FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 59, 17 May 1907, Page 4

FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE.

J (By Bowes J Seer). The manager of the linn of Dunn and Grainger stepped out of his private room with a puzzled frown upon his face. •Ft ihling.'' he said, as he entered the little glass cupboard dignified by the name of "Cashier's Ollice" "what was the amount of (Jreeu's cheque, the one 1 gave y.ni to cash on Friday T "Six pounds/' was the reply. "You're quite sure?" "Quito. Von had the money yourself."

"Yes, i know 1 had six pounds, but ;they've put it down in the pass-hook as sixteen.. There must be some mistake. iUm over to the bank and get the cheque, or. if you can't do that, see if the pass-book agrees with their ledger.'' Sidney Fielding put on his hat and went out. He was positive that the cheque had been for six pounds. But the banks were equally certain that it had been for sixteen, and that they had paid the latter amount. Asking them to send the draft around as soon a« they could, the cashier made his way back to the oltiee, cudgelling his brains to discover how such a mistake should have occurred.

Suddenly lie recollected that lie hail not cashed this particular one himself. He had given it to Tom Foster, a fel-low-clerk, for tht purpose. IVrhaps lie would lie able to throw some light on the matter. As Fielding turned the coiner of Lime stre?» lie almost ran into the arms of the man of whom he was thinking. Foster had come out hurriedly, without even troubling to put on his hat. Nervously catching hold of Fielding's anil, he drew him into ail empty saloon bar of the nearest public house. "I heard Mason talking to you just now," he said quickly. "What's all this fuss about Green's cheque?" "Just what I wanted to see you about," replied the other. "The bank savs it was drawn for sixteen pounds, and that they paid out that amount. I'm sure they're wrong. You remember cashing it, of course? You'd better come back with me, and—why what's the matter, man?" he broke off abruptly, noticing Foster's white face.

'•For heaven's sake don't speak so loud," begged the latter. "Fielding 1 I did cash it for sixteen. I meant to pay it back the same evening. I heard positively that Chatterbox was a dead cert, and—Sidney, old man, don't split on me. I'll iW. the money somehow."

"You mean to tell me you tampered .with the cheque?"

The other nodded. "You must have been mad." "I was. There seemed no other way of getting the money. The rent. . . . Sidney help me this time. I'll pay you back. I swear I will. I'll never bet again. It would kill my mother—and Dollv."

"You should have thought of that before. Can't you see the whole thing must come out? Mason's waiting for my report now, and the cheque will be along from the Irank shortly. You know the sort of man old Dunn is."

Foster made another incoherent appeal, and then, as he realised the hopelessness of his position, relapsed into a terrified silence. For a few moments Fielding stood quite still, apparently engaged in intently examining the spirit casks behind the counter. Then lie said: "Better make a clean breast of it. Dunn might. . . ."

"Oh, T can't, I can't." exclaimed Foster. "He'd never overlook such a thing. And if I went to prison it would kill mother." And he buried his face in his hands.

Fielding knew the character of his employer enough to know that Foster was speaking the truth. Swiftly his thoughts went back to the time when he first came up to London and made the acquaintance of the father of the miserable figure beside him. Happily, death had spared old Mr Foster seeing his son come to thjs. Sidney had felt his loss perhaps even more than his own son had done, for the two had been great .friends.

It was to Mr Foster that Fielding owed his appreciation of the finer sides jof life and his distaste for the coarser pleasures in which the majority of his class indulged. Unfortunately, Mr Foster was unable to influence his son in the same way, for Tom was of a weak, plea-sure-loving temperament, easily moulded by the people and circumstances which surrounded him. Fielding had done his best to keep the other straight—partly out of gratitude towards his father and partly lor the sake of mother and sister.

Suddenly, Dolly Foster's face rose before him, and with it came the thought that there was one way, and only one out of the difficulty. He would lie called upon to account for the alteration in the. cheque, and, at first, the blame would fall upon him. If be refused to exoner ate himself, no suspicion would attach itself to Foster. True, it would mean rain and disgrace to him: but lie had 110 relatives to share it with, save an ltiu-ie in Scotland, who had probably forgotten all about him long ago. And then there suddenly flashed into his mind a maxim of Antistliencs which his dead friend bad been fond of quoting: "It is a good thing to be ill-spoken of for good deeds." '

"Gome, Tom," he said. "Pull yourself together. (io back to the office. They'll be wondereing where you've got to. If anything is said about the cheque you know nothing."

Foster looked up with a gleam of hope in his eyes. "How are you going to manage it?" "Don't trouble about that, hut do as I tell you." "But they'll blame you. 1 can't let you " began the other. Fielding gripped his arm and drew him towards the door. "It isn't a question of ourselves, but of your mother—and Dolly. For their sakes you will say nothing, whatever happen.-," Dolly Foster was indeed the daughter of her father —like him in almost every respect—and as he thought of the franK, honest, brown eyes, incapable of deception or meanness, his purpose became strengthened, a thousandfold. Yet—that she should think him guilty, she whom he had hoped one day—well, what was the good of thinking of that now?" "Now, Tom," he exclaimed abruptly. "Either give me your solemn promise to say nothing—not for your own sake, but for the sake of your mother and sister—or I wash my hands of the wdiole matter, and leave you to face the music. Which is to be

Sidney Fielding walked rapidly down I-eadeiihall street and Cheapside." tryinj; to realise what would be the exact result of his action. He came to Ludgalr Circus, and turned olf towards the Embankment. It was almost deserted, lie leaned.his elbows 011 the parapet, ami looked at the barges drifting up stream, and the little crinkled heaps of brown watr that went whirling past. And. inextricably mixed up with tliem all. a pair of soft brown eyes smiled gently upon luni. What would she think if she knew the truth? She must not know. 01 course. That would spoil everything—but if she did know? At last lie turned and walked back to Cannon street. He might as well go home, and wait events. He was saved further suspense, however, for just as he Was taking his ticket a detective touched him on the shoulder. "I don't wish to be bard 011 him if he is penitent, and will make restitution ami confess his fault; but we must make an example for the sake of others," Mi Dunn was saying, as Fielding and bis captor entered tile chief partner's private room. But the suspected man was not penitent, and would explain nothing, lie neither confessed nor denied, and refused to inform the magistrate before whom Ik was charged for what purpose he had taken the money. In such circuit)stances scant merev was to be expected, and he received it.

"Who would hiive thought it'/" smd Mrs Foster oil the evening of tin* trial. "And your fallior should think such n lot of him. It only shows how the of us may Ik* deceived." Her son seemed disinclined to til Ik about and went to bed early. "Poor Tom's terribly upset. Dolly. Von can see he is. I don't wonder he prefers not to talk about i<. As a matter of fact. I can't say I ever approved of his being so friendly with Sidney Fielding. J never took to him like yoiii poor father did. There was. something almiit him 1 never could understand.'' ''lie mav he iniUMrnt, after all. mo ther."' 'Then why didn't he make a elc:<n breast of it. dear?" "f don't know. I can't uudcr>tain' it; to me he always appeared to be the kind of man who could never do a tiling of that sort." She rose, savin# she was tired, (no. and would go to bed. At Ihe door o; the room she paused. "Mother," she »aid> "Do you really believe Sidnt v Fielding is guilty of this tiling?" "Why, my dear?" began her mother. "J'eeause i don't." said the girl. ; 'T don't believe it, and never shall." Some month* afterwards Foster was culled into Mr Dunn's private room. He

had boon promoted, and now occupied Fielding's position. •"I liuvu sent for yon," began the old irentleman, * k to ask if yon would liave any objection lo or—well, as a in;itor of fact, Foster, wo are thinking of giving Fielding a ehanee of redeeming his character; but before taking hiui back, we think it only right to ask if yon and llie others would have any objection. He would have to or—-share your oJlie<v" i Foster colored. "I—ev—be-oh, cer.taiuly- 1 mean certainly not." I "Thank yon. Mr Foster. I felt suro Iyou would meet us in the right spiri'i/'

J Jut Mr Dunn had not estimated the fhiractcr of the man with whom in- was dealing. The linn's letter was totally ignored, and the senior partner had to eomiude sorrowfully that his kindness had been wasted upon an unworthy object.

To do Foster justice, he had not consented to Fielding's sareiliee without a struggle. Night after night, after the .atU'r's arrest, tie had made up his wind that he would put tilings right on the following day. But the following day lie asked himself whether he was justified in taking action. Fielding has insisted upon taking the course he had. and he had solemnly promised him to keep silence. Further, as Fielding has pointed out it was not for his own sake. AH this time Foster had not attempted to communicate with Foster, and as months passed, and promotion come. Foster began to feel less desirous of meeting bis benefactor. Fielding, too. found his self-imposed burden almost more than he could bear, ttoyal as it might be to be ill-tro itod and ill spoken of for good deeds, lie felt at i times that he attempted too much, thai Ihis moral nature was not strong enough I for such a trial. I At last the ordeal ended, and he found himself a free man again. Then i came Mr Dunn's letter, which he j fiercely tore into a thousand pieces, lie j could not stand the daily strain of beling regarded as a jail-bird by men whom he despised. After all, he had some ride left. But the thing that hurt him most was Foster's silence. During the trial, during his imprisonment, he had not expected, indeed, had been rather glad not to receive a letter or visit; but | now, when there could be no danger, surely what he had done deserved a word ;of thanks! But none came. And Dolly!

Then began the weary fight for the means of existence. lie had tried bis' hand at almost everything, but wlien respectable men with unimpeachable references found it almost impossible to get work, the man whose last, situation bad been in gaol found himself terribly handicapped.

Dreaming again, but with that strange consciousness of knowing tliat ha was dreaming. How often lie dreamt of her now, much more frequently than he used to do when he was comparatively happy and prosperous. At the lost traveller xlying of thirst in the desert dreams of streams and fountains, and the starving wretch of banquets and feasting; so lie, too, dreamt of his heart's desire, when in his waking hours it farther from attainment than ever. And yet this dream seemed different from the rest. Before, lie had fanci."! himself with her in various surroundings, but always beautiful ones. Nothing ugly, or sordid, or painful h ■ ever marred their perfect happiness. But this place did not seem very beautiful. The walls were stningey !>we, and tlier:' were rows of beds, ami white figures moving among them. A eurio'M dream, ihis; and she who had always been clad in dainty raiment was dressed in black; she who had always smiled <o radiantly on him was now regardii'j"J hiin with sorrowful eyes.

He tried to go to her, and as lie moved a sharp pain shot through )iini.[ figure in white bent down. "Ilow are you feeling?" someone said. "Where am I?" he asked. "In hospital Yon have had an ac;ident." Ah, he remembered now. This was no dream. That morning, hopeless uf anything else, he had gone down to (he docks. Then, an hour or two afterwards. had come a sudden shout of warning, a crash, and—darkness. But, if he were not dreaming, why did Mint black figure still stand there, regarding him so sorrowfully '! She was approiehing. "You are not in pain, 1 hope?" she said softly, bending Over him. He looked intensely at her. "You are Dollv Foster!" "Yes." "I am not dreaming, then ?" "Xo." "But why are von here?" "Never mind that now. Tli 0 doctor say" you must lie still and not tnf!.:. and 1 lien you will soon get well. I will come and see you again soon." "To-morrow?" he asked, esiyrlr. I

"If it is possible. I will," she said. As soou as he grew a little better told him what had happened. Some months ago her brother bad been tal-.en ill with fever, anil, during hi~ delirium, had told the truth about the clieipi'. Immediately lie recovered she had insisted that he should exonerate friend. I'mler the circumstances the firm allowed him to resign. The all'-iir had not been made public, and Foster was now in Canada, working hard, she was glaj to say. When convalescent, Dolly Foster mid her mother insisted upon iiis visiting tliem.

"There is still one tiling that 1 'lo not understand," said their vi-itor one evening to Dolly, "and that is how you could possibly know I was at fir London hospital." ''The nurse sent, for me."

"But why? I mean llou- did she know that we were-friends? - ' Dolly coloured .1 little. "Tiiero was a photograph in your pocket." she said slowly. "The photographers' name was printed 011 it, and he was alile to give her my address."

Sidney Hushed a little, too. Ili> understood now. livery other proof of identity he had deliberately destroyed, but Dolly's photograph he could not part witii. The two sat silent for a while. Then she said banteringly : "You really didn't deserve to be found, you know. I've missed that photograph for move than a year. It was the only copv I had, and, now I've found out who (nuk it. you'll have to give it back to me.' "Yes." said Kidding slowly, "you shalll have tile copy back, certainly!" She looked a little surprised. "In exchange " h,> wen[ 011. "111 exchange ? For wj.it ?" "Surely you know," 1> 0 said softly. And their lips met. The End.