IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 60, 31 August 1907, Page 4

IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

0 I Lady Blanche is one of the best of women, but still, she is a woman. That .she should be a matchmaker and have designs on her brother's future, was perhaps, only natural. It was equally a foregone conclusion (hat I. a mere man, should, in her opinion, not know what was good for me. I was visiting at her home, 'Hie Towers. Blanche's hubby was a good sort and my little nephew and nicies were as mischievously attractive a Irlo as » bachelor uncle could desire. 1 was pro'longing my stay ipiite a time.

i Something was upsetting Blanche. For the last two or three days she had been

as grumpy with me as —well, as a sister lean be. If anyone reading this happens to be a brother, ho will know how grumpy that can be.

I had to run up to Loudou, and, missing the train back, did not return till tlie morning, reaching The Towers about lunch time. When 1 entered the breakfast room I was surprised to find I Blanche had not the kiddies with her. "Hullo!" I exclaimed, "where arc the

She looked nie over keenly for a moment, and then said quietly: "Why not ask where their governess, Miss Carstairs, is?"

You might have floored nie with the proverbial feiil'i r. I felt myself turning red to the roots of my hair. I am an awful ass when taken unawares about anything—l own up to that. "Come," 1 expostulated, "you know I

am awfully fond of the little demons." "1 know you have seen a great deal of them lately," she admitted, adding sluwly, "I have given their governess notice. She is leaving this evejiing. ,; I rather f-rm-yJ.„loffigl^nJfr—ll. p news was disturbing. But I contrived to say quietly: "That is a pity. The children are very fond of her."

With that I turned away. Blanche had those steely blue eyes of hers fixed

on me in most disconcerting fashion Though I (latter myself I showed noth ing of what; I felt, my heart was hot with anger. The reason was plain to me. Blancheconfound her!—had discovered my secret: my love for pretty Queenie Car-

stairs. She was turning the girl away, in the hope that things had not gone too far.

An if it mattered to me that Queenie had been forced to earn her daily bread! Was not my darling, fairer, 'purer, truer, and far more fitting for wife than the cold, haughty Lady Sybil whom Blanche had designed for me? Leaving to-night! I flushed again, with resentment this time. How cruelly unfair such treatment was—how womanlike!

Well, Blanche should see that she had precipitated matters. T would at once see Queenie and tell her in words what she must have read in my manner ere this.

The midday hour was the governess's own. 1 knew where to usually find her. She look a hook and spent the time beneath the trees at the Southern corner of the grounds. Milking an excuse for leaving Blanche, I got my cap from the hall and, leaving the house, sauntered in the direction of the clump of trees where I guessed Queenie would be. On the point of turning the corner which would bring me to the open space 1 suddenly halted. Voices had reached my ear, one of them Queenie'a. I recognised it instantly. To whom could she be talking? Was it mean of me to the hurdles which separated us and look through? Well, perhaps. Anyway, I did so, and started pretty violently at what my eyes lighted on. Queenie was with a tall, dark, handsome man. The pair were holding an animated conversation. The girl was apparently greatly agitated, as if fearing discovery. Did I let the parted bush fall back nnd hurry away before descending to the common level of eavesdropper? No, I did not. A mad feeling of jealousy possessed me, and I remained rooted to tlio spot, looking and listening for all I was worth.

I It seemed that I was in at the death; that is to say, that the couple were on the. point of parting, for a voice which I had thought the sweetest in the world said:

"Yon must go now, dear. It was madness for you to have come. I am going to London to-night; here is the address." She handed him a piece of paper. "Now, good-bye, and come thero early to-morrow." I Then—heaven knows how I crushed the feeling that prompted me to rush out and knock the man down—they kissed! For a full minute I saw only a blood-red color, and when I came out of the whirl the couple had parted; the man had gone, and T could see Queenie disappearing in the direction of the house.

I was very sick—l suppose wounded vanity helped to make the sore angrier. I had seen quite enough—Queenie had a lover already. T called myself every kind of mad, blind fool I'could think of, cursed the stupidity which had read in the girl's manner that she cared for me. What an unmitigated ass I had been, to be bewitched by a sweet flower-like face and innocent childish ways.

And yet—how very miserable I wast -before 1 saw what I saw, I would have staked mv life on her truth. The scales

had indeed fallen from my eyes. In a fit of the blues, I got back to the house and shut myself in the library; there smoked like a furnace. Blanche had been quite right—but a rough moment would have ensued for her had she dared to say so. Later, the dog-cart came round. I saw the groom lift the bag into it and presently watched Queenic's departure. When I turned from the window and looked in the overmantel, I was startled by the haggardness of my face. 'Clone! I realised that now—gone out of my life. I laughed—the most miserable sound you ever heard a pair of lips utter—and tried to console myself by saying that all women were alike. But t 'found that a poor salve. My heart told me that Queenie was unlike any other woman. Three months went by. The London season was in full swing. I was re-es-tablished in Blanche's good books, for I was at her beck and call, and she found me easy to deal with. As a' matter of fact, I hated the artlflcinlitv and sham of Society. But I was possessed of such a feeling of unrest that T welcomed any diversion that took me out of myself. I did not find Lady Sybil's presence so hateful as before; was often with her. I believe Blanche was laughing in her sleeve all the time, ascribing this to her own successful dismissal of her governess. She had no knowledge of what I had witnessed beneath the trees. The change that was coming over me was not a pleasant one. I was conscious of that, although I made no effort to prevent it. I used to be frank, open, lwppv, and laughter-loving; now I wore the armor of the cynical, sarcastic man of the world.

The kiddies—poor little mites—saw such a change iu their uncle that they fled terror-stricken from my presence. And T don't wonder. As a matter of fact, T was'l.l king tilings very badly. Vorgciting was out of the question; sleeping or" waking, the sweet, shy, uaintv grace of my lost love was ever [ before me. T still loved her with all my heart and soul.

In the silence of the long, sleeplii.s nights, when picing the room, I would cry aloud her name in utter hopelessness. The act of a madman and a foolit yon think that you are right; I was conscious of it even as her name left my lips. At home, in my bachelor chambers, I had grown so 'morose that friends shunned me. I was astonished, therc-

fore, when on an evening I purposed

spending alone- s-ve for the companionship of mv pipe (here came a ring of the door-bell. My man entered In,say that a gentleman wished to see me.^ "1 am not at home." I responded irritably, adding, "Who is it?" "I don't know, sir. He gave no name; said he was a stranger to you." . "Very well. Show him in." This sullen instruction was given move by way of diversion from the unplcasantnass'of my thoughts thai; any desire

to be courteous. When the caller entered T looked up carelessly, then was startled into activity, coming to my fc.ee

with the promptness of a soldier obey-

ing the word of command. To my utter amazement T was face to face with the man T had seen beneath the trees with Queenie. There was no mistaking those dark eyes and clear cut features. I remembered them too well. "What do you want with me?" T suppose I shot out the question rudely. Any way, my visitor fell back a pace; was plainly disconcerted by the manner of his reception. "f am conscious," he replied nervously, 'that 1 have no right to come here. But," lu's yoic faltered, "it is for Queenic's sake: she h ill—l am afraid dying." I feit that my hair must be standing on end. But 1 could not have voiced a word fo save mv life: could only si are at him with eyes that felt as i'f they would Imr-t from their sockets. "Your name." he continued, "is for ever on her lips—if you would but come to her! I know I am asking a great deal—but il is so pitiful to hear hei, and the doctor says it is the only chance."

■T don'i understand," T said, struggling with the network of liewildorineut in

f which I felt enmeshed. "Who are you? 1 What are you to Queenie?" "I," he answered simply, "am her [brother." | I If over a mail came near choking with rage—self-rage—l did then. Her brother! ' Those two words Seemed to possess auger-like qualities and to be boring into ■ my brain. _"I got into trouble," the visitor continued, and, as he spoke, shame flushed his face hotly, "some years ago, .and had to change my name. Queenie was then—always has been, God bless her! a little brick. She has helped me always. She " Then lie broke off, and continued impatiently: "Whyam I wastprecious moments talking about mysidf? Her life hangs by a thread. You and you alono can save her. Will you?" Her brother! The augers—they felt red-hot by this time!—were still boring away. Her brother! Fool, fool that 1 had been. Why had I not gone—as a man with the brains of a blackballs would have done—straight (o the girl on that fatal day?—she would have explained things. And now she was illdying. Heaven only knows the fierceness of the prayer in my heart then—that I might Ijl> in time to save her. I leapt to the hall; inside a minute bad got into a coat and rammed a hat on my head. . I only just wasted sufficient time to grip my visitor's hand and say brokenly: "I wronged you, I wronged her- • Heaven forgive me. I thought you were Qucenie's lover. I saw you together in the garden that day that she left The, Towers." A light 'seemed to break in on him, for he said suddenly: "I see it all now! Poor little Queenie —all my life long I have been a trouble to her, and now this lies at my door. She was heartbroken that you let her ;

leave without a word of farewell." He had driven up in a hansom; hail kept the cab waiting. My promise to the driver of double fare if he covered

;he distance quickly landed us at our

lestination under ten minutes. "I was fortunate," said my companion, 'in finding you at home. Short as is

the distance, it seems that I have be™ away hours. But my heart beats high with hope." I put out my hand and pressed his in sympathy; my own heart was too lull for words. He continued:

"I must warn you that she is v>rv I. lam afraid you will be shocked."

I When the cab drew up we jumped out, entered the house, and softly ascended the stairs. A white-capped nurse came forward to meet us, saying: "I am glad you have returned, Mr. Carstairs. Is this Mr. Ivimy?" When 1 nodded, she added: "I doubt if you iiav<j come in time; she is so weak and exhausted. But she is conscious; you

lay speak to her—but be very careful."

1 went towards the bed, and, when I [saw what was lying there, started back with an awful fear at my heart. Could that wasted figure fc Queenie? The waving masses of golden hair were gone, the lashes of lier eyes ' swept eheslvs that were as white as snow.

By a violent effort I contrived to master my emotion—warned to doing iO by the nurse's gesture. Then I leaut jver the bed and said softly: ''Queenie! My little love."

There was a suppressed passion of tenderness in my words, and I took her

tiny hand in both mine, pressing my lips to it lovingly. Queenie stirred uneasily. Suddenly her beautiful eyeß opened and she gazed straight into mine. There was no surprise in their depths, only a great coo tent.

"I knew you would come—at last, dear," she whispered. "Kiss me good-

' Not good-bye, darling," I returned in an agony of fear. "Say good-night—-you will live for my sake." A gentle smile as she clung feebly io my hand. Then the smile died out and she fell asleep—as a tired child might have done.

"I think you have saved her," the nurs? whispered earnestly. "She will sleep now for hours."

Silently, with hearts o'erbrimming with thankfulness, we two men left the room. When outside., we gripped each other's hands in sympathy, the tears rolled down our cheeks unchecked. The little girl was very dear to us both.

Queenie came out of the Valley of the Shadow. Very slowly health and strength came back to her. I took up my quarters iu the house, and was never away from the side of the, girl 1 loved, except when the nurse absolutely turned me out of the room. Later, Queenie told mc her brother's disiory. TTe bad got into a fast set, ran through what little money bis father had left him, gambled, drank, and, in a fit of mad despair, had forged a friend's name to a bill.

Then he disappeared, hiding bis identity from everyone except his sister, of whom he was passionately fond. Brave little soul as she was, Queenie wont out. as a governess, whilst her brother worked night and day in untiring effort to buy baek the forged bill. Then the unexpected happeti'-d; (here fell to him a legacy—if scorned like a lump of happiness dropping from the skies, radiant, and unable to wait and write his good news, he had at once rushed off to tell his sister, m 'Cting '.el beneath the trees—an inlerview wJ-.ich T had seen and partly overheard.

Humility! Tt is not the word for it. T felt that I could fare on humble pie for th" rest of my life—and deserve to. But my liftl'e girl would have none of it, insisted that she was as much to Maine as I was.

Blanche? M'well, we are not speaking as we pass by—just now. She'll come round in the end, of course. Sisters are a lot of trouble at times—aren't they?