Repaid by Love.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 8028, 15 January 1906, Page 4

Repaid by Love.

Max Villiers crossed the great opea space of the Square and turned into the atreofc. A catting wind met him and he buttoned hia great coat still more closely about him. A oouplo of poor, ill-clad, hungry-looking enilarcn passed him, and he dived into his trouser's pocket for a stray sixpence. He knew it was there, for his cash balance had now dwindled far below tbe limits of arithmetical calculation. Finding it, therefore, with very little difficulty, he tendered it to the astonished urchins, and, mumbling something about "buns" and "cakes," hurried off as though the police were on hli track.

" Poor little souls I" he muttered. 11 It's rough enough for a man, but it's worse for kids!"

lie walked 011 a few paces, and a smile—half sad, half humorous—crossed his hand■ome, thoughtful face. ■4e turned into a refreshment room, and taking a seat at one of the tables, ordered an exceedingly modest tea. - Wiis roused from his reverie by the sound of voiqes at the adjoining table. For the first time since he had entered, he became aware of the presence of the girl whose eyes had more than once been attracted to his face. She was in obviousembarrassment now, though Villiers was as yet ignorant of its cause, and a waitress was standing at her fiide. The girl was fumbling nervously in her pocket, and a very slender purse lay on the table before her. There was a look of unbelief on the face of the waitress, which the girl was not slow to notice. Her embarrassment increased each instant, and a look of utter hopelessness crept into her face as her search revealed nothing. " I had & sovereign in my purse,' 1 she said feebly. "I can't think what has become of it. Oh, dear, I hope I haven't lost it, for I haven't enough change to pay you." The waitress preserved an uncompromising silence, and the girl grew more and more nervous.

" Oh, what shall I do 1" she said, almost crying.©

"Perhaps you might leave something instaid, until yon can get the money," suggested the waitress. "II a lady forgets her money, she sometimes leaves her watch or ling, and sends for it later on." The girl shook her head. " I have neither," she said, and the waiter sniffed significantly. "Poor little thing!" he said to himself. "But what can I do? It wasn't so difficult with the kids, but a sovereign is different'. And then there's Mrs. Jinks ! " Again ho looked at the poor, troubled faoc of the girl, and he ground his teeth. ■ "Confound Mrs. Jinks I " he muttered to himself.

Secretly extracting his last golden coin from its receptacle, he stooped suddenly, noisily jerking tho table as ho did so. A moment later he rose and oxtender] his hand to the girl at the adjoining' table. Between the finger and thumb was a sovereign. "Is this what you lost ?" he asked steadily. "It was on the floor."

A rich flush suffused the girl's face as she ro-e from her scat.

" Oh. thank you ! " she said gratefully. " It must have dropped out of my purse." A few moments later and she was gone, and Mux, agtin lightening his pocket by thß sum of sixpence, went out into the street and turned down a side street in the direction of the Embinkmcnt.

" An expensive outing," he said comically as he mounted the narrow stairs to. his attic.

Mrs. .Tiiil;s hearing him enter, canio out of her fining-room fo meet him.

"Two Idlers fnr you, sir," she said, and looked at him significantly. " I 'ope n.9 'ow it's good noos, sir, for your bill's arunnin' up and I'iii only a poor widder sir, and money's shocking light, and the butcher he do say "

She stopped. Max Villiers had torn open •no of the envelopes and the pink flush of a eherpic caught her watchful eye. She hastened lo apologise.

" I'm sure I mean, no offence, sir." " I know, I know," said Max hastily. Mrs. Jinks retreated with a satisfied sigh, and Max, left to himself, tore open the s-.vwid envelope. One glance and the color hi; f-'>ee and his eye brightened. "Ah, : ' he said, "it's came at last! Mess 's. C.ixton and Wall present their compliuie;i:.s to Mr. Villiers, and request the favour o! an early interview in order to arrange preliminaries regarding *the puhli?aiijn <;[ the novi I now in their hands, lii'.b the partners will be in to-morrow morning, if that will suit Mr. Villiers' convenience." A second book had just" been published, iml the avidity with which it wis already heh:g read promised well for its success, i'hc old-lime poverty was almost forgotten, ft was early autumn, mid he had accepted the invit::!i«n of a wcallhy book lover to ipend a Jew weeks at his estate in ItutlandsTiiro. He had lo cat--h a local train at a siecpy country junction, and he was directed lo lake his seal ill the front p.irt of the train. He settled himself comfortably in a corner of the compartment, and waited for the train to start. Presently he heard the voice of the guard. "Front of the train, Miss. This wav ! " There were footsteps on the platform, and, a uument later, the guard flung open the door of his compartment, and a young lady, pretty and well dressed, entered. She started at sight of Max Villiers, but took her scat with apparent unconcern. " Straight through for Magdcn Park," said the guard as lie slammed the door. He was going to Mngden Park. As soon as the train moved out of the station, she picked up a book she had brought with her, and, opening it half-tray, began to read. There was a light in Max Villiers' eyes as he recognised it as his own recent production. The girl was deep in her book, and Max Villier's thoughts were divided between his newspaper and various speculations as to his fair companion's opinion of his own work.

A fortnight had slipped by, and most ol the guests in the big modem mansion at Magdeu Park had taken their departure. Nearly two years had sped by since Mai Villicrs' first book had taken the world by storm, «nd its author found himselt famous. Max Villiers and his fair travelling companion of two short weeks ago were among the few that still remained, and more than one was heard to whisper a prediction concerning them regarding their futnre relationship. And there was, In truth, ample reason for such predictions. For the first time in his life, Max Villiers had yielded to an attraction so potent that it subjugated every other consideration. He wes in love, and he fully realized it. He had by this time learned who she was. It had dropped out, piece by piece, in their frequent conversations of late, and Max felt a growing sympathy with the girl whose early life had so nearly resembled his own. She was an artist, but until the last two years success had eluded her. And then the turn of the tide had come, and she, like himself, had taken it at the flood. Steadily but surely she mounted the ladder of fame and now stood not far from the topmost rung. One brilliant masterpiece—a conception of great originality and power—had effected the change, and now her progress was easy and her name well known as one of the greatest living lady artists. And then Max told her his own story, so like hen that it seemed almost repetition. And now they, too, were about to bid farewell to the lovely Rutlandshire seenery. But before they went away, Max Villiers was determined to know his fate. They had wandered out into the great shady park, and were sitting in a little arbor bidden away

beneath the tall old elms. There was a ourious note to the man's voice that niado the girl look quickly up into his lace. Then, With a soft pink blush on her check*, she turned away her head, for she had read hii purpose. "Miss Tempest," ho began. "I have something to say to you which may surprise you, but which I cannot put off tiny longer, In three words—l love, you." He paused. The girl's eyes wc-w on (be ground. Hut she was not ani'iy, he could Bee that, so he proceeded: "True, it is only a fortnight since I first met you in the train on your w»y here but love is not slow to grow when once the fgsd te sown." He stopped and looked down at tho averted face of the girl at his side. She took out hiT purse, and from an inner compavtment, drew out a sovereign. Sh'«> looked at it for a moment, and then handed it to him. " I think I owe you this," she said shyly. "Let me discharge the debt before we talk further." Max Villiers was bewildered. Ilis face .flushed, and he rose from his roat. 1M Blanch rose also, and stood facing him, the gold coin still in her hand. "I don't understand," Max faltered at last. "You—you owe me nothing. How could you ? I have never lent you anything." "It was nearly two years ago," said the girl steadily. "You and I were in a refreshment room, and we were both poor. I had lost a sovereign, or I thought I had, and vou pretended to piok it up. No one knows how grateful I felt to you, for that was my last sovereign. But when I got home I found my sovereign in the lining of my dress, and then I understood. I tried to find you, in ordor to return it to you, for—for—l thought you might need it as much as I. But I couldn't. And it was only when I saw you in tho train two short weeks ago that I recognized you. Hut you wore prosperous then, and so I waited." Max Villierß looked at tho proffered sove reign in evident embarrassment. There was a long pause, and then their eyes met. A great joy leapt into Villiers' heart, and he grew bolder than before. "What about the interest? 1 ' he asked, taking the little hand, sovereign and all, into bis strong grasp. "It accumulates in two years, yon know." "How much do you demand?" she asked, archly. " The biggest I can get," he said. "Simple or oompound ? " inquired the girl. "A better than either," was the answer. "And what interest may that be?" she asked again. " Human interest," he said promptly. " 1 am a novelist, you know, and the demand is therefore appropriate." They both laughed and looked deep inb each o'l-er's eycG. Then Max Villiers d/cv, the girl into his embrace and took the first kiss of love from those ripe, sweet lips. For a moment or two they stood thus in silence —his arms about her waist, hor head resting on his shoulder.