The Ladies Magazine.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2360, 28 November 1908, Page 12 (Supplement)

The Ladies Magazine.

ONE BLACK CROW. , The pansy ]leads •wore' still rimmed ■with dew and the clean coolness ol the early morning had not quiet vanished from the air,, but Jessie Letton weeded and pruned and threw aside blossoms that had outlived their Ume without so much as a glance upward into the fragrant air. It was one of the days when she did not enjoy living.

Perhaps, though she would not acknowledge it to herself, her pics.ent fit of the blues aros from the fact that Bruce Compton’s visit to his cousins 'had somehow made her feel more than ever on the'outside of the gay special life of the town. Years, before, when scarcely out of pinafores, she had known Bruce quite as well as, it not better than the other girls, but in the years since his family had moved iiom Brampton slowly descending poverty had forced an ever simple scheme, of living on Mrs. Bottom and her daughter, till now in this small cottage, redeemed from commonplaceness by its rambling stone wall and old-fashioned garden, they lived much to themselves. Jessie had neither the money for the pretty clothes and expensive -pleasures the other girls took as a matter of course, nor had she the hear t to go when asked and accept their kindnesses, knowing that they were sorry for her. Her pride tv as keener than ever.

‘Since Bruoef had returned ho had been showered with invitations and this good-natured, immaculate, popular young man seemed a stranger to her. He frankly enjoyed the bevies of pretty girls who surrounded him on all occasions and Jessie, shy by nature and oppressed to the- depths of her soul by tlie knowledge that the blue organdie dress showed faded streaks and the ruffle was mended, had kept hr the background. Site yearned for the fun, the- laughter and the good times, but proudly told herself she should not trust.herself where she was not wanted. A very passion of unreasoning rebellion held her in its grasp this morning. Once only did she stop and that was to glance at Loretta, the pet crow,, who sat on the stone wall watching her mistress’ proceedings in the pansy bed, her wicked eyes a-spai’lde.

‘ - oh, enjoy yourself, Loretta!” Jessie sairl in half-real sarcasm. “Do keep on looking as though you were having a good time. You’re the only

one around here that is, I can tell you.” A choked laugh greeted litis remark and the footsteps coming along back of the lilac hedge the next minute brought into view the amused face of Bruce Compton himself. Jessie sat still where she was on the ground and. the pink on her cheeks deepened till the man on the walk was reminded of the lovely bush roses at the gate. He leaned his elbows on the stone wall and extended a teasing finger at Loretta, who nipped it and then backed solemnly away, lier head on one side.

“Do you know what she was doing when I passed by this afternoon?” tlie' man asked casually, as though continuing a conversation. “Trying to perch on a stream of water from the lawn lio.se and going into hysterics because she fell through each time?” Then without more ado lie vaulted the wall and threw himself down under a tree.

"I cam© to find out,” ho began abruptly, “why I’ve-been here two weeks and haven’t been able to get a word with you in all that time? Have you crossed me out of your Jessie ?” She lo&ked at his earnest, protesting face with a queer little throb at her heart. It was the old Bruce of her childhood days and the bitterness vanished from her mind. The sunny morning disappeared as they picked tip the threads of each other’s lives. The pansy bed was forgotten until Bruce at .last rose to his foot reluctantly. / Then he gave a shout of horror.

“Look at Loretta P’ he cried. x\t the further end of the bed the crow was dexterously finishing an exhaustive morning’s work. Every velvety blossom she had nipped off and tossed aside as Jessie had done with the dead leaves. "With a derisive caw she Hew off and the two watched her preen herself on the housetop in exasperated helplessness. The pansy bed needed extra attention after this havoc and it grew to be Bruce’s habit to stroll by mornings and superintend the work. Then several of the girls who’hitherto had not bothered Jessie much with their society began joining the morning gatherings quite accidentally, apparently surprised to find the fascinating Mr. Compton there, to whom they devoted themselves, ignoring their hostess. Sometimes they passed on their way to the golf links, but Bruce frankly resisted any attempts to lure him away and Jessie would have been more than human if she had not been serenely glad he preferred to linger, with her. Still, she would not let herself think what this summer companionship meant, for she.,/ was tqo She fenr-

ed to spoil it- all. A\ hen Bruce asked her to go with him to the biggest social event of the season she had told him yes before she remembered sucli mundane things as party dresses, but her mother stepped into the breach as Jessie stood agonized over the old blue organdie.

“I’ve just- bought you that white swiss you wanted and would not get, she said. .“If you will help we can get it done in time for Thursday night.” Help! Jessie would have gone without sleep had it been necessary. The starved sold of the girl who loved pretty tilings and had to do without them revelled in the soft white stuff and the filmy lace and the knowledge that she would look her best, together with the tiny hope that be would be proud of her, deepened the roses in her cheeks and- lent lustre to her brown eyes. The finished dress - lay spread out on her bed the attemoon of the party, and Jessie sung as she went back and forth catching occasional glimpses of it. After tea, when she wont to dress, the disastei fell. And it was a disaster. Bruce Cornpkon, whistling as he ran up the walk in the full glory of his evening clothes, almost stumbled over her as rhe sat in a doleful little heap oil the steps, her handkerchief rolled, a wet ball, in one little hand. “What is it? What’s the trouble?” he asked in sudden fear.

Jessie tried in vain to control her voice, but the disappointment had been keen. “I can’t go io the dance,” she -faltered. “f—you see—Oh, Bruce! My new dress was all ready this afternoon. and when. I went to put it. outlie waist was gone! And we can’t find it!”

Bruce Compton sat down on the steps speechless, for it was a catastrophe beyond him. “Well, never mind, ’ lie comforted her with masculine stupidity. “It’s deuced queer, but don’t bother over it. It’s a shame, but can’t you wear something else?” Tluv.-e was a silence and in the dark the girl’s cheeks, burned, then tlieir head went up and she spoke quietly.

“I haven’t another dress to wear, Bruce,” she told him. . It was his turn to have his face flush, but with contrition at having pained her. Involuntarily his- hand sought hers in a helpless, awkward attempt to comfort her. The lack of money was an unknown trouble to him. and he suddenly resented its power to make people unhappy, people to him meaning Jessie. “Hadn’t you better go on?” she milted in a moment. “You mustn’t miss the dance because I can’t go. Everyone will be expecting you!” “I’m not going,” he protested in surprise. “Not if you don’t! Do you mind if I stay?” Of course she said no. He seemed very big and comforting at that- moment. The loss of her gown did not seem much of a tragedy after all, and the loss, of the party nothing at all. It was slowly dawning on her that to her Bruce was the whole party, and as for him, he seemed very content to stay just where he was. They talked till late, quietly, while the crickets chirped in the garden and the summer stars burned overhead. “This has been the happiest dance I have ever attended, Jessie,” he told her with laughing earnestness when he said goodnight. And while all the acknowledgment he got was one shy look Jessie in her heart of hearts knew it was the happiest evening of her whole life and would not let herself think why.

The next morning when the familiar step sounded on the porch she met him at the door in some trepidation. His face was alight with fun as' he drew her outside. “Come with me,” he said, “and I’ll show you what became of your waist.” Out in the garden the wondering girl followed him and lie silently pointed. Up in a crotch of a tree thei-e was a glint of purplish black and an apologetic caw. Loretta, with her head on one side sat luxuriously disposed amid a torn and draggled mass of something that might onofa have been filmy white. The. tree crotch was where she hid her pilfered treasures. Jessie stared speechlessly as she realised what the thieving bird had done—flown through the open window and carried off the airy garment.

Something very tender had dawned on. Bruce Compton’s face as lie watched her, for the evening before she had shown him where her heart lay.

“Jessie,” ho said, half fearfully, “I’ll ’bless Loretta forever if you’ll give me the right to buy oil your party dresses after this. I’ll' insure them against all thefts by crows. Could -you marry me and go to New York to live, Jessie?” And as Loretta flew,, cawing to the pansy bed to wreck more damage, Jessie, all unheeding, was realising that happiness in double measure had come to her.

ROMANCES OF UNEXPECTED

FORTUNES.

A FORTUNE REJECTED IN

IGNORANCE

In tlie little library of. the‘Rev. Llewellyn Davis, Primitive Methodist minister in Cardiff, was a large Bible. It stood on one of the higher shelves, removed from hands that might otherwise he inclined to open and peer into it. The. minister had Bibles of (his own —well-thumbed ones —that he could -read, and that book was the property of another. He {lid not feel that he had a right to use it. Perhaps -its owner would turn up some day. Then h© would be ashamed if he had to hand it over with finger-marks or marks of other weai; upon it. It remained unopened, untouched, save when the minister dusted. his little library. Then the great Bib!e was dusted -reverently and put back in its place with a sigh. “I used sometimes,” he said later, “'when I came across that book to go down on my knees and pray that it had not been forgotten—that in good time its owner would call on me for it.”

DEATH OF A RECLUSE. Ho remembered well the day on which it had come into his possession. He would not easily afternoon in the gloomy house with tlie drawn blinds, and Hie company assembled in' tlie sitting-room, dim as with tlie shadow of death, to hear the will read of Thomas ITewitt, tlie wealthy Cardiff trader. Hewitt had been rich. Business had flourished with him. Once ho had been onlj’ a poor Welsh boy. There were those who declared they could remember him when ho had hardly ,a shoo to his feet. " -

110 had obtained- a situation in a Cardiff grocery store. Fortune seemed to have selected him as one on whom to pour out her treasures. He rose from post to post. Jn time he had been able to'commeneo business on his own account. And ho had thrived in all he had put bis hand to. When ho died ho was reputed to he worth over £30,000 • In that sitting-room wore gathered together the relations of Thomas Hewitt to hear his will read. Perhaps some of them looked with envious eyes at the beautiful girl. Mary Hewitt, his niece. It was said that she, -as far as the old man had shown any predilection for any of bis relatives, had been his favorite. She would, no doubt, succeed to the greater part of the dead man’s fortunes. Mary Hewitt was only about twenty years of age—beautiful, with dark eyes and dark brown hair. Heaven had already richly dowered her. With tlie money of the dead man she would bo one of the world’s fortunate ones.

“To my dear niece, Mary Hewitt, I bequeath my "largo Bible bound in black leather and. with the brass clasps.” That was all! The dry, harsh tones of the lawyer who read the will pr< cecded to recite gifts of the testator to other relatives.

HER PECULIAR LEGACY.

“There must surely bo some mistake,” cried the girl/ as her dark eyes shone with the light of anger struggling with disappointment. “There must surely bo some mistake. You don’t mean to say that is all?” The solicitor paused and, turning back to the part ho had read, read it over again. The large Bible bound in black leather and with the brass clasps. There was nothing else ! With a cry of rage the girl leapt to her feet.

It was monstrous —monstrous ! She had been his favorite and he left her only that book while others had substantial gifts made to them! The will was all wrong! “I am sorry, Miss Hewitt,” said the lawyer, “that the will should occasion you disappointment. It does seem extraordinary, but I can assure you there is rib possibility of mistake. The will is perfectly regular. I may say that I ventured to expostulate’ with him, and to represout to him that" you'should at least share with the others- He would mot agree, however. He declared that the Bible was all ho meailt to give you.” “Then all I can say,” she declared, “is that he can keep his gift.” .She was walking from the room, when■ Llewellyn Davis, the minister, who -was present, interposed between her and the door.

“You will not leave with angry thoughts in your mind towards him who is dead!” he exclaimed. “You wall at .least accept his gift?”

But Mary Hewitt would not. His words had no effect upon her. HAVE AAV AY THE LEGACY.

* “Keep the hook yourself,” she said. “I give- it to you as it is such a precious thing. -Keep it.” “I will,” he replied. “I will keep it as yours, however. When you seek me for it, it shall he ready for you.” For twelve years the book had .remained unclaimed upon his shelves. Hr seemed as if its owner would never seek it mow. One day, >as the Rev. Llewellyn Davis wag once more dusting his books, he took the volume down, It was a great big. book-'-

much larger than any Bible he possessed, and bis eyes were not so good as they had been'. It might be-full of largo print. Ho opened it at random, and commenced to read. 1:1c liad lighted on a page in Ezekiel: “Ye cat with the -blood-, and, lift up your”—so tlie page finished. He turned over the leaf —“aind they bear thy words, hut they will not do them ; for with their mouth they show love, but tlieir heart goetli after covetousness.”

There was something wrong. The w-or-ds at the-bottom of the page did not fit with those over the leaf. The Rev. Llewellyn Davis stared at them for some time.

SOUGHT BY ADVERTISEMENT. A day or two later there appeared in the newspapers an advertisement :

“Mary Hewitt, the niece of Thomas. Hewitt, deceased, of Cardiff, is earnestly requested to communicate with Llewellyn Davis, minister, of By doing so she will hear of something greatly to her advantage.” He ‘waited for many days. There came no answer to his advertisement. Before he had inserted it he had made all -inquiries -respecting the girl lie sought to communicate with. All ho could learn about her was tliat Mary Hewitt had years since left her home for London. There, it was believed, she had married, but lier letters to her relatives had grown fewer and fewer, and at the death of her mother •had ceased altogether. Day by .day that advertisement appeared in the papers. There was no response to it. It was strange.' The minister lvad always .thought that everyone saw everything in tlie papers —one had only to advertise to discover anyone wanted ! A WAITING FORTUNE.

Between, those broken words of Ezekiel lie had found a fortune —a fortune that did not belong to him! Five thousand pounds! There were the notes concealed between the cle-verly-guinmed-to pages that he had discovered. Anil the owner of that money dreamt nothing of it! No one knew how bitterly she, or those belonging to lier, might he in want of that money !

Ho waited day by day and each day brought its disappointment. It was.a strange position——one that filled, him with the anguish of eager and unfulfilled expectancy! Thousands around him were fighting for fortune. Fie was poor—poor with a salary that the world would despise. Lfion his little stipend he was keeping a wife and several children. And he had in his hands a fortune to bestow on the person w-lio owned it —a fortune that no one else knew of! And ho could not find the owner! VIiSITEI) BY' A STRANGER.

Many years had passed; the Rev. Llewellyn Davis bad left Cardiff, and now had a post in the South of liondon. lie had almost forgotten all about that fortune. It was in one of the banks waiting its owner. “You are Mr Llewellyn Davis, I

believe?” A stranger stood before him one morning—a- mam in shabby clothes and with a thin, white, haggard face. His name, ho informed the minister, was Heskctb, and he was employed in a saddler’s business in the worth of London. Things were very bad with James Hesketh. By chance he had been passing tho chapel in which the minister was preaching the preceding Sunday night. Entering the building, he had remained to hear tho minister address the congregation. “When I .got homo that night I spoke to my wife about it,” he said, “and when she heard your name she wondered if you might not be a person she had met whom she was a lass living near Cardiff. If you were so, she thought you might bo able to help us. She said you might have something that belonged to hoi. INQUIRIES FOR THE BOOK. The minister looked at him /u surprise. “It is only a book —a Bible,.’- went on the man, amd the minister started.

“A Bible!” he gasped. “A 'Bible that was left to her by a rich uncle when she was a girl,” send Hesketh. “Thomas Hewitt, of Cardiff. She said she left the book with you. Maybe yOifhavo parted with it or lost it iu tho years that have passed. The minister was so surprised that he gazed at* him speechless for a moment. “And what made your wife tinof tho book after all these years?’ he asked.

“AVnnt!” answered tho stranger. “Hunger! AVo have had no prosperity in our lives. After wo nuulied we left England and went .abroad to the Colonies. I did my best, but misfortune seemed to dog me wherever I wont. AVe had children . and ue could hardly get them bread.” DISCOVERED AT LAST.

“And mow sickness has come upon us,” went on the man. “Our little girl, Annie, has "been ill for weeks. It may be that she will not live. AVe have been so poor.that we have had to sell or pawn all that wo could spare. AVe will sell -the Bible—my wife says it is a great, handsome book with brass clasps. It will get some food for tho child at least.” A short time later the minister stood dn the garret in which tho Heskeths lodged. It was a small place almost empty of furniture, and over a mattress on the floor in one corner therq learned a pale-faced, careworn

woman bending over the figure of a child. It was Mary Hewitt—the yvonian who had many years ago so scornfully rejected the seemingly inadequate gift of the rich dead Cardiff grocer! “I have great good news to tell you,” ho said. “Pray Heaven it may not ho too lato to avail that poor child lying there.” The fortune of the pasted-toget-her leaves in the old Bible did not come too late.

Why the Cardiff grocer had adopted such a strange method of dealing with the money wa s never explained. It was supposed that, in secreting- the notes til tlie book and leaving the volume to his niece, he determined she should either discover them or not a . s she read or did 1 not read the book; the fortune should reward her perusal or he lost to her by her neglect of it.

In the bank the money had accumulated at compound interest, and that passage in Ezekiel lit on by the minister placed the Heskeths in possession of no less than eight thousand pounds 1