CHAPTER IX.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 74, 1 November 1884, Page 4

CHAPTER IX.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER. Again a minute of silence, then Sandow turned, tremblingly and slowly, but turned to go. Gustav quickly laid his hand on his arm. " One word, Frank, before you go. Frieda knows nothing of the past but what she was obliged to know, not a syllable more. She has no suspicion why you have deserted her, and what fearful thought has banished her from her father's heart all these years. I could not bring myself to reveal that to the child. She thinks that you hate her mother because, after an illassorted union, she left you and married another man. The motive satisfied her : she asked no other reason ; so let it suffice. I think you will see that I could not let your daughter have an idea of the real depths of your misery, and so was silent as to the worst. If you do not reveal it, she need never know." "I thank you." The elder brother grasped the hand of the younger, and pressed it warmly. Then, turning from him, Sandow went away with rapid strides. "He is going to her," said Gustav, with a sigh of relief. " Thank God ; now they may settle it themselves." Frieda had flown to her room in the upper story oi the house. Any other girl would have given herself up to tears, or have sobbed out nor heart to the sympathising Jessie, but she did neither ; with fevsrish haste she prepared for her journey. Her father's rejection burnt like a fire in her breast, and left room for one thought only, that of getting away from the house where they had dismissed her so insultingly, and getting away as quickly as possible. Frieda had drawn out her travelling trunk, which yet stood in the corner of the room, and was collecting her things. She did it all in tearless silence, but in fiery haste, as if she was flying from misfortune. She was kneeling before the open box, in the act of putting in some articles of dress, when she heard steps outside the door. It must be her uncle coming to look for her ; she knew he would come, and she would ask him to take her to an hotel. They could arrange about the return journey there. She would agree to everything, obey him in everything, but he must not ask her to stay there any longer. The steps came nearer, the door opened, and on the threshold stood her father. Frieda shrank back, the linen she held fell to the ground, and she remained still as if petrified w ith astonishment. Sandow entered and shut the door. He looked at the open box, and the things lying about. " You are going away ?" "Ye= !" Both question and answer were short and stern. It seemed as if the chasm between father and daughter would never close in this world. Sandow was silent for some seconds, evidently struggling with himselt. At last he said : " Come here — to me— Frieda !" She rose trembling and stood undecided for a moment, then approached him slowly, till she stood quite close to her father. He put his arm round her, and lifted her face to his. Then, bending ever her, he seemed to study her, feature for feature, line after line, as if his e\ es would search her through and through. The old mistrust rose once more — for the last time — then vanished farther and farther away the more the tather found his own features repeated in his child. A deep sigh oi relief rose from Sandow 's breast, and the anxious, searching gaze melted in tears, which fell hot and fast on Frieda's brow. " I gave you pain befoie," he said, "but do you think it was easy for me to send away the only thing that could bring me joy again on earth ? Gustav is right ; it was a dark, wicked delusion. Let it be forgotten for ever. My child," and his voice broke with agitation, " will you love your father?" A cry of joy broke from his daughter's j lips. Befce this tone, the first that came wholly from his heart, all the bitterness of the past hour vanished, and with it vanished all alienation and shyness. Frieda threw both her arms round her father's neck, and as he pressed her warmly to his heart, they both felt that the old shadow which had stood between them for so long was banished for ever. Gustav, too, had slowly returned to the house. As he entered the conservatory Jessie came anxiously to meet him. "Mr Sandow, what can be the matter? Frieda rushed into my room ten minutes ago quite beyond herself, threw her arms round my neck, and said ' Good-bye.' She said she must go away ; that she would not stay an hour longer, and would not stay to hear any questions, but referred me to you for an explanation, and hurrisd away. What lias happened ?" Guvtav shiugged his shoulders. " What I feared, when I wanted to defer a discovery. An accident betrayed our secret to my brother, and we were obliged to con fe-s the truth. His anger at the deception burst out, and overwhelmed us both. Frieda could not stand the scene, but declared &.he would go away, and is probably packing up her things. " "And you are not with her !" cried Jessie. " You have not stood by her and protected her Could you really leave her alone at such a time ? Go to her. %> "At present I should be quite superfluous," returned Gu&tav, with an equanimity that seemed the height of egotism to Miss Clifford. " What remains to be done Frieda can fight out for herself. I must think of myself now." His eyes, resting on Jessie' 3 face, sparkled as they had done when Frieda made her revelation to him. In this con- { templation he quite forgot that his words would be misunderstood, which happened very completely. " You have all along thought too much of yourself," replied Jessie, getting angrier than ever. "But if you have a spark of love in your breast, you must feel that your place is beside your betrothed." Gustav smiled, and coming close to the angry girl, he said significantly : •Frieda is not engaged to me, and never was." Jessie looked at him as if she had not heard aright. " Not engaged to you ?" " No ; remember I introduced her to you distinctly as my charge. It was you, Miss Clifford, who invented another connection, and I left you in your self-imposed error. Now, however, that my duties as protector are at an end, I may confess to you that my feelings are elsewhere enslaved. " He bent over her hand and presen] a passionate kiss upon it, which fully explained his words. But the game which he had played in fun now rebounded on himself. He had pretended to be a heartless egotist too long, and had to repent it now. Jessie drew her hand indignantly away. " You go too far, Mr Sandow. Now that Frieda, to whom you were engaged, is

turned out, and you see no chance of ob taining consent, you dare to come to me. You try to deny your betrothal to me, and pretend it was a farce. This is too bad !" "But, Miss Clifford, for Heaven's sake " oried Gustav, now shocked in earnest. She, however, left him no time for a word, but went on as if she had lost all selficontrol — " I knew you emphasized tho word charge that you might have a loophole to get out of. If you could not have the fortune with Frieda, you would have it without her. The heiress would still remain who was first intended for you, and you wish to make sure of the heiress before the one you have desorted and given up has left the house. I have already lost many illusions as to your character, but such a shameless denial of all truth and faith 1 did not expect." A storm of tears checkod her speech. Gustav tried to soothe, entreat, explain, but in vain. She hurried into the next room, and when he tried to follow her, she locked the dnor. Directly afterwards he heard the further door close after her, and Jessie was quite beyond reach of his words. Thus left behind, he began to vont his anger on the empty air. " Well, this is too bad ! And all for sacrificing myself to the interests of others. My brother stormed at me like a big bully because I am kind to my niece, and now I am treated like a scoundrel because 1 am not kind enough to her. I should have taken Jessie into our confidence earlier. That conies from ray abominable love of fun. It was euch a jest to me, and it made her cry bitterly. N" ~ T ' ~ose, I may wait till to-morrow before she makes her appearance again, and the misunderstanding cannot last an hour longer." He was stamping his foot impatiently and angrily, when suddenly he heard a voice behind him saying — "Excuse me — they showed me in here." Gustav looked round. He saw a stranger standing in the doorway, a little man with a red face, \\ ho bowed politely. "Havel the honour of seeing the head of the firm of Clifford ?" he said, somewhat anxiously, for Gustav's angry pantomime had not escaped him. " I have already been to the office, and heard there that Mr Sandow had left town. As my business was very pressing, I have come on to his house." "My brother cannot be spoken to," replied Gustav, in a curt tone, for his impatience made the interruption in the last degree annoying to him. "He has an important engagement, and sees no one today," At the word "brother," the little man bowed still lower, and approached him confidentially. "Ah, Mr Gustav Sandow ' Tho great German journalist ! lam delighted to have the opportunity of making tho acquaintance cf such a celebrity, a celebrity which is justly valued by our firm." "What do you want?" asked Gustav, with a look that expressed his extreme desire to kick the admirer of his talents through tho doorway. "I am the agent of Jenkins and C 0.," explained the stoanger, emphasizing the name with great self -satisfaction. "I have just arrived here with a batch of emigrants, and was obliged directly to apply to our respected friend. As Mr Sandow, however, cannot be spoken to, I can quite as well apply to yon." This completely annihilated what little patience Gustav had left. To interview an agent of Jenkins & Co. at such a moment was beyond him. He roughly told the representative of the hated name — "I receive no communications meant for my brother. Bring your report to the office to-morrow. I wish — " and hore the English he had addressed the American in failed him, and he broke into pretty abusive German. "I wish the devil would fetch Jenkins and Co. and all their agent", and pend the whole set out, to their d d lands out We 4, that their philanthropic speculation might fall on their own heads !" "With which he left the astounded agent to himself, and went out by another door. The agent gazed after him with perplexed looks. He had not understood the German part of the speech, but enough was clear to show that the words of the great German journalist meant something rude. And, to his great annoyance, he saw there was no prospect of making his report that day. The elder Mr Sandow was invisible, and the younger , The little man shook hihead thoughtfully as he beat a retreat : "Queer people these German journalist*, ai-e ! They are so nervous and excitable, indeed quite violent. If you complimont them, they are rude. Our gentleman of the press are much more polite when you apeak to them of their wide fame !" Jessie had really shut herself into her room, and let her tears have full sway. Never in her whole life had she been so unhappy, so miserable, as at that moment. She now fully realised how firmly the love of this man had become implanted in her heart ; and now she must reject him at any cost. She had long cherished a seciot interest in this brother of her guardian while he was still in Germany. She did not know him,buthis pen was an invisiblelink bet si ceo them. With what glowing enthusiasm she had read 1113 articles, and with what zeal had she followed his flights into the ideal world ! Now the idealist had arrived, and in contradiction to his whole past, had joined in his brother's speculations. He now hid the inclinations of his heart from his brother like a coward, heaped intrigue upon intrigue, merely not to lose the promised fortune, and when this fortune was risked he denied his betrothed, and wooed the heiress. The most miserable egotism and the meanest calculation were really the motives of his actions. Je.-sie hated and despised him with all her &oul ; but that it should be this man among all others whom she must needs despise, broke her heart. She had thrown herself on the sofa, and hidden her face sobbing on the cushions, when suddenly she heard her own name, and, turning in affright, saw Gustav Sandow standing in the middle of the room. She sprang up. "Mr Sandow, how did you come here ? I had " "\es, you had bolted the drawing-room door," interrupted Gustav, " and your maid had orders to admit no one ; but I was not ! deterred by that, and have come to you in i spite of bolts and maids. I must speak to you ; it concerns us both." " But I will not hear you !" cried Jessie, with a vain effort to command her resolution. " But I will be heard !" returned Gustav. " I thought at first that I would send Frieda as my mediator, but that would take too long. She is still with her father." "With whom?" * ' With her father— my brother. " Jessie stood as if petrified. The revelation came so suddenly that for the first : moment she ceuld not take it in. It was only when Gustav said, *V May I justify myself now?" that a ray of hope and happiness entered her mind. She allowed him to take her hand, lead her to a sofa, and seat himself beside her. "I have a confeaaion to make, Miss Clifford," he began. " I must go far back into my brothers past to explain all to you. Later it may be made more completely, but now I can only tell what will justify myB elf,»_

He still held her hand in his, and Jessio made no opposition, Sho began now to believe in the possibility of his justification. " My brother had a very sad experienco of domestic life. An apparently happy marriage ended for him in a dreadful discovery. He saw himself betrayed by his wife and his dearest friend, and tho results of the catastrophe were such that he lost not only his home, but his position in society. He could not and would not remain at home any longer, and he went to America, where he found a refuge with your parents. But he had left a daughter behind him in Germany, an only child, vory few years old. In his hatred and bitterness against everything, he would not own the child ; she remained with the mother, who, after the ! necessary divorco proceedings, married that man." j He paused for a moment. Jossio listenod 1 with breathless attention ; a slight flush rose to her pale, tear-strained cheeks, when Gustav continued : "I was then at the University, and had no chance of interceding for Frieda, since my representations were disregarded, but I have never forsaken my little niece. The poor child had a comfortless youth with her family, pushed about by them all as a butt. Unwillingly endured by her stepfather, treated with indifference and even dislike by her mother, she was considered an interloper by her step-sisters and brothers, and felt more and more lonely tho older sho giew. As soon as I had a means of livelihood of my own, I put in my claim as her uncle, and rescued my niece from her surroundings'. I sent her to a school, where she remained till her mother's death. This death loosed tho bonds that galled my brother to ever fresh bitterness, and I determined to struggle for his daughter's rights whatever it might cost !" " And that is why you came to America?" asked Jessie, shyly. ' ' For that only. I had previously tried by letter, but Frank refused me sternly. He threatened to break eft' our correspondence if I mentioned the subject again. Then 1 rested my whole confidence on the personal impression Frieda would make, but it seemed almost impossible to carry out the plan. I could not let the child cross the ocean alone, and if she appeared with me my brother's suspicions would have been raised. Your father's death, Miss Clifford, made him think ot taking another partner, and he thought of me. Under other circumstances to agree to throw overboard my native land, my calling, mjr independence, indeed all the interests of my former life, ior the sake of material wealth, would have been a proposal I should, of coui.se, ha\e refused to accede to, but now it seemed a Heaven-sent opportunity. 1 pretended to accept, and set out with Frieda. She remained in New York while I reconnoitred the country, and then she entered her father's house under an assumed namo. Tho discovery entailed one more distressing struggle There was a scene which threatened to destroy everything, but tathurly feeling prevailed at last with my brother, and now he and his child are united." Jessie >sat through this narrative with loweied eyes and flushed cheek?, feeling one .sting after another fall from her mind. It seemed to her as if she were saved, when the dark veil fell which had hidden the ' Egotist ' from her so long. " Ye.s, Mi.ss Clifford, the inheritance had nothing to do with it !" said Gustav after a somewhat mischievous pause. "It way offered me, and 1 took tho trouble to win it, but for the benefit of tho rightful heiress. Unfortunately, I must also give up the honour of being partner in the house ot Clifford and Co. The united staff of the C Gazette has foi'ced me to swear to return as soon as my leave expired, and my ' adding up figures ' will not prolong it. I take ip the old bann<«' °<™;r» which I have not deserted quite so shamefully as you were pleased to reproach mo with. Do you still find my efforts at the office-desk quite so contemptible '!" Jessie looked up at him with shame and penitence, but yet with a feeling of infinite happiness. "I have done you great injustice, Mr Sandow. It wa.s your own fault, but I will ask your pardon." She could not hold out her hand to him, for ho had never loosed his hold of it ; he bent over it and pressed a kiss on it, which this time was suifeied in silence. " I have been rejoicing in the thought of tins explanation for weeks," he said, smiling. "Do you think I would have stood my brother's lordly admonitions and your eonj tempt for an hour, if I had not been sure ot your excuses in the end '!" "And Frieda was really only in your charge ?" asked Jessie, with her heart fluttering so that she could not control it. " You aie not in love with her ?" " Frieda is my dear little niece, and I am her much respected uncle, and that is the foundation of our mutual relations. But, now she has found her father, I shall be quite unnecessary a person to be looked up to. As we are speaking of love — Jessie — l have a question to ask you." The question seemed to be guessed, for Jessie's face was in a glow. She dored not look up, but there was no need, for Gustav was now at her feet, and she must needs look down at him, as he burst out in warm, passionate words. "My beloved, my own dear Jessie, it is for me to ask pardon. I have intrigued and lied to you too, it cannot be denied, but I have had to do penance for it since I have had bitter things to hear from you. But one thing has remained faithfully the same since our first -neeting — the feeling that awoke in me when I first looked into your blue eye?. Let mercy prevail over justice !" Jessie seemed inclined to mercy: her blue eyes confessed it before her lips spoke it. He spiang up in a storm of joy ; the pardon wa>> duly sealed, and in fulness of formalities left nothing to be desired. Half an hour later they both entered Frieda's room, where Sandow still was with his daughter Gustav held Jessie's hand on his arm, and led her to his brother. "Frank," he said gaily, "in your whole nonsensical scheme there was at least something reasonable— indeed, very reasonable. Yes, my little Frieda, don't look so surprised at your uncle and your future aunt — those are things which you don't understand yet— with our united penetration we have only been able to find one reasonable idea, and we now introduce ourselves as an engaged couple." {To be Continued.)

In a recent number of " Eastward Ho !"a " Homo Missioner " says it is quite a common thing in the East end of London for boys and giris of 16 to get married. Boys and girls of 12 "keep company," and at 14 or 15 every lad bis "young , lady." Here are some of the facts related by this writer : In his district a boy of 16 married a girl the same age, and on the evening of the marriage the two chrildren fell out, the bride receiving a black eye ; a boy who sits at the back of one of Pickford's vans is a " married man. " In a printing office in the City there are four boys — the eldest is 19 and receives 13s. a- week, and is married ; The next is 18, has three years of his apprenticeship to serve, and has two, children ; the youngest is 16, and has to keep a wife and child on' 11s. a- week j a newspaper bpy;' between 16 and 17 has two children j and a butcher's boy of 16 has one child.