THE WOMAN WHO WAITED.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 309, 4 January 1908, Page 4

THE WOMAN WHO WAITED.

(By Arnold Golsworthy in " M.A.IV) A liltle world is apt to make much ot little tilings. The village of (jreeuhurst ■ 3 a small world, and it was quite excited by a very commonplace event. Henry W'aterble had come liack. It was only a rumour, at iirst. .Mrs. Bards,ey, passing ills, .wukcy s halt garden, perceived that lady industriously planting cabbages. And, as everyone Knows, no matter how industrious one may be, we can usually stop work lor a moment to hear news. " 'Ave you 'eard the latest, llrs. X inkey!" inquired ilru. liardsley. ilrs. Xinkey replied that she didn't think she had. It is a point, besides, ] upon which most of us are prudently i doubtful. "They say," continued .Mrs. Hard-lev, "that llenery Waterblu has come back at last." "X'onsense," exclaimed .Mrs. Xinkey, in the tone of one open to correction. then the girl 'asn't wailed for nothin' 1 after all. Why, it's ten years since lie went away!" As Mrs. Xinkey had said, ten years had elapsed since Henry's departure lor Canada and fortune. He and Jennie Marden had been boy and girl together, and by a pleasing unanimity the parents on both sides had agreed that when the children were old enough they should become man and wife. Jennie, therefore, had felt that she belonged to Henry as long as she could remember. When she was eighteen lie wan twenty-two, and as that is the age at which young men usually marry at Grenhurst, the simple village folk, to whom the little romance had even at that stage become almost a personal matter, expected hear the banns published at any time. Instead of which, the news came that Henry had been summarily discharged from the waterworks, where he was employed as an engineer, and ivould now be compelled to begin tne world over again. After the first shock Jennie had borne the blow with a tine fortitude. Henry's friends had decided that Canada was tne place for a promising young man like that, and Jennie said she would wait lor liiin till he came back, or till he sent for her to join him in the day of his prosperity. And a month later Henry wrote to say that he had arrived safely, and wouldn't send any more letters till lie hid news to tell. At the same time lie besought Jennie to—rememliei. The years went by. Jennie waitea and—remembered. She had received a very fair education from the village school, and, since she could not continue to eat the bread of idleness, she opened a school on her own account for verv young children. And while she taught she learnt. At twenty-eight Jennie was self-sup-porting. .Mure than that, she was able without much difficulty to support her widowed mother as well. Admirers were not wanting in Greenhurst, for, in spite of the vast learning attributed to her as time went on, Jennie was as simple and as unallectcd as ever, and move than one eligible young man would have laid his destiny at her feet if it had nut been for the fact that she was to all intents already aliianced.

•the most persevering of all Jennie's admirers hail been John Harl>ledown r the farmer's sou. In the course of time lie had developed from the farmer's *Oll into being the farmer himeslf— one of the very modern kind, who have gained experience in the laboratory as well as at the plough. And, as he had put it to •lennie often enough, when a fellow has Spent years in improving his condition, the ordinary run of village girl is liardly calculated to make him a suitable wife. N herca*, Jennie and he had so many tastes in common, mid, as she was prettier and sweeter than all the other L'irl« put together 1 think, John, we had better chani:e the Subject," had lieen Jennie's usual roilintyt at this stage of the conversation. On the afternoon of Henry Waterble's return -lennie, walking to* the garden gate, was a little surprised to sec John Harbledowji standing there. "Hood afternoon, John. You've been hurrying. You're quite out of breath." John llarbledown took the hand she gave him and held it in his for a lew seconds. Then, with something of a groan, he said: "Jennie, I've got news for you. You'll lie so glad. I thought if was onlv right that I should be -the lir-t to -fi.il yon. ami so f hurried on. Henry Watcrble has conic back from Canada to marry you. lie's down (her end of the village trying to rdiake olf the old 1 friends who have recognised him. He'll ■ ]>" here in a minute. I'll lie bound." And ' then, alter a pause, lie added in a weary tone: " flood-bye, Jennie.' 1 " Uood-hye—John." replied Jennie. '' a«. hiilf dazed at the stupendous news. " she timie<l and went into the house. Winn John Harhledown stated tlint r Henry would he with Jennie in a minute. (| he Wii- haying wl»;it he believed rather than wliat w;fs the actual fact. As it happened, Henry was seated in the chair of honour in the 'VotTee-room" of the u lled Uon." while friends of hi* hnjraood were urging him to tell them in a Hrtiple of \vord« p.U that had happened :o him during his ten years of absence, ind Henry not unnaturally found such I

wholesale compression a little difficult. 'Ave you made ver money, 'Knery'r" inquired Mr. (littings, tlio Idacksmitli. He? was ,i plain mail, ami Ix-licwil iu puttiug plain ijic-!iuiin ami filing plain answers. Henry smiled faintly and winked his eye at I lie crowd. lit* did lint look like a niau of overw lit'lni in; prosperity; lint then, these colonial millionaires arc fre-. quently deceptive a> to their appearance. •'i dessay I've made a bit," lie replied, punctuating his words with ;v sturdy pull gt the pewter iu front of him. "Hut,'' lie added, "it's about time 1 'eard some of your news. How's—how's Jenni' l Marden, fur instance'.'" "She's sliil Jennie .Marden," observed .Mr. Gittings with a plainness that had a significance of its own. 11l the little cottage where she liv.-d with her mother, Jennie .Marden waited. The garden gale ereaked, ami Jennie lost a moment in order to ]>eer through the v'ndow before going to open ihe door. There could be no doubt about it. It was Henry himself. He certainly looked a good deal older, i'lid he had grown .1 beard, which was not very neatly trimmed. Then his neck-tie had crept tip to the top of his collar at the back of his neck, and lie had 110 llower in his coat. A girl will notice these little defects after an interval of twenty-four hours; and after an interval of ten years they acquire a very much greater significance in her eyes. Her hand trembled as she opened the door. "Hallo, .Jennie," wart Henry's formal greeting. ~ "So- you've come back, llenry, "was Jenny's equally formal reply as she le.l the way into the parlour. for some moments there was a rathei oppressive silence. Henry .turned and laid his weather-worn cricket cup 011 the little basket table that stood before the window. Then, recognising apparently that the dainty look of the table was not improved by the ornament, he crumpled the cap in hits hand and stuffed it hurriedly into his pocket. "Nice little place you've got 'ere, Jennie," he said at length, seating himself in one of the best chairs. _ "How long have you been back? inquired Jennie, ignoring the comment. "Back!" he answered, repeating the word. "Back in Greenhurst, you mean?' "So," she said. "1 mean how long is it since you returned from Canada ? 1 thought you would have written or telegraphed from Liverpool to—to prepare me for your return.

"Yes—yes," said llenry, turning very red and shifting about uneasily in his chair. "You see, that's what 1 came to see you about. I—l1 —1 didn tdo very \\ el in Canada." . • You mean," said Jennie, "that you ve conic back poor!" . "Yes; that's it," said llenry, studying the pattern of the carpet as though the reckless mixture of colours he found there formed a study of the most absorbing interest. . , A hundred thoughts came into Jennie s mind, but she never uttered one of them. She looked out of the window instead. "You aee" continued llenry,- "the ehmate of Canada don't suit me. lin actill' quite straight with you. 1 don't want you to think I've been iu Canada all the time, because I 'aven't. I've been in London for the last nine years. 1 got a job down at the docks, and Jennie started to her feet with a look of mingled anger and bewilderment on her face. Uut she said nothing. Only tliiri time, instead of looking out of the window, she looked at Henry. And Henry became more absorbed than ever in the pattern of the carpet. "I'm actin' quite straight with you," Henry insisted. "I'm tellin' you eveijtliing. 1 was doin' pretty well then. .\ot so well as you'd 'avc wished for, 1 dessav; but still, not 'alf bad, considerin'. And it's a bit lonely iu London all by yourself, 1 can tell you. There was a young woman—a sistei 1 of a frieiul of nnne—that took rather a fancy to me. and, well, I'm actin' quite straight with you, ain't l'i—the upshot of it was—we got married." "Married!" echoed Jennie, staring down upon liini with a look of bewilderment. "Tncn you're married now!" "No, no," said Henry, transferring his attention from the pattern of the carpet to his grimy hands. "You ketch a feller up so. We laid er to rest last New Year's Day, and " "And all this time you never wrote a line to release me from my promise?" said Jennie. "Vou knew I was still waiting." "How should I know?" said Uenry plaintively, in the tone of inioccnce grievously injured; " I naturally thought vou'd forgotten all about me." Jennje turned to the window again, and to' Henry's intense relief her back was towards him, so that he felt free to look at her without encountering her piercing glance. "Were—were there—any children?" she asked hesitatingly. Ye-es, oh, yc-es," replied llenry. " There's six of 'em."

A faint exclamation of horror escaped Jenny. It's full meaning was, however, on Henry, who vonlinued: "That's what 1 came to .iee yon about. I wan', to act quite straight with you. There was lue left witli six little ones, the eldest only eight or so. We was, as you might say, alone in the world, lint, as 1 nays to myself one day, 1 says, 'lf nobody in London won't look at us, there's still a girl that's true to me in the old 'ome,' I says. And when 1 came down I found I was quite right. The first ithing everybody told me was that you were wakin' here to welcome me—that you'd been true all the time." Jennie turned with a mocking laugh. "And I suppose you've lieen true to me!" she said, in a tone of derision. "Kti? Oh, well," Henry stammered, turning for relief to the pattern of the carpet once more; "it isn't the same for a man as for a woman." " You'll like my little 'Liza," continued Henry in an optimistic tone that the circumstances hardly justified. She's quite a little woman in 'er ways. And the baby—'e ain't, a year old yet, but Vs a knowin' little customer. 'E's called 'Enery—after me.'' Jennie hardly seemed to be listening. She was staring out of the window, and there was, if Henry could only have seen it, a faltering indecision about her mouth which was possibly related to the mistiness about her eyes. Jiut dimmed as her vision was, she was looking a long, long way —back across those ten years, during which, as Henry himself admitted, so much happens—or might have happened. " ml see," continued Henry, concluding from her silence that lie had not explained the position with sullicient clearness, "1 want to act quite straight with you. if I'd 'eard when I came back to (ireenhurst that you'd forgotten me, 1 should ha' gone away again an' said notliin' to nobody. Hut when they told me you was still thinkin' of me, I knew that it was all right. Of course, just for the moment., I'm not doin' very well—in. fact, I'm out o' work, lint you've got a nice little place 'ere, and no doubt there's lots of things for a 'andy man tit do —and my little 'Liza, she can make

Vrself very useful " .Tannic, after a suspicious dab at. her oyts with her pocket handkerchief, turned almost fiercely upon him. " Well?" sslio said, with a strong effort to control both her anger and her tears; '"what arc you going to suggest now?*' "It—er—it .Suggests itself, don't it?'' said Henry, looking nj> at her for tinfirst time. '•You've 'wen waitin' for ine all this time—well, here L am. What's to fitop us gettiu' married now?" Jennie gave a snort of contempt. " When 4hey you in (Ireenhurnt that I was waiting for you, it wasn't true. I was waiting for the ITenry Waterble who went away ten years ago and hasn't come hack. And he never will come baek now." "You mean to say that you won't marry me?" asked Jlenry, as if lie could scarcely believe such a conclusion i>o6* sible. 1 "Yes." replied Jennie, with a plainness that would have rejoiced 'the heart of Mr. Gittings, the blacksmith. "That'., what I mean.' 1 it. said Henry. who wan evidently quite sincere in his opinion. Jennie walked to the door and opened it. " Will y«iu please go now?" she said. Yes. I'll go." replied Henrv. willi the fainle.t show of hesitation, as he ro*e ii> his leet and dragged his din"V cap frmn his pocket. "Hut it's a "funny thing to me that a girl should wait ten years for a feller, and then give 'im the go-by. after all/'

lie looked at her frankly this time, a* if challenging her to explain her conduet. Itut she merely held the door open and said nothing, as he passed out. 1 he next morning there was a curious rumour in llreeiihurst, thai Jenny "Marden and Henry Waterble had had a lovers' ipiarrel. and lliat Henry had a( once returned to London i.n his way back to Canada. Towards the end of the day the rumour got art far as lbirbledowu's farm, and John ilarbledown beard it from one of the labourers. JJe thought it over for some time, and then made up his mind that tliere was, after all,

only otic, person tlutt could positively allirnt or deny it. And that person \va> Jennie. She wsis sitting by the parlour window and *;i\v .John i-omiiig up the j ilh. Ho held out lii* hand, and rjlu» took it without a wont. "Is it true/' he said, -that urn Inve refused to marry llviuv WalerMe, after all?" k * Yes,'' she .said, "We anked me, and I said no." "And you meant it?" "When I .-.ay no, I mean no,'' .aiil lennio, with a (juiet smile. "And when you say yes, do you mean asked John, drawing her a little nearer to him. .Jennie smiled again, and then- was a soft look in her eye as she laid her head on hits shoulder. " Yes," she said.