THE MAN FROM CANADA.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 227, 30 October 1909, Page 4

THE MAN FROM CANADA.

"Twnrty years b a lon- time. The] man may hi- tU-inl!" | '•And sifjuin —hp may not. Of com , there lmve hitherto been "» 7™ c ' 9 f° oik advertisements, but, all the same, one may hear of or from him at any moment." "And in tin' meantime? The lawyer looked atros the l'" l '^' mnhoganv table at his client with thnimhtfiil scrutiny. Outside in the magnificent park a light summer shower was falling, and big pink roses beat their wet heads against the half-open window's. A faint scent of sweet peas filled tne beautiful old room. "In the meantime—you are in possession," he said at length; "you act as proxy, more or less, until Mr, Fearun turns up." "And if he does not?" There was n baivly-disguised anxiety in the pleasant voice. "Tf lie does not—within the space ot a year—the entire estates fall by natural sequence to—you." liobert Leslie laughed, and, pushing hack his chair, he got up and walked to the windows, looking out on the farstretching park with its splendid timber, its exquisite lights and' shades, melting away to a distant line of blue hills. The lawyer watched him for a minute, then began to gather up the papers which strewed the table before him. "If he does not turn up in the space of one year," said-Leslie., turning round at last. "I can't be such a hypocrite, Burlaud, to pretend I hope he will turn up. JTv whole life and soul is bound up in this place: .I've hclpei] to make it wh.-.t 1 it is. T—l love every stick and stone of it. But—no stone must he left unturned ' to find Fearon—if he's alive. You'll see 1 to that, Burland?" "I will, Mr. Leslie. It's a strange busis ties? all through. Am- further instruc . tinns you'll send to the office? Then 1 ! Tincl better he going. I think we Jiave

■ done and said all that ia necessary to* j d»v." I ''l think so. But you'll dine with me I first. Burland ?" I "I'm sorry, I can't. I have an important appointment at six o'clock, and t see it is after half-past five now. Goodday, Mr. Leslie—good-day." When the lawyer had gone, driving down the steep avenue behind his fasttrotting bay, Robert Leslie stepped out of the library window 011 to the Ion? terrace which ran the whole length of the Manor House and looked over the .radiant flower gardens, glowing in all tlmir summer beauty of rose and ca malion*. Great iicilges of sweet - peas fringed the gravelled paths and shed their sweetness on the warm an'. L'e\ond the garden lay the park, dotted with line old timber. One could see the glrani of water through the trees, anl beyond the belt of dark (irs climbing the hii; 011 the other side there cut a line of amethyst sea. Small wonder that Robert Leslie looked with eyes half proud, half tender, 011 such a goodly hcritag.'. Sm.rl wonder that, not being a hypocrite, iie sliould feel 110 gieat, anxi.ely to see (lie return of the ne'er-do-well heir, whose corning would dispossess him of his present sovereignty, lie had lived so long at the Manor lionse that lie could recall 110 other home. Tile nephew of the late owner, til,' lad bad been brought up as the lie.v, despite the fact that old Roger Fearou's only sou still lived—presumably. He had shaken off tile iron discipline of his home

had cut himself adrift from his old life and gone out to the colonies in a fit of temper. Since then no one had heard u uything of him—beyond'a rumor whi;h came now and then —sometimes a rumor of death. And when Roger Fearon was gathered to his fathers Robert Leslie, his nephew and next-of-kin, stepped into his si'.oes. And would till them very suitably, said the neighborhood. For Robot U-slie was a popular man, respected and looked up to 17y the tenants on the es talc and cordially liked by his own class, who would have been sincerely sorry to scf him dispossessed of his goodly inheritance by a man of whom report bad nothing to "say but evil. Should Godfrey Fearon turn up, then Robert Leslie would go forth practically a penniless man save for his profession —he had read for the Bar, but never practised, owing to the fact that his uncle had kept him with him, adminis•tf.ring the estate and acting as his agent —and it would be uphill work for him to carve his way to fortune, or even a moderate competence. He would not care for himself, but ithere wae Mary to consider. His eyes grew very tender as bis thoughts lingered about the woman he hoped to call wife. He could not make her his own yet —he felt it was not fair. Supposing; the heir arrived—what of .Mary* He could not run tae i>k of seeing her cast out on the 'world Willi him. He must wait for the year, and then—surely tliev would know 'by that time whether (ludfrey Fearon was in the land of the living or not. In the n.ciintinie Mary Boden was out in Canada, staying with an uncle and aunt wijn were overpowered by a young and growing family, and. who found their tall' young niece, with her bright dispositioa and clever lingers, a perfect godsend to the rather neglected household. Robert Kilted to think that the «ea rolled between him and Mary; he longed to cable ou'. to iier to come home to marry him at once. But he must wait. That was the most difficult thing in the world to do.

lie pictured her mistress of the Manor House and all the loveliness which lay outspread before hini. and his neavt glewed at tile thought. What a home she would make for liitn! Such a hop:e as he-had never yet known—he had onh* dreamed of. Sno had known hard times, and he longed to bring her to this goodly herit-age-to know that trouble and hardship were put away in the past. and that the path shone before her couleuv de rose. But he must pns*es< his «onl in patience, and—wait.

Months passed—and no answer came to the many advertisements inserted by Mr. TCurland for tlx- mining heir to the Mil nor estate. Only there came a letter from Marv Hnden which brought a wive .if iov to Robert Leslie ill loneliness. .Mary was coming home —m a couple °f weeks she would be in her home, the snug little house under tho lee of til'.' liillf She would he within a mile of the Manor House—and Kobert.

'•Hut for you, iliss Boden, I shoal"have died." . Mary Boden looked up from ner woli with a little start. Hot thoughts-nlca-atit ones, judging by the smile tha l'ii"ered in her prettv iiazel eyes—hai I,cell fur away from the quiet house ii (lit \'e«' England village. and the vouch' the man' who' was standing lookin; nut of the window at the waving tree wroii"ht he v hack from « land of dream v.iilTa wrench. A line-looking man hi was, (oo— something over forty, witi keen Idue eyes and uu upright lx-anng llis face bore many marks of nanism] ithl privation, though his clothing wa: <ood and his air prosperous. ' But fiodfrev lfradshaw had knowi l iard times before he struck oil, as hi nit it. and emerged after many years a ;lrug"le and despair one of the richest let-tiers in the colony; He had beer ivought to tile house where Mary Bod -r vi' staying with her uneie and aunt iiiconsci'ous and badly injured, havinp thrown from ."his horse, and iad praetieiillv nursed him hack to lift ,nd aealtK again, s# that his words wero iot exaggerated after all, and a snieer< gratitude" vibrated in his voice; somabin" deeper and more tender shone in is keen blue eves as tliey rested on the ■irl's sweet face. "Don't say that," she said, gently: iilv did what I could. I am delighted o 'think von are quite well and strong n.iin. But yon must remember what a sod patient you were that helped nore than anything!" • A cood patient!" Bradshaw pnl'ed liniself up sharply. Who would not be ■rood paiient when Mary was the ii,-e? But the time had not .vet come vlicn he could speak to her of all thai ,as "rowing day by day in his heart, (c had led a wild, adventurous sort of it'e ever since his coming to the colony unnv vears a »o. He had been obliged o put'his hand to any work that turned in at first—then liis perseverance and ntevpi'ise met with its due reward, and hingri began to prosper with him. M-iliv-he made his pile—lie could, if h j; <"'o back to tile old country, re-■i-it old biiidniarks, pick up inanv broken breads. Sometimes lie wished to do eo; -t others lie rellected that little good ni.rht come of il. He was contented neu"h. He was rich; lie would make lis licMiie in the colony which had given lin, fortune, ami where now he had met he one woman who eould ever touch his lr-art. . . .... He turned and glanced at her sitting lu-ietly bending over her work, the sunliine from tile open window falling on icr prcttv head; there was something cry calm apd restful about Marv Joiien's appearance, but to-day a subtle 111-i of excitement had colored her cheeks nil rriven them a rosy glow. Presently he looki-ii up and laid down her work or'a minute. "1 must tell yon some news, Mr. Braohaw. I inn L'oing home." Bradshaw wheeled round paused a noinent, then crossed the room and popped into a chair near the girl. ' Cloiti" home?" he ecdioed. "You mean England'" >'arv noddel. 'Yes; I have only been staying here, on l<now, with my uncle; now I am cmii back to Hawkleigh." ''Hawklcigh!" 'file man's voice"was startled; somehim; leaped into his keen blue eves. '■Yes; (li) you know that place at all':" '•By name'; I don't know where T heard he name. So vou live there, do you?" "Yes; my stepfather, Dr. firahain, ves there, and so does—my future hti3<nu<l."

The blow fell—Bradshaw Mt himself wince before it. He had never suspected, never guessed, that someone had come info Marv's life before him. had taken the blessing of winch he had been drearv inii' :i 11 these blissful df.vs. His lip* whitened a little; but Marv had bent to her work again. he,- thoughts winging away 'to fiobert and the rosy future befoie them, and so she did not see the man's change of countenance. Only his momentary silence puzzled her a little. "So you are going to be married?" he •aid at last. "T wish you everv happiness. Mins "Marv. Is the wedding to be sron?"

Marv colored rO*ily. Her eyes wore vorv bright and happv. "At the end of the year —perhaps

sooner; so T shall he very busy when 11 get home. You ought to take a trip *o| England, Mr. Bradshaw— revisit old haunts. I suppose you have manv friends -you could look up in the old country?" •%>, T don't think T have; and revisiting old scenes is melancholy work, Mis* Bflden. when one hn« to do it alone, *nd after such a gap of years T should find evervthing so changed. Tt's sad woik. going back—though T often think T ought to run across the hewing pond, out of curiositv. although T am sure no one would remember me; and T have no one belonging to me—now." k His tone was hitter, his eye* vatfyr

sombre. Not long ago he had by chance Bcca the notice ot bis father's death in an English paper which had come under his notice. What memories of the piuit that had opened up—what vain and useless regrets! lie had felt he uugtil to over then, but something held him back, land then his accident kept him a pvi'soner to his bed for many weeks. That fait—and llary—made him loath to ! travel so far. After all, lie could do no 'good; the past was done with. No doubt bis father had kept his word and disinherited hiin. And tile new country of his adoption held all his interests for the present, and that future which he hud hoped to share with Mary Boihu. Will, that dream uas over. He wuu.d .lir.ve to accustom himself to a life 01 ;')omliness, even in the midst of his pro..-| pei'ty, for he could not be contented | with the second best—it was the one Woman for l)im or no one.

|i A fortnight later -Mary Bodcn was preparing for departure; her passage was 'taixon, and Bradslntw culised that the t;nio was drawing near when she would go out. of ftta life for over, yet he could not. keep away from her. Wailing for her one in the preLly sunlit room, an open paper—an English on '—lying oa the table arrested hi- intention. IFe bent and glanced at the lirst columns, ami one paragraph rose, a* i> were, and hi! him in' the eyes. lie read it with da»r! ■. of face: —,

• Fearon. —If ifir ».. : 1. who 'eft Hn.vkleigh tweniy yea;., »s\ will communicate with Me* linanil Marlir, solicitors, llu wkicigh. lie will hear of something to his advantage. A reward will be given for nay information lead' ing to tho discovery of tb<* said Godfrey l-Varon's whereabouts."

Bradshaw drew a long breath. At that momt'iit the door opened and Mary came I in, and be .straightened himself quickly, j On the impulse of the moment he said, I suddenly: ! ; 'Do you know, I'm going to too, Miss Boden, We may be fellow jpßKeengers after all. I have to go over '-on business." • A week later the homeward-bound mailboat numbered amongst her'passengers both Mary Bo<!<m and Godfrey Brad-, shaw. |

1 The voyage was calm and uneventful, save for Godfrey Bradshaw, for whom fate had reserved yet another blow. Maiy lie knew was beyond his reach. He 'could never hope to win her nowj but j another incentive had come into his life. There might be a new life for him in |the old country; since his father's soli* jeitors were advertising for him, he supposed he had not been cut oft with the proverbial shilling after all! Well—he would be glad to. see the old home agivn —glad it would nut pass into the hands o { . strangers, or even of that cou6in of hu ; , whom he had never seen, 'but wio hf heard had taken his place at home and acted the part of a son to the late owner of'Hawkleigh Manor. Mary's mention of the place recalled his boyhood's memories as they sat together on deck one fine evening. In twenty-four hours they would be in Liverpool—their journey would be ended —a journey, which, for Marv Boden at any rate, was to have the happiest of endings. "Wil'l you live at Hawkleigh when you are—married?" lie asked, with some diflicv.itv. Mary's face clouded a little. '•f think 60—1 hope so." But it deponds, you see, whether Mr. Leslie re mains at the Manor House or not." Bradshaw started a little, Leslie! Why. his cousin's .name was Leslie—and-

•He is thinking —of leaving?" he ii.i/arded. '

•fie may be obliged to do so. -You -ee. he only succeeds to the Manor House I <state under odd circumstances. If thel Inir—a Mr. Fearon—does not turn up, with a year of the old man's death, thei no»)hew Robert Leslie succeeds. If j Mr. Fearon arrives, Robert has nothing. That will difla v our marriage. He is a: barrister, but has never practised, as his! uncle always wanted him at home. Tt was hard on him that the property should have been left in such a queer way. but it was a whim of the uncle's, I suppose. Yo« see, his eon went away twenty years ago and has never been heard of since. I don't suppose he will turn up." "[ dare say not," .said Bradshaw, slowly. His eyes were fixed the blue waters through'which the big vessel was ntcudily ploughing her way. So Mary

Mils going to marry liolicrt Leslie, and expected to reign at Hawkleigh a- mis- - trc-ss! What an irony of fate! "And- , when is the year up?" i "Next month. After that, if Mr. I'Vanm does not appear, Robert is the sole owner i oi the Manor Hoiite. Oh. I hope he ; wni't turn up—l don't mean to he uni kind or anything. but it will make all > the difference t-i I'olrrr and to me if ha ! doesn't. And. after (went.v years, I su i pu-e thing? cuuhlu't lie llif- same for him . if he did come buolt." » "Xo—they couldn'tsaid Bradshaw, ; slowly; "they could not. of course."

long after Mury lioden had gone to; her cabin that night—the last night of | Jheir voyage—Bradshaw paced np and j down the deserted deck in the chill n.iooiilight wrestling with himself. The calm stare looked /lowrt upon him as he battled with his miserable jealousy—his vain longings for all that Mary could: hj-ve brought him—happiness and home, and all a man wants to complete his life's happiness But they were destined for one another, and that other his cousin and the present owner- of the Munor House. Well—what was the use' of Mr* coming between? Above all things he desired the happiness of the woman hi* loved—the woman wlio must be to him always the one woman. To secure that be would do anything—even to the s-iHficing of himself and his own intrristfi.

Many, many years (lie words linil been said to him, "Vim have made your bed . . . you must lie on it." I [aril though it was. ho must lie On it stiJi. it would lit least lie easier than to destroy the happiness of the woman lit' loved.

fir «<'honled himself to sav sfond-bye to Mary tlie next day when they arrived | in Liivernool, and they parted there, he. to «o lo T.ondon on the presumed business which had .brought him over, she] lo travel north to Tlawkleigh. 1 ''Vim will come and see me—us," she said, with a shv blush. "if you are ever in our iiart ol the world, won't you?" '•I will, indeed, flood-bye. and good Miss lioilen. Mav even-thing work logetTier for your «ood. nid all your ha|']iii'st hopes lie realised."

A month Inter "Marv Modeti was trail' formed into Mrs. f,o«lh\ and Robert tooi formal possession of his r-staie. flodfreFearon 'had made ho sijjn—no tiding even bad boon received about him—an« he wa* therefore .presumed to bo dcai i And no one noticed the stranger wli looked 011 at the quiet little weddin; from behind a distant pillar, and wh' watched the departure of the happ; bride with such longina eyes. That night, 011 board the outgoingboa bound "for Quebec, Godfrey BrndsiiiU turned his back for ever mi his old horn --looking forward to Ihe land of hi ttdnplioii. resolutely iriv : nir up all th ho»ie> and dreair.< which had filled fii Imm vt such a short time airo. He "kiwi at l«*asfc the beauty of sacrilice. aml knew that Mary had her heart's desir: Thai was happiness itself to him. ffc was ii couple of years later tlm "Robert Leslie received a bundle of paper from a solicitor in Canada, with the tid •in.N that .1 man, known throitghou C-niada' ns a wealthv colonist and n "t iiilantlir >pKi of mi mean order, name( Godfrey Rrad<ha\v, had Meiv died. leav iny all lie possessed to Marv Leslie, no? Tiodcn. It Further tran-itiml that Godfrey Bradshaw was, in realitv Godfro.v Feiron, for whom such fruitless searoh | had been made.

"And he knew T wn« going to marry vr»u—he knew all alnmt the search aivl he never spr>ke!" cried Mary Leslie, tears in her pretty i-ve*. when she heard the story. "Oh. why, ttohert? Why did he do «neh a thing?" IVrhaps ttobert Leslie guessed the dead man's reason when he. heard all Mary had to tell Inm of her friendship-, 'with the man who had called himself h;y 1 hi« dead mother's name. At any rate, name of Fearon is spoken wilh great affection at the "Manor House hv "Robert Leslie and his wife, and they will never forget—Man- especially—the man from Canada or the sPence wliK'h gave them all they desired.—Tit-Bits.