HIS ENEMY'S DAUGHTER

New Zealand Tablet, 25 May 1911, Page 941

HIS ENEMY'S DAUGHTER

The man had landed from an ocean liner only a few hours previously, and stood waiting impatiently for the train that was to convey him from Cork to the only relative he possessed in Ireland. As John O'Connor waited with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his light summer overcoat, he thought of the changes the years had made in his fortune. Fifteen years before he had been a lad of twenty, poor, hot-headed, and in disgrace; now he was a man of millions, a power in the republic he had left, and thirtj'-five years of age. 'Yes,' he said to himself, there are changes, indeed,' and his thoughts went back to the little farm under the shelter of the blue mountains, the farm where generations of his kin had toiled and died. There had been a few bad seasons, and a long illness in the family, and John's widowed mother had been evicted from her home. And then John had met their landlord, Sir Reginald O'Brien, and the lad had struck the elder man. He had been tried by the county magnates, and sent to spend weeks in gaol. There had been a sum of money collected in the interval by a few sympathising friends, but of this John only accepted the price of a steerage ticket to the States. The remainder had been set aside for his mother's use. She had found a home at a considerable distance from her former place of abode, and to it John's first visit was due. Mrs. O'Connor was a woman who had been educated beyond her sphere by a community of nuns near whose convent she had lived, and her letters to her son had been frequent and long, and had contained much mention of a Helen Marston. who had rendered lonely woman's life less lonely. John O'Connor's own wider horizon had enabled him to grasp the fact that Miss Marston was a lady. A photograph, sent one Christmas by his mother, showed her to be young and handsome. The years in America had been too busy, too fully occupied for love or love-making. Besides, John was fastidious; and the women he had met —wives and daughters of wealthy, self-made menhad lacked something in refinement.. It had happened that young O'Connor had found employment in the workshop of an American millionaire. All unknown to himself the lad had a good deal of mechanical skill, and in the intervals of hard work he made time for a study of the mechanism of the machineryv whose production was the source of his master's wealth. One day he made a discovery that ere long revolutionised the business. He insisted on communicating the discovery to

his employer, had been advanced from his humble position to that of manager of the works, and finally made a partner in the concern. Some years later the senior partner died, leaving to John the greater part of his vast wealth. But through all the passing years John had never forgotten the eviction scene, nor his days in prison. News had come to him of Sir Reginald O'Brien's financial embarrassment, and a trusty agent in Ireland had been instructed to let the baronet have large loans on easy terms. So freely, indeed, was the money advanced to Sir Reginald that he saw no necessity for curtailing his lavish expenditure. He had gambled and entertained his friends as of old, till one day a call had come for the money lent. That call the baronet was entirely unprepared to meet; and at length the estate bestowed on 'a Queen's O'Brien by Elizabeth was to be sold by public auction. Of that estate John O'Connor was resolved to be the purchaser. The stir and bustle on the platform roused John from the reverie into which he had drifted, and he hastily sought a carriage. It was occupied by a lady who moved slightly to make way for him. John thanked her, noting with approval her simple, well-made tailored costume, her frank, unembarrassed manner, and cultured voice. There was something familiar, too, in the poise of her head and the contour of her face. John's brows met in a frown. He had surely seen the lady somewhere. But where? . Then he remembered Helen Marston's photograph. The two travellers entered readily enough into conversation, and John was surprised to find how quickly the time had sped when he alighted at the station nearest his mother's home. His fellow-traveller descended from the carriage also, passed to where a high dog-cart stood waiting, and was driven away before John had found a vehicle to convey him to his destination. 'What a perfect little home, mother!' John exclaimed, as he threw away a cigar stump and sat down by the whitehaired lady's side. Mrs. O'Connor had that innate refinement so often seen among Irish peasant women. 'lsn't it?' Mrs. O'Connor said smilingly, as her eves turned to the garden that lay between the 'house and the high road. The hsuse itself was low and long. 'Who found it for you, mother?' John questioned. Helen Marston. After you went away I lived, you know, for two years in Dublin. I made Helen's acquaintance there.'

'Who is Miss Marston?' John asked. 'Who is she? Well, really, I don't know. I never inquired. She took the house for me, and then, when the money came so plentifully from you, she bought it outright. There is only an acre or so of land, you know. ' She nicked up the furniture from time' to time, and laid out the garden,' Mrs. O'Connor went on. At least she planned the garden.' There came the sound of horses' hoofs from the highway, and Mrs. O'Connor peered through her glasses as the sound ceased suddenly. 'Good gracious!' - she cried. ' Whv, here is Helen'' and with an agility worthy of fewer years Mrs. O'Connor hastened from the room and hurried down the box-bordered walk to the garden cate, John withdrew from the window No, indeed, Helen,' John heard his mother sav a few minutes later; 'why should you go awav because John is here? The house is big enough for us all. And, anyway, the dog-cart has gone. I can't say I am very sorrv that an outbreak of typhoid at Annaghmore Hall has driven you here.' " • "That—and other things,' the voice of John's fellowtraveller said, with a faint sigh, and the next moment Mrs O Connor was proudly introducing 'my son John' to Miss Marston. There followed for the hard-headed business man three or four days different from all days he had known. He and Helen Marston spent them roaming about the countryside in the most beautiful season of the year. The freshness of early summer was everywhere, in the woods, mi the meadows on the hills, in the soft blue of the sky and the songs of the birds. -Miss Marston was a well-educated well-read woman; and later years had remedied the defects or John O Connor's earlier education. One morning , when John descended to the sittingroom, he found Miss Marston gone. . 'And I'm afraid she has some trouble,' his mother supplemented. She cried saving good-bye J What j kind of trouble John asked. 'I don't know. She never spoke much of herself or her people you see; but I expect money troubles. Her mother died when she was a baby: and her father I gathered from a chance word or two, is extravagant, and often pressed for money.' fa"""? and 'lf that J S all——' Jo . laughed softly, and opened a letter that lay on the table. upeneu 'I too, must be off, mother. My man in Dublin has bought an ■ some property, and I am. required to S there Do&vou write to Miss Marston?' g Mrs. W'Connor shook her head. , 'No. f Of course 'I- letter sent to Annaghmore Bali to write 6 % 1 nVa - rd ! d - 1 l n t V . er k »™ an address to which to write. She just dropped in now and then for a dav ? f perhaps two. This last has been her longest visit.' " John went to the Irish capital to complete the purchase of his old enemy's estate, and learned that P it Reginald O'Brien was anxious for a peZml interview The two men met in a hotel in O'Connell street The elder had no recollection of the lad he" had sent to prison

years before. He had aged greatly, and almost at once explained why he had wished to see John. ...' I have learned,' he said, in the cold, even tones John remembered so well, ' that you are unmarried, and, of course, I know of your wealth. Could a marriage ,be arrangedsuch things are common, I believe—between you and my daughter? She ' 'Stop, sir, stop!' John interrupted hastily. He had no ill-feeling against Sir Reginald's daughter, and the proposal shocked his finer feelings. ' What you mention is utterly impossible. I am not married, but I hope soon to be. Besides, you don't know me. I am John O'Connor, the lad you sent to prison years ago. Perhaps you remember Sir Reginald pondered. Then he rose to his feet. 'Ah! I see! This is your revenge.' He laughed oddly. ' A very good revenge. lam sorry I trouble you, Mr. O'Connor,' J -' John left the hotel, and passed into the bright sunshine, feeling, somehow, little pleased with his repayment of the old debt. A dozen paces from the door he ran up against a lady. 'Pardon ,' he began, and started,' Helen ! Miss Marston! How lucky! May I turn with you ? I wish to ask you a question.' 1 How serious ycu look ! Certainly ask on,' Miss Marston said. Will you marry me?' 'Oh!' There was consternation in the cry. Helen laid her hand on John's arm. ' Please come this way. It is quieter, and I must tell you at last. No, John, I can't marry you. I promised last night to marry another personif he will have me.' She laughed bitterly. 'lf he will have you Helen!' . ' Yes. It is this way. I am Helen O'Brien. Marston was my mother's name. I was so sorry for your mother long ago, and she wouldn't have let me help her, let me care for her had she known I was her landlord's daughter. Don t you see ?' John signified assent. 'But now?' he said. 'The mortgagee of my father's home and estate has bought it We are poor, miserably poor, my father and 1. Somebody told my father that this man, the buyer of the place, was unmarried, and last night I promised my father that I would marry him if he asked me. Oh don t think too hardly of me, John! I didn't know you cared! And my father is old, and the doctors say his heart is weak. I was afraid to oppose him, afraid of bringing on one of his bad attacks. Oh, John, why are you laughing?' , J ~-. I My dear my dear, it is all right ! I have bought your home. lam the man you have promised to marry If I will have you! Oh, Helen, thank God you are my enemy s daughter V—Ben.ziger's Magazine "