The Story Teller.

Wairoa Bell, Volume V, Issue 177, 23 December 1892, Page 7

The Story Teller.

HIS LITTLE GIRL; OR WORKED OUT

( Continued.') Among the first comers were the Peytons ; Guy. with his mother. Sir Arthur was laid up with the gout. The visit was not altogether a success. Mr Eawdon was at home, and there were not other visitors. He always struck strangers in the light of a surprise He stood in front of Lady Peyton, clasping and unclasping his wrist, shuffling his feet, replying in short, jerky sentences to her efforts at conversation, and calling her ‘ Ma’am.’ Guy, after the first shock was constrained and polite ; a different man from the pleasant stranger Ellinor had chatted to in the field.

She wondered did he repent having brought his mother to the house. She imagined bitterly the criticisms that would occupy the drive home—could she have been present in body, as she was in imagination, she would scarcely have been reassured. Guy was moody and silen", and his mother looked at him anxiously. She had divined something beneath his anxiety that she shovdd call upon these new people. ‘ You had better go, my dear,’ her husband had said ; ‘ £300,000! and if he should really take a fancy to the girl, and she is presentable! We want the money badly enough, goodness knows. In fact he must marry money.’ Lady Peyton had not thought it wise to repeat this advice to her son ; now she was feeling very much put out. The girl was well enough, more than presentable, and showed her good sense in her dress. But the man ! What a price to pay for the old estate ! She turned suddenly to her sou, after thinking of these things in silence for a quarter of an hour. 4 What a man!’ she said, irritably. ‘ He is like some small City clerk on a hundred a year—a badger 1’ • He might be worse,’ said Guy, nervously ; ‘ he might be obtrusive,’ ‘ I don’t know that it would be worseYou would expect a man with nearly half a million of monej to be assertive—but this creature —one asks, who can he be ? Plow did he come by it ? He hasn’t the brain—he doesn’t look one in the face—he is mean as well as low bred !’ It was seldom Lady Peyton spoke with so much vehemence; she was terribly put out, and she overshot the mark. The following day Guy again called at Firholt ; rode over nlcne ; he remembered a suggestion he wished to make to Mr Eawdon about the fishing. He had thought over the situation ; had weighed and justly ap predated the change in the girl which had perplexed him the day before, and thrown him out. He saw her determination not to be taken apart from her father, and it turned admiration into a serious and tender respect. He felt a chivalrous desire to atone to the girl who so bravely set herself to cast aside her frivolities and light-heartedness, and fight society with this terrible little man by her side. He found Ellinor sitting under the brown beeches on the lawn. Mr Eawdon was not at home, which, perhaps, was a relief to everyone concerned. Tea was brought out under the trees, and Mrs Montresor came with her work, Perhaps the threatened destruction of an intercourse which had promised so much made its renewal sweeter. At any rate, from that afternoon the story of these two people ran with even facility to its climax. Guy Peyton asked Ellinor to be his wife in a simple, straightforward way about three months after their first, meeting. Tragedy and parting seemed so far removed from their fate, when once the difficulty of her parentage was faced and accepted, that there was no occasion for much protestation. The undoubtingness of their love made it simple in expression ; they knew that it dated from the day they had met by the Lean, and Eollo had effected their introduction. Sir Guy and Lady Peyton were forced into cordiality, for the dower offered by Mr Eawdon was simply magnificent. The £300,000 proved no dream ; it was solidly invested, and he proposed to settle almost the entire sum upon his daughter on her wedding day, retaining only a sufficiency for the most simple needs. He also signified his intention of vacating Firholt for her use. * Perhaps,’ he said gently, 4 he would

visit her occasionally—for himself rooms in town would be more to his taste.’ He explained this to Sir Arthur, who felt compelled to remonstrate, although secretly he thought the arrangement in every way admirable. Lady Peytcn was exultant. With Mr Eawdon’s withdrawal, the one fatal drawback to the marriage was removed. But Matthew Eawdon said nothing of his plans to his daughter. It was within a few months of the date fixed for the wedding that a groat dinner was given at Firholt. At the last moment a note arrived from Lady Peyton ; could Ellinor find room at, the table for a friend, an American on a visit to Europe, who had appeared suddenly at the Hall, bringing letters of introduction impossible to neglect ? They were among the first to arrive Ellinor was receiving tonight in the great drawing room, and she looked fit to reign there. She wore a dress of golden-hued chiffon Across her bosom and on the skirt were sprays of daisies, and the heart of every daisy was a blazing sapphire—a type of the girl’s nature she was totally unaware of. Her father had taken up his favourite position with his back to one of the fireplaces, and she stood near him. Mr Eawdon had improved during the last few months. He shuffled less ; his clothes, thanks to Ellinor, were irreproachable, and, especially since his daughter’s engagement, he had grown daily more calm. The Peytons were announced. Sir Arthur and Lady Peyton, Mr Peyton and Mr ; the name was lost. Ellinor saw a spare, tall man, keen faced and vigilant. He was bowing before her. She heard a slow r , slightly nasal monotone beginning—--1 I must apologise, Miss Eawdon ’ He had reached the slight elevation of the last syllable, when an irresistable impulse made her turn from him to her father. Matthew Eawdon had grown deadly pale. He had lent back against the mantel, clutching himself nervously. 4 Father !’ He gave a swift motion of the hand bidding her be still, and with an effort recovered himself. A moment later she heard again the American’s voice. 4 You have a fine place here, Mr Eawdon, one of the finest 1 should say in this fine country.’ Her father made some inaudible reply ; the curious pallor was still upon his face, but dinner was announced ; she had no chance of speaking to him. During dinner she watched him anxiously. She saw that he was more than usually nervous ; that he drank a good deal of wine. Once or twice she caught a penetrating glance, swift and direct, thrown by the American to that end of the table. Thoughout she seemed to hear above every other sound the slight rise and fall of that slow, clear monotone, and felt she hated the man. It was a relief and reassuring to turn her head and catch Guy’s smile, and she was thankful when she could give the signal for withdrawal. After the ladies had gone, the American had the field to himself. His metallic bell gradually silenced the other men, and he got the ear of the table. Mr Eawdon’s chief merits as a host were that he gave good wine, good dinners, and left his guests entire freedom. He usually headed the table in silence, with the result that, on the present occasion, his white, exhausted face escaped remark, except from Guy Peyton. Matthew Eawdon Lad now something more than toleration from his future son-in-law—partly on Ellinor’s account, partly on his own. The unobtrusive self effacement of a little man appealed strongly to those who came within his immediate influence. The American was dilating on the fortunes made and lost on the other side of the Atlautic, 4 A curious case/ he was saying. 4 a curious case I knew once—a poor, wretched little clerk in an office in Boston city—he had a wife and child and one hundred and fifty pounds a year. One fine day he presented a cheque at a bank, signed by one of the best kuow'n names in the city—a cheque for three hundred dollars. The cheque was a forgery, sir—a forgery ! The man was caught, trying to escape to Europe and sent to prison. He had been speculating, gambling—buying small shares out of petty economies ; everything failed. When he had no more, he forged a name Poor little chap, he threw himself at the feet of

the man he had wronged and begged for mercy ; but he went to the hulks —his - wife died of a broken heart, 4 Now, sir, for the remarkable point. While that man was serving his time some darned sentimental fool died, and left him every penny of his colossal fortune. His time served out, the man went to Europe, where he was unknown, to spend his money. When I saw him again, sir, he was about to ally himself, through his daughter, to one of the oldest and proudest families of this proud old country. He had chauged two letters of his name. The name of the clerk, sir, was Daw ’ There was a sound as of a blow, a clatter of silver and glass. The host had fallen forward in his chair; his body lay across the table, the arms stretched out. 4 Where is my father ?’ Guy Peyton was by Ellinor’s side in the drawing-room. Nearly half an hour had elapsed since the abrupt conclusion ot the American’s story, Mr Eawdon had been carried from the table, but Guy had taken care that no rumour of alarm should reach Ellinor until he himself could go to her. 4 He is not quite himself ; he is in the library/ * What is the matter ? Why was I not told p I must go to him,’ 4 It is not serious. My father is with him; Don’t go, Ellinor. It was a slight faintness, that is all Don’t let people imagine anything has gone wrong. I asked Mrs Montresor to go down.’ 4 Are you sure ? Would he rather I stayed here ?’ ‘ I am quite sure he would rather you stayed here, and I also. Ellinor.’ She obeyed him, but she was uneasy with foreboding, especially when Sir Arthur did not return, and longed to see the last of her guests, that she might be free. In the library lay the master of Firholt. He had shrunk in this last hour. He was mere wizened ; his hands and feet seemed drawing themselves up into clothes that had suddenly grown loose and baggy ; his face was livid eyen to the lips. He lay with his eyes closed. Sir Arthur Peyton was walking up and down the room, limping still from the gout, his face working ; he was in a terrible passion. 4 You own to it—that this man’s story is true ; that you have plotted to bring dis grace upon an honourable house ; added crime to crime, the taint of it to fall upon the children of my son ?’ The shri velled figure on the couch trembled. 4 I believed that it would never become known, I did it for her. 4 Known or not known, the disgrace was there—the d- disgrace ! Good God 1 ITow can I tell what Guy will do I The exposure alone ” • Must that exposure come?’ said Mr Eawdon, faintly. 4 Come ? who is to prevent it ?’ said the man of title, 4 The scandal will half kill Lady Peyton. To be sure 1 have, stopped that American’s mouth for she present. No one but he and myself know for certain, A faint tinge of colour was coming back to Mr Eawdon’s face. Lie reached a cordial that stood upon a table near, and drank it. Then he stood upright. Ihere was a touch of dignity in his bent figure, his thin hands were folded quietly, his feet shuffled no more. 4 Sir Arthur, when I forged that cheque, my wife was dying, and I had no money— I had begged five pounds from the father of the man who dined at my table to-day, and he refused he ; then I used his name Now I am going to beg once more—for my daughter—for Ellinor. Stop this thing from becoming public : save her from knowing, It will be better for you, too ; and I .—I will go to-night. I cannot stay here. I will write to her—telling her that the love of the old roving life is upon me—what you will. I cannot live long ; I know it. The attack I had to-night was from the heart.’ 4 And my son ?’ ‘ Tell him if you think it right ; do as you please. Send him abroad. I will tell Ellinor she must wait for my return, hut let it fall upon her gradually—gently ; do not break her heart ’ There was something in the absolute simplicity of tbe man’s pleading that touched Sir Arthur’s heart—not an unkindly one ; also the plan proposed seemed the best for them all. He did cot know that Matthew Rawdon

looked to the possibility that, with his selteffaceinent, his crime might be forgiven— to his little girl ; that he hoped much from Guy’s strength and Sir Arihua’s need of that £300,000. Sir Arthur hesitated. 4 I think/ ho said slowly, at last, 4 it will be the best plan.’ 4 sTou consent, then? You can assure this man’s silence ’ 4 I consent. And as for Mr—Mr , yes, I can silence him.’ When at length Ellinor was rid of her guests, she went to seek her father. She found that he had gone to his room, and that the door was locked. He answered back to her enquiries that he was better—anxious to sleep ; she might go to bed without fear. She went back to Guy, who was waiting in the drawing—loom. He had declined a seat in his mother’s carriage, and meant to ride home, Ellinor slipped her arms about his neck—--4 Guy, what is the matter to-night ? Something has happened, or is going to happen. What is it ?’ He gathered her in his arms, crushing the chiffons of her yellow gown—--4 Nothing but your own nervous fears, sweetheart.’ 4 Guy, we have never talked much about our love. Tell me how much you love in •.’ 4 An idle question, Nell. I lore you, dear. If you were alone and poor ’ 4 And dishonoured— say dishonoured, Guy.’ He paused a moment, then said quietly—--4 And dishonoured, Nell—outwardly ; in your own pure heart you never could be—you are mine ; the one woman for whom, by God’s help, I live or die.' She clung to him—--4 Thank you, Guy.’ ‘ It is nonsense/ he said ; 4 it is you who give me everything. If I loved you less I could not take it. You believe that, Nell ?’ 4 Indeed, I do/ She lifted up her face to say good-night. Suddenly ho caught her back to his arms, 4 Oh, my love, my love, I almost wish these things might come upon you, that I might prove it.’ fTo be concluded next week.J