TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 235, 19 February 1910, Page 4

TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

(All Rights Reserved.)

BY MAURICE SCOTT, Author of "The Pride of the Morays, ! "The Mark of the Broacl Arrow,'* "Broken Bonds," etc. etc.

PA KT 2. CHAPTER I. THE SILENT WITNESS OF A PROMISE.

" Excuse me, but are you trying to find work of any sort ? "

Two girls looked into each other's faces as they met on the staircase of an old house in one of the narrowest streets in Soho—a house devoted to the letting of " apartments " of a decidedly humble order, in which the tenants kept exclusively to their own rooms, concealing from each other their poverty or affluence, as the case might be—little enough of the latter. And though the girl thus addressed winced at what at first seemed an

attempt to expose her to further humiliation, her common sense reminded her that the cheap top room occupied by herself and her mother did not warrant the assumption of " airs."

" Yes," she answered, something between a smile and a sigh hovering over' her sweet face, the pallor and pathos of which aroused a suspicion that good food of late had been lacking.

"I thought so," said the first speaker, a girl of perhaps twenty-two with a pronounced tip-tilted nose and a good-humoured honest face. " Not that I'm one of the pryin' sort, but I've seen you comin' in arid out all day, an' I've done a good deal o' that myself before I took to my present business. And we—that's me and my partner —thought we could put something in your way if you wasn't too proud to join us ? "

" Proud ! " echoed the younger, whose delicately-chiselled features and instinctive grace, which even the shabby clothes she wore could not conceal, spoke of birth and breeding. " I have no grounds for pride, I assure you. Do you know I have even offered myself as a waitress at the French restaurants around here ; but they prefer to employ men ? "

" Can you talk French ? I mean—you ain't French, are you ? " " Oh, no ; my name is Dorothy Eliot. Both my parents are English ; but I know French, because I was educated in—abroad." " That's all right, then. My name is Maggie Dennis, and, personally, 1 shouldn't have minded what country you belonged to. But Ju Andrews—that's my partner —can't bear foreigners. I think they're harmless enough ; but that's her weakness, and we're all cranky on one subject or another. But will you come now and see Ju, and talk things over ? " " Thank you very much. I should first like to run up and see that my mother may not need anything during my absence. She is an invalid." " Is she very bad ? " The tears gathered in Dorothy's pathetic blue eyes. " I—l'm afraid so. She seems to grow weaker and the doctor can do nothing." " I'm sorry," replied Maggie Dennis, gulping down a lump in her throat, " but I can't stay any longer. Ju's a good sort an' a straight pal, but her temper's none o' the sweetest if she.'q kept waiting, Come up as soon as you can; our room's the fourth-floor back." " Thank you ; I will come."

But as she ascended the stairs Dorothy wondered whether • the mother who so repeatedly cautioned her against possible dangers to be feared in the neighbourhood of, at least, doubtful tendencies would approve of such intercourse with a stranger.

Yet Maggie Dennis owned a face practically a guarantee of her honesty, and her words Jang true, And it remained to', hear, the nature of- the suggested employment, though with their finances at so low an • ebb how could she refuse any kind of work ?

Softly Dorothy opened the door of the large, low-ceiled, attic in which—with her one earthly tie, a devoted mother—she had lived for six weary months, each week drawing t^ en l nearer to the end of their slenderresources, each day closing in with a bitter sense of uselessness on the part of the girl, whose inexperienced unskilled labour none seemed to need. But her mother appeared dozing in the old armchair, drawn as nearly as possible underneath the open skylight window in the slanting roof. The bright September sun shone flown pn t ; he pallid, though still beautiful features,' resting as though lovingly on the prematurely-whitened hair, and a silent, heartfelt prayer went up from porotby's lips that the newiy : born hope of work might not jail her,; if only for the sake of £he mother who had suffered so much, flB(l who jio>y looked; as though the limit of human endurance was at hand, ..:.,.

And meanwhile in the fourth-floor back she was being discussed by Maggie Dennis and her friend and partner, Miss Julia Andrews.

"D'ye think she'll do it, Mag?— that's the question," asked the latter, a sharp-featured woman of not more than twenty-four or five, whose speech betokened the irascibility of which the more genial Maggie stood a little in awe.

" I couldn't tell you, Ju," was the reply, " any more'n I can tell you who she isT For I'm sure she's a lady, whatever wind blew her an' her mother our waj." '~ ' ''That don't ' matter tp us," responded Miss Andrews, tartly. "What $o we care who she is ? And ladies

can be hard up as well as common folks."

" Yes ; .but what I mean, Ju, is this ; If she's a real swell won't she be afraid of being seen ? " " Real swells ain't likely to be waitin' in line outside the pit and gallery doors, stupid." "No more they ain't," said the crest-fallen Maggie. " I never thought o' that." " And real swells can get hungry, too, when it comes to the last bob," continued the elder. " That's true ; and, Ju, I don't believe that girl's had a decent meal I do' know when. Shall I make her a cup o' tea and boil her an egg or two ? "

"If you like," replied Ju, whose bark was worse than her bite. "But you'd better say it's our tea-time, not to hurt her feeling s." And presently came a timid knock on the door, and a pale slender girl with the big pathetic eyes and aureole of red-gold hair came into the room,, to look evidently surprised at the warmth of her welcome. It was a poor place, but scrupulously neat and clean, and both girls impressed her with" the conviction that, in whatever way they gained their livelihood, their catling was honest. But not all their pressing could induce her to eat. She would take a cup of tea, she said, and for the rest thev must kindly excuse her.

" My appetite is not very robust," she concluded, with ar frank smile, " and my mother would be terribly disappointed if I were unable to join her at our evening meal. But as I am not to be long away perhaps you would kindly tell me the—the "

" Well, Miss Eliot," said Ju, " it's this way. We took the liberty of noticing that jou don't seem to have regular employment " with a delicacy often lacking in her betters, Ju forbore to say she had heard from the landlady that the " attics was a month behind with their rent and nothing but the workhouse was in front of 'em " " and bein' struck with your appearance as lihely to prove attractive to our business, we decided to put it to you whether you'd care to join us ? " "To join you in— What is your business ? "

" You've never seen us goin' out of an evenin'? Never guessed'" — ** Shut up, Mag ! If Miss Eliot had guessed she'd say so," interrupted the practical Julia. " Miss Eliot we're out-door singers—' buskers ' is the regular term, but that don't matter. We sing outside the entrances to the theatres,' tryin' to entertain the crowds who waits so long at the pit and gallery doors. You've seen 'em, I daresay ? "

Dorothy had turned a shade paler, a fact not lost on either of the elder girls.

•' Y'es, I have seen them at—at at matinees. Mother does not like me to be out at night—so—so—l am afraid "

" Wait a minute, Miss Eliot," said Maggie, earnestly, regardless of her companion's.frown. " Hear all about it before you decide. In the first place, you would be as safe with us as you could be up stairs with your mother, for we're well known and I think I may say, respected. There ain't a constable on the beat who wouldn't protect us from insult by as much as a word. An' my dear, if you'll forgive the liberty London's a hard place for a girl without influence to get an honest livin' in."

"I have found that out already,'' replied Dorothy mournfully. " We weren't brought up to busk-: in','' continued Maggie Dennis. " I tried hard to keep afloat in every other way. I had my poor old mother to help besides, and had to let her go to the workhouse because the six shillings I earned at the eat> in' houses where no tipswere aTlpwe'd woulcln t keep a roof over our heads, nor food in our stomachs. An' then I lost that through no fault o' rriy own, an' it seemed either the workhouse for me too, the river, or—_Butone eveniu' a sort o' inspiration came to me, an' I: took fdd guitar -an' sang ' Lo.vMsf- ; Sweet Song * outside the Gaiety. I couldn't ask for money—l wasn't born a beggar ; but the coppers came rainin' round me, and I felt I'd earned 'em. That was two years ago, an' I've got my livin' that way ever since. Then, after a while, I met Ju. She'd had troubles of another "

" You needn't talk about them, Mag," struck in Miss Andrews, " Fact is, Miss Eliot," she went cm, " we were always meetln r and u.ucer-' In' one another's pitch and began our acquaintanceship with angry Looks an' hot words. And one night we tried to sing each .other down, an' the effect was so successful that we decided to join and work together, which we've done ever sincCj An ; wu hava made a livin- and put by a nest egg for" a rainy day, that's all ! If you'll join us I daresay you'll doolie same."

" It—it is extrernply go,od of you fcq suggest it," faltered Dorothy. " I assure you I" appreciate your motives, but—but " " Our- motive is as much self-, interest as a desire to go you good," interposed Ju, frankly. " Don't mistake that, We're favourites wjth the public, I hope and think ; but even favourites pall, and you would be a decided attraction to the show." " But I sing so little, my voice is very small, and I only know a few little French songs."

*' She ain't French, though, Ju," put in Maggie, anxiously.

" D'ye think I can't see that? " returned Ju, with asperity. "Well, French songs would be useful, with many foreign companies comin' tq London, an' so many foreigners liv-. in' in it—nasty creatures ! But I'll be honest with you ; I should want you to do the collections. . lYoup face would melt a stone." " The collections ? "

" Yes ; to go along the line with the bag and receive contributions." " Oh, I couldn't, I couldn't ! Forgive me I'm sorry, but " " You may be sorrier when your last shilling is spent, and the landlady loses pa— I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I'm hardened against sentimentality."

" And even we never ask for money," put in Maggie again. "We only pass a bag around —like the plate is handed in church. There' 3 no need to utter a word. I felt bad about it at first ; now I look on it in the light of business. And, you know, ' the labourer's worthy of his hire.' But suppose you think it over — Hadn't she better sleep on it?"

" I—l think I should like to if I may?" said Dorothy, rising to go. " For I must consult my mother in any case, and, believe me, I am most grateful to you both, whether I am able to join you or not." " Ain't she sweet, Ju ! " exclaimMaggie, enthusiastically, as Dorothy's light footstep reascended the uncarpeted stairs. " Oh, I do hope her mother'll let her came to us!" " I'm not sure," said the furtherseeing Julia, that we're wise. A lovely young girl like that is no small responsibility. And she's one o' the upper ten. You're right there, Mag." " Still, we've asked her " " Oh, yes, we've asked her, and we won't cry off the bargain, thoughGracious heavens, what's that ! " For a wild crj of bitterest anguish rang through the house, and in an instant every door was thrown open and while the occupants of the lower floors were speculating and considering whether to call the police, Ju and Mag hastened up the narrow staircase leading to the attic, there to find Dorothy crouching at the feet of a dread silent figure seated in an old armchair, with eyes—which seemed to see, away into the Great Unknown, and rejoice in what they beheld—gazing steadfastly up through the skylight window. Tears gathered thickly in the eyes of both singers as the heartbroken cry culminated in a passionate outburst of grief, threatening in its intensity to shatter the fragile form of the girl so suddenly bereft of all the world held dear.

'* Oh, mother, mother ! Dead ! No no—not dead ! You could not leave your poor Dolly alone ! Come back, dearest, come back ! Remember, she is alone —friendless ! Oh, mother I " And as the sun's departing rays hovered faintly over the calm, peaceful brow, turning the white hair into a halo of pale glory, one could almost have imagined a smile floated over the face of the dead woman as Maggie Dennis raised the prostrate Dorothy from the ground and held her in a close embrace.

" Never friendless, my dear, while Ju an' mc's got a roof over our heads. Is she, Ju ? " CHAPTER 11. A PITIFUL STORY. " No, Miss Eliot, we ain't inquisi tive. You've never asked us more about ourselves than we chose to tell you, and don't you feel called on to say a word about yourself you'd rather leave unspoken." Thus Miss Julia Andrews, when one day a month later, Dorothy sat in the fourth-floor back, her cheap black gown intensifying her fair beauty. 4§£ $L " But - friends to l she?, said, "It seems-i only .-right that ,; you should know why; I; am alone in'the world/-' . -. ":■.--„ " We've #pne no >foore than 'we'd like to be done to us;" answered/'Ju, almost : aggressively, to deeper y'"' i For the pathos of the.girl's great eyes had been accentuated by her bit-, ter sorrow and very tenderly had the two ' buskers ' striven to alleviate a grief before which they stood almost in - awe; so utterly had the beroaved one - appeared : crusheitv beneath its weight. V.' ; "Still,. Ju,, if 'twould be any comfort to her ! " interposed Maggie Dennis. "I'm N siire she knows we mean yell" hy her " •

"".'OB? yes, indeed, indeed I do ! " ..".Aid': sordetimes 'tis a relief to speak lout," urged- Maggie. ' " That's as she pleases aa long as she understands we dqn't expect to be told her business aa a matter b' course," replied Ju, " Oh, I know, I know ! " cried Dorothy, " And words cannot express my gratitude and appreciation of the delicacy with which you have befriended me. But Maggie is right in saying it would be a relief to m.e. to tell you the little I know- * fcel so lonely, in spite pi y-our goodness—so helpless to fulfil the task so dear to my darling mother's heart " Sobs choked her utterance, and the, partners , were sympathetically

To be ConAUwd.

" Had'the deceased any hobbj ? *' " Yes, he liked a pint of beer."

' " FAKED " FIDDLES. Electricity has been successfully applied to the seasoning of wood, to prevent shrinkage or expansion of doors, windows, etc. The sap is driven out by a strong current, and its place is. taken by a solution of borax and resin. A violin can be " aged " by electricity ; the instrument can, by means of an electrical machine, get as much " bowing " in a few days as it would receive in fifty years of ordinary use,—" University Correspondent."