CHAPTER XXII.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 239, 28 January 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XXII.

WAYS AND MEANS. The answer of Sir Anthony Zembra to his daughter's potibion arrived just as she and her husband were going oub for the evening. Mr Foster had been presented with a couple of stalls at one of the theatres in the Strand ; so he proposed that they should dine at the restaurant and go to the play afterwards. Bub the appearance of this important letter drove both dinner and theatre out of Fred Foster's head. "Well," said he, with affected indifference, as she glanced over the contents, "does Jupiter nod favourably, or is this another thunderbolt ?" Sabina did nob answer; her face had flushed suddenly— with anger or indignation ; and she folded the letter again quickly. "Lot me see it." He held out hia hand ; she withdrew an inch or two. " No," she said, " you need nob read it. He refuses. I thought he would— so I suppose it doesn't much matter." "And he says something about me that lam not to look at ? Do you think that I am a child, or a fool 1 Let's see it." He took the letter from her, and opened it and road as follows :■— " Dear Sabina: I think you are aware that I never waste words. I told you that you were free to go your own way, and order your life as you thought best ; and I named the sum I was willing to allow for your own personal maintenance. I must decline to increase that sum in order to enable you to support a lot of paupers — including your husband. ' ' Yours truly, Anthony Zembra. " He laughed aloud ; but it was a rueful ki nd of laugh. "Pretty mad, isn't he? I thought the old gentleman would have become a little reasonable by now. Well, we'll have to wait — as best we can." It was the refusal of the money that concerned him ; the insult levelled at him* self he did not seem to mind in the least. Indeed, he threw the letter carelessly on to the table ; took up his hat, gloves and cane again ; and then, when he was ready, he held the door open to let Sabina pass out. " We'll have to hurry over this banquet," said he, lightly, "if you want to see the beginning of the piece." All the same he was rather silent during dinner, and he did not seem to care much for the little comedy they went to see thereafter. When they had gob back to their rooms, and he had lit a cigar, and esconced himself in a low easy-chair, he revealed what he had been thinking of all the evening by his first ejaculation. "It is a confounded nuisance," ho said, impatiently. "Fred," said she, "don't you think we might manage to live a little more economically than we do, and so mend matters that way ? Dining at restaurants is so exponsive ; if you don'b mind being content with what they can do for us here, you might have your own wine sent in, and that would make a great difference. And you know you are so dreadfully extravagant about cards— careless, rather, I should say." " Oh, it's no use talking like that," he interrupted. "Saving twopence-farthing here or there won't put matters straight. What I want to know is what income we i can definitely calculate on." " But you know," she said. " What ? what we have at present ? Oh, no, no ; that won't do at all ; that I look |on as provisional ; it was always under1 stood to be so. Of course we can't go on 1 like this." Well, sho did nob answer ; though she might have reminded him of her repeated warnings that Sir Anthony would prove j implacable, of which his cheerful optimism would take no heed. Nor did she further insist on their cutting their coat according to such cloth as they had in the meantime ; nor did she venture to suggest that he might turn his attention to some pursuit moi*e settled and profitable than playing billiard matches and .backing horses. For these considerations were obvious, and no man likes to be preached at. "lam afraid," said he, gloomily staring at his outstretched legs and the tips of his patent-leathered boots, "you've only made matters worse by writing that letter." " I am sure I did not wish to write it," she said, gerifcly. "No, of course not. I don't suppose you did. Bub people often have to do what bhoy have no wish to do ; and the best way then is to do it with as good a grace aa possible. I think you might have made that letter a little more complaisant. There was no use showing you did ib unwillingly — of course— he would say, ' Oh, this is a business communication ; and I'll answer it as such." Sabina sat silent. Ib was the first time he had found fault with her. And she did not remind him that he had Been the letter before it was sent, and that, if it did nob please him, he might have remonstrated then. Nor was he inclined to bo muoh more cheerful on the following morning, as he stood at the window and idly drummed on the pane. Indeed, the Strand on a Sunday morning is nob a sight to raise anyone's spirits, even when it iB flooded with London's sickly sunshine. Ib is like a city of the dead. The shops are shut ; bhe buildings deserted ; the pavements empty ; at long intervals a solitary four-wheeler—look-ing somehow as if.it had been out all nighty and got lost, and was groping -its way slowly home—comes stealthily along the h,ushed wooden highway, the footfalls of the horse, sounding faint and distant. ' < Mr Fred Foster turned from that depressing speptaclo, and took to ' the sporting papers i he had purchased <bhe night before] r~ 4-nd "then he threw -these aside.' j 1( ! '* Look here, Sabie, something must' be dprie. That letter has only made matters I worse. Your father seems more determined in his unreasonableness than ever ; if you

let hini-go on like ihat, it will become/ponfirmeft, tauTta'tin gdod'-bye to everybody's | expectations. The mischief done by that letter must be undone somehow ; and tfj once. Of course it isn't about any im» mediate and temporary thine that I'm thinking — I dare say one could always put one's hand on a few sovereigns if there was need — it'a the long future that I'm ( looking to : and something must be done: And t isn't merely doubling your allowance thato has to be thought of ; an additional twelve pound ten a month isn't a great thins : it's his attitude towards you. Your father is a very rich man ; you are the eldest daughter, the only one married : it's absurd that he shouldn't do something substantial and handsome for you. Why, how would he like it to be known ? " " I don't think he would care," said Sabina, who knew her father a good deal better than Mr Fred Foster did. " I say it is quite preposterous," he continued, impatiently. •' You may ask why I don't appeal to my own people. Bufc that's different. They're in the right mood j they'll do the right thing bye-and-bye. I don't want to press them just at present. My father is inclined to be cautious and suspicious even ; but the Mater's always on my side ; they'll be all right bye-and-bye. But this other affair is very serious, looking to the future. And if you ask me, 1 think there's only one thing to be done." " What then?" she asked; though this talk about money rather depressed her — 3he hardly knew why. " You should go and see him ; this very day." She started slightly. " Yes," he continued, boldly. "That's the proper way. Anybody can answer a. letter ; a letter can't make an appeal ; a letter hasn't to be faced. Here you have such a chance — your father in town — you would be sure of seeing him in the afternoon — and then if you went and told him how you were situated, and put the thing fairly and properly to him, and were civil to him, how could" he refuse ?" She was looking at him — with a strange, startled look. "Fred," she said, slowly, "would you have me go and ask money from my father after what he cilled you in that letter?" He saw the surprise in her face, and the reproach, too : perhaps it was the consciousness that these were nol uncalled for thab made him all the more impatient and oven vexed and angry. "Oh, it's all very well for you to have romantic notions," he , said bluntly, "but you'll find as you live longer in the world that they won't wash, Do you think I care what your father thinks about me? Not one bit. He may call me a hundred names in a day if he likes. Would you like me to tell you what I think about him ? Perhaps you wouldn't. " I dare say he wouldn't care either. But what's that got to do with, giving him the opportunity of doing the right thing by his own daughter ? 1 don't ask for his money. It's as much your affair as mine. I want to give him the chance of acting like a reasonable human being ; and it isn't to-morrow or next day that I'm thinking about, but at a very long future, aa I say." Sabina's eyes were downcast now; her face was somewhat palo. "There are some women who are well off," she said ; •' they can earn their own living without taking a penny from anyone. I wish I could do that. 1 would work hard enough." "There you are with your romantics again," he complained. " What would you like to do ? Stitch shirts at ninepence a day ? Or stand behind a counter in a telegraph office V The maidservant came in with breakfast, so that conversation had to cease. But he knew that he had spoken with unnecessary harshness ; and when breakfast was over, and he had taken up one of the sporting journals, he began to excuse himself a little. "I only want you to exercise a little common sense, Sabie," he said. "People must put their pride in their pockets at times. Of course a noble self-respect is a very fine thing ; and if I were a Duke, with £100,000 a year, I should worship myself like a little god and expect everyone to do the same. But poor folk like you and me, my dear, can't afford to have more than an ordinary, decent, Christian-like allowance of pride— no, wo shouldn't have any if we are to be like Christians— we should cultivate humility ; and if people call us ugly names we should say that probably we deserve them. Bless you, what harm can the calling of names do you ? Besides, he said nothing of the kind to you ; I was the happy recipient— "Do you think I made any difference of that kind ?" she said quickly ; and there was no humility at all. but a wounded and indignant pride in the expression of the sensitive mouth and the beautiful clear eyes. " No, when I i-ead that, it was as if — as if he had struck me 1" " Oh," said he, coolly, "yoa must cultivate a little wholesome indifference. You'll never get through the world at all if you are 8o thin-skinned. Besides, if you think he has done you an injury, or me, or both of us, don't you think it would only be magnanimous to give him a chance of atoning ?" "You would have me ask for moneyafter that insult ?" He did nob answer ; for ho did not wish to get angry again ; so he returned to his newspaper ; and Sabina took up a book and read till it was time to go to church. She went to church alone. When she returned they had lunch together ; and Foster was again in a somewhat fretful mood. " I don't see why you should look at it in that way," he said, just as if the subject had never been dropped. " The only thing that pride does is to keep up family quarrels. It s absurd that your father and you should be on such terms ; and how is the situation to be altered so long as you have these high-flying notions ? Any other girl would go to her father and make it up in five minutes. Can't you look at it that way ? Put the money out of the question. Here is a Sunday ; your father will be at home this afternoon ; why not go and make up a family quarrel ?" " Fred," she said, and the distress that was in her face was a piteoua thing to see, "don't ask me to go." " Then you give the whole thing up ?" he asked. "You see what he says," she pleaded. II Could anything be more distinct?*' " Oh, very well— l suppose it's all right." After lunch he took up his hat and cane, and said to her :—: — .. " J'm going along to see uick KaDy, to tixabout the train to Doncaster to-morrow. I suppose one must try to pick up a fe\v f sovereigns somehow." "Shall I wait till you come back ?-" she asked. " Oh, no X not if you have anything to do. Most likely I shan't . be back till aaboutt t seven." . * « * When he had gone she sat for some little' time pondering over these things.:. And perhaps there was some ;oause for. his^vexa;tiori ? ■ Perhaps she had not told him clearly enough what manner t of man her! father *\fa^an& warned him- witHisjifliQienbldiatinctneps that *ny - resolve ioi hi& .would be fnnftl?! And perhaps, when haaskedher t* go and make a personal appeal to her father^

ho did not quite understand the humilia*ion that would involve ? Men were less quick to perceive such things than women. If he had known what that interview must necessarily mean, surely he would not have asked her to go ? By-and-bye — and still in a somewhat thoughtful mood -she put on her things and went out, taking the underground railway down to Kensington. She had just turned into Kensington Square when she caught sight of Jariie coming away from the house'; and it was very grateful to her (for she was a little depressed, somehow) to notice the quiet look of pleasure that in- • stantly appeared in Janie's wistful eyes. " Oh, Sabie, this is so kind of you ! All the morning I kept saying to myself • I ' wonder if Sabie will come this afternoon ?' i " And that is why you left the house ?" Sabino said, with a smile. "Oh, bub I meant to be back in time. I did nob expect 3-011 so early." " And where aro you off to ?" 11 Will you go with me, Sabie ?" she said, eagerly. " I was going up to Walter Lindsays studio. I had a letter from him yesterday morning, and he reminded mo that I offered to go up from time to time and see that everything was going on all right. Won't you come ? It will be a nice walk. And mother's lying down just now. We'll have tea when we come back." And so Janio found herself once more walking along Kensington on High-street with her beloved Sabie ; and up the Campdnn Hill Road ; and over to Notting Hill ; and proud and pleased she was ; and on this occasion (as on many a former one) all the talk was of Walter Lindsay. "And where is Mr Lindsay now?" S ibina asked, to humour her. 11 Still in New York. He is having a ca r avan built for himself — a studio on wheels, you know— and when that is quite ready, he is going away — oh, I don't know how far. Bub he is to send me his address from time to time— just in case there should be any ne-vs for him ; and you know the news he will look for, it's news about you, Sabie." " Don't talk nonsense," Sabina said, but not illnaturedly. " What news could he want to hear about me ?" I " That you are well and happy — I think th xt's all he would want to hear./ "You are a very sentimental young Wjman, Janie, and imagine things," Sabina 8 lid. ' ' Now, I want to talk about something practical. You remember taking me into a place in Oxford-street— an art-furni-ture place ' " Maragliano's ?" "Yes. You remember the hand-painted china we saw — the dessert-service, and so on : now do they pay well for that kind of work ? — would it be worth while for anyone to try and get some of it to do ?" " I know Mr Hutton, the manager ; I will ask him," said Janie, never doubting that this was but another of Sabina's numerous schemes for benefiting somebody or other. "I suppose they have inferior sets," Sabina continued, " where very high artistic skill would not be neeessai'y. I mcd to draw and paint a little, years ago. 1 could copy things anyway. There were some flowers on vases that I think I could do." "You? 'said Janie, in amazement. "You yourself, Sabie? What do you want to do that kind of thing for ?" "Well, the truth is," she answered, "I'm afraid Fred and I will have to pinch a little. We shin't be very well off, you know; and I was wondering if I could help ; I might fill in a little time that way, at night, if I were clever enough. I wonder if it is difficult." "Filling in time? — yes, you are idle! and you would work at night, too, when you get home dead tired ! What next, Sabie ?" her friend said, indignantly. And then she added with a sharp look : " Whose ?cheme is that ?" "My own, of course. Will you ask Mr Hutton if he will let me have one or two simple things? I don't expect much — there are too many unemployed young women looking out for work of that kind — but even if it was a little I should be glad." " I know this," said Janie, boldly— and as they were come to the gate of the house, she paused there for a moment, and regarded Sabina without fear : " I know this, Sabie ; that I could geb you one customer who would buy all that you could paint, even if he had to lock it up in chests and never see it again ; yes, and pay you like a king for it, even if he had to sell house and land and pictures and everything. Ah! you don't know what he said to mother — that time of the supper in thi3 very house —or did I tell you?— about the falcon? — anyhow he envied the "Florentine young gentleman who had the chance of sacrificing his falcon for the sake of his sweetheart." "But what has that to do with me?" Sabina said. " You don't know, then, that that supper was given all in your honour; and that everything he could get in England was got for you ; and I think he was quite sorry he wasn't poor, that he might make some real sacrifice for you ? Ah, well, Sabie, I will say this for you— you made him very happy that one evening. "' "You are incorrigible," Sabina said, good-humouredly. " Why, you may depens on it that at this very minute your hero is making love to one of those American girls— they're pretty enough, to judge by those of them who come over here." Janie would nob answer ; she rang the bell, and they were admitted. The housekeeper was very civil ; offered them tea; was pleased to hear news of Mr Lindsay ; and reported the small incidents that had happened since he left. Then Janie got the key of the studio ; and she and Sabina passed through the little garden, opened the heavy door, and entered the gaunt, strange-looking, musty-smelling place. " He was right — it wants a little airing occasionally. Different from the night that you were here, Sabie, isn't it ? See, there is the Chippendale cabinet in the corner ; bub you won't find in it the rock-crystal cup you drank out of— oh, no, that's away in safety with his other valuables. Maybe he has taken it to Amer-ica with him. " "Do you know, Janie," Sabina said, out of pure mischief, "I am beginning to believe that you are in love with Mr Lindsay yourself. " "Don't say that, Sabie, even in joke. Besides-" She hesitated. Bub was nob this a rare opportunity for revealing a great secret ? " Besides what ?" Janie's pale face flushed, and the wistful eyes were a trifle beseeching. "There's someone else!" Sabina cried. "So that's it? Oh, Janie, why did you never tell me ? Or is it quite a new affair ? Well, then, who is he ?" *' Did you never guess, Sabie ?" ""Never, Never!" " Nob when you saw Philip Drexel coming about the house"?" Now, this JPhilip Drexol was a young figure-painter, whose ambitious style and defiant mannerisms had attracted some little notice, though Sabina paid no great heed to him. But nbw" she was gi'eatly interested, ' and would know all about the engagement; though Janie protested there was jjcf/Such thing, but only an understahding,\that was not to be,made>known to anybody as yet,.- And Sabina had abWfarit

praises for the yourigf painter ; and would make ' Janie promise/ to' bring him to, thd rooms in' the 'Strand; 'so, that sho might better pet to'knpjv him j and ' altogether was highty'pleafebd. «♦ But ypu f khby,' Sabio," said the honestminded ' Janie> with a demure , smilo, ' ' I'm not too proiid about it. I '4on't think his approval of me is too much of a compliment. You know they've asked him to send in 'two' or three pictures to the Grosvenor Gallery next year ; and — and he came to mother and asked her if I would give him somo sittings for one of them — ' Mariana in the South,' it is to be— and he said something about me being quite an ideal type for him. Well, I don't think it's too complimentary — do you, Sabina ?—for you know he paints "such droadmlly ugly women." " Oh, I don't think so at all," Sabina said, instantly. " Why, I've heard people speak most highly of his pictures. And of course he'll make his Mariana ever so much prettier than any of the others." "Sabie, you can say such nice things !" the girl said ; and gratitude- was near bringing tears to her eyes ; for she knew that she was not very beautiful. Well, the promised visit had been paid to both house and studio : and they went back to Kensington Square, and had tea with the old people ; and in duo course Sabina retnrnod to the lodging in the Strand. Mr Foster, when he came in, announced thot he would be going down to Doncaster by an early train the next day. He made further reference to the project of her seeking a personal interview with her father : though once or twice he threw out hints that he hoped the trip to Doncaster would repay him — otherwise things might be getting a little " tight." Sabina, on her part, made no reference to her vague fancy that sho might earn something by painting on porcelain ; indeed, if the scheme were practicable at all, she would have preforred sitting up at night to do the work, when no one knew.

(To be continued.)