A GIRL TO LOVE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9079, 1 May 1908, Page 2

A GIRL TO LOVE.

CHAPTIiIi X.—Continued

Victor slipped the letter into an envelope, and vvhilo he was addressing it there came a knock tt the door. "Cornt! in," lie sang out. The door opened and a youthfullooking cleric walked in. His cleanshaven face wart tamest and clever, and beaming with good nature. "Hard at it, Mr Grant?" "No, only a letter." "Shall I evaporate until you have done?" "I have done, Mr Rutherford. Sit down, there's a good fellow. Anything doing this evening?" "Choir practise at sight. Would you care to come? You have a certain amount of influence with Tom Kennedy, and lam afraid he has been taking a drop too much. I don't like to ask the vicar to turn him out of the choir, but I'm afraid of the man. I wonder that he persists in coming, holding the views that he professes. But I have long been trying to wean him from his evil ways. I never give up trying." Victor yawned and looked at the clock on the mantel. "Twenty minutes to eight. Yes, I'll accompany you. I don't feel like work to-night." "Thank you very much, Mr Grant. By the way, the vicar asked me to than!: you "for the interest you are taking in the Church Guild, and wilf write to you. No doubt he will invite you to the vicarage, and 1 want you to tell him the truth about the people here. The parish is a mere sink of iniquity. He is a dear old soul, but one of those very intellectual men who pay attention only to deep and elaborate sernmm\ I belisve in constant personal <contact; I believe in good fellowship, in love, in charity. And I want money; I cnu'c work with empty COfftlM. " Victor went into his bedroom, and hastily washed hia hands and face, and brushed his hair. ' "How much money do you want, Rutherford?" he called out. "Plow much?" The curate sighed. "A few hundreds, but one may as well wish for the moon here." "Five hundred pounds?" Mr Rjtherford clasped his hands together ecstatically. "If I had such a sum—if I only had it! Look from your window, Grant, at the teeming streets. Filth, and 1 vice, and misery! Why should this be amid the wealth, the power, the illimitable resources of mighty England! I want to get at the children—but I have already wasted too much time in dreams." "You shall have the money, Rutherford."

"Don't jest with me." "My word is my bond. I have a friend—pretty well off. Walt!" The> walked to the head of the, stairs, and heard Tom Kennedy helow. He was talking to his sister, and his tones were raised in anger. "Lend me a shilling. I'm sober enough, and I'm going to choir practise. I wouldn't mjs3 that for anything, even if I do know that it's all rot. Perhaps you wonder why? Well, you just find out. It may be a girl, and it may not; but I'll tell you one thing, she's a sight better than you are. Who gets the lodgers for you? Why, me! Now, then, fork over, or I'll make the house too hot to hold anybody. I'm not going to spend it in drink, neither. I'm going to buy a new necktie ~a beautiful brown i one, the colour of my charmer's /eye!" He laughed foolishly. "It's all right, Polly; I'm going to turn good after to-night. I'm going to be temperate in all things but love, beautiful love! Nobody can have too much of that. What did love do for Quintin Matsys? Through love alone he achieved greatness. Dante, with all his genius, became a slave to love; and Antony was maddened when he reflected that the charms of Cleopatra were impossible for him. Polly, your brother, Tom Kennedy, is in love! And he will cither mend from this very hour, or become a thousand times worse." "Take the shilling. I believe you are half mad." A door closed with a bang, and Tom was gone. His voice floated up from the street in a snatch of song, and a beautiful tenor voice it was, too. "Kennedy might do w?ll anywhere," the "urate said, "if lie weren't naturally idle. He is a clever, well-read, and appeciative, and at the same time stupid and bigoted. He is very vindictive, too, and I am .half afraid of him." * Victor's brow was dark. "He shall have a piece of my mind. I won't see that hard-working woman imposed upon; He keeps he" absolutely poor." Then he laughed. ''The idea of Kennedy being in love" But Mr Rutherford looked serious. "It is possible." "But improbable. A drunken ne'er-do-well, without a change of clothing to his name. Lave inspires a man to deeds of greatness, and elevates his character. We have just witnessed a sample of Kennedy's elevation!" Nevertheless, as they were passing the shop of an outfitter, they saw Keunedv standing at the counter with a box of cheap neckties in front of him. There was a rosebud in his button-hole, too. ''"There," laughed Victor, "I'm wrong, and you are right. Kennedy Is in love, and, if it be a worthy love you must foster it Rutherford. Herein may lie his complete reformation." The curate made an impatient gesture and hia face looked troubled. "I don't know—it may be so. We must wait and watch. I am afraid that his aspirations are as absurd as himself. I shall soon know." He ■ quickened his pace. "Wears late

My KBRTHA M. CLAY. Autkr v.;' '• Thrown on the World," " Her Mother's Sin," Beyond '•■<.\.n," " The. Lost Lady of Hadcbn," " Dora Thome," " An Ideal Love," etc.

and I like to set a good example. I shall be glad when it is over; I want to think about your promise—your munificent promise. It means for a new generation here." He waved his hands comprehenisvely. They entered the church by «the vestry door and Mr Rutherford turned towards his friend in his quick eager way. "Will you go up-stairs, or 'remain below? If you wish to enjoy the singing and the music, I advise a seat in the body of the church. But please yourself. We have good music, and good singing. Both the vicar and I are musical enthusiasts. Here comes Kennedy," he added in an anxious undertone. "And several others with him. You'll stay below, Grant? Right; I'll go aloft.'" j With a, bright smile he vanished, and Victor walked into a pew close to the pulpit. The bell had just chimed the hour of eight, but the late May evening vvr.s gloriously bright. The sun was sinking, surrounded by clouds of crimson fire, and a flood of golden light streamed through the painted window above the organ. A soft and holy calm brooded within the sacred edifice, which was gently broken by strains of sweet music. Graudally they swelled, under the touch of a skilful hand, until the air pulsed and throbbed with mystic melody. Human passions seemed to float upward—rage and woe, laughter and sobbing. There was the fury of battle, followed by the requiem for the dying, paeans of triumph, and hymns ot glory to the Creator. Victor listened, entranced. The music ceased, and he lizard the members of the choir talking together. It was like a fall from hetven tn earth.

CHAPTER XL VICTOR TAKES A HAND,

Twice during "practise" Mr Rutherford came into Pelham's pew and chatted for awhile. "Our choir is equal to some of the minor cathedrals," he said enthusiastically, "on a smaller scale, of course. What do you think 01 our bass? Ha is going to London next week to sing at one of the swell oratorios, and I'm afraid we shall lose him." "Surely the tenor isn't Tom Kennedy?' Victor asked, after listening attentively. "Yes," was the grudging rejoinder. "He has a charming voice. I wish that his manners matched it." * "Your organist is a clever fellow — a genius. 1 could listen to him for hours." The curate laughed. "I'll introduce you. It's about time to close the proceedings, and I am tired." "Oh, don't bother, Rutherford. I am not enamoured of the usual run of musical people." "Come, come! Wait for me in the vestry." Pelham htard the pattering of many feel. Young men and girls were laughing, and talking, and say-' ing good night. Then the curate's boyish form reappeared, and behind him the slim figure of a woman. (To be continued.)