TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 238, 2 March 1910, Page 4

TRACKED BY FATE, OR THE FANSHAWES OF HAVILLANDS.

(All Rights Reserved.)

BY MAURICE SCOTT, Author of "The Pride o£ the Morays," "The Mark of the Broad Arrow," "Broken Bonds,!-' etc. etc.

FIFTH INSTALMENT. ■ . -

Mrs. Fanshawe shrugged her shoulders —a gesture the significance of which her husband appeared to understand. "You are wise," he said.

Brick-street, Soho, was in a state of unusual excitement, for seldom was a handsome carriage, with a pair of prancing bays, drawn up in front of one of the least important of the dingy habitations of which the street was composed. And inside No. 57 speculation ran rife as to the business of the elegant-ly-dressed ■ 'lady who had been seen to ascend; the broad old staircase, and who was now screened front further observation —and, fortunately, also, from the ears of- the curious—behind the solid portals of the fourth floor back.' And Brick-street existed long prior to the advent of jerrybuilders. The walls of its houses were thick, its doors solid —no use to listen outside, even had any adventurous spirit been sufficiently bold to brave the wrath of Miss Julia Andrews if discovered in the act. But inside the fourth-floor back ? Mrs. Fanshawe was seated, at her own request, with her back to the window, her face wearing a curious, indefinable expression, her eyes looking searchinglj over Dorothy's slight graceful figure as the girl stood facing her. The partners were present—silent partners, indeed. They had suggested leaving the room but Mrs. Fanshawe, with a gracious assurance that she had. nothing of a private nature to discuss, bade them remain and advise their young colleague. " I quite understand you have been Miss Eliot's best friends," she said; "And looking on you in that light, I appeal to you whether you can honestly urge a continuance. of her present avocation when an opportunity to acquire a more secure position presents itself ? And without disparaging your mode of life, it does seem a pity for one so young"— "Oh, please, do not talk like that," broke in Dorothy, in agitation lest the finer feelings of her two faithful friends should be hurt, and equally so lest any reflection of her "business" might provoke reprisals on the part of the easily-offended Julia. "You do not understand how good they have been to me. They even objected to my going out with them, until I insisted. And only for them what would have become of me? My darling mother dead, and I without even money for her funeral ! Penniless, helpless, alone in a strange country ! Mother, father, both lost to me ! " " Your father he —he —is dead ? "

Maggie was looking at Dorothy, wondering how she'.would reply, but the astuter Julia saw a strangely emotional' expression on Mrs. Fanshawe's face, followed by one almost amounting to relief as Dorothy ed the question. " I am alone, madam, I know of no relatives in England, nor the actual location of such members of my mother's family as may still be surviving in Canada." "Of your mother's family. But of your father's ? " questioned Mrs. Fanshawe.

" I can only repeat that I am all alone, madam," replied the girl, in a low voice.

" Then is it not obviously your wisest course to adopt my suggestion ? Come to me for six months, If at their expiration, or even before you dislike your position, you will be- quite at liberty to rejoin your friends here."

" Could I see them very often ? " asked Dorothy, hesitatingly. " Occasionally," said Mrs. Fanshawe, " and judiciously—not to set servants' tongues wagging "—-

" You need fear no intrusion on our part, madam," interrupted Miss Andrews, somewhat loftily. "We quite understand our position, though we're not in the least ashamed of it."

" You misapprehend," said Mrs. Fanshawe hastily. " I assure you, you do. The prejudice to which I allude is widely spread, and not confined f to outside performers. I'm afraid even great singers and actresses fare badly when their names come under discussion in the servants' hall. Personally, J have no wish to restrict reasonable intercourse with your young friend, but there arc limitations imposed on us in every condition of life, and I hesitate to promise more than I may be permitted to perform," Was it that this admittedly "heartless" woman was softening" at the sight of Dorothy's pathetic beauty, accelerated as it was by the simplicity of \her cheap black gown, and the touching devotion towards her exhibited in the* faces of the two poor singers ? Or was she. already anticipating the limitations certain to be impost ed upon her by her husband with regard to Dorothy, notwithstanding the fact that she was acting under his instructions i$ offering to take the girl as a ■' companion " and to have her voice trained should Dorothy wish to adopt a public career.? "Talk it over," she said, kindly, rising to go. " Three heads are even better ' than two. At what hour do you all go out as a rule ? Sis o'clock. Well, then, I shall send the carriage back at five, and if, as 1 hope, you decide to come to me, please return in it. If you want longer time for consideration "—r «' The time's long enough," inter-

rupted Ju, with a brusqueness of manner her partner knew to be adopted with a view of concealing the sense of misery at her heart. "We can do all the talkin' that's necessary in two hours—even more. It's more than likely Miss Eliot will go back in your carriage at five o'clock, madam.",

" For her own sake, I hope so," smiled Mrs. Fanshawe. "And il there is any possible assistance I can render either of you " "We are much obliged to you, madam, but we couldn't accept nothin' !" burst out Maggie, almost in tears, before the more indignant Julia had« time to speak. "We can earn all we want, and even if we couldn't, to take money from you now would be like sellin' Dorothy here. And we'd.be content to work for her as long as we could stand—wouldn't we, Ju ?—and never let her go, only f,or her own good. Only for your own good, my dear ! "

What matter difference of station, where great human love and true charity prevail ? In an instant Dorothy was sobbing in Maggie Dennis' arms, their tears commingling, while Ju, with eyes suspiciously moist and a manner even more aggressive than usual, opened the door and prepared to show the visitor down the stairs. " What am I doing ? " moaned Mrs. Fanshawe, as her luxurious carriage rolled westwards. "To what am I taking that girl ? Those women at least are honest, and would defend her with their lives. But Lemuel is merciless, and Clarence —my own son —as callous as his father. Two unscrupulous men a-_ gainst o.ie defenceless girl—his daughter ! And I, poor miserable fool, thought I could hate her until his eyes looked at me anew, his voice sounded from her lips ! Oh, Gilbert, Gilbert, if only you had loved me ! "

CHAPTER V. A "PITCH " OUTSIDE RUTLAND GATE. And even more bitter were poor, orphaned Dorothj 's reflections in the same sumptuous vehicle as, according to Ju's promise she returned to Mrs. Fanshawe's house that evening.

"For her own good" the singers had urged her to accept the offer. Even while they yielded to her entreaties to be allowed to work with them, both had felt that, one so immeasurably above themselves in education and social position, their calling could only produce feelings little short of deep humiliation. And the older and wiser Ju foresaw other difficulties, impressed upon her by the admiring and persistent way in which men had stared at and followed up their young charge on the " one and only " night of her appearance in their company. For Ju had lain awake hours that night thinking over the pros and cons, of the affair, and had decided in her own mind it should- be the " one and only " night of Dorothy's performance if she had any voice in the matter.

And she rather thought she had. " I quite understand you feel you would like to pay us back what you think you owe us," she said, in discussing the question next morning after breakfast. " Well, we ain't in a hurry ; you'll be able to do it some day, and at present you'd better try to forget all about it. And you're more than welcome to stay here and share our bite and sup until times mend " " That you are," echoed Maggie. " But go out with us again, you don't," continued Ju, emphatically. "Ju Andrews knows when she's made a mistake, and she's not above owning to it."

And ia the midst of the argument dropped Mrs. Fanshawe—like a bomb from a distant battery—with the astounding proposal to take Dorothy into her own house at Rutland Gate.

"Your voice is very sweet, child," she had said. "Where did you learn your French ? Ah, Quebec ! ' The necessity to pick up a living in the streets sharpens the wits, and Ju, keeping a watchful eye on the stranger, wondered if by any chance here might be one of Dorothy's relatives. And Mrs Fanshawe made no mention of leaving London. Rutland Gate was not far off, and Dorothy could be watched from such a shortdistance by her self-elected guardians. Such a chance might never come again, and Ju, as the " ant partner," decided it must be seized on. .

"You won't lose sight of us, never fear," - she had said, reassuringly, " Why, we can go into the park and —if only you get a front room—loofe up and see you at your window," "So you can, I hadn't thought of that. And seeing you, I can run down and join you—just across the road,*'

"Yes ; and then if they're not behaving well to you, you needn't go back," chimed in Maggie. But "one touch of nature makes the whole world akin," and the three girls criad considerably at parting. Dorothy supposed she would have to ask Mrs. Farishawe's permission to revisit Brick-street, or to invite them to visit- her, but it was arranged they should go next afternoon to Hyde Park and wait about as near as possible to Rutland Gate in the hope of getting even a glimpye of her.

" But we'll never quite lose sight o' you, my- dear—never—never ! " cried Maggie, clasping the weeping Dorothy round the neck. " And. it seems to come to me that when you are most in need of us we shall be on hand to help you as well as we're able.'-'

The words recurred to Dorothy now as the carriage bore her to scenes and people of whom she knew nothing. The hardships she had endured since her arrival in London, the rebuffs experienced in. her search for

employment, followed by the shock of her mother's death, and the stunned sensation almost amounting to panic at the realization she was alone in the world, had induced a clinging affection for the two women who had befriended her in which class distinction was entirely submerged. For they had themselves performed the last sad offices for her darling mother with a reverence and tenderness for which she could never be sufficiently grateful, and that alone constituted a link the strength of which had not entered into the calculations of Lemuel Fanshawe when he first conceived the plan of removing Dorothy from their protection.

She had told herself her mother could not have died—could not so have jielded up her life, weary and broken-hearted as it seemed, only for the knowledge her dear one was not unfriended, would not be left entirelj alone. Her gentle spirit must have watched how spontaneously and even nobly the two poor* singers had taken over the responsibility of the grief-stricken child once so tenderly loved and cherished ; and Dorothy, the poignancy of her first grief dulled if not soothed, often felt a calm sense of protection, as though the soul she loved still hovered around and about the humble dwelling in Brick-street, still watching over its chief earthly care.

Would it follow her to her new home? she wondered. Would it rejoice in her removal from what would be looked upon by ordinarypeople as a life of vagabondage ? Perhaps, too, its grief had touched Mrs. Fanshawe's heart to make the offer. Dorothy had heard or read somewhere that kind spontaneous actions were oftener than not responses to suggestions made by those " behind the veil."

Her musings were cut short by the sudden stoppage of the vehicle in front of a mansion within the spacious hall of which stood two richlyliveried footmen wearing powder. And as the groom jumped down from beside the driver and assisted her to alight, a voluble French maid ran forward and swept the nervous, trembling Ma'm'selle Dorothce up the broad staircase before the magnificent Jeames and Thomas had time to recover from their astonishment or remark her shabby attire. Mrs. Fanshawe smiled a welcome. " I am glad to find you so sensible," she said. " Why, I believe you've been crying ! Surely, you cannot be sorry to leave your late surroundings ? Your appearance, your voice, your speech all savour of refinement, of gentle breeding. Am I not right ? " " Perhaps, madam . My parents were gentlefolk," replied Dorothy, seeing her patroness awaited a reply. " Then surely Brick-steet must have jarred terribly upon you. (Jome, come ! You are most uncomplimentary to your new friends to mourn so for those you have now left. And I I hope you will find friends amongst us, Miss Eliot." Had Dorothy not been struggling with her own emotions she . might have detected the note of uncertainty in Mrs. Fanshawe's voice ; but out of her deep sense of gratitude toward Ju and Maggie she began to realize other obligations arising towards the strangers who, taking her thus out of the streets, as it were, into their own house, must assuredly mean well towards her.

" Please forgive me," she said, wiping her eyes, and choking back the sobs. "My dear mother died in Brick-street, and for all its poverty there is a wrench in leaving the last home we shared together."

" I can quite understand that," replied Mrs. Fanshawe. " But do you not think your mother would prefer to see you removed from inferior surroundings ? Not that I wish to depreciate the kindness shown towards you by those two poor women, but a gentlewoman must necessarily have grieved at the future opening out before you, had you continued to share their occupation. Do you not see that ?" Yes, something of the kind had occurred to Dorothy on more than one occasion ; and yet her mother had always impressed upon her that honesty of purpose, upright, unfaltering principles, and broad-minded charity were qualities in themselves more admirable than their opposites allied to riches and social position. And had not the partners exhibited such qualities to the full ? Yet here, also, had arisen friends in her own station of life—even above it, to judge by appearances—as far as actual wealth was concerned. Were they friends ? The sins-ers' disinterested devotion had been proved ; she had yet to learn the possibilities in store for her under Mrs. Fanshawe's roof. (To be Continued.)