READY – MOSEY MORTIBOY.

Grey River Argus, Volume XIV, Issue 1672, 13 December 1873, Page 4

READY - MOSEY MORTIBOY.

A MATTER-OF-FACT STORY. >. Chapter LI. — Continued; " I am only a poor girl, Miss Heatlicote, and no education, and get ruy living in a way I am almost ashamed to sa y__rm a trapeze girl — but I should be too proud— oh, I should be too proud to let my love die when a word would save him." " What is your name ?" asked Grace, the tears running down her face. " Patty Silver. lam only the girl that performs on the trapeze at the !• music hall. I do it with my father, though." " Patty Silver, you love Prank Melhship yourself." Patty covered her face with her hands. « I do — I do," she murmured. " Forgive me, Miss Heathcote. He never looked at me. . I let myself love without thinking. Who could help loving him 1 ? But he only loves you. He thinks of you. He draws your portrait always. Me ! as if a gentleman like Mr Melliship would think of me 1 But I loved him — oh ! me — me — I loved him, and I love him always." Grace knelt down, and took Patty's face in her hands, and looked at it. " Poor Patty ! Poor little girl. You will get over your love some day. Your ! trial » hard What shall Ido for you, for the joy and gladness you have brought me ? I knew he would be faithful ; but, you know— girls are so — there were times , when I doubted. Now, wait a moment — you will see that I am not too proud, and not so cold a fine lady as you think me, perhaps. Wait here for one moment only." She went into the dining room, where her father was just opening a bottle of port. " Papa, come into the other room with me." " More secrets, of course," said Mrs Heathcote. John Heathcote, with a sigh, followed his daughter. " Papa — this young lady comes to meet m£, unknown to Frank, to tell me that he is ill and miserable. He got a letter from Dick the day before his death, offering him a partnership in the bank. Then he saw the death in the paper, and has been prostrated ever since. What ought we to Ao ?" " First thing, let Mm know that he is to be a partner. Make him a new offer." " You must do that yourself. What next ?" " Why, we must go aiad find. Mm out as soon as we can, and bring him back here." " What a good father it is !" said his daughter, wheedling him. "He always says the wisest things, and the kindest | things. We must find him. Patty here will take us to him. You must tell him — you must go yourself. We ■ must find him at onee — we will go together — at onee — to-day, by the afternoon train. We will go back with Patty— will we not V* Here she gave way, and fell upon Patty's neck, crying and laughing. Lucy came running upstairs. Her mother stayed below. " They may manage their own secrets , themselves," she said, taking a glass of port with a bitter feeling. " Lucy, my dear — my carpet .bag, with things for the night, and your sister's too. Pack up quickly. Gi'ace, take this young lady with you, and have some dinner, and give her some." He went down, and found his wife in a sour and crabbed frame. " Lyddy, my dear," he said," with a cheerful smile, " I've got good news for yon — we've found Frank Melliship. I'm going up to town with Grace to bring him back. He's all right. We'll marry them in a month, and you shall dance at their wedding, my girl. Give me a glass of wine." He drank off her's without an apo"Oh I I forgot ho tell you — keep | this a secret — I had a talk with Lord Hunslope yesterda}', about things. He hinted that though Grace would not Lave Lord Launfeou. perhaps his lordship would have better luck with. Lucy. Eh ! Lyddy, what do you think of a coronet for your girl V " Lucy, dear girl ! she always was my own girl — tooV after my father and me," said Mrs Heathcote, mollified.. " Grace wasalways a Heathcote. Well, well, you must have your own way, I suppose. Come back to-morrow, John, if yon can. Dear Lucy — how she would become a coronet ! After all, John, I hardly think' poor dear Grace is quite the woman to be a countess There's a little too much independence about her ; not quite subdued enough, in her manner. She will do admirably as a banker's wife, no doubt. Is the young person properly looked after ?" " Grace will do that." "Then sit down, John, for five minutes, and talk. Don't be racing up and down the stair after dinner. At your time of life, too ! You might get apoplexy, and go off suddenly, like poor Mr Hawthorne, only three weeks ago. You think the earl means what he says ?" " The earl is straightforward enough, at any rate. He is poor and we are rich. Think on what we ought to give Lucy if it comes off. Don't say anything to the girl. She's as timid as a fawn, and would only run away and hide herself. But think what we ought to give and tell me. The earl" — whisper now — "owes the bank fifty thousand poundsi There, wife| IVe

given you something to think over while I am gone." Mis Heathcote kissed Grace with a really maternal affection again, whispering— "Bring him back, dear; you have your mother's approbation now. But you must forgive me for being a little disappointed before, you know. He was always my favourite, Frank, after poor Dick. As for Lord Launton, 1 forgive 3'ou. And no doubt it is all for the best. Give Frank my best love, dear— and bless you." Frank was sitting in his little room alone and miserable. Mr Silver was gone off to chapel. There was nobody in the house. A cab came rumbling along the street and stopped at the door. He did not hear it. Patby opened the door with her latchkey, and led her guests upstairs. He looked up as they came into the room. [ It was Grace, with her father. " Frank," whispered Grace, as he caught her in his arms, " you were too proud to come to us. So we have come to you." " Not to let you go again, my boy," said her father, shaking him by the hand. , " Never again, Frank, never again, j We part no more." Love and joy in that little room. Upstairs, Patty lying on her bed, trying to stop the tears and sobs that shake her frame. The. prophet was right. She was even as the daughter of Jephthah, doomed to lament her loneliness among the mountains all her daj's. ENVOY. At last three farewell tableaux. The first in Paris. It is at S*. l loud ; where, close by the ruins of the Chateau, in a small, close room, they are trying the Communist prisoners in the winter of last year. A long table or a platform, behind which are sitting a dozen officers, whose cold stern faces bode little mercy to tfie poor creatures brought before them. One by one they are brought up to receive their sentences. They are cowed by imprisonment and suffering ; they are ragged, starved, miserable. Mostly, they receive their sentences, ■which are comparatively light, with a kind of gratitude, because they know the worst. There is one exeception. He is a thin man, with keen, bright eyes. His checks and chin are covered with the ragged beard of three months' growth. His black hair is thick and matted ; his clothes — such as they are — scarcely hold together upon him. He alone of the prisoners stands up before his judges with an air of defiance. Accused at ' first of being taken, with arms in his hands, he is now, on further evidence, charged with complicity in the murder of the Archbishop. He has neither boots nor shoes ; a rag is round his neck ; he shivers in the cold December air ; but his hands are delicate, shapely, and white — the hands of a gentleman. He is aslced his name and profession. He shrugs his shoulders and spreads out his hands. " Bah ! It is the hundredth time. I am tired of it. Let us finish. My name is Lafleur. I was in the ranks of the Commune. Did I love the cause of the Communists ? No more than yourselves. Do I love your cause? Perhaps as much as you do. Did I assist at the execution of the Archbishop 1 I did. Now, M. le President, your sentence/ It came 1 swiftly enough. In the cold gray of the morning, he stands against a wall with his hands in his pockets, a cigar in his mouth, and a mocking smile on his lips. No word of repentance ? None. Of suffering or blasphemy ? None. The roll of the rifles for a moment, and the next } a dead man face downward on the ground. He could bear most things that fate had to bring ; but the misery, the filth, the degradation, the starvation, the cold, rags, famine, evil companionship, to which the Versaillists had condemned their unhappy enemies were too much for aim. So he confessed — threw up the cards — and was sentenced. Down at the Docks there is a certain particular dirty and muddy crossing, which requires in all weathers — so deeply rooted is its delight in mud— the constant attendance of a broom. It is wielded by a boy, small and thin, but strong and healthy. He answers to the name of Bill. On sunny days he is accompanied by a friend, older than himself, with a curiotisly wizened and lined countenance, like that of an old man. He does not work himself, but sits in. the sunshine, on. the steps of a door which is never opened. Here the cold winds come not, and there is a southern aspect. " Thoozy," said the boy, " it's more than a year since Uncle Dick died." "So it is, old chap, so it is. Poor Uncle Dick ! But we've done pretty well since then, haven't we, old chap 1 What's the whole duty of a boy, Bill, as he \isecl to learn you?" " Never prig, never tell lies—" he runs off Dick's ten commandments on his fingers, just as he had been taught. "Right you are, Bill. Go away from England. Yes, we'll go some day, old chap, when we've savedalitjje money, and you've got stronger. Uncle Dick was a good sort, Bill, I can tell you. We sha'n't meet no more Uncle Dicks in the world, Let's remember all he used to say, and act on it, Bill, my boy." Another scene. It is evening : three people are standing in the moonlight, in the square, place, or principal open street of Market Basing, before a newly

erected statue, unveiled that morning with much ceremony, bands of music, and many speeches. They are Frank and Grace, with them. Patty Silver. " I am glad it is like Dick," said Grace with, a sigh. " I couldn't bear that our noble Dick should look ugly and unlike. I'll tell you about him, Patty, some day, when we have it all to ourselves, and you want to learn a long story about a good and a greathearted man. -Let us go in now. I want to see it when all the people were gone, and have a little cry all to myself over it." Patty is staying with them. She has given up her profession, and lives with her father ; he preaches every evening, and will probably some day be reverenced as the founder of a new sect. Life is made easy for him by Mr Eddrup— who lingers still — and by Grace Melliship, Frank's wife. Patty -will never | marry. To have loved a gentleman, not to have been loved by one, has been an education for the girl. She can never love one of her own class. But she's not unhappy, and among the poor people of her neighborhood finds plenty to do in the way of help and advice. And sometimes Grace gets her to come down to Market Basing, and stay quietly with them till the roses come back to her cheeks, and. she can return to her work a life of unknown and unprofesg sional self-denial and toil. Last time I was at Market Basing I made* a curious discovery. Looking at Dick's statue, I read the inscription. The usual flourish of trumpets was on the front, setting forth his unblemished moral character, his philanthropy, his generosity, his great schemes for benefiting the human race. On one side was a passage in Greek. This was the rector's doing. On the other side was a line of English : " Write me as one who loves his fellowmen." This was Ghrimes's. On the back right in the comer, as if put there furtively, in quiet small letters— "Rev. xiii. 4." I heard afterwards that Lucy Heathcote, or to give her new name, Lady Launton, chose a text, which, not being approved of, she privately instructed the sculptor to insert where it could not be seen— anxious good little soul, that religion should have some part. The sculptor put it in, but made a mistake as to the re feren.ee — a nvost unfortunate one, as I found on looking out the text to which attention is thus publicly called. By great good luck, nobody but lady Launto.i and myself has found it out. THE END. Mrs'Brigham Young No. 17, who finds herself famous as the first Mormon wife who has sued for divorce, has been approached by her husband with offers of compromise, but is not to be bought off at any price.