A TRUE STORY. THE MAN WHO CAME BACK.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 6, 23 April 1920, Page 2

A TRUE STORY. THE MAN WHO CAME BACK.

Arnold Galloway was soon forgotten by the world. A great deal of interest had been taken in him when he had stood his trial on a charge of forgery, Galloway was a member of fashionable society with a distinguished diplomatic career to his credit. Those who had known him did not believe it possible for a man of his proud position to he guilty of the despicable crime of forgery, but their trust had receivod a rude shock when he had entered the dock and pleaded guilty to the charge. yAiter he had received his sentence of five years' penal servitude he had marched from the dock without a tarwmor, and when he had vanished down the stairway to the cells below he disappeared from the memory of all who had been pleased to call him friend — all save one ! That single exception was a woman, and from her memory he never vanished, for she could not forget that one sweet night when he had taken her into his strong arms and her heart had beat against his breast as he told her how much ho loved her. Even in face of his confession it was hard for her to believe that a man like Arnold Galloway could he guilty of a mean fraud. Yet his open acknowledgement of guilt should have shattered her faith in him, despite the dictates of her heart. Erom the first he announced his readiness to take his punishment, and so, after the briefest of trials, Galloway went to prison to pay the penalty of a paltry crime. Nearly five years had passed since then, and it was now a night of celebration at Parkmead House. The oocasion was the twenty-fourth anniversary of the birthday of Hazel Loraine, the girl who had wept for the man in his lonely prison, and whose heart was still heavy with sorrow. The ball was at its height as a figure strangely out of keeping with the gorgeous spcctacle within the great house crept across the grounds in the rear of the brilliantly lighted building. The figure was clad in the ragged remnants of a suit that hung loosely upon his spare form. The light from one of the windows fell upon his face as he mowed stealthily and silently towards the palm conservatory. The face was pale and drawn, and, even had it been seen by any of the gay throng within the house,. few would have guessecT the indentity of its owner. For this thin hroken wreck of humanity was in strong contrast to the Arnold Galloway who had gone out of the world's ken five years before. He had come back a gaunt and pitiable shadow of his former &elf. He rnoved stealthily as he gripped in his hand something that was in strange contrast to the rest of him. It was a bouquet of roses, and he held it as though it was to him the most precious thing on earth. The bouquet had cost him eight shillings of the last half-sovereign of the money which had been given to him on his discharge from prison. But he had spent the money cheerfully enough, for this was to he the last hirthday offering he would make to Hazel Loraine.

He had remombered that it was her birthday, and he had bought her the flowers which he knew she loved best. He meant to make his gift secretly and steal away unseen. He was going to creep into the conservatory when the way was clear and place the flowers where he knew she would find them. A short note was attached to the bouquet : "My last praver will be for your hnppiness." That was all, and the message was unsigned. Reaching the conservatoly, he peered cautiously in. There was nobody inside, and the door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside, crossed the tiled flooring to the palm bower. It was Hazel' s favourite seat, the seat in which she Bad been sitting on that nev,er-to-be-forgotten night when she had whispered back the soft words which had told him that her heart was his. As he reached the bower the sound of approaching voices came to him, and his jaw tightoned grimly. Somebody was coin-

rng to the conservatory, and escape by the way he had come was cut off. To reach the door he would have to pass in front of that through which the newcomers were entering the conservatory, thus revealing himself in all his raggedness and shame. There was only one thing to be done. He must- hide until the coast was clear again, and, knowing the place well, he darted across to a thick cluster of palms which he knew would afford him shelter. He had no sooner screened himself from view than two people entered, a girl and a man.

The one was Hazel Loraine, and the other Raymond Thorne, a man whom Galloway had known well before he had lost his place amongst men. The pair sat down, and a hungry, yearning look came into the cold grey eyes of Arnold Galloway as he gazed upon the face which had heen before him constantly in his dreams during the past hopeless years. Raymond Thorne leaned forward on his seat and looked into the sa-d face of the girl by his side. "You know what I am going to say, Hazel," began the man, "for I have said it to you so many times. You know, dear it was your father's wish and my fondest hope that you would become my wife. Can't you care for me just a little, Hazel?" The girl sighed hopelessly. "I shall never love any man again," she answered, "for I gave my. heart years ago to a man whom I believed to be the best and noblest maui in all the world." "And he proved himself worthless!" ex--claimed Thorne. "You cannot even think of him now without shame. Besides, he has gone out of your life, and even if he came back you could never forget what he is." "I think of him only as he was," replied the girl with a flush. "He was ■both true and honest once." "But, Hazel, you cannot go on like this, wasting your young life upon a memory. Besides, dear, there is your father to consider ; he wants you to take your proper place in the world to which you bclong." Hazel Loraine spoke again, and her voice was tired and weary in its tone, "I know that it is my father's wish that I should marry you, Raymond, and I am anxious to do all I can to carry out his wishes. I will become your wife, but I will tell you now, as I have told you before, that I shall never be able to blot out from my heart the memory of tlie love which I once knew." The man took her hand grcedily and drew her towards him. At the same moment the man watching from behind the palms, weak from lack of food and a fruitless search ior work, was almost overcome by the emotions which raged within him. He swayed slightly, and, in endeavouring to recover himself, stumbled.

Thorne and the girl turned sharply at the sound, and,, realising that discovery was now inevitable, Arnold Galloway stepped out from his hiding-place and stood revealed, his drawn face twitching convulsively. His grasp upon the bouquet relaxed, and the ro&es fell to the floor at his feet. Hazel Loraine cried out at the sight of him. — "Arnold!" she cried hoarsely, and she moved impulsively towards him. Raymond Thorne's eyes flashed dangerously and he bit his lip. Then he, too, : advanced until he stood betw.een the girl j and the man from prison. ! "Are you lost to all shame, Galloway?" ; he demanded hotly. "Have you not l brought enough sorrow and disgrace upon this house without returuing to awa.ken the meifiory of your perfidy?" Something of his okl spirit flashed in the eyes of the outcast, but he checked himself and his head drooped forward. I did not intend to he seen," he answered brokenly. "I came because I could not help it— because I could not belp remembering the date." "Amold !" Again the girl breathed his name. The ex-convict, motionless as a statue, stood regaxding her with an expression of hopeless yenrr,ing in his eyes. Than with an effort he turned ani

moved towards the glass door leading to the garden. "You are right, Thorne," he said auietly. "I should not have come back. I am an outcast amongst men, a branded criminal, not fit to mix with decent people. I make no excuse for what has passed but I am sorry that I was weak enough to come into her life again. But it shall not he repeated, for to-night the world . shall know of me for the last time." Hazel Loraine looked up instantly, and j there was an expression of horror and ap~ j prehension in her beautiful face. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Where are you going?" Arnold Galloway shrugged his spare shoulders. "Back to my place on the Embankment," he answered bitterly. "Night after night I have sat there, trying to pluck up courage. To-night I do not think I 'shall fmd it so difflcult." The girl cried out again and rushed towards him, but Thorne held her back. The next moment Galloway was gone. XL Stunned by the happenings of the last few minutes, Hazel Loraine was incapable of making the effort which was required in order to free herself from Thorne's hold. Indeed, her senses were reeling, and she seemect on the point of swooning, until the cool draught coming in through the still open door revived her.

She pressed Raymond Thorne away from her, and stood for a moment motionless, tortured by her thoughts. And then her eyes fell upon the bouquet of roses lying upon the ground a few feet away. A little cry'broke from her throat as she moved suddenly towards the flowers. But Thorne was too quick for her, and, anticipating her intentions, he snatched them up, before she could reach them. "It is not fit that you should soil your ] hands by touching the offering of a creature so debased," he said; and twisting the flowers in his two hands, he flung the broken petals to the ground. The slim figure of Hazel Loraine straightened to t-he full extent of its \ height, and her eyes flashed withering scorn. "How dare you!" she cried, in a tense voice. The man fell back before the bitter contempt in her tone. Hazel hent down, and picking up one of the crushed blooms pressed it to her breast. The man did not trust himself to speak. The oppressive silence which followed was broken by the girl. "I wish you to forget the promise which I made to you a short time ago, Mr Thorne," she said, speaking slowly. "I told you then that I could never love you I know now that I could not even tolerate you. Your presence is loathsome to me, and I hope you will spare me the pain of seemg you again." Without another word she turned and left him. She made her way back towards the ball-room, but reaching the great hall leading up to it, ghe came upon one of the servants hurrying in her direction. "There is a policeinan waiting in the library, and he wishes to speak to you at once, miss, the manservant told her. The master was called to Downing street a quarter of an hour ago, or I should have gone to him." 'Thank you, Evans," was all the girl and ^assing down the hr.11 gho

turned into the library. I The police inspector, who was paJ the room impatiently, stopped as shet tered. "You are Miss Loraine?" he asked,! The girl nodded. "I have come from the MetropoK Hospital, where I have left your brott K,eith Loraine," went on the man. 1 has had an accident, and his cowi is very serious." The girl drew a deep breatb. "Why — iwblat — what has happe/]«l she stammered, for she knew someti of her brother's wild ways, and she \ I half afraid to bear the truth. j "It happened an hour ago," tlie insjt | tor informed ber. "A wounder solfi | walking on crutches, slipped and fell: ! front of a cab in Piocadiliy Circu* Yt brother saved his life, but I fear thati , will pay a big price for his nohle r j The doctor does not think he will i another hour, and the youngster is Jj perately anxious to see you." Only Hazel knew the effect of this um her already hruised heart. But she way a ' woman, and the sorrow which she ielt at: her brother's possible end tempered by tluf i pride which thrilled her at the reason kl it. "I will come with you imrnediatdy/'l i she said. ra. ■

The Thames Embankment preeute » dismal spectacle at night. Upon ti ' sweeping stretch built by tlie riw side, a stream of homeless cr ea ture? staK . ble along, looking for some kindly «n^ in which to rest for the night, ontf ? sight of the police. Some, in pasaSgi glance down hopelessly at the dark waief below, and a few among them seek ttf the rest which they cannot find on eaii This dismal promenade has heen (>:'H named "Misery March." Arnold Galloway was among the tajM less ones that night, and he was abj ^ the few who thought to find p®® " I forgetfulness in the bosom of tbe '* gj river. A f.ew yards east of Waterloo ftj I he came upon a creature even nw«( a spairing than he felt. It was a we®j ^ and she was lea-ning upon the -g* gazing down upon the rivei as h 3fj !| sullenly against the Embankment s I Galloway knew the sign; heknef | despair had beaten her and tbl a_ ^ moment she would fling herself o ^ the rising tide. He walked np and as she turned towards hi®) of the street lamp fell upon er P .M still pretty face. "What's the ma j jH die?" he asked her gently, ot only a youngster, and her expie ■ pitful in its misery. She looked up at him, and 1 moved, hut she did not sp ' ' "The world has been hard ■ he said kindly. > 80 ^ yj® you are young, and hfe nl3U ' , hope for you, however b ac' may seem." His hand went to his p0^® took from it a two-shil|i"g P ^ he had left in the wori 1 « ■ upon his last offering to ^ A "Will you take this? he^^,® spare it, and it may hep j)aVe , the dark hours. W hen l'°u ^ f ' : food which you so cleary find the outlook hrig oT , ^ The girl looked at hxffl ^ ^ ^ money, and a sob bro- ® sajj b ,H ^ "You need it yourseh- - j ly' (Continued P*6 ^

THE MAN WHO CAME BACK. (Continued from page 2.)

' No — no, he eaid quickly, with an unnatural laugh. "I am in that happy position when money is no object to me. Please take it." The girl did not understahd ihe bitter irony in his tone, nor the covert meaning in his words, and she took the money from him. "Heaven reward you!" she sobbed. "I believe that this is an omen for good — I believe that you havp saved my life." "I hope so kiddie," he murmured biightly. "Goodnight — and better luek." Then he passed on his way, whilst the . girl turned away from the water and crossed the road. Twenty yards farther along, Arnold Galloway stopped against the parapet, and looked out over the dark river. "I'm not afraid to live," he multered grimly, "but I'm sure that it's Better that i shoulcTnot. The misery of my own life I can stand, but I do no-t wish to awaken in her heart the..meinory of my shame. I'm only a worthless outcast— and nobody cares." "Arnold!" His name whispered from somewhere behind him caused him to turn. He saw a motor-car pulling up at the kerb ; be saw a girl wrapped in an evening cloak stepping on to the pavement before the car had stopped. "Hazel!" he gasped, and then drew back. "Arnold!" murmured the girl, coming forward and holdimg out her arms to him. "Arnold, won't you come to me — I want you, dear?" The man stood before her, and drew his ragged sleeve across his eyes. "You — you should not have come, Hazel," he said brokenly. "I had to come, Arnold dear," she answered, "because I know how splendid you are and because life can never be anything to me without you." The man still held back. "You mustn't — mustn't speak like that," he said hoarsely. "Think — think what I am." "It is hecause I do know what you are that I am here to-night," she answered, looking into his wan face. "I know now what nfy heart has always believed," she added, "that you are the n'obiest, the truest man in all the world. I know, too, Arnold, that if I devote every hour oi my life to you, I can never prove myself worthy of your great love, nor repay you for your terrible sacrifice." Arnold Galloway tried to speak, but could not. ^ "I have just left the bedside of my brother, Keith," went on the girl. "He is dead, and he died in saving a man who was not able to save himself. But before he died he told me everything. I know that it was he, and not you, who was guilty of the crime for which you suffered. I know that you took the blame upon your shoulders to save me the pain of knowing his shame. Dad knows too, for he was at the hospital, and he will be waiting for us at home." A great sob convulsed the man's frame, as the woman took his wan face between her hands and drew it-towards her. "Come, Arnold dear," she murmured softly. "Come aird give me the chanee of showing you my gratitude.", Slowly they moved towards the waiting car, and (as they reached it, Hazel Loraine gianced up at the chauffeur. "Home!" she said. And there was a tone of gladness in her voice which no one had heard for five long, weary vears. The End.