CHAPTER III.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 208, 25 June 1887, Page 6

CHAPTER 111.

A PLEASANT ICNCOUNTKIJ. Walter sat a long time lost in troubled thought after Edmund left him. He felb deeply hurt and indignant o*er tlio treatment that he had leeeived. He knew that his Uncle "Ralph l^cr would have allowed him to be turned thus adrift upon the Avorld if he had dreamed of the possibility of such treatment from Edmund; while in spite of all eudencs to tho contrary, ho still believed that) there must exist some document pro\ iding for ! liis future. He was nofc suspicious enough to think that Edmund would destioy or suppre^ such an instrument if it had existed. He merely thought it urn-M. ha\o Keen mislaid or lost; but" he wasgrniUy sur|)rised and hurt to iincl that, tho t-on of his dearest friend was unwilling ro share something of his abundance with him. He knew that he had never really liked him— that he had even been jealous of hip love for his father, but he was unprepared for quite such a display of aversion and hearlle^ness as ho had manifested towards him. His offer of a position iv the eouming-room and the sneering reference to a "promotion " if he " did well n\> his pewt/' had galled him beyond endmance ; while what he had said about his fiuher indulging in quixotic sentiment on hi^ account, and the insult offered to the late Vi> Carpenter, by bringing him - the son ot ftU- Carpenter's first love— into his home, :rade every nerve j ,in his body tingle v, ith indignation. j " I will not be under an obligation to him 'for another dollar '" he cried al length, .starting to his feet w ith a crimson iaee and ■ 'flashing eyes. And yet, as his glance vanduied about the beautiful room, and he thought howmuch he had enjoyed, in that borne of luxury, with the one w ho was now £one from it for ever. a feolma of loneliness a:vl homesickness, such as he had never be ft re experienced opprestsed him. But he would not stop to grieve or repine, and, with a resolute .iir, he strode funv the 4iouse, tui'uing his steps at once tow aid the city, to see what ho could do to piovide for his own future. But it was no light thing for him to pno up the hopes thai" he had entertained for j the next two '/ears -to turn luV back upon j college, where he had stood well and b'ren ] ambitious to dc hci.our to himself and to the friend who had been so kind to him. It was no light t'lur-g to feel that he must go out from that plea- Kit, lu\miou> home, to give up his liberal income, and bo obliged to labour longer hours in order to secure even an humble lodging and food to satisfy his hunger, and bitter thoughts crowded thick and fast upon his mind a* he sped on toward the busy tovrn where he was destined to battle with fate during the next few yeai s. He had a long distance to w alk before he could take a car. Usually he uxle into the city, but to-day he had not ielt that he had a right to use even tho hoi>e which Mr Carpenter had given him for his special driving a couple of year.s prc> ions. He reached the corner at length and stopped, near a handsome 1 evidence, to wait until his car should appear. His attention was almost immediately attracted, and the tenor of hi- thoughts changed, by the sound of a clear, bird-like -voice which came floating out upon the air through an open window, beneath which ho was standing. Up and down tho scale it ran, sweet, etrong, and flexible ; then suddenly changed and burst into a charming little song, a verse of which Walter caught, and which rang rhythmically in his brai'i long after, 41 1 will thy name repeat, Marguerite, Mar gueritc, For it is so sweet, so sweet, That the birds will sta> to listen. And tho tangled sunbeams gl{sten, In thy golden luiir, Marguerite, so fair, so fa\r, ' f'l wondov if Kir name i? Marguerite," thought Walter. " I know she must be * fair and sweet ' to have a voice like that." Tho sweet song seemed to lift something of the burden from his heart, and he would gladly havt. lingered to hear more of it, but just then there came the tinkling of the car-bell in the distance, and, casting one wistful glance towards the house whence that lovely voice had proceeded, he walked to the edge of the bidewalk to "hall his car. The next moment the door of the mansion, near which she had been standing, | opened, ane there skipped out a bewildering little fairy in the daintiest and crispest of blue lawns, with a cluster of pink roses in her belt, the prettiest of hats, adorned with the whitest and most graceful of feathers upon her golden head. .Eyes of liquid blue looked shyly out from beneath silken fringed lids ; delicato rings of sunny hair lay with careless grace upon her white forehead ; a lovely pink fluttered in her rounded cheek, and a merry smile parted a pair of red lips, thus revealing two rows of small, milk-white teeth beneath them. She had a coquettish little bag of blue silk and velvet in one hand, and a music roll of Russia leather under her arm, which indicated that she was the songstress of a few moments before, and was now going to the city for her lesson. She turned back as she reached tho sidewalk and said, with pretty imperiousnoss : t( Now, mind, Estelle, do nofc go driving until I get home ; I'll make madam shorten my lesson, and come back just as soon as I can," and kissing the tips of the fingers to the invisible personage within, the beautiful girl ran forward to the curb just as the car, in obedience to Walter's signal, came to a stop. Walter could not control the admiring look that sprang to his fine eyes as he stood one side to allow her to enter first. She flashed him a swift glance and smile of thanks while the colour deopened in her cheeks as she met his eyes. But her little foot slipped as she stepped upon the platform, a7id s'ho would nave fallen had not the young man spuing forward and assisted her to recover her balance. *' I hope you are not hurt," ho f aid, as she gave a startled cry, while he picked up and restored the music roll which she had dropped. "Oh, no, thank you," .she returned, giving him a grateful look, " though doubtless I should have been but for your kindness." She passed on into the car and took a eat. There was room[enough for another

and .almost unvoluntarily she motioned him to sit beside her, a privilege of which he unhesitatingly availed himself, though with quickening pulsos and a strange thrill in tho region of his heart. Tho young 1 lady appeared a trifle shy, and Walter did not feel at liberty to open a conversation, though he longed to hear her voice again and to learn who she was ; so they both sat silent, but very copious of a deep interest in each other, til a way clou n town. Walter had seen tho initials R. G. engraved upon tho clasp of her music-roll as he picked it up, and he puzzled himself during tho ride to fit them to appropriate names for the fair divinity that had so suddenly burot upon his vision. He was at longth obliged to leave without having: the mystery solved, and rising, he I lifted his hat with all tho courtesy of which he was master, bowed his adieus, and went his way, followed by as witching a pair of blue eyes as over watched a gallant knight out of sight. A regictful sigh escaped the little lady as lie disappeared. . " 1 wish I could learn who ho is : 1 wonder if I .shall ever see him again," sh« thought, and all during the Mmring lesson with madam, a pair of frank, handsome eyes, and a tine, broad white brow, crowned vith wavino-, brown hair.haunted her mind while that } et strong and helpful clasp of his good ri»ht hand, as was laid upon her arm to keep her from falling, seemed still to thrill along her nerves. Meanwhile, Walter proceeded directly to the business portion of the city, and finally stopped before a door above which uns a sign bearing the name, "Albert Conant, Architect and Builder." He entered the building and in a few moment-, was in the architect's private otfice. Mr Conant was alone and engaged with some plans that weie spread out upon a de.->k before him. Walter bowed, and, removing his hat, said : " Mr Conant, my name is Walter Richardson, and I have called to ask if you arc in need of oflice help V "Ah! Do you know anything about my business, Mr Richardson '" inquired Mr Conant studying the frank attractive face of the a i-itor. J "Not much, practically, l am afraid, sir, although I have given considerable time and study to certain branches of it. But 1 have a desire to learn it thoroughly, ai d ha\e come to sec if I could find an opening, with that end in view." Mr Conant asked him a number of questions, and appeared considerably surprised upon being told that ho had been reared by Ralph Carpenter. "I knew Mi Carpenter well," he said. "So you are the boy whom he adopted? If he was as fond of you as I have heard, I am surprised at the' necessity of your applying to me for employment, for lie was a very rich man, and ought to have liberally provided for you." Walter considered a moment, and then freely told the man just how he was situated, although he tried to cast as little reflection as possible upon the son of his benefactor. Mr Conant appeared to lie deeply interested in his story, and his lips curled -cornfully when Walter mentioned the paltry offer that he had received to induce him to become a plodding clerk. <% So you did not feel inclined to take up with Mr Edmund Carpenter's ofi'or ?" he observed dryly, as Walter concluded. " No, sir. 1 cannot make up my mind to enter a counting-room— -I have no taste for that kind of life ; while it seemed like a wa»te of time to attempt to earn my living and study evenings. I should prefer to begin upon the business I have in mind, and work for less for awhile, for I should feel that I am learning all the time. I have heard it said," ho added, with a smile, " ' once a clerk always a clerk,' and I do not feel as if I could sit my life out on a stool and become simply a mathematical automaton." Mr Conant smiled, tfo liked the ring of decision and chiU'tielftr in the young livm's tone. "Some book-keepers receive veiy good j salaries," he said "True; but the majority do not, find I wi&h to become an independent business man, by and by. I believe it is in me, and I mean to try for it." " What is your idea about learning to become an architect ?'' " I am afraid my ideas are somewhat crude upon that point, sir. I simply know that it is a profitable business. I am attracted toward it. T believe I have a natural aptitude for it, and I am willing to begin at the lowest round of tho ladder and | work my way up." " I like thai ; it sounds as if you really mean business," returned Mr Conant, with an approving nod ; "but what would you say if I should advise you to spend a year learning the carpenter's trade first ?" Walter's face fell, and a quick flush mounted to his brow. It was just what Edmund Carpenter had said to him, and it would be beginning much lower than he had imagined he would be obligod to commence. "Does that sound ft Uttle rough?" questioned Mr Conanfc, observing his disappointment. " I should advise the same ii you wore my own son. All architects should have a practical knowledge of the construction of buildings, in order to be able to plan them understanding^. I learned^ the trade when I was a young man, and it has been of inestimable value to me." "But how can 1 manage it ?•— who \yill teach me ?" stammered Walter, wondering how he was to live, and who would want to take.as a carpenter's apprentice, a young man of his stamp- one who had never been accustomed to labour, and with hands as delicate as a girl's. Mr Conant regarded him very kindly. He understood his trouble ; he saw that he was eager to do the right thing, and be guided by his superior wisdom, and his interest in him deepened accordingly. "I think I pan arrange that matter for you ', that is, if you are willing to rough it for awhile ; you cannot expect to have things move along quite as smoothly aa they did when you were the protege of the wealthy Ralph Carpenter." " I do not expect it, sir ; but how can I live while I am learning ? I must eat, I must have shelter; clothing I am well supplied with for the present." " Can you not remain where you are ? Will not young Carpenter assist you in your plans ?" Again Walter flushed crimson. " No, sir ; he told me if I would nob accept his offer he would ' wash his hands^ of me entirely.' I would not solicit his assistance in auy way. Mr Conant, after that I will depend uoon myself j make my own way, and be under no obligation to him," he said proudly. Mr Conant smiled slightly. He admired the young fellow's pluck and independence, while ho despised the meanness of the man who, with groat wealth at his command, ovidently intended to turn adrift the boy whom his father had loved and befriended. " Well," he said after thinking awhile, "I do not know as I blame you, and I reckon wo can manage some way without his assistance. Ido not clearly see just how at this moment, but if you come to me again at this hour to-morrow, I think I shall be able to speak more definitely regarding the matter."

Walter thanked him, and then took his leave, though it must be confessed it was with a heavy heart. He was almost twenty years old, and he must spond a year loarning a trade before he could hope to begin upon his chosen profession. It seemed hard, and yet he did not waver in his resolution ; anything Avas preferable to the monotonous life that Edmund Carpenter had proposed to him. lie walked down to the public library, where he spent half an hour reading, and then took a car for home. The first object that attracted his attention, as he entered it), was a dainty hab with a long white feather. A pair of lustrous blue eyes met his, and then tho ' golden head gave a little nod of recognition, which brought his hat off instantly in ro , spouse, and a look into his face that made the lovely girl, whom he had met an hour before, blubh delightfully. "Walter felt strangely happy and elated over this second encounter, and when he signalled for the conductor to stop at the corner where he was to got off, ho assisted her to alight, and received a low, sweet "thank you" that thrilled him and mado him resolve to seek a formal introduction to her the first opportunity, and become acquainted with her. Instead of going directly home, he walked past the house, after she had entered, and read upon the silver door-plate the name of "Gordon." "R. G. The 'G. must stand for Gordon," he mused ; and then ho wonb out to Forestvale, pulling his biains more o\er what name the first initial stood for than upon what the issue of his next interview with Mr Conant would be.