THE BROKEN WEDDING-DAY.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 41, 13 March 1909, Page 4

THE BROKEN WEDDING-DAY.

They left the registrar's olliee hand ill hand, and in the fussy little vestibule outside embraced for the first time as man and wife.

"Oh, Wilmot!" whispered Eva, with tenderest accent on his name.

She knew him better than lo cure w.hal he might think about the demonstrativeness of her rapture. This was her hour.

His kisses, were warm on her lips ami cheeks when lie Blood away with a | shrug, "Let's gel oil', you dear, devoted little woman!" he said. "The place smells oi births and deaths—especially deaths!" She tried to laugh. "How absurd of you, Wilmol!'' she said. But Jilt voice trembled at she nestled her hot little liand into liis strong grip. It was the hand with the ring on it, and, I'eeling this, Wilmot llorlcy lifted it to his lips. It had tlio prettiest lingers that ever graced a soft and rounded wrist. "Sweetheart," he whispered, ''you'll lie the ■making of me yet—of both of lis. But it's awful to leave you like this!''

He spoke desperately, and down the three steps outside the registrar's house they went hand in hand into the mud. It was not an auspicious morning for marriages.or outdoor activity. Eva had an umbrella, ibut she neglected it until they were across the road. The registrar—a dry old stick! peered at them from hil office window. He lowered his head and looked over his spectacles, beetling his brows. He would not have risked lialf-a-e.rown on their future happiness—the bridegroom's manner had rubbed liim i|iiitc the wrong way on so rheuniaticy a morning—but it was not often he was confronted by a more winsome bride. She had thanked him eluiriningly when, a* a. pure matter of form, he wished them the customary •wish.

Ami then Eva drew her hand from her husband's, opened, the umbrella, and tried to hold it more over him than herself. Thus thev passed from the registrar's sight, her face upraised lo his. Mill the registrar missed the tear-shine in Eva's eyes, and the smile on her lips, when her husband took strong possession of her arm.

"Ixiok here. Eva." Wilmot then exclaimed, "let's say 'Good-bye' right away. I can't stand more of this till I know how I'm going to pan out!" "Yon must." she urged, with a catch in her voice. "You must. dear. And we haven't breakfasted!" "Oh. that farce!" he said. "It is a farce. With what sort of an appetite can a man sit down when he knows he must leave his wife in the evening? f want you to be sensible. It's only prolonging the agony!" "Is it such an agony, Wilmot, being together?" she a»ked pleadingly, but with a confident light in her grey eves, again upturned lo his. "It's worse." he replied. ''However-- - '

And then he forced a laugh, squeezed his wife's hand—the imprisoned oneami quickened his pace, and therefore hers.

They diverged into another street-, and at the end of that reached the restaurant of one Pisani. They ate their wedding-breakfast in a short, tubular room of dusty red plush and fly-blown mirrors. The waiter had no curiosity about them. He. brought them toffee, fried soles, toast, teacakos, and strawberry jam. and read the newspaper two tables away while they feasted, lie had Jittlc English, and no romance in his soul. Wilmot talked the most, lie waa looking at the bright side of things again, and pulled out of his pocket—the marriage eertilieate with it—Jack Eraser's last letter from Cariboo, con-

taining an account of the glowing prospect... which Wilmot was invited to share, if the trouble between him and his father continued acute. "•Imagine raking up two ounces of gold in an hour, Eva! Thai's roughly I'S, and at four hours' work dailv, five diiys a week, stands for Cliiu a'weck. Doubtless it's exceptional to strike it as rich as that; but, on the other hand, we may come upon heaps worth thousands, and then— "

Breakfast was over, and Eva had lit his cigarette for him. He let the cigarette go out under the influence of this burst of fancy. His hand was over hers on the table, covering it like a hen her chicks. And though her heart ached,

she smiled and nodded, and tried to hope with him.

"It's March now," he went on. "Call it a month getting there. My Jove. Eva, I might be back in (he autumn with a thousand or two in hand, and the outline of a prospectus! The governor Would sit up at that: but I'd not forgive him. After all this. I'd never forgive him- never!" "Oh. yes. you would!"

"I would not, I don't mind his cutting my allowance. That might have worked as a spur. It's his brutality about you, and his threats. But we won't dwell on it. He'll be sorry some day. and "

A clock began to till eleven. Tie stopped, and looked at his watch. She looked at him.

"Wilmot," she, whispered earnestly •'can't 1 come with vou?"

'lft' nipped the table instead of a'ii swcring. ami the waiter (douched for ward wi't.li the liill.

"Do let nic. deal'!" she implored oiice jiioie. when the man. had ean'ied oil' hall'-a-sovoreign to change. "There's sure to lie room on board, and T want to look aflcr you. I can work as hard as a, •man; I'm sure of that. I don't feel that. I can live here all alone, just waiting!" '

"No. no!" be said hastily. "It's not |to be contemplated! Steerage is all ! right for me "' "And for inc." she said. "What, do I rare? T shall be with you."

He rose and met the waiter, gave him a bridal-break fast fee which astonished him. and then, drawing his wife's hand again into bis arm. left the shop. Tt was a 'biiis now. for Euslon. Tlicivi Was no sense, he explained fiercely, on •the »vl top of (he bus. in poslpo:iiit« the separation until the evetiiii" **] lie would take the 12.1(1 traiuTiiistead I of a biter one. It was besl for lioih their sakes. and ..ho was not to ( rv ,„,j weaken him with ai-guiiicnl. to (hi. contra r v.

They sat with clasped hands, flvn did not try to weaken him with argument's. She gazed through her tears at the >lmp< and.glistening pavements, and wi.hed onlv that F.uston were hundreds of miles distant. Hut it soon came, and the seipicl with it. "He your brave little self, my jewel!"

This was his last command in her ear, with his cheek to her check. Then the train moved, and sh ( . was left behind. IT, She did not know what to do after thk She felt broken-hearted, vet walked to a waiting-room with steady feet. There the prints of American liners made her shut her eyes and shiver. Tt was her wcddiii!; dav, and. lho u ..h she was a wife, she was without husband and hope*. How could she look the inning yws in- tlie, face?

She siit struggling with her despair for more than an hour, and then went f iuut into the rain, the loneliest little isoul in all London.

Her stool in the office of the Advertising Syndicate, in the City lload, was iready for her, but she couldn't go there. They had given her the whole day, and it would be intolerable to be questioned by the other clerks about her reasons for returning so needlessly.

Her room in Dnliton was also ready for her, but that would be even worse at .present. Mrs. Holbrook, her landlady, knew all about everything, and would pour forth sympathy and gloomy accordance with her maudlin- nature. Her mind was a reservoir of doleful intuitions. "1 must be strong!" she told herself. "1 must!" And then she .realised that she was ill Cray's Inn, and close to the oilice of Wilinot's father. There was the modest, old-fasliioned portico, which had meant so much to her life. Upstairs she had spent Iwo contented and happy years, typing incomprehensible, lawyers,' It-tiers to Wihuofs father's dictation, and seeing Wilmo't once or twice, and latterly ■live or six times a week. And down those stairs she li;i<! come for the hist time iiliotit two month- ago, expelled by Mr. Morley for her audacity in loving ■his only son.

The old gentleman was very stem about it. Hut he was not unkind iu (he actual moments of separation, "You niiiv have some dillicullv in prowiring other work, Miss Mason." he had said, "and so I am paving you a month's Salary more than is your due. Hut I 'warn vou, any reliance you place on my son's prospects will be a mistake on

your piirt." She could see him still as he had waved her to the. door, his lips verytight. It seemed to her quite natural behaviour on his part; and, with a whispi red "Hood-morning,, sir! And lam very sorry." she had slipped away.

But now. as she looked at the doorw'ay, a sudden determination came upon iher. . ' ' I Wilmot had said he would write to I his father from British Columbia, and llell him Ihe news. lie would do it <leliamtly. and she knew how that would widen the estrangement between 'father land siin. She would break it to him herself without delay, and .perhaps—— She went up Ihe old, brass-bound steps courageously, hesitated in the outer olliee —which appeared empty and then knocked at Mr. Morley's door. "YesV" said Wilinot's father'within. "Hallo! Is that you, Miss Mason:" asked a, clerk, rising, from behind a partition. "Come in. I sav!" cried Wilinot's father testily. And, without even a nod for Mr. Briec, the clerk, she entered the .familiar room,

51r, Morloy rose, and stood witli his back to the lire and the etching of Chief Justice Hawkins over the mantelpiece. How well she knew the lineaments of this learned judge! He didn't reply to Eva's gentle "Good-morning, sir!"

''l have come, sir, to tell you " she continued, painfully conscious of liis searching eyes and judicial mouth. "Well?" he said, when alio paused. "Whatever you have to tell me, sit down and tell it. You look tired."

"X'o, sir. 1 am not tired in Unit way," she « ( iil.

"Sit down!" he insisted. Mure still, he turned his own chair to the lire, and motioned her to it.

"1 dare not sit down, sir,'' she whispered, "until you know; and you are not likely lo wish me to do so afterwards. The truth is "

"You two are married, I suppose," he said, quite calmly. She shook from head to foot; then faced him as bravely as if she had jii.it received a fresh command from Wilmot on that point. "Yes. we are," she said. "We were married this morning. But please don't think I want anything, except your forgiveness for both of us. He lias left me!"

"Left you!" "Mr, Morlcy's eyebrows started. ' ''Married this morning, ami left you! That's an extraordinary pi"ieeeding for a married man—at so early a singe. I should say!" "lie thought it the best thing to do. sir. He has gone to America—that is. he is going to-morrow. If he succeed-, he will fetch me." "Oh. indeed!"

Mr. Morley cleared his throat noisily, -turned and poked the lire, but stood up, poker ,in hand, so abruptly that lie caught her wiping her eyes.

"Sit down." he said once more, very softly this lime, although he seemed lo hold the poker as if to enforce liis words.

"Sit down, my dear! - ' But the "my dear" was the last straw to Eva's much-enduring heart. Still standing.' she let .her tears flow as thev listed.

Mr. Morley approached her. and put his other hand on her shoulder.

"My dour child." hi- said, "there's nothing to cry about. I hope. Lot your husband show what lii'Vs good for. JJo you imagine T have lipon quite in the dark, about tlipso dpsijr-ns? Xot n bit of it. I'm not so dull an old lawyer, ■my dear. The milk that was destined ■to be spilt is now spilt, and there's a-.i end of it. I'm "lad you have come to nic like this. Tt confirms me in my revised opinions of you. There! Sit ilown now. and T will tell von what T propose to do."

With a rush or happy blood in her cheeks. Eva finally sat down.

"Mow good of you!" she gasped. The lawyer smiled, and dww another chair towards his desk.

"fin going to write you a cheque for a hundred-pounds to begin with." he said. "You have a mother in Scotland. You will go and live with her. and every quarler-day you will receive fifty pounds —upon, one condition." His eyes were hardening again. "Fpoti. one condition, my dear. That you give up all communication with this' husband of yours. Let him think what he pleases. Do you see what I mean.?'' "I cannot do that, sir," said Eva. ' "T will not."

She god up. blushing more vividly tliain before.

Thp old lawyer nroduccd a chequebook, and wrote a cheque. "There!" he said, drying it. "You haven't, done so badlv for yourself, although T admit I don't beli&c you went into it simply as a financial speculation Forgot him. and "

The bride of an hour or two turned to the door. So that other straw was not the last, after all.

"flood-morning, 'Mr, Morlov!" she whispered, just oontroUiiiL' herself. "I I I'm not so bad as that!" He was with her ere she could touch the door.

"Wait!" he said. And when sh" looked at him again he was sniiliii" as if lie had something to be clad about. "M'v dear child, what can T do for vou?" he asked. "Yen cannot separate us like that, sir." she replied. "There is onlv fine thin!.' T want, and (hat is to be with him." She spoke without hope of anv kind. lie nodded, and opened the door "(live me the timetable, llrice." he said. And. returning with it. he smiled on. and increased Eva's astonishment. "We'll go and bring him back." he said. "That landlady of yours misled me. T thought you were going together, and not in such haste either, But, this alters tiling* coninlctclv. and- - Ah. ves. (here's a suitable train at 2.40! Can you manage that? Can vou?"

There were no| main- happier brM"* thn+ il.iv in London, after all. Kva rubied In Dalslon for a brush and coinli. etc.. and nipt her father-in-law at Elision t..r Ibe 2.-10 train. Tbev could not find TVilmor h Liverpool (bat 11M1!. but iiiterceiiled bini on Hie lamlinrstnge early the ncxl- day. and a"/ ihi-e returned to London. The old lawver told bis son that there was pvobnblv as nuieb gold in bis wife •i" n Cariboo: and Wilnmt said be was of the same opinion.