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Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols —^ signifie "A SUIVRE ", le symbols V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Lep cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent 6tre filmte d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir de I'angle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 A «f THl A LIFE INTEREST MRS. ALEXANDER AUTHOR OF ••THE WOOING O'T," "AT BAY," "BY WOMAN'S WIT," "MONA'S CHOICE," ETC. TORONTO : THE NATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY. A LIFE INTEREST. CHAPTER I. RESUROAJ4. REGENT'S PARK was looking coldly bright one clear March afternoon, bright with the first spring sunshine, which is more glaring than genial, while a keen north-east wind i)layed spitefully through the trees, crisping the water within the enclosure int<^) shuddering ripples, and searching out every cranny in the wraps of the children and nurses who were exercising within its exclusive bounds. It made small impression, however, on a tall distinguished-looking elderly gentleman who was advancing at a good pace along the road which crosses the Broad Walk near Park Square. He was erect and vigorous, though white-haired and somewhat worn in face, with fine features and dark haughty eyes, still fladhing keenly under thick grizzled brows. A long overcoat of line cloth wrapped him from neck to heel, and from his glossy hat to his neat boots he looked the incarnation of pride and prosperity. As he approached the gate which admits to the Broad Walk, a man who had been resting on a seat close by, his hands deep in his trowser pockets, rose lazily and strolled through it. Turning left in a purposeless manner, he paused as his eye.s fell tni tlie advancing figure. A greater contrast to himself could not be imagined ; and it seemed to strike Mm, for a mocking smile curled his lips, while a gleam of recognition played over his couittenance. He, too, was above middle height and dark eyed, but his figure Avas bent and his eyes dull. A napless frock coat, white at the seams and greasy at the collar, over which bulged a C(jloured hand- kerchief, was buttoned tightly across his chest. HiaJ)aggy trowsers hung loosely over down-trodden boots, one of which was burst. The whole aspect of the man betokened seedy helplessness. More- over the style of his shabby garments was decidedly un-English, and he wore a large picturesque felt hat considerably out of shape. He stepped slowly forward, and stopped exactly in front of the advancing aristocrat, who came to a sudden halt. A look of angry surprise changed to a look of disgusted recognition as he gazed at ^% A LIFE INTEREST. the face before him. " H.a ! " he exclaimed, ** so you have oome back to life. I was told you had paid one debt, which even you could not evade." Tliere wan indescribable scorn in his high-bred tones. ''I have renewed my bill at an indefinite date, and suppose there is something still for me to do or I should not be here." ' ' You will certainly have a prolonged lease of life if it depends on your completing any work ! Now why have you stopped me I I washed my hajjjG of you years ago." ** You can be at no loss for the answer — I am penniless and indis- rosed to go into the workhouse. I therefore take this opportunity of consulting you before coming to a decision." "Money, eh ? that of course ! But if I begin that game, I see no end of it now that you have turned up in a worse condition than ever." The other bowed. '* Very good ! It is to be the workhouse then. I will not detain you any longer ; " and he stood aside. "Look here, you unfortunate devil "began his \voll-dressed mterlocutor. "Stop. I stand no bad language from you or any man," inter- rupted the seedy man, a sudden tire kindlin<^ in his eyes. " More- over you are or ought to be a gentleman. Now go on." "Do you think you could keep a promise ? " asked the other with a look of surprise. " Upon my soul I don't know. I have kept some promises very faithfully. It depends on the nature of the promise." " On certain conditions 1 am disposed to help you. Where can I find you 'i " " My movements are erratic. I had better call on you." " No ; I will not have you at my house. Give rae a rendezvous somewhere out of the way." The other unbuttoned his shabby coat, took out a letter, removed the envelope, and with a stumpy pencil wrote a couple of lines upon it, remarking, " It is hardly so retined as ' JVIivart's ' or as grand as ' Claridge's,' but it will do." "Whereabouts is this "'Rising Sun,' Portobello Street?" asked the elder man, looking at the address with a doubtful expression. " It is off Edge ware Road, right-hand side ; ].'retty high up ; any cab driver will take you there. I will wait for you to-morrow from three to live." "I suppose this name," looking at the paper, "is known at the tavern ? " " Yes, well enough for our purpose." " Well, I'll not fail; meantime take this." " This " was a plump yellow sovereign. "Thanks," coolly pocketing the coin ; " this will keep me going till w© meet. One word more — your son ? " A LIFE INTEREST. 6 rendezvous " He ia remarkably \irell, and was married the day before yester- day," was the reply, accompanied by a grim smile, **Ah!" returned the shabby wayfarer — a long-drawn "ah!" *' Then till to-morrow." He raised his (juecr hat with a comic air of fashion, and turning, retraced his steps, walking slowly towards the Zoological Gardens. He soon halted, faced round and looked after his distinguished acquaintance, who had disappeared. * * What a capital coat the old fellow has ! " he murmured. " How deucedly unjust and uneven fortune is ! She never thinks of strik- ing a balance ! indeed, no female ever does. There is that old fellow warmed within with the primest food and wine the world can ^ive and thatched without with double-milled superfine cloth, while I am shivering in threadbare shoddy and unprovided with a mouthful of fuel to keep up the inner tire. However, luck hasn't quite deserted me. 1 don't think, low as I have fallen, I could have made up my mind to thrust myself on old ' Pomp and State ' in his own particular marble * halls ; ' but meeting him here under the free vault of heaven, it would have been flying in the face of Providence to lose my opportunity." He took out the gold piece he had just received, and gazing at it with a smile, said half-aloud, " Our Sovereign Lady Queen Victoria, never did your simple face strike me with such a sense of loveliness as it does at this moment ! " He resumed his j)rogre88 northward. '* What can that old buffer want with me ? " he mused. *' Old 1 not so very much older than myself, only that he never was young, must have been about fifty when he was short-coated, in spite of having travelled on a road of i elvet all his life. He looks worn, yet my picture is like him still, or he is like it. A capital portrait, but indifferently paid. What can I possibly have to promise him i what condition can he wish to impose ? Well , 1 am not too particular, I stand pretty well alone ; 1 don't think I need mind anything he would pr A LIxli INTEUKST. B door sharply Some hours later, as evoriiif,' clnsed in, a visitor of a very different type alighted from a cab at the same door. A slight tall girl, vvrap|>ed in a dingy waterproof, a knitted shawl that had once been white tied loosely round her tliroat, and crowned by an unshapely black straw hat bent over her eyes, sprang out before cabby could descend, and running lightly up the steps, rang the bell. The door was speedily opened, and the same neat damsel who had repulsed the disreputable inquirer of the afternoon, gave a smiling welcome to the new-comer. *' Oh ! Miss Marjory ! missis didn't think you would be here till near eight. And you've missed Master George ? He went away to meet you near an hour ago. Come in by tlm dining-room fire ; you must be cold." "Then George did go to meet me?" cried the girl glancing up with a rapid fkshing glance. " I thought he would." " Do come in, miss ; I'll see to your luggage." **I have but the one box, Susan — it is not heavy ; make the man carry it up. I have just sixpence left over his fare, and I will give it to him." " Very well, miss," taking the money. "Do go indoors, it is bitter cold. Master and missis are going out to dinner. Missis is dressed, she'll be downstairs directly." So saying, Susan ran away to subsidize the driver, while " Miss Marjory " walked slowly into the dining-room, and paused by a very dull fire, which was rapidly dying out. She removed her hat, laying it on the table. Hastily pushing back some stray locks of hair behind hor ear^, she looked round the familiar chamber. Her distinctly marked brows met in a frown as she looked — a frown not indicative of angoDso much as of a mental struggle. How well she remembered nearly every article of fiirnifiiro in the childish days, which seemed to her so long ago ; and that mark on the wall at the end of the room, within which hung a dim brown and olive green landscape, almost but not altogether hiding the darker space, there used to be her own fragile-looking mother's picture — a simpering shepherdess order of portrait it must be confes.sed, but lovely and adorable to Marjory's girlish fancy. Her heart beat quick and tears rose to her bright brown eyes, tears more of anger than of grief. " I wish I could have stayed at school," she murmured. "It wasn't quite the Garden of Eden, but I'm sure I was a better girl there than I can be here. I ought not to be such a foal. I will try to be wise and careful, then my poor father may like me better. I could love him well ! How horrid it is to hate any one, it puts one so out of tune, but I can't help it, I " The door opening put an end to her reflections and arrested the progress of hor more prudent tendencies. A lady entered, a tall stately lady, her figure moulded on grand lines, rounded and full, but not stout ; her complexion beautifully fair ; her hair of the li.^litrst brown, too pale to be •?' >^ A LIPR INTER K8T. golden ; straiKht landsonie features, the jaw a little heavy. The only fault an ill ' >-.iiig on." " Well 1 it is jolly having you home again anyhow I " "Home 1" repeated Marjory scornfully. "Do you call Mrs. A eland's house home ? " "It's father's house, not hers," returned the boy. Marjory murmured something ; and he continued. " For that matter Mrs. A. ain't half bad, anyway she hasn't been to be this time, and she has been quite friendly about my going to sea." " And how is the Monster ? " A LIFE INTEREST. 11 *' Well, a trifle bigger than ever, and queer, but not a bad fellow. I never thought he was. You are a bitter little pill, Mariory ! " " And you are too soft, George. Still I am glad to feel you near me after these long months." " Yes, it seems jeara since we were home 1 " "More than a year," said Marjory. "You remember I was asked to spend the summer holidays at Marshlands ? Oh ! George, it was such a delightful time ! Imagine a big farm, cows to milk, dear rough ponies to ride, and a boat on the Broad ! Oh ! and such cream and strawberries ! Then at Christmas the little ones were threatened with chickenpox, and Mrs. Acland cotddn't think of my running into danger ! " a significant emphasis on the last words. ** So it is two years since 1 saw you. Well, you are going to stay now, and we'll try and make some fun," cried her brother. " Try," slie repeated, letting his arm go after pressing it closely for a minute, and walking to the fire — " try if you like." She stood gazing at the red coals, while her brother gazed at her, dimly per- ceiving the change which the last year had wrought. She was slender to thinness, yet not angular ; her quick slight gestures had a'Y)eculiar grace, partly the result of perfect proportion ; her dark, red-brown wavy hair was turned carelessly back from her forehead, round which it grew thickly in a graceful distinct line ; her bright, rapidly glancing eyes of doubtful colour ; a scornful rosy mouth which could smile at times sweetly, and a clear though somewhat pale brunette complexion, did not suffice to convince all her schoolfellows that Marjory Acland was a pretty girl ; some thought her just not plain, while others pronounced her nearly beautiful. This evening the cold air and the warm fire combined had given her a brilliant colour, which lit up her eyea and lent fair- ness to her complexion. " Come, Marge, if you are not hungry, I am," cried (xeorge. drawing his chair to the table, on »vhich tea and remains of a cold sirloin were set out. "Here is a nice cako for you," said a stout red-faced woman, entering unceremoniously. "I baked it a' purpose for missee's home-coming, and glad I am to see her. Leave a bit for Mr. Cranston." So saying she went swiftly away. " Cookie is a capital old woman ! 1 can tell you. Monster and I would often have short commons but for her," cried George. "One would think both of you were Mrs. Ackland's stepsons." *' Yes, especially Jjick," returned George. " Perhaps poor old Monster isn't her son really ! Perhaps he has been changed when a baby by a wicked nurse, or a malignant witch, or Mrs. Acland herself, as we read in story-books," cried Marjory, laughing. *' Oh ! he is her son right enough," said George. "He looks like her sometimes. " <\\ HI m r I u >:^V >% 12 A LIFE INTEREST. *' Unhappy Monster !" put in Marjory with a comic look oi^ compasflion. " Look here, Marjory, I wish you wouldn't call him Monster. Though he fs always so quite and we used to think dull, I believe you hurt him with your scornful mocking ways. Really, girls are ever so much harder and crueller tlian boys ! Dick Cranston isn't half a bad fellow, and not half such a monster as'he was." •'Indeed !" said Marjory, opening her eyes. " Has he grown down then ? " " No , but he isn't such a bundle of legs and arms as he used to be ; and he has been no end of a help to me in arithmetic and Euclid ; he is ready to sit with me and help me every evening after the day's work at the office." " Ah ! yes, I can imagine arithmetic and dry stuflf of that kind just suiting the Mon Dick, I mean." As she spoke, the object of her remarks came in — a tall, broad- shouldered young mat^ with a strong quiet face, fair-haired and blue-eyed. Tliick, soft, downy moustaches, a shade lighter and more golden than his hair, already covered his upper lip and, added to his size and gravity, gave him the air of being two' or three and twenty instead of nineteen. He was dressed in a suit of rough dark tweed, which had evidently been long worn and was covered with dust, and held under his arm a large, thin, shabby-looking book. He stood still for an instant, meeting Marjory's eyes with a frank smile, and colouring through his fair skin like a girl. "Good evening, Dick," said Marjory civilly, holding out her hand without rising. "How do you do?" he returned, laying down his book and advancing to take her hand. " When did you arrive?" "Not quite an hour ago. What has happened to you? Have you been rolling on the road, or have you been getting yourself up as the dusty miller ? " " Oh ! I didn't know I was in such a state. I stopped to watch the men dressing stones for that new church by Falkland Crescent. There was a lot of lime and stuflf blowing about. I will go and brush it off ; " and he left the room quickly. " You are right, George," said Marjory with a nod and an air of superiority. " He is bigger, yet less monstrous, but nearly as shy and awkward as ever. " '* Just you wait," returned her brother ; "Dick isn'ta bad fellow." Dick soon returned, and drawing up his chair fell to on the cold beef. "I met with a man I haven't seen for years," he said, after a a silence of some minutes, " that's what kept me later than usual. He was very good to me when I was a 'itile chap I was always fond of seeing builders at work, and he u-ed to let me try my hand at ohipping the stones and laying the bricks." ▲ LIFE nTTEREST. u '• Was he a workman then ? " asked Marjory, ** Yes, a mason ; he is a master mason now. I am going to sea him on Sunday." ♦* I believe, Dick, you would rather carry a hod than hold a pen," cried George. Dick smiled, but did not reply. •' Mr. Acland and my mother out ! " he asked after a pause. George nodded. *' They have gone to a big dinner." There was another pause, during which Marjory played an im- aginary tune on the table with her slender but, it must be confessed, red schoolgirl-like hands, and looked round the room with quick scornful dO'nces. "You haven't had many additions to your luxurious furniture since I left," she said. The furniture consisted of strong, heavy deal chairs and a stout table. The floor was uncovered save by a square of oilcloth, from which all traces of pattern had long disappeared ; a dislocated pair of tongs and an attenuated poker were lying within a fender too small for the hearth ; a coui>le of shelves ran along the wall opposite the fireplace, which were crowded with books, writing materials, car- penter's tools, and a variety of miscellaneous treasures such as boys collect ; under the curtuinless window stood a long painted box, something like a seaman's chest. That was all. "A little more tea, if you please," said Dick Cranston, handing in his cup. " I daresay it seems rather miserable to you ? I sup- pose you had a very smart drawing-room at your school ? " Hi* v'tico was deep and rich, but still youthful. " Smart ! oh dear no ; still it was tit for a lady to sit in. This is really too dreadful. I hope my father will allow me some comfort now I have come back." "I suppose you are going to stay at home ? " said Dick, stirring his tea. *' I am afmid so." "Would you rather go back to school?" asked Dick, looking steadily at her as if trying to make her out. " Do you think this house can be very delightful to return to ? " asked Marjory with a quick grimace. "No, I don't," said Dick heartily. " Still, school was not paradise," she continued. " At least I shall read what I like and spend my time as 1 like down here. But you boys," with ineffable superiority, "must keep your things in better order now I am to share your barn or dungeon." V Oh ! you will be in the drawing-room, I suppose," said George. "Not if I can help it." *' Don't give yourself airs, Marge," cried her brother ; " I can't bear you when you are so conceited." " It is an untidy hole." remark vu Dick, casting a penitent glance at the confusion of the slielves. m 14 A LIFE INTEREST. " And when are you to go to sea, George ?" asked Marjory, after sQme further talk, as she pushed away her plate. " In about a month." '' But how has it been managed ? You must pass an examination. At least, I know Mary Devonport, one of my schoolfellows, has a brother in the navy, and " ** Ah, but I am not going into the navy. I am going as apprentice on one of Rennie & Co.'s ships." "What!" with an indescribable quiver of indignation in her voice, " on board a trading-ship — you ? Ah ! I understand now why Mrs. Acland was so good-naturedly ready to forward your wishes. It will just suit Iter to have you at a distance and degraded to the position of a common sailor. Our obligations to your mother, Dick, increase every day," cried Marjory, her gipsy face lighting up with intense anger. Young Cranston flushed a deep red, and he moved uneasily in his chair. " For shame, Marjory," exclaimed George. '* J don't mind. All I want is to go to sea. I can tell j hi the mercantile marine is not to be sneezed at. Besides, I can get out of it into the naval reserve, and become a R.N. ofljcer. You needn't blaze away like that ; " and he glanced at Dick. " You are as weak as water, George," she cried contemptuously. " I d(m't wonder at your being bitter," said Dick in a low tone ; and, rising from his seat, he went over by the fireplace. " George ought to be in the navy ; but I think your father has a right to part of the blame. Try to be just as well as indignant, Marjory ! God knows if it could help 1 would turn out to-morrow and labour for my living with my hands. I'll do it yet ! Sometimes I am stung be- yond endurance by the contemi)tible position I hold, especially when you send your words like darts into my soul ! If it were not that I have a liking for your father, and took the place he offered nie in his office as the l)est way of lightening the burden to him, I'd not stay here. Do you think I have any satisfaction in stupefying my- self over the old-world bosh I have to copy by the yard ? Why , it is softening my brain. Or that I enjoy the food my mother be- grudges me ? Now that you have come back I despise myself more than ever. I feel an intruder more than ever. You have always shown the contempt you feel for me ; but I don't complain. It is natural — it is almost justifiable, yet " He stopped short and turned his face av/ay. Marjory was thunderstruck. Never before had the despised " Monster " spo'^en so many consecutive words to her. A rush of contrition flooded her impulsive heart. She suddenly rememlbered the curious unfriendliness of Mrs. Acland towards her first-1)orn — the silent resignation with which he had endured the hard loneliness of his lot, and she felt ashamed of herself. A LIFE INTEREST. 16 rontice in her ow why wishes. to the r, Dick, up with ly in his ind. All le is not reserve, } that ; " puiously. ow tone ; " George Kt to part -y ! God )ur for \r\y stung he- ally when lot that I red me in n, I'd not fying my- Why,it aother he- y^self more ive alwaya ain. It is short and The last year had developed her greatly. She was still hasty, quick to resent offence or to laugh at what seemed dull and awk- ward. But the woman's heart within her had woke up, and told her, that though distasteful and contemptible in her eyes, her father's step-son might have feelings that could be wounded — a soul that could suffer. " Don't talk nonsense ! " she exclaimed, starting up and coming over to him. " I don't despise you 1 Your being Mrs. A eland's son is certainly no recommendation ; but 1 don't mean to be ill-natured. You shouldn't mind me. I can't help feeling wild at times. Still I do not think you heeded what I said, or — or I don't think — that is I hope I should not have been so disagreeable. I will be better in the future. At least, I'll try. Shake hands 1 ' Young Cranston turned to her with a searching look- in his steady eyes, and took the hand she offered. "I am quite ready to be friends with you,'' he said, "but I don't expect you will be able to koop your tongue quiet, and you can't understand ' He stopped. " I am not so stupid, though ! " said Marjory with a saucy smile and a pretty bend of her head to one side. " You are a good deal too sharp," cried George. " I do hope you will behave yourself pnjperly in future, and as things ire not gener- ally too j)leasant, let us try to be happy together." " Very well ; while we are together. But oh I Ge< rge, I cannot bear to think of your going away as a common sailor ! It is too, too cruel." She threw her arms around his neck and stro.e t(» suppress the angry tears that would well up. " Come, come, Marjory, don't be foolish, I'll be all ight. I'd far rather be a cabin-boy than be in the othce." Dreadfully ashamed of having betrayed emotion befc»re the boys, Marjory struggled back to tolerable coni}tosure as Mrs. Cutler came in *<» lemove the tea-things. Then, with the laudable intention of making herself amiable, Marjory asked Dick what book he had brought home under his arm. Ho opened it, and drawing a chair between her and (ieorge, dis- played his new treasure. It was an old volume on architecture, with illustrations exemplifying the prficesa of building in various stages, with diagrams and measurements. Over this work Dick grew animated and even eloquent. The boys were soon talking cheerfully, but Marjory was silent and preoccu- pied. Her colour faded and her lips were tremulous, " George wjis going to sea as an apprentice, going to unknown hardships and horrors " — this was the sentence which kept repeating itself in her heart, while fragmentary recollections of newspaper paragraphs describnig the terrible cruelty of sea-captains came back to torment her. It was a relief when cook looked in to say it was time to turn ofl the gas, and she eould shut herself in her room to cry freely. h t 16 A LIFE INTEftESrr. CHAPTER II. TWINING THE 8TBAJTDS. ill In spite of having been later than usual the provious night Mrs. Aclana was up betimes the morning after her step-daughter's return. She was a careful methodical woman, and before her hus- band had issued from his dressing-room she had descended to the dining-room in the neatest of morning gowns, and had pointed out one or two streaks of dust in the remoter corners of the sideboard to the housemaid who was bringing in the breakfast. The sound of a door closing below attracted her attention. Step- ping to the window she saw her eldest son come up from the base- ment entrance and walk towards the garden gate. Her face dark- ened and she tapped vehemently on the glass. Dick looked back, and, in obedience to an imperative gesture, returned to the house, entering by the front door, which his mother opened for him. " Where are you going at this early hour ? " she asked him whon they had reached the dinini/-room ; " you will be at the office before the doors are open. Tell me what scheme is in your head?" she spoke sternly. As Dick met her eyes a faint smile curled his lip, but he replied with quiet respect, " My scheme was to see an old schoolfellow who is in a builder's ofhce, and I sometimes call to look over the plans ho is working at." " That is like your usual (tbstinacy I You have a bett«r openintr given you by Mr. A eland than you have any right to expect — a chance of lightening the burden you have been to me, and instead of devoting yourself to the profession in which you might win for- tune, you waste your time hankering after stones and mortar, some rubbish of an ideal ! " "I do not waste my time," returned the young man with a sort of weary indiflference ; "I never shirk the office work : but I have a right to my time before and after hours ; that does not take anything from Mr. Acland." *' It docs ; it fritters away your mental force. Concentration is the best road to success. I hate to see any trace of what your unfortunate father used to call * versatility ' in you ; and you are strangely like as well as unlike him. I trust you will not bring misery upon me as he did." Dick made no reply ; but a grim look of displeasure gathered over his brow, and brought out a decided resemblance to his surviv- A LIFE INTEREST. 17 inL' pfircnt. Mrs. AcLand fxnzed at him, hor lif;ht oyps darksnint,' witli a curious expresaion of dislike and distrust as he silently turned ht Mt«. ughter's her hu8- a to the nted out ideboard 1. Step- the base- ace dark- ted back, he house, lini. him whon Bee before tad?" sl^e he replied ihoolfellow over the [p.r openint? expect— a |nd instead it win for- >rtar, some |th a sort of it 1 have a iQ anything lent ration is what your lind you are 11 not bring re gathered his suryiv- had half as it is — George's frankness I could understand and she interrupted herself w^ith s'>me impetu- away. " If you guide you ; , , • ,. , osity. "At any rate assume the bearing of a gentleman if you haven't the instincts of one, and don't slink out of the kitchen entrance like a servant, when your mother is mistress of the house." "The servants are considerably more independent than I am," he said, in a deep tone that had a touch of feeling. " That is not lyour fault, I know. Things will be different someday." He left he room and the house, closing the door and gate behind him caro- uUy and quietly. Mrs. Acland stood still for a moment, a look of baflSed anger on er face. Her firstborn was no favourite. There was a kind of antagonism etween them dating far bcick — when, as a big and somewhat lum- erin* child of three or four, he used to importune his mother for i.saes'^ and was invariably and coldly repulsed ; for Mrs Acland as much harassed at that time, and was not the type of woman to horn the loving kisses of a little child would bring any solace. Later, she visited the sins of the father upon the son, probably he only portion of the Decalogue she had ever followed. As she stood thus in deep thought for some minutes, holding back he drapery of her skirt from the glowing fire with one white hut by o means small hand, the other placed lightly on the mantel-piece — steady repose of her attitude was indicative of strength — the xpression of her face grew more restful and content. Last night's inner had been a success. It was at the house of a wealthy solici- to which, as to the inner circle of her husband's profession, she lad long wished for an invitation. For Mrs. Acland was not as yet iiy sure of her foothold in Philistia, nor ^as quite certain that the flemn and irreproachable society into which Mr. Acland had in- )duced her had set its seal of adoption upon her smooth wide low kehead. It was now more than seven years since he had drawn )on himself the cold looks and dubious head-shakings of his peers his marriage with the interpsting widow of a vagabond artist, [iio, having deserted his wife and child, lost his life in a steamboat Ijcident on one of the great American rivers. Mr. Acland had met fate at the bedside of an old lady, a wealthy client to whom the dow acted as companion and nurse. The client died before she y\ time to execute an intended codicil to her will in favour of her Lliu'd attendant, and Mr. Acland did his best to console the dis- jl'oiiited widow. The result was his marriage and the adoption tlie new Mve. (2) Mrs. Acland's son, a big-boned, awkward shy lad of 18 A LIFK INTERIST. This step eeciaed the rnoro i(lii)tic on the \y.\rt of RoIk ri Acland, because just at the time ho had sustained .scjv^mo l-sses hy the failure of two couipanies, in which lie had iiiveatcd \n\it of !n> capital. Sv lu!r o\v;i dcsiro, and in tho meant inie gave Mrs. Acland a good deal of power. So Marjory was pr imotod to bo nursery-governess and extra needle-woman, considerably relieving nurse, and enabling , the nurse-maid to bestow more time on cook ; wliilo her own chance.s [of practising were few and far between, and finally ceased alto- Igether, as Mrs. Acland resolved to keep tlie piano (the piano which >elonged to Marjory's own mother) locked, as '* such strumming Iwas not good for so valuable an instrument." ) a mere boy, 1 read and dis- f slf. X «^,"'^| ay move nei|^ nt away up to:| -ing down her| er the critical^| lad the innate ay, which dis iduces a mort .re deficient it ision, kept hei n the outset U oxious becaus ■ as she viewe ^oundfavouri: ^im with smag ihe covi^d altacr Id be providf me, while m without son. found it wa . then, she niw o handU'das' thers side-t Though coming round in some measure to her brother's estimate f Dick, IMarjory was in too bad a temper to be either kind or urteous to him. She had, in her hasty judgment, set him down as stupid, silent nonentity, not understanding the depths indicated y his uncomplaining endurance of her former taunts and occasional alf-contemptuous noiice. She had been better, certainly, he ought, since she returned from school, but she was still painfully tarial)le, '' What has become of Dick ? " asked Marjory one evening about fortnight after her return ; " he always disappears after tea. hy does he go away ? " " Because he thinks his being here annoys you," cried George ith some warmth, "so he goes and sits in our room ; and you ow what a miserable place it is." *' But that is ncmsense," she returned ; "I haven't been uncivil ,ce I came back, and I don't want to be ill-natured to poor old k. I wish you would tell liim to come down here." '*'I have told him till I am tired," said her brother. "Then I will go and ask him myself," exclaimed Marjory, throw- down some widths of brown merino she was diligently stitching ther, and away she ran to the boys' room, which wa.s an excres- e at the top of the kitchen stair. As to going into Dick's bed- m. she never hesitated ; he was a sort of infiirior brother, to- s whom conscience told her she had been unjust. Moreover, rtJfe was possessed by a spirit of playful tyranny tlia, made her im- ient of losing a subject or a victim. Dick had no business to ent himself in that way when he saw, or ought to see, that she willing, in school parlance, to '* make up " with him. ' Come in," said Dick when she knocked at his door, but he did rise or look round. e had removed tho looking-glass from the chest of drawer* ch served as a dressing-table, and had spread over it a sheet of ier, on which he was drawing diligently by the yellow light of composite candle. I ! Ii ! 22 A LIFE INTEREST. '* What are you doing ? why do you run away to this cold miBor- ableroom?" cried Marj(»ry, coming to his side and Icanint,' one elbow on the corner of the drawers as she looked up in his faio. Dick gazed at her in astonishment. " Marjory ! " he exclaiiiied, ** Yes ; did you think it was cookie ? There is better light in tlie schoolroom, why do you stay here ? " *' Because, oh I because I don't want to be in the way. You and George would rather be by yourselves naturally enough," ho r«;turued, as he resumed his drawing. *' I did not think you were spiteful," said Marjoiy, her smooth brown fair cheek flushing under the stings of conscience. " I know I have been nasty, but you need not be implacable." •' Implacable 1 " rejoined Dick, with a smile, as he looked down into the bright pleading eyes upraised to his, recognizin*^ suddcMily that Marjory was something better than pretty. "That is a bi},' word I I am not implacable or spiteful— why should I be ? It is quite natural that I should be in your way, that you should dislike me. I should in jour place.'' •' But I don't dislike you, and George is quite fond of you," cried |j Marjory, bent on "making up," yet somewhat chocked by his com- posure. '* Do come and sit with us and show me what you are doing ? " Dick looked into her eyes for an instant. "I think you are in earnest," he said ; "yes, I'll come." He gathered his pencils and, papers together, Marjory aiding him, and without saying more hej^ followed her to the schoolroom. "Ah 1 that's right," cried George, looking up from a well-thumbed ^| novel ; *' come along, old fellow, we three ought to hold together, we have a common cause. Here spread out your traps near the gas ! " "And make haste, it will soon be turned off," added Marjory. " It is not more than half-past eight," returned Dick ; " I have a good hour and a half ; " and he again set to work. Marjory picked up the material she had been sewing and stooc\.,| for a moment or two gazing over Dick's shoulder at the lines whiol^l divided his paper into angles and squares and circles, with nea: minute numerals here and there. " What is it for, Dick ? " she asked. ^^^ "Oh ! nothing particular. I was helping a friend of mine tl; other day to copy a plan for a big house some fellow is going t. build in the country, and I cant help fancying I could make a hc'i ter disposition of the space, so I kept the dimensions in my heaj and I am making a plan of my own." " I suppose you will give it to your friend and he will show it t| his master and get the credit of it ? " cried Marjory, still gazin with interest at Dick's work. ▲ LIFR INTEREST. 35 He laughed, *' There i« small chance of an apprentice'! plan being looked at. I don't suppose any one will see this." " Wliat a pity ! it is so nicely and neatly done." *' Oh 1 my work is clumsy enough. If you could see some of the fchint,'s at M;ilot and Driver's office — they are beautiful 1 " ** Why don't you try and do pictures ?" asked Marjory. *' I don't seom to care for them. I like the projections and Wiailovva, the angles and curves of a great building — they are Ireal." IJut how hard it must be to got such work to do," urged Mar- lory, luturuing to her seat and continuing to run her seams with liligenco. " Now with some paper and a few water colour.s you can it in your room and make a pretty picture." " And sell it perhaps," added George. "A very bii; perhaps," returned Dick laughing. ** There is a rood deal wanting be3ide3 paper and colours. I like pictures well fnough, and 1 think I could sketch a bit, but they are not in my le. I .sometimes long to get away from the office even to turn Cone mason." *• Stone nia3(m ! " exclaimed Marjory, looking up surprised, while le drew out her needle and a long thread. " You are not in oar- lest. Dick ! " " Vos, I am. I daresay you'd laugh if you knew how fond I am st.mes. It takes a lot of hard work to make anything (>f them, |ut when you do they last. Look at Westminster Abbey and the jniple Church, why hundreds of years haven't spoilt their beauty, bher added to it." ^*' I don't imagine many stone masons think in this way," said irjory. Very few, I daresay. I suppose mechanical labourers make up greater number in every trade or profession, but when thoughts le into yuur head and you feel as if the things you handle have life of their own, why then work is — must be a delight 1 " Ho stopped abruptly and went on with his drawing, while Mar- looked in6nitely surprised at such expressions from a creature had always considered dull, heavy and, but for his silent indif- fence, contemptible. " Oh 1 I assure you Dick is a dab at architecture," exclaimed )rge. "He ought to be our fu' .'re Sir Christopher Wren, our -oh ! I can't remember any other fellow. He can't pass a wall bhout looking to see how tlie stones or bricks are set, and if the infiice ( " asked Marjory. ""^ Make my mother ! " repeated Dick with a harsh laugh. " That is easier said than done. And you forgi too, that neither my tn(^;' ther nor myself have any money to pay the fees of apprenticeship-; I hud no choice." "Well, if they wouldn't let me go to sea I should run away— be.' cabin-boy," criod (xcorge with an air of heroic determination. " Nonsense," .said his sister scornfully. "Iain afraid neither builder nor architect would take a less runaway, so I had to bow to what is inevitable." " Ah ! that is detestable ! " cried Marjory. " I have been fruit lessly fighting agninst the inevitable ever since I went to schoo! dying to have singing lessons from Signor Catnpanella instead : stray hints from good-natured little Miss Mills, the junior mus: mistress, and begy;ing for leave to attend Mademoiselle Duloguei French class all in vain. I had to hammer away as best I cou!^ with all the under-yovernesses, while the rich Liverpool and Bij mingham girls had all the best lessons, which very few of thei could appreciate. Oh ! there is nothing so hateful as being pool I wonder if my father cannot really afford to give me the educatii of a gentlewoman ! I should like to he accomplished ana beautiful dressed, and presented at Court with a train and feathers. I penni gOOi Js on |read; [Comt rWe„| luch :es mien fyi »g ladj '^Z ; "I , half-i shake ns of ^ 'bted tc dance uil Bhal ission. is last L A LIFB INTEREST. chap and my [i__I believe j 318 much as Ij ,t were being ^, id give me a . irl fell into a J deeper thai ) came. Het Then I was ret away irm [ right glad 1 Laving to go t/ no use tryint; [«ertain I could kick a train like the actress 1 r>aw when Mr. Cross [took us to the pantomime." She started up as she spoke, and hastily fastening the stuflf she lad sewn togetlier with a few pins to her waist, proceeded to sail up id down the room, turning at each end with a dexterous sweep of ler improvized train in a <;racef ul stately fashion, very theatrical and bflfective. Dick suspended his drawing to gaze at her, and George burst out wghing. '*I did not think you were such a conceited peacock," he ex- limed. " Conceited ! I do not think I am," resuming her walk and the icking of her train ; " I wish I could be ; it must be so pleasant be satisfied with oneself. Am I conceited, Dick ?" "I am not sure," looking gravely at her. "I believe with a mendons row little fine dress and company you would be. I fancy you think a ' K)d deal of yourself." '•I must if I am to live ! Humility does not suit me ; and you a disagreeable boy to tell me plainly that I think too much [myself. " I did not say that. I said you thought a good deal," returned ;k with a quiet smile , "you " le was interrupted by the entrance of the friendly *' cookie." ^'Now, sit ye down," she exclaimed, " and have a bit of supper. I saved ye a mite of pastry and have made you a turnover . There's a trifle of minced mutton inside 'em, as'll do you Fe good than sweets ; " and she placed a small dish and three 9S on the deal table, clattering down a few forks in a rough- ready fashion. |Come now, eat *em up while they are hot." |We must wait till the performance is over," cried George, who {much amused by his sister's antics. Tes ; can't I manage my train well, cookie dear ?" said Marjory, miencing her march. ly 1 " exclai)ned that functionary, gazing critically at the ig lady, the backs of her hands resting on her hips, *' it's just play-acting. " You see Cutler recognizes my genius," cried Marjory dramati- ; " I will no longer submit to he undervalued by you miser- half-flodged, half-civilized boys ! 1 will escape the thraldom J shake off the yoke to which you bow your necks, and soar into ms of grandeur where you cannot follow, where I shall not be ^bted to a faithful retainer for scraps of goodies filched from the idance of the upstairs table, as though I were not entitled to full share of all in this enslaved mansion. There are limits to lission." lis last sentence she brought out with great force, pointing a into an archi laugh. "Tha- neither my ni&, apprenticeship •un away- [nunation. -be Id take a penni ave been fruit ent to schoo: ella instead e junior mus iselle Dulogue 18 best I ecu erpool and B ry few of t^-" I as being pooi e the educatv ana beautiful feathers. I fl\ m It . ^1 m ^'«e Km I 26 A LIFE INTEREST. scornful finger towards the ceiling. George laughed and applauded, and the sympathetic cookie exclaimed, "She do speak beautiful,' when an awful sound hushed their mirth and fell like a ban ujk.h the group. From the open door came the \oicoof Mrs. Aclaud, saying as ahe entered, "Pray, Marjory, is that the way to treat tin,' material I have contrived to purchase for your use — sweeping tlic dusty floor with it ? What ridiculous nonsense are you about Pray remember you are no longer a baby. You had better gd upstairs to nurse, she is ready to fit on your body. You ought to have finished your skirt by this time." Marjory, her bright looks changed into frowning gravity, hastily unpinned her train and folded it up, while Mrs. Aclaud continued, "George, here is a letter from Messrs. Rennie & Duncan, tellini; your father that one of the boys they expected to sail in their next 1 outward-bound ship is prevented by illness from joining, they will, 'I therefore, send you instead. I congratulate you on getting off i fortnight sooner than you expected. You will sail this day week.' She stood firm and quiet like an irresistible fate as she handed j letter to George. " In a week ? Oh I that is cruelly soon," cried Marjory, with;, the sound of tears in her voice. "What are these ?" asked Mrs. Acland, disda nfuUy examiuingi' the turnovers. " Cutler," she called after the vanishing cook.i " take these to the larder. Supper is over ; there is no need for i second edition of it. Go upstairs, Marjory," with sharp command. "I will follow you. Your dress must be finished to-morrow. Mr Cross is coming to dinner and you must wear it." fongtJ •iempts ^fc'oiice «^d Mr. ^ree ol He pii #nipanyr Present o| bended Ada] A LIFE INTEREST. 27 CHAPTER III. A. QUIRT DINNER. A DIWNBR-PARTY at Mr. Acland'8 was a rare and important event, josting the mistress of the house much anxious thought, not as to le dainty dishes fit to set before a king — these being of small lifficulty to so accomplished a housekeeper — but as to the company. Mrs, Acland was slowly though surely advancing towards the jcial position at which she aimed. The beauty of cleanliness and cder which pervaded her dwelling, the good looks and careful ressing of her small children, the evident friendliness of her step- >n, all scored in her favour ; and if that ill-tempered, unmanage- |ble girl, Marjory, had been wise enough to understand her own iterests and willing to keep up a friendly appearance, the ring ance of fair-seeming would have been complete. But Marjory was reconcilable. Her prolonged banishment from her father's house to the cheerful losphere of a large, well-ordered, middle-class school probably ^ved her bright, impulsive disposition from being hardened and itorted by the suppression and irritation of her unhomelike home. LThe guest in whose honour Marjory was to don her best frock her father's junior partner, Mr. Cross— junior in rank but ler in years — a stiff, silent, middle-class man. A more unim Ijrtant, unremarkable man could scarce be found, yet he had been lulously courted by Mrs. Acland ; nor without success. "?he cautious bachelor had viewed his partner's marriage with fong though unexpressed disapprobation, and had long resisted all jmpts to draw him into friendly intercourse out of office hours. ^tioiice and perseverance, however, generally attain their end, ipd Mr. Cross was gradually mollified and enticed into a refrigerated jree of familiarity. le preferred a tete-d-tete with his partner after dinner to any JiHipany banquet, as Mrs. Acland very well knew ; but on the )sent occasion she had invited the clergyman whose church she bended and his wife, also a rich stock-broker who had managed Acland's little investments very satisfactorily. farjory and George received strict injunctions to be dressed and [the drawing-room after dhiner. A similiar order was issued to ;k, who preferred remaining late at the office to finish some work. larjory, however, obeyed readily ; she had a pleasant recollec- of occasional presents and small kindnesses from her father's ■^^^ 28 A LIFE INTEREST. partner ; and she was intermittently anxious to win her only surviv- ing parent's notice and approbation, though at times wildly angry with him for allowii)g a stranger, as she always considered her step- mother, to turn him against his own first-born. It was with a certain sense of humiliation that she arrayed herself in her only presentable dress, not too well made by nurse, and took her place in tlie drawing-room. If she ventured to speak to Mr. Cross about George and her bitter disappointment at his being sent as an apprentice to sea, would it do any good ? was the ques- tion which occupied her while she sat waiting for the ladies to come up from dinner. It was the first time Marjory had seen the drawing room lit up since she returned. "How nice it all looks!" she said. "Mrs. Acland certainly has taste ! she is awfully clever ; no teaching, no book-learning could make one her match 1 I am not, at all events, and never will be," she sighed ; " I care too much for things, I am too ready to go into a fury and cry ! " George neither replied nor heard, he was deep in the morning paper's account of the Oxford and Cambridge crews. Marjory relapLed into silence till the rustling of silk warned her the ladies were cc^ming. " What you say of home education is very true," said Mrs. Middleton, the clergyman's wife, as she came in with her hostess and settled herself in an easy chair — she was a pale quiet woman, not too well dressed in grey and pink — " but schools are diflferent from what they used to be, and girls learn ♦■o know themselves better among companions and competitors than in the seclusion of homo ! " " Still, a mother's care I " urged Mrs. Acland, looking round for George and Marjory. " Even so. Yet I am not surprised that you should be reluctant to part with that sweet little girl," resumed Mrs. Middleton, " she and her brother make a charming picture ; such well-mannered, prettily behaved children too ! I find it very difficult to train my numerous flock. The boys going to a day school are at home in tho evening, and make the others so rough." " Let me introduce my eldest daughter to you," said Mrs. Acland with a charming smile. " Marjory, come here, my love." With deepening colour and a slight frown Marjory drew now as awkwardly as was possible for her, and looking to the greatest disadvantage. "Very happy to know you, my dear. You have only jusr returned fioni school ? " " Yes," said Marjory shortly. " That is anothei' pleasure of school life," pursued Mrs. Middle- ton, " the joy of returning home for good. I well remember my owi? emancipation. It is nice, is it not ? " h^ la now *Ce hen d t, fu ana ,ck • violen large d felt tliat to recei\ ■tlood ne "How Acland I. 1tt)man." •'Natu -Marjor iBclined i A LIFE INTEREST. 29 ily Burviv- dly angry I her step- ped herself nurse, and speak to b his being the ques- ies to come •oom lit up id. "Mrs. jachinsj, no all events, hinga, 1 am replied nor the Oxford warned her " said Mrs. her hostess uiet woman, are different w themaelyes le seclusion ng round for ' 1 he reluctant lleton, "she U-mannered. to train my . t home in the IMrs. A eland ■ ve." drew no li- the greatest •'Oh ! very, " I suppose you in a dry tone. brought back a good many prizes ? " ive only Mrs. Middle- remember naj t( " Not one," returned Marjory unflinchingly. TJiis was a poser. Mrs. Acland gave an expressive look to her guest, and remarked soothingly, "The race is not always to the Iswift ; some private lessons will make up for lost time. 1 am not Ian advocate for the over education of women ; their highest work lemands more moral and religious than intellectual training." '* I entirely agreo with you/' cried Mrs. Middleton heartily, while le thought, as she afterwards told her husband, " What an ill- tempered disagreeable girl that daughter of Mr. Acland's muit be — luite spoils herself ! And she really ought to be pretty 1 Mrs. Lcland has a great deal to put up with, I suspect ; she seems gentle and patient." To which the reverened gentleman replied, "A sensible well- principled woman, I believe ; her table seems admirably served." Mrs. Acland having successfully trotted out Marjory, called George, who came smiling and ready to make himself agreeable any and every one. He answered all observations and returned step-mother's smiles sympathetically. Where is your brother, dear ?" asked Mrs. Acland affectionately. *' Who, Dick ? Oh, he was kept late at the office." " Please go and see why they do not bring coffee," Khe asked, mging his necktie with a motherly touch. "He is such a dear jy ! just like his father," she continued, looking after him. I did not remark the resemblance." !*' Well, at least I think so ! My own eldest son is half jealous of I, yet they are the greatest friends — really brothers 1 " with a Et laugh. V' How very nice for you ! quite an unusual case." '^* Certainly uncommon." ~^hen the gentlemen made their appearance, Mr. Cross, short, dried- up, with snubby features and small light eyes, came t, followed by a tall, large fleshy man with a hooked nose, deep and brown complexion, flashing dark eyes, abundant curly iick hair and a big loose-lipped smiling mouth. Marjory took iolent dislike at first sight to him as he stood sipping his coffee, a ■ge diamond on his little finger sparkling obviously, while she t that he was scrutinizing her with more attention than she cared receive. Mr. Middleton and his host came in together, and od near the door continuing a discussion begun below. 'How much Marjory has grown," said Mr. Cross as Mrs. and herself put the sugar in his cup ; "she man." ♦ Naturally ; she is seventeen. Marjory, here is Mr. Crofjs. arjory rose and came towards him with a brignt smile ; she lil|ilined to welcome him as on her side. is quite a young was '■^*-^^~y» -^ ^-^^ — *■ ^1 If) ao A LIFE INTEREST. " Well, and how are you?" he asked, embarraased by the necessity of S])eaking to the young lady, who had almost outgrown his recognition. " You have come home for good, I suppose V "1 have come back," returned Marjoiy, with slight, but signi- ficant emphasis ; " and I suppose I shall not go to scIkjoI again." *' No ; you are quite a finished young lady." " Finished 1" cried Marjory, laughing. *'I am afraid I am but too wntiuished, and will be all the days of my life," "That depends on yourself, Marjory," said Mrs. Acland, who took care to keep near while this little conversation went on. " Your dear father has given you every advantage. It is for you to pursue the studies you commenced at school." Marjory was silent. '' Anyhow, you can play the piano, I suppose 1" said Mr. Cross good-nature- ily. "I have been so late," observed Mr. Acland. joining them — " I been so late every day since Marjory returned, I haven't heard her yet. Sing us a song, my dear." "Oh, my singing is not worth listening to. You know I have never had any lessons." "Of course not," said Mrs. Acland quickly. " You are only ndw old enough to begin. Nothing ruins the voice so soon as straining it before it has reached maturity." Marjory murmured that teaching was not straining, but no one heeded. "Gj and do your best," said her father; but Marjory, with fluslnd checks and a heart beating with mortification, steadily refustd. It was the bitterest grief to her to be thus obliged to refuse her father's first request, but she dared not exhibit her definiennes, and she was desperately inclined to cry. "Dont press her," said Mrs. Acland, smiling in a maddoning way; "you know what a shy little bird it is;" and she put her hand on Marjory's arm in a kindly, protecting manner. Marjory, quite at the end of her self-control, shrunk from her * touch with such unmistakable aversion that Mr. Acland started l at her in displeased surprise " Won't the young lady give us a song? " asked the strange gentle man. approaching. ;, " You must excuse her," returned Mrs. Acland ; " this is her firs; -^ appearance on any stage." "A very eflfective appearance, I am sure," with a florid bowlJ *' Will you not present me ? " "Mr. Blake — Marjory," said Mrs. Acland carelessly, and walk&fl away. " You know the birds that can sing and won't sing must be ms to sing," Mr. Blake observed, in a familiar tone that offended Marjory. A LIFE INTEREST. $1 .d Mr. Cross -| tg them—" 1 4| I't heard her >| know I iT'Vve are only n<'\^ ,^ ,n as straining | ,cf, but no one Marjory, ^^•itll ''I ition, steadih lus obliged to 3t exhibit her . a maddeniiis ,d she put her ^^- I. runk from riei Acland startec strange gentle ' this is her firs. \i a florid bov ssly, and walk& ■icr must be wad ,a1; offended ^^ " How do you know I can sing ? " she asked aggressively. " Yoii ha\e a musical face ; and only a concord of sweet sounds coiiM come from so pretty a mouth." Marjory looked straight into his bold black eyes for half a second, and then turning her back on him, walked away to where Mr. Cross was speaking to George. *' And you sail next Tuesday ? " he was saying as she came up. " Oh ! Mr. Cross," she exclaimed in a carefully lowered voice and with quivering lips, '* must he go ? " " I do not see how it is to be prevented." " But you do not think it is right that he should be sent from hit home to be a common sailor ? " "Your father is the best judge," said Mr. Cross guardedly. " Boys cannot hang on doing nothing at home. George absolutely refused to come into the office, and prefers the sea. Do not be uneasy. He will get on all right." " It is very cruel," murmured Marjory. " It would have been better, certainly, had he gone in for the Navy ; but then he is to sail with a lirstrate captain, I am told, and Vho will be well looked after." Mr. Cross stopped abruptly, looking compassionately into the speaking face upraised to his. " It is so near at hand — so soon after my return, I mean his going way," said Marjory somewhat incoherently. Mr. Cross was silent. He by no means approved Mr. Acland's action respecting his Idest son, but was too cautious to interfere in any way. Doubt, hich had nearly died out, respecting the wisdom and kindness of ra. Acland started to life again, so he tried to turn the conver- ticjn. " Do you remember coming to the pantomime with me?" he asked. *' Yes, indeed I do. It is one of the few pleasant things I have remember." " You must not be a pessimist, my dear." *' A what ? " asked Marjory, puzzled and half offended, deeming gome tenn of refiroach. 1 " I mean you must not look at the dark side of things." T ** I have no other side to look at," cried Marjory in)petuously. < " Come, come," Mr. Cross was beginning, when Mrs. Aciand iwept across the room with a pack of cards in her hand. " Mr. Mi'ldleton likes a quiet rubber, will you make a fourth If ith Mrs. Middleton and Mr. Acland ? " Mr. Cross was most willing ; and while her step-mother was ttli!ig the table and finding the counters, Marjory stole away with- t being perceived even by George, who wasassistini; Mrs. Acland. I suppose you do not want me any more ? " he asked, " I would ,ther go to bed." I * H n ag^ mufmam n " w w k " '>r<^ 32 A LIFB INTEREST. % II' 1 'I ** Very well, go. Where is Marjory gone ? without a word to me." She frowned as George, abstaining from words, nodded hU good-night and went to seek his sister. So soon as the whist party had become absorbed in their game, Mr. Blake, who had been standing on the hearthrug, gazed steadily at Mrs. Acland, till she turned her head and met his eyes. She almost immediately walked over to him. "Well?" she said, her fair face settling in a stony expression. *'I want to speak to you nbout on or two matters," he returned, in a low tone, as he drew forward a seat with an air of grave polite- ness. "What matters?" she said impatiently, though in a careful undertone. " Matters we cannot discuss here ; tell me whore I oan meet you." " You can have nothing to say that affects me, and I do not see what claim you have on my time and attention." " Oh, you don't ? " he returned with a civil smile but a some- what threatening expression of eye. " I think on reflection you will be less unkind ; besides, are you sure you have no personal inten-st in what I have to say ? " Mrs. Acland lof»ked at him steadily, and seemed to think before she replied, "" I am almost sure I have none." "Almost, but not altogether," with a sneer. "Well, makeup your mind and let me know where I can see you, as it would be wiser for me not to write here." Mrs. Acland again looked straight at him but did not answer. " That's a pretty girl, that step-daughter of youis," he resu led after a short pause. "No regular beauty, but she has a piir of eyes and a ' go ' about her that will lead some man a pretty dance one of these days." " You think so ? " coldly. "I do. If I had time for such schemes I wouldn't mind having a bid for her myself ; later on she will be uncommon taking. Tiiough, you know, fair beauties are more to my taste." Mrs. Acland was silent. "She does not love her amiable step-mother, eh?" continued Blake, with a grin. " I suspect you have all your work cut out with that young lady." Mrs. Acland smiled, not a kindly smile. "She excites herself a good deal sometimes ; but I do not think she can ever give me any real trouble. My power is too well assured with her fnther to be in any way touched by her resistance, and she will probably prefer not to live in our house." " Oh, that's the plan, is it? " and Blake laughed. " Now, Mr. Blake, would you not like to cut in in Mrs. Middle ton's place ?" said her husband ; "she is not much of a player, and will be glad, I imagine, to escape. " A LIFE INTEREST. sa fk word to lodded hU tieir game, ed steadily eyes. She e said, her e returned, rave pohte- roae to accept the invitation, " 1 shall hear from you then ? " saying quickly to Mrs. n a careful : meet you. I do not see "l)\it a some- itlection you no personal think before /ell, make up s it would be >oked straight " he resu ^^^ has a pviv of pretty dance lind having a ang. Though, Acland was ?» continued [k cut out with excites herseli ler give me any ifMther tobe in ably prefer I oi II Mrs. Middle- )f a player, and Blake Acland, ''I think not," she said aloud and haughtily. The whist players played, Mrs. Middleton babbled on, and Mrs. Acland covered up her growing weariness with an air of interested attention, while the leaden moments dropped slowly away ; but the end came at last, leavhig Mr. Acland the proud possessor of five shillings and threepence, the result of his winnings. Mr. Blake out- stayed the rest, but to no effect. Mrs. Acland kept close to her husband, until her guest was obliged to bid his hosts good-night. The dreadful day of parting came too quickly, George, light-hearted and hopeful, set forth as if to enjoy a holi- day. Mrs. Ackland expressed the warmest regret at parting with him, nd high hopes of the success which must attend so gallant a spirit his Marjory folt an indescribable movement of scornful indignation she SuW the gratified vanity which sparkled in George's eyes as he atened to her flattering words, and noticed the heartiness of the arting kiss he bestowed upon his step-mother. It was too bad that he only creature she loved should be but half-hearted in hia sym- arhy with her dislike and distrust of Mrs. Acland. How could he e 80 easily taken in ? She did not consider that it had never been orth Mrs. Ackland's while to take htr in. But when George was quite gone, then the fuH sense of her treme loneliness overwhelmed her. She had no friend left in her me, if she could apply that term to her father's house. He was not unkind, only cold and not interested in her ; nor had she ever e smallest clianco of seeing him alone. Mrs. Ackland never loft 1 to himself. Dick she had ceased to dislike, but she still con- ered him an inarticulate inferior ; and, except the good-natured, gged north-country cook, tiie servants were too much Mrs. Ack- d's creatures to be friendly Yet Marjory did not give lierself up sorrow ; unhappiness was abhorrent to her. She struggled against with wild resistance, as a victim might who feels the deadly coils a venomous serpent tightening round him. She dared not let herself sit down in despair. She kept as busy as she could, but the evening tvould draw in and ilie was driven to take refuge in the schoolroom. Dick would soon me back now and tell her the last news of her brother. They re safe from interruption that evening, for Mr. and Mrs. Ackland re to entertain a carefully-selected party at dinner. ~ho familiar aspect of the sordid room was too much for Marjory, ere lay George's lesson and exercise books on the shelf ; his dislo- d desk, a broken penknife, a ball of twine, and a shabby little ' 'ii -'»:?i. ^">iwA ' * ' ^ ! I) ! 34 ▲ LIFE INTEPEST. purse, the contents of an old jacket pocket turned out last evening by their step-mother's command when she took possessiuu uf that gar- ment. How vividly did the untidy debris recall her kindly, careless, sweet-tempered brother ! She had not been half tender or loving enough to him. She had been cross and selfish ; she had been every- thing she ought not to have been. When he came back {if he came back) she would behave like an angel. The tears would come, resist how she might, even while she busied herself in putting the place in some order. At last she heard the kitchen entrance door open, a step approached, then Dick walked in. "Oh! Dick, you have com" at last. Tell me all about him — everything ! " She passed her arm through his and drew him towards the win- dow. It was the first time she had ever touchud him voluntarily, and the young man felt curiously moved. *' First of all, here is a note for you. I was to be sure and give it into your own hands." Marjory seized it in silence ; it contained something heavy. She read it hastily, and in another minute exclaimed : — " Oh ! he is a dear 1 He says, ' Old Cross has turned out a trump. When he bid me good-bye at the office this morning, he tipped me five sovs. for pocket money, and the poor governor gave ine three ; so I send four to you, as I know you never have a shilling. I can't write more there is such a row going on, and everytliing upside down ; bu*^^ we'll be ship-shape to-morrow, and I have no doubt I will get on all right. So keep up your heart and keep down your temper ! If you could humor Mrs. A. you would have an easier life. Dick is a real good fellow ; be friends with him. God bless you I Your loving brother, George.' Look! he has sent four beautiful gold pieces ! " cried Marjory when she had finished reading, and there was a suspicious quiver in her voice. " How good and generous ! When shall I see him again ? Do tell me how you left him, and everything ! " " I stayed with him till all visitors were ordered oif the ship. It's a fine vessel ; things are in confusion, of course. The captain does not join till to-morrow morning at Gravesend. I think George will be all right. The chief ofiicer doesn't seem a bad sort of man, though rough." "And George?" gazing earnestly into his eyes ; "how did he part with you ? " ' ' Well, he didn't say much ; I fancy he couldn't. I believe he felt rather bad just at the last. You know it is hard to say good-bye for such a long time." "How do you mean ? He is going to Sydney and back, is he not?" "He may come back direct, but he has signed for three years, and will probably be away the most of the time." ] V A LIFE INTEREST. 35 out a trump, le tipped me ve me three ; ing. I can't l thing upside 5 no doubt I down your ive an easier God bleaa as sent four shed reading, fow good and how you left he ship. It's captain does hink George i sort of man, "how did 1 le I believe he say good-bye ,ck, ishenotf three years, " riifii T hiwti been quite deceived ! " cried Marjory, throwing up vn^^ ii.iiid with an angry gesture. " I thought I should see him within a yinr. How did he look ?" " Just a Httle down, but— " He stopped, for Marjory, throwing herself into one of the heavy wooden chairs, put her elbows on the table, bowed her head upon her hands, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of weeping. Dick stood quite still, infinitely distressed and embarrassed. He felt keenly, warmly for her ; ho would have done anything to com- fort her, and he did not know how. Nay more, he was half afraid to utter a word of sympathy lest he might ofl'end. At last, watching the heaving of her shoulders as the quick sobs shook her slight frame, hi6 spirit kindled, and drawing a seat beside her, he exclaimed, "Don't cry so much, Marjory, you will make yourself ill ! Look here, 1 know it's hard lines for you to part with him, but for him- self he will not be so badly off. He is pretty sure of good treatment, and he is a sort of fellow that's certain to make friends." " Oh 1 " sobbed Marjory brokenly, "one reads of such horrible things - captains taking dislikes and flogging boys to death, and tor- — orturin^ them ! And then the horrid people he will have to live with, who get drunk and chew tobacco ! He will be miserable ! " " No, he will not. Captains of the class he sails with never do such things, and on board ship men don't get the chance of making brutes of themselves." " Perhaps not, but it is all so dreadful. If I were sure George would not bo unhappy when he sees what a sailor's life really is, 1 could bear it better. Do you think he will be wretched ?" " No, I do not. He has a real liking for the life. It won't be |dl ease and pleasure, but he will get enjoyment out of it, I am cer- "^ in," " If I could believe that, I should be less miserable. I am so lonely, so miserable, Dick ! " *'l see you are. But I say, Marjory, though I am a silent, mcouth fellow, not bright and pleasant like George, couldn't you ke me as a sort of brother in his place ? Not that I would expect ou to care for me as you do for him, but I might be of use, end " -smiling a sweet, frank smile — " at any rate you might forgive me ^lor — ft;; existing." V "Thank you, Dick. lam quite ready to be friends with you, land ask you to do things ; but J hardly expect you could like me .after the way I used to treat you." " You were very unjust, I know ; perhaps it is not your nature to >e just, but if you will let me, I could be very fond of you. You re not so lonely as I am. You know I haven't a creature in the rorld belonging to me ; even my mother wouldn't care if she never m my face again." " Ah, yes, we are both lonely and wretched, and I will take you I li ii' 36 A LIFE INTEREST. I ..,1 iiiH II i ' as a sort of brother, Dick, and try to be fond of yon. Of course, you can never be what George is to nie, but you were very good to him." Turning to him she put her head utijuinst his shoukler, and indulged in a flood of quieter and more refreshing tears. Dick did not stir, yet he was conscious of a stranj^e thrill as the little brown head with its plentiful wavy hair, all disordered by the impatient movement of its owner's hands, touched him, and he felt the pulse of her grief — a thrill of pleasure which startled and puzzled him. Why should he care for this girl who had wounded him a thousand times, and made him feel he was an intruder, the son of a detested mother f He thought with a kiiul of vivid ccmfusion of her first departure for school. How glad he had been to escape her scornful eyes, and yet how he had missed her ; how dull the down-stairs school-room had seemed without her, and now what would he not give to throw his arms round her and comfort her with a hearty kiss ? But he would die rather than tell her so. He could not understand him- self. At last Marjory dried her tears and said in a tremulous voice, ** There is no use in crying, but 1 could not help it, it is a sort of relief. When can an answer to this," touching the letter," reach him ? " " Not till the ship arrives at Sydney, but you can post it for him as soon as you like. " " I will write him a long letter. I shall not feel so miserable to- morrow." " I hope not," said Dick ; " and here is tea — a cup will do you good." The housemaid appeared with the tea-tray as he spoke. ** I am sure I'm sorry you have been kept waiting, but I've not had a minute before," she said, " and cook is not to be spoke to, or I would have brought you some tarts." " It is no matter, Sarah, though I daresa'^ Mr. Dick is hungry." " I'll see if I can't find something prese?iLiy, miss." Marjory proceeded to pour out tea in silence, and very few words passed between the pair for the rest of the evening. Dick had brought home some work from the office, and Marjory tried to read a stray volume of some novel George had left behind ; but she often laid it down and let her thoughts wander away to visions of thi future, both for herself and her brother. How would it be when he came back three years hence ? Three years ! what an illimitabl space of time ! Why, she would be getting mature — nearly old Would she still be living on, just tolerated, in her father's house Would George come back fearfully tanned, smelling of tobacco and talking in strange seamen's phraseology, metamorphosed from a gentleman into a sailor — a common sailor ? It was an awful picture that her imagination conjured up, Marjory had dipped into sundry novels of "fashionable life," which had tired her fancy with picture? .- of "style," "elegance," and supposed refinement. She longed to g; 80 Fi fai 80 thi of on( thr wai lai ro\ eyet booi t( She long said, adop jj|thcni "( rdl for m 1 1 WOL ^youtc r •• \ descei ad ^Bha ▲ LIFB INTBRE8T. 37 )ur8e, you 1 to him. [ indulged i not stir, head with movement f her grief ^hy should times, and d mother? parture for ea, and yet ichool-room je to throw a] But he rstand him- tulous voice, is a sort of Btter,' reach 3st it for him miserable to- , will do you / le spoke. .♦ but I've not e spoke to, or is hungry." ery few words iig. Dick had y tried to read ^ but she of toil visions of the I it be when he an illimitable re— nearly old. father's housej of tobacco and 'phosed from » j,n awful picture ,ped into sundry ^cy with picture? She longed tc see her brother blossom into a fine gentleman mioli aa the Lord Frederics and Sir Reginalds who ahone in the lengthy pages of her favourite stories ; and how could such a superstructure be reared on BO mean a basis as apprenticeship on board a merchant vessel 7 But this was a mere side reflection. The real tangible pain was the loss of his companionship, to which she had looked forward as the one homelike bit in her life, and she had enjoyed it for barely three weeks. Now she was virtually left alone with Dick. That was not so bad as she should have thought it a month ago, yet, glancing towards him, she contrasted him in her ow mind with her brother, and he happening to look up at the same moment, their eyes met. Dick smiled. ** You don't seem to get on with your book," he said. " No, I cannot attend to it. I am very tired. I shall go to bed." She shut the book and gathering up "^ome scattered properties be [longing to George, she went towards tne door. Pausing there she [laid, ' ' Good night, Dick. I am glad you are left. I am going to ■adopt you, and if you have any socks that want mending, I will darn jthemfor you." "Oh! I have a splendid supply," be returned, laughing. "I lardly think you would like to undertake them. Cookie manages for me as she^can, but I am ever so much obliged to yott, Marjory. ~ would have gone barefoot before I should have thought of asking l/on to mend socks for me." *' Well, I shouldn't mind at all," said Marjory with ineffable con- lescension ; " I am going to be your sister, you know." *' Good nij,'ht," he returned, " don't cry yourself to sleep." OB AFTER IV. PUTTIXa ON THE SCREW. The first few days after George's departure were terribly blank tc Marjory. She was left very much to herself, as Mrs. Acland did ot seem to remember her existence, save when she wanted her help needlework or with the children. So Marjory had plenty of time mend Dick's socks and read what books she could find. These, i|irith a certain degree of scolding bestowed on her adopted brother jbr untidiness, employed her days and evenings ; but, as Dick's l&iswers were much smoother than George's used to be, the oddly .|ii8orted couple settled down into companionship much sooner than T»icrht have been expected. (3) n Jdbdk.-i- l!i; i'iii nil,.,. mi 98 A LIFE INTEREST. A few hasty lines had been sent ashore by the young sailor irith the pilot — brave lines enough, yet pervaded by an unconscious tone of sadness which revived Marjory's grief and resentment. This epistle had been inclosed in one to Mr. Acland, and was delivered as the family sat at breakfast. " George seems very well satisfied so far," said his father. " I dare say he will get on all the quicker for not being trammelled by the regulations of the Navy. " ** No doubt of it," responded his wife. " What does he say to you, Marjory ? " Marjory handed her letter to her father, remarking, " He writes sadly enough, J think." "I really do not see what you have to fret about," said Mrs. Acland, looking scornfully at Marjory's tearful eyes. "Is it not a bit of your usual perversity, my dear ? " "I suppose it is," w'th defiant indifference. " You have letters too, my love ? " asked Mr. Acland, not averse to change the subject. *' Only one of those endless coal circulars," she returned, tearing it up as she spoke, *' and one from Miss Clements, who is at Fl(