THE MAILS A Question of Gratitude.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 8041, 31 January 1906, Page 4

THE MAILS

A Question of Gratitude.

I & WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 31. |-' c Parcel mail, per Matatua from Wei- ' lijigton, at 5 p.ui. Due Loudon !\lari'h t 16th - For Aucklaud and North per Kara- %'■ wa, at 7 p.m. K THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 1. Er F o r United Kingdom ami Contiiii'iil |k' of Europe, via Monte i'K'o. per s.s. I, Matatua from Wellington (for specials'' ly addressed correspondence only), at -,"6.13 a.m. Due London March llitli. i" For Wellington and South per lio- ; toiti, at 10.30 a.m. For Auckland aud North per Takapuna, at 7 p.m. FRIDAY, FEBIIUARY *2. For Australian States at (5.13 a.in., due Sydney February 7th. For Ceylon, India, China, Straits . Settlements, and Mediterranean Ports, also United Kingdom and Continent of Europe, via Suez (for correspondence specially addressed only), at 6.15 a.m., due London March 16th. For South Africa, per Moravian from Melbourne, at 6.15 a.m. Due Durban about March 16th. For Aucklaud and North per Karawa, at 7 p.m. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY. 3. For Australian States at 7 p.m. Due Sydney February 9th. For Auckland and North per Takapuna, at 7 p.m. The next best despatch for Continent !< of Europe and United Kingdom will be via San Francisco, closing at New Plymouth on Thursday, February Bth, at 7 p.m. Due London March 10th. Mails for Fiji, per Hauroto, close at Auckland cn February 7th. ! f F. D. Holdsworth, Chief Postmaster.

The young man at the desk frowned darkly as be read the letter before him. He held it at a distance, then drew it oloser. And his frown drew darker. "That's a fine proposition," he growled under his breath. " Wonder if he is aware that this is the twentieth century ? And what on earth am I to do about it? " •He stared helplessly at the closely written sheet. Then he read the letter through aloud. The handwriting was small and cramped, but he seemed quite familiar with it. " I write to let you know," he read 11 that I've had another of those bad turns, and while it was no worse than the others, I take it for a warning. I'm going to get my house in readiness to move out. This isn't a bad place to stay in and I'd be contented here for quite awhile yet, but I'm not counting on the future, I want to put everything in readiness and I'm going to begin with you. No doubt you have expectations, and perhaps I have encouraged them. But I'm going to make things very clear to you. You have professed considerable gratitude to me for what I have* done for you. I'll test your gratitude now. I believe I once told you that I had a cousin Mary, who was my playmate when we were children together. She died several years ago, leaving a daughter. I helped Mary on numerous occasions, and promised her I would help her daughter. I have done so. I have paid her expenses through college and I mean to provide for her further, liut on one condition. I want you to marry her. Perhaps you will fail to appreciate that this is the highest proof of confidence I have yet given you. No doubt you will consider me a hateful tyrant. Consider Die what you like—my mind is made up._ You know me. You know what my whims mean to me. You know I am a adamant when once I make up my mind. The day you write me or cable me that you and Emily have agreed to wed, that day I will set aside a trust fund for you and my cousin's daughter of f50,000. If you fail to win her you will get nothing, I am going to allow you all the time I feel I can safely name—and it seems to me quite sufficient. I figure it out that this letter should reach you by the 10th. I must have results by the first day of the coming month. It seems to me that this is ample time. You have youth, good health, good looks, a good education and very fair expectations. Hasten your wooing, my boy. I want to know that the dear girl is in safe hands, If you will go to my lawyers, Brigham, Clayton & Minch, you will be told her address. Don't disappoint me. This may be—no doubt will be—my last request." The young man dropped the letter on the desk and stared at it blankly.

" This is terrible," he murmured, "What am Ito do? " He looked around as if seeking aid from the office walls. " And I owe so much to this dear, old unreasonable man. His last request. Yet how can I bring myself to do it? " He picked up 1 the letter again. "He has given me ten days for uiy wooing. Ten days. Hang it all, if it was only the money, I'd know to do mighty soon. But I owe everything to him—a home, education, the very clothes I wear! And he says it's his last request. He might havo called it his only one. His cousin's daughter. I scarcely knew he had a cousin. I never heard him mention her but once. What can she be like ? IBnt what difference does it make? Hang it all! I felt so happy, so well pleased with the world ! " He struck the desk with his fist and scowled again. If I refuse it means the loss of my position here, of my hopes of advancement, itmcans the loss of my benefactor's regard. And there is some one else." He Hushed redly, " Now 1 know there is some one el.se." He sat very still for a few moments. Then ha suddenly aio?e and putting the letter in his pocket luruod towards the wardrobe and took down his hat. "I'li go and see the hiwyers," he said. " Perhaps I will find that the girl is already engaged to someone else. Or married. I'd rather she was married. Much rather. And he turned towards the door. A light rap stopped him " Come in," lie said. The door opened and a young woman entered. She was a pretty young woman, with a pretty hat and a pretty frock, and a smile that was decidedly attractive. She smiled now as she caught sight of the young man.

" Ah, Mr. Somers," she cried, "areyou in?" The young man had started at sight of his caller. " I'm very glad to say I am in," he replied. " But you were just going out." He replaced his hat. "It was in connection with a matter of little consequence," he said. Then he remembered, "At least, it is a matter that can wait. Pray be seated." ♦'Thank you. You have a pleasant ollice." " 1 lind it so. Of course I have consideribl* time to admire it." The girl laughed. - "Admire it while you can," she said, • Mr. Garver says you are doing very well for a beginner." " I am glad Mr. Garver thinks so. Ifc ieems pretty slow climbiug for me." " Then you will appreciate every successive height that you attain." H<»w charming she looked, how sweet and #w>d. He buttoned his coat nervously and the rustle of the letter in his inner pocket struck a chill to his heart. " This is the first time you honored me with a call." " I promised you I would look in at your new quarters, you remember." " Of course, I remember, but I was afraid you wouldn't come." She hesitated and looked at him with a curious expression. " I was in the building and saw your card :on the door. It seemed unkind to pass it by." "Itwould have been very unkind. And that of course you couldn't be." She flushed slightly. " I had called at Mr. Garver's office. Ho has been very kind. He promises to find me a situation where I can do copying and perhaps act as foreign correspondent." The young man flushed. "Is that necessary ?" he asked. "Yes," she answered, "I think it is. I : can't live on charity, you know, I have an excellent education and feel that I should utilise it. It will make me happier to know that I am independent." She laughed at his serious face. "You don't happen to want an amanuensis, do you ? " He shook his head. " Not yet." "She has excellent references and is willing to come on trial. He shook hishead again. " I don't like it," he said. " Don't like what, Mr. Somers ? " " Don't like your bantering on this subject. Don't like the idea of your doing office work," headded boldly. Her clear eyes steadily regarded him. " You are unusually serious this morning, Mr, Somers. Has anything happened ? Have you received bad news? " " Yes," he answered. "I am sorry. Perhaps my call is not opportune."

She half arose. " No, no," he quickly said. " I consider it quite providential." She laughed merrily.

That soundß almost desperate. Well, w«' must make the moat of it. It may bo a long time before another suoh opportunity occurs." "What do you mean by that? " * Mr. Garver thinks he has secured a desirable place for me as foreign correspondent with the Acme Watch Company. They are about to establish a new place, and want to move their clerical force there. It looks like a fine chance for me." He stared at her. " You are going away." "Why yes, I must go away if I take the situation."

" Going away," he murmured. Then he Beamed to take a sudden resolution. " Miss Sehvyn." " Yes Mr. Somers." " I want to ask your advice, I —how long have I known yon, Miss Selywn '? " " It must be all of four months." "Yes. Four months, but I seemed to have known you much longer than that, much longer." " It's only four months. I met you the first time soon after I left college." "Yes. And do you think, Miss Sehvyn, that a four months' friendship warrants me in asking your advice in a matter that very closely and and seriously concerns my future ?" '" We are very good friends, Mr. Somers. If you think my advice will be of any service to you it will be freely given. But am I the one to consult." " The very one, Miss Selywn." She drew down her fair brows a little at this. Then a gentle smile rippled across her face. " I am listening," she said. The young man squared his chin and drew a long breath. " It is a question of gratitude," he began. "Notof duty, please understand. If it were duty I could settle the question very quickly. But this is more dillicult." The girl nodded. 44 1 understand, Mr. Somers." "Yes." He paused a moment. "My father and mother both died when I was very young and left me quite alone and quite friendless. Then an acquaintance of my father's took me in his keeping and fed me and clothed me and educated me. No father could have done more forme. All I have I owe to my benefactor and lie lias asked nothing in return—until now. I have seen him only at rare intervals, his health is not good and he spends much of his time abroad, but I hear from him quite often—as often as he is in the mood to write. Yesterday a letter came that greatly disquiets me. He tells me that he believes his days are numbered—but this he has told me several times before. It is not the premonition that worries me so much—for I believe he is in a nervous state that often tills him with gloomy forebodings—it is a test of my gratitude that lie asks, and asks in a way that makes it very hard for nie to know just what to do." The girl's clear gaze did not leave his face. "Does it require too much of a personal sacrifice?" she asked. He flushed.

" It is hard to explain," lie answered. "He asks me to do something which hurt; my pride, that wounds my feeling.*, that - that makes me appear contemptible to my self."

"But, surely," says the girl, "you do not hesitate? " " Think of the gratitude I owe him." " But your benefactor does not own you." "It seems that he thinks he docs.' And he is old and ill and believes lie is dying." " Still you should not hesitate." She paused. "No doubt he offers you pomp reward if you comply with his wishes?" " Yes : a large reward. Wait. It concerns some one else equally with myself. There was a brief silence. " You must decide this question for yourself, Mr. Somers," said the girl. "I can't put myself in your place." He struck the table with his hand. "I have decided," lie cried. "Letthe consequences be what they may, I will refuse hi" proposition." T e.girl smiled, and there was strong approval in her expression. " I think you have done right," she snid. "Oh, I'm sure of that now," he cried. His mood has changed, his face has brightened. " I have a benefactor, too," said the girl. "He has put me under the deepest obligations. I hope he will never test my gratitude as yours has done." " Then you can sympathise with me," ho said, " I was afraid you did'nt." " Perhaps I forgot for the moment how nearly my own personal dependence resembled yours." The young man stood up and steadied himself with his hand on the desk. "Miss S#lwyn," he said and his voice was low and trembled a little. "I don't want yon to think me averbold, nor think I have taken advantage of your presence here. But you are going away and I feel thai] must tell you something that I have had on my mind ever since I lirst met yon. Can yon guess what it is? lam poor, my propects are not alluring, yet I feel (hat I wiL conquer fate, and—and what I want to as! is this—will you wait for he, Alma, until 3 can come to you and ask you to share nn home and my life ?" Her clear eyes clouded. She turned hoi face a little away. Then she suddenly put out her hand. "Yes," she said, " I will wait." A moment later she laughed merrily. " What is it, Aluia ? " " Something that strikes me as being verj funny. I had a letter day before yesterday from my benefactor. He told me to call thi* morning at the office of young Henry Somers. 4 He has something to tell you,' he wrote Can you wonder that I am amused. Is—is there anything else to have to tell ?'' "Nothing," he answered. "Why that seems very strange. Told you to come to my office ? May I ask the name of your benefactor?" " Why, yes. He was my mother's cousin. His name is ltobert Humphrey." The young man gasped. Robert Humphrey. And yon are his cousin's daughter? Blither name is Kinily." "My name is Alma Emily. Emily was my mother's name. But what is the matter?" For the young man has dropped back in his chair and was holding his sides. "Oh, this is too good ! " he cried. Bobcrt Humphrey is my benefactor, too! And that test of my gratitude was marriage with you, dearest girl! " " What! " cried the dearest girl. " And he sent me here ! Why—why, he must have known all the time." "Ofcourse he did. It's his little joke. And a beautiful joke, too," Then the girl laughed till the tears stocd in her eyes, " But you gave me up." " You advised me to." Then they laughed together. " I think," said the young man presently, "that I will write out that cablegram." lie bent over his desk for a moment, " There," he said, " How will that do ? " She took the slip and read it aloud ; " 'Ten days enough. We both sendlove.'"