OFF THE HIGHWAY.

Dominion, Volume 6, Issue 1837, 25 August 1913, Page 5

OFF THE HIGHWAY.

IN EXILE. MYSTERY OF MR. MORLEY. [BY MEUE MESE.] It is quite possible you may have known Mr. Morley. Mind you, I do not say that was his real name. Neither would I aver that the name by " which the tradespeople and the neighbours knew him was his baptismally-recorded patronymic.

To the community of that small street in Wellington City, Mr. Mbrley was a mystery. Whither he had come all the years he had been in the street had failed to disclose. 'Twas said that he had been something in the Public Service, but broken-health had causcd his resignation. A big, tall man, standing a full six feet, with a soldierly mien; fair-complcx-ioned and blue-eyed, it remained but for tho heavy flowing moustache to complete a model Viking-like personage. A limping walk was due, he had been known to say, to a school sports accident to an anklo at Eton. He belied tho freebooter's look, though in. a gentleness' of nature that made him the friend of all'the members of the street's numerous tribe of toddlers.

To the elders he was ever oivil and courteous: with the menfolk he would on occasion discuss, with a fineness of perception a little beyond them, political affairs colonially or at Home; or else just as easily vanquish them on a question of the growing of convolvulus clumps, or tho cultivation of salsify. Let one of them show a disposition, however, to pry into a locked past by the most subtly casual question, and Mr. Morley retreated into a frigid taciturnity towards the offender.

Consequently, ho was credited with an earlier life full of all the romance or yillainies that the gossiping imagination could conceive. Mrs. Snuthins was "as sure as she was born" that the "old gentleman" (despite a youthful appearance, he must have been nigh sixty) had done "somethin' drefful" iu his young days, "'cause wy wud sicli as 'im be mopin' out 'ere?" Her particular , crony, Mrs. Tompkins, was more kindly in her assumptions; she was sure the poor man must have been jilted in love to bo living all alone in a land where he had not a relation. Some men did most peculiar things, she said, just because of .some flighty-minded gadding girl. She had heard' somewhere of an apparently sensible man of thirty who because lie was jilted on his wedding day took to his bed, with the determination of spending the remainder of his existence between the blankets. And if she remembered aright, never flinched in his resolvo, only leaving the dreary abode of his love-lornness forty years, afterwards, when ho was carried thei'ice to his funeral!

"Aiij J Hw," she firmly announced her opinion, "an eddicated man like 'im, I shouldn't wonder if he's not an earl or something." Mr. Morley, pottering about in the trim bit of garden/ surrounding the small three-roomed cottage which was his -dwelling, appeared quite oblivious to the curiosity of his neighbours. The littlo flower patch was bisected by a shell-strewn, pathway, and along the borders, many of tho old favourite English blossom-bearers were carefully tended in tlioir season.

Sweetly spick and span was the littlo cottage kept: an artistic atmosphero worthy of my lady's -hand and taste. Daintily worked'knick-knacks; handpainted plaques and screens; for Mr. .Morley had an ability in art. And thus

did he use up t'ho idle hours of rainy days. Also was he of a literary bent, and he added to ihis quarterly allowance by contributions to the newspapors and the writing of entr'acte sketchos for theatrical programmes." That was the one fact known definitely of Mr. Mori, loy—his quarterly remittance from Home. On it he eked along sparingly: if there was any indulgence in a luxury of former time the end of a quarter found him on a Shortage. If there was then any delay in the arrival of tho allowance the shortage necessitated short commons, and tho 'rigid regime compelled tho forsaking first of My Lady Nicotine. And then .... For. Mr.

Morley ran no debt and asked of nono. It was at such a period of deprivation, and on a Sabbath evening, that he sat in the trellis-bowered doorway, over 'which a purple-plumed creeping plant was climbing. Vaguely in the distance he could see the silent sentinels of a God's-acre. There he sat till the twilight had long faded away. _ A church-bell was chiming; and tho persistence of its ding-ding-ding-ding did not add happiness.to remembrance of the past, or help to picture rosily the present. If the draft did not arrive—

For some days the ' neighbours saw naught of their "hermit," as some called him. His cottage door remained closed, and there was never a sigu of him in his little garden. At last, after consulting Mrs. Smithins, the kindly Mrs. Tompkins called. "Sich a change," she told her. friend afterwards. She was sure Mr. Morley was ill, and wanted looking after; seemed like as if he'd got frail and old all at once." " 'E's 'ardly' able to limp about, 'im as should.be in his bed," she concluded.

So they appointed themselves supervising guardians of Mr. Morley's household, doine: what they could between whiles attending to their own family duties. But their charge visibly weakened: he seemed utterly, broken-spirited. A doctor advised his going to the Public Hospital, but such he would not listen to.

A church visitor called. Indiscreetly ho sought to speak of the now silent man's earlier life. Mr. Morley had borne his trials uncomplainingly till then. A keen resentment, and he who had come to sympathise was frozen out. The minister of the parish better understood. No persuasion' _ though could budge the exilo's determination not to leave bis own roof-tree. But thcrq was one canker in remaining there —the rent was becoming much' overdue, and the landlord saw only stubbornness in refusal, where the finer nature could perceive but a detested charity.

To the sick mind the breaking of that one link with Home was an unbearable adversity. ■ Rough, kindly folk saw not how- to disflol tho gloom. Unremitting \in liis ministrations, the parson could cheer but little. A face was turned fqr ever to the wall: a banishment had become complete. . . .

Ere the end, though, the minister had won a confidence. In tho last need his private purse held off a presence of pauperism. ... From tho Homeland he later received a letter of gratitude for his fulfilment of a trust: there was also in it an expression of deep regret that another's defalcation in a trust had had such a sequel.

;J.nd (as Mrs. Tompkins had assumed) that letter from Home bore, tho impress of a heraldic coat-of-arms.