingers and a 11 .,, I "Oh. yes. she is very kind, and I love her. . But I wish you had not let mc go away. Oh. mammy, niainmy!' j ' Mrs Newman cried from sympathy. \ It was delicious to hear Pat call her ! mammy, and know she was not forgot- ■ i ten. j I "You made our fortune with, your j ! sweet face.' , she said. "The girls ■pretnieed to millinery (they've both got . sweethearts now) and Ted taught a cax- ' ponter's trade. It all came through you. " Pat, my blessing. Mrs Wentworth did it for your sake." ; "if you- ever need mc to nurse you,' . whispered Pat, "T. know I could come." \ "Don't offend her." said Mrs Ne-w----i man, "hut if yon could see your way ito pay us a visit I should be terribly • ' pleased. Just ask her, some day when • I you have a chance. Say I am not so J strong as I was, and the others are fore- ■! ed'to* be out." i_

BY FAVOURITE AVTHORS

(COPXEJGHT STOSY.) PAT. !

r By OLIVE BIEHELL. Author of "Love in a Mist," etc. " |i

When Pat returned in the evening she :"• looked a.3 white as paper. Her mother's '• worn face seemed to till every corner of the room. i '"'She wants mc to come to her," thought the poor child. "I know she I does. And all the time I am pretending j to be someone I am not." . The last post brought a letter from < Mr Rivers, inviting "Mrs Wsntworth end J her niece to a tenants' garden party, the next evening. i "We have no escuse to offer, :? said Mrs Wentworth, helpless and undecided as usual. 1 "Lez us go." said Pat. '"I am tike j Jept hat's daughter. I vranr. to dance . and sing before I die to everything that J makes a wqjnan's life worth living." "I hepe you have not given your heart j to this man, - ' said Mrs Want worth gravely. "You used to tell mc you lit- j ed freedom too much to wish to marry." t "Freedom is wcrth a great deal." said j Pat. "Love is worth more."' , Then she turned away, and ran upstairs. Mr Rivers had numbers of people to ( attend to at this party, but h° found leisure to cecupv himself with Pat. When supper was over, and his guests were so excited and busy they failed to miss him, he led her to the beech avenue, , where they walked up and down. "I shall soon lecve Le'and,"' said Pat. She could feel the start he give. Two or three minutes passed before he could speak, and then his voice sounded unusual. "May I call on you to-morrow morning; I 3hould like to have a talk by ourselves, if you will be at home, and able to see mc." Instead of answering Pat began to walk back to the lav-Tn on which the : others were dancing. The house was il- ! laminated frem the ground floor to the I roof, but the sight did not please her. Those glittering lights seemed unfriendly and she shivered as sbe looked at them. 'I am afraid you are tired/ said Mr Rivers. ''The air is too cold." "I am not cold." said Pat. "but I am j unhappy. I want to ask your advice— about— about someone I know. She was the daughter of a coachman —quite poor. One day a rich, childless woraaa took a fancy to her. and adopted her. She 'grew up under this lady's care. Now i she is my ai*. and the question of marriage has" arisen. Do you think I may counsel her to marry a man her onardian's position, not her own — t" _ 3 "That is a question for him," ewd Mr Rivers. "Is she attractive, this friend of yours? Cultivated in mind, and refined?" ~ If the dark had not servrd as a veil, he would have seen how deeply Pat was blushing. "She has had every sort of advantage. "I don't think yon need be uneasy about her then. Are her parents alive -Yes. Her two srrters are engaged. One to a arooni: one to an officer" servant. Her brother is a carpenter. "And the man who wishes to marry her is of good family?" "Of ft very old family. Mr Rivers" looked thoughtful. '•It is a problem." he said. "More c? rio, !S than appeared. The relations complicate matters in these cases. Would j she "be Willing to sever herself more or, less from her family? Probably she { would, as lier education has been so an- , like theirs." j "No." cried Pat. "she wonldn t be will- | ing" She wants to see them often, to I keep friends with them. Her mother she can never be 3evered from/ "Has she told her lover the trath?" "She has told him the trath. I am a little sorry for that poor girl:' , 'A little sorry!" said Mr Rivers- "1 am desperately" sorry. The benevolent woman who brought, that child up in a position to which she was not entitled did a most cruel thing." "Surely," ssid Pat. "the position for which we are able to fit ourselves must j also ba the one to which we are entitled?" Mr Rivers shook his bond. I "As a matter of fairness.'' he said, "it J no doubt should be so. But we are speaking of tb'iTig* as they actually exist. The case is hard. In any event, this poor girl's suffering must be great. If they give each other up they will suffer. But. in my judgment, to give each other up, while no coldness has arisen, might bo best." ■'Her mother is a very good woman,'' said Pat in a lew voice, "as good as the Virgin Mary. But I suppose that makes no difference.' , Mr Rivere saw tears in her eyes, and imagiued she fslt sympathy for the friend whose lot was so piteously unlike I her own. I "All natures arc not equally sensij tive." he said, ''and there is a natural fitness in things which helps people to act rightly. Do not let your friend's sorrow darken your life too much." j "Oh, she can bear things, 7 ' exclaimed Pat, giving a little laugh. "She must bear them. The world doesn't stop going round because we make mistakes and get into trouble. There's only one ( calamity T don't think she could bear. I Suppose this man who loved her until j he knew the truth, should turn against j her now, and accuse her of deceit. Bat she was entangled in a network of other ! people's making and could not get cut. Will he remember this, and try not to reproach her?' , Mr Rivers began suddenly to tremble. Pat's x-oice shook so much, and her eyes met his vrith such a strange "You need have no fear," he answered. tr she tells him the story he will honour her mere than he ever did before. And besides " "That's all I wanted to be sure of," said Pat. "Xot another word, pleaseDo yo-u see 'how quickly the flowers you • gathered for mc have faded? Poor I tilings! I will toss them into the grass, ! and let them hide their ugliness. Now I ought to apologise for telling a sad I story. No. don't say another word. Let j mc go home. Please let mc go home'" ' After Mrs Wentworth was in bed. she heard-a tap at her door, and in came Pat. ! '"'Mr Rivers means to ca'i to see mc : to-morrow." sha said. "I can'u stay to see him. I shall have gone to pay them ■ a long visit at heme." j "What shall I tell hhn?" asked Mrs ■ Wentworth in great alarm. "Tell him," said Pat. "that I am the girl whose story he heard this evening; the girl for whom he said he felt desperately sorry.." i "Ob. Veronica, what have you done?" ' cri«d Mrs Wefltwertti- "You sßoald hive 1 left it tff mc. And he Trill not give ycu-

up- When men are hi love, they laugh at obstacles such as these. , "It is I who give Him up," said Pat - '•"If he married mc, being as you say 'in love,' regret would soon fqllovr. V ■-. ! showed mc Ms true mind. Oh. lat mc go qnicklv, and then the wretchedness vrill be SGoner over." x ... >■ - .. - • - - ' i Mr Hivers had some terrible weeks to j < pass t&rough after his interview with j, Mrs Wentwcrth. He tried again and j r again to see Pat, but she held resolutely ( aloof. ( i "Wait a year." she said ia one of her j , letters. "If at the end of that time j ! you still wish to see mc, I shall be found ( in my own home, among my own peo- j i P ie -" ! Mrs Newman cried for joy when her . long-lost daughter came back. They ( .ill had reason to be glad, for she con-, j finned to make their happiness greater j by tb.3 loss of her own. Mrs Wcntworth insisted an paying the rent of a small £at in Battersea, and Pal soon found work as a designer of patterns for wallpapers, lace and beautiful dresses. Her sisters -married before the year was out.' Every naw and then news of Mr '• Rivers reached little corner. His ' ucime was constantly before the world. _;>.d his success in political life regarded as certain. He could not fall in love ] aofain. Almost at the crucial moment, the remembrance of Fat made him pause and shiver. After that the woman to whom he had felt attracted was i sure to seem cold or stupid or conventional, or sonic thing else she had no business to seem. "Why arc you so restless to-nijrht. Pat, my darling?"' said Mrs Newman one evening. "Am I restless?"' asked Pat. ''Yes. I' have never seen yon like this before." "I will get my violin," said Pat, "and play. Somahow this design I have begun j seems a mistake. It won't tvork out | properly." Sbe played for five minutes, and then walked up and down the room. How her ears strained to catch ths sound of steps on the stairs! '•I don't expect him," she said to herself. "I know ha won't remember it is a year to-night sines the garden party: a ~car since I saw his face. No, of course, I doa"t expect him to remember.' . Just then a knock sounded at the door, and her heart sprang , . "It is Ted." she said to herself, and went to open, but in the little landing j outside stood Mr Rivors. and she knew all at once that she had never doubted he would come. The -".at was so small, that two steps brought them into her work-room, wherp sketches were 'ving about, and painting materials covered | the table. ••[ have come to ask your forgiveness." said Mr Rivers, "and to tell you t cannot livo without you. Isn't it time I co bo merciful and l p * ™ p s tay?" When Mrs Newman came in half-an-hour afterwards. lookinpr very timid, she met such a kind welcome that her tears vanished. Pafs father and brother liked Mr Rivers from the ftrst. "You will be very happy.' , said her mother. "L see love in hi-' face, and it isn't a face to ehang.v You can come home whenever you please, h< 1 has promised mc that, and when you are alone j we shall come to you. But we shouldn't be happy in grand company, and wo can't pet used to grand way-. Thry belong , to you, Pat. my darling, and I'm proud to think you will have your rights. Leave your old mother in the place where she was born.' , "Oh. that's thf harusjr. part,"' said Pat. clinsin? to hbr mother, as if she were still o. child. "It has to be." said Mrs Newman. I "and it should be. Don't , cry, P.it. Take the fate your angel *enfis you." Pat went to live in the manor, and I looker! such a beautiful lady that erery- ! one who saw her admired Zvlr Rivers' j bride. She was wonderfully happy, but la little touch of sadness for many years Iny in her heart. People who di.l not know her used to wonder why she founi it so easy to sympathise with those | whom fortune had treated hardly. | Perhaps a touch of sadness lies at | the root of all happiness, though only j a few understand as she did, the s?jret of turning it into a blessing.