The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1884-10-04 00:00:00

riXTURDAY OCT. 4, 1884

I

A

INIX RIGHTS RESURVED:j
AMBITION'S LADDER.
13y the Author of " Atherstone Grange," a A Life for.
a Love," 4-0.

CHAPTER XVlll.—(Coatinued).
"I do not ask to bind her by any promise," nxia
Leonard. "That I know would not be fair, but only
that I may be allowed to speak and assure her of
my devotion. Surely there can be no harm in
that ?"
"Not so far as you are concerned, I grant,"
admitted the lawyer. "But lam thinking for her,
and I object strongly to any other course than the
one I have .named. Come," he continued, kindly,
"be satisfied with the concession I have already
made, and ask no more for the present."
Leonard pleaded no more, for he saw that Mr.
Sartoris was inflexible, and even the doctor refused
to back his prayer.
"It would not be fair, Len," that gentleman said,
as they walked home-wards arm-in-arm from Chis-
wick. "Eve is certainly old enough to judge for
i
herself, but n point of experience she is younger
than her years."
" What am I to do ?" said Leonard, in rueful
tones, "I have given a promise that is hard to
keep--"
"But one that you must keep, no matter how
hard it may be, my boy," gravely returned the
doctor. "You would not break your word, I
hope
"Not willingly—but—l am afraid of myself.
It would be dishonourable, despicable—l feel that
—and yet I fear lest, in some moment of madness, I
shouldforget the obligation laid upon me and reveal
my love to her."
Doctor Sampson considered for a minute, and then
replied.
"I tell you what it is, Len," he said. "There's
one way out of the danger, if you think it is so
great that you cannot face it."
"How ?"

"By avoiding it altogether, my boy," was the
answer.
"If it were possible--"
"It is possible. Why should you not see a little
of the outside world during the time fixed upon
for your probation? You have never been out of
England yet. Have you quite lost your old
fancy ?"
"Net at all, sir," answered Leonard, his face
brightening. "I should like much to take a
-voyage, if it could be managed. Nothing better,
indeed, except---"
" Except to stay at home and make hot love to
Miss Eveline Trenchard, eh ?" said Doctor Sampson,
with a sly glance. " Well, well, that is only
human nature. Love is an experience we have all
to go through. A pretty face was a great attraction
to me in my salad days. 'ln the spring a young
man's fancies lightly turn to thoughts of love,' and
you are not likely to be an exception to the general
rule any more than I was."
"Thu 1"

" Ay, Len. It's not because I'm short, and grey-
haired, that I've passed throughlife alone. I've had
my romance as well as the best of you, and—l'm an
old fool, no doubt—l remember the time so well
that I feel almost inclined to fight your battle now
instead of helping to separate you from the girl
you love. But then it would be no use if I did,
for Sartoxis has made up his mind, and there's no
turning him when once he has determined a
point.'
"Do you think, sir," asked Leonard, presently,
with a little hesitation, "that his opposition is at
all on account of—of what you have told me—
because—you know what I mean I am a
foundling ?"
"Partly, no doubt, though I believe that in his
heart he is as satisfied as I am that you do not
deserve the name. But we have no need to dis-
cuss that subject further, Len, though I should be
glad for your sake if it could be made clear.'
" here is very little chance of that, I am afraid,
sir," answered Leonard, sadly, "since the only
person who, you say, has the power to do so is far
away, and will probably never be seen in England
again."

li'm ! That's as may be," returned the doctor.
"Still, it is possible, and— —Ah ! a good idea:"
"'What ?"

"You'll want an object for your travels. Why
not spend part of the time, at least, in trying to
discover the whereabouts of your old acquaint-
ance?"

"Whom do you mean 'i"
"Whom should I mean but that long-headed
gentleman of loose morals, who used to be known
as Aliek Wood? He has gone under a dozen other
names since then, no doubt, and the task of finding
him is not lly to be an easy one. Stillit is worth
the trial." '

"If I only could-"
"Not that I have much doubt,but he will find
you out when the time arrives to make it worth his
whilo to do so," continued the doctor. "But in
the meanwhile you would not find the time hang
BO heavily on your hands having an object, and
such an object before you. Think what a triumph
it would be to establish your right to the name and
fortune which I honestly believe are yours."
Leonard paused a moment before replying.
"I am afraid you are too hopeful, sir," he said
at last. "'Why, if he really possesses such informa-
tion as you suppose, should he have kept it so
long when he might easily have furnishel you with
it 1."

"Because, in that case, he would probably have
gained nothing by it," replied Doctor Sampson.
"And now what can he hope to gain ?"
"Do you really mean that you don't know ?"
asked the doctor.

"If eally."
"Upon my word, your ignorance is quite refresh-
ing! Seriously, is it possible that you for one
instant imagine that this Mr. Aliak Wood was
moved to take so strong an interest in your well-
being with no selfish end in view? I will say so
much for his candour that he did not even pretend
to assume the virtue which he had. not. No,
Sartoris is quite right."
"And what does he say, sir 9'
"That the fellow intends—if he ever reveals whit
he knows—to make money out of it."
"But why did he not--"
"Po so before? Because he was far-seeing
enough to understand that no one would pay him
as well—even if he got anything—as yourself, and
that no bargain with you before you were of legal
age would hold water. That's the true explanation,
there can be no doubt."
" It never occurred to me before,' said Leonard,
thoughtfully. "But if it's so, what should I gain
by finding him lefore the time he is looking forward
to"
"Well, nct much, perhaps, except to assure your-
self that his information is worth buying, and saving
some time in the transaction. What I regard as the
chief end of your journey, however, is the distraction
it'will afford you from other thoughts."
"But it will cost money,' urged Leonar "I
cannot trepass on your goodness to me. I, who owe
so much to you already--"
"Look you here, young man," said Doctor Samp-
son, interrupting him with a frown of mock severity.
" Pon% let me hear any more of that sort of nonseree,
unless you wish to pick a quarrel. How often
have I told you that you are to look upon me as
your father, and not to contradict me. No, Len,
there must be no talk of favours or gratitude between
us, my bay. Take what 1 offer in the same spirit
as it is given, willingly and without sense of
obligation. Find the fellow if you can, and bring
him to book. If you are unsuccessful—well, even
then you are but where you started, with the
addition of having gained a little more worldly know-
ledge, an acquisition that is not gained except by
rubbing shoulders with your fellow creatures and
experiencing some of the rougher phases of life."

CHAPTER XIX.
SWEET SORROW.
Thou'rt p oing ?—Well. thou knowest
What prayers arise for thee;
And wheresoe'er thou goezt,
Bear gentle thoughts of me.
"CERTAINLY the very plan I should have proposed
myself if it had entered my head. There could not
be a hetter," was the verdict of Mr. Sartoris when
Do, tor Sampson made known to him the scheme
he had hit upon to remove I eonard from tempta-
tu a such as must assail him in Eve's society. "I
was wondering how on earth they could.be kept
a; art, and now the difficulty is solved Riif. the
ex pen se ---"
" There will be none...

64 No 1,7 I,

"No. Not that that would haTe stood in the way.
I can afford to throw- away a few hundreds if I like
without being reduced to the workhouse," said the
doctor. "However, there will be no occasion even
for that."

"How will he manage, then
"He is going as surgeon in a passenger ship I
didn't like the notion at first, but the lad can. be
very obstinate when he chooses, and insisted till I
was forced to give in and allow him to have his own
way."
In fact, Leonard had left the doctor no choice but
to submit, for to avoid argument on the point, he
had sought for and obtained employment withoutdis-
closing his intention till he had signed an agreement
with a leading firm of shipowners, and it was then
too late to draw back from the engagement he had
entered into even if he had so desired, the He7erits
being advertised to sail within a week of the day
that E a w him appointed to her.
Mr. Sartoris repeated to Leonard his approval of
the course he had taken, and again impressed on the
Z.°l-Ing man that he was not to unsettle Eve's mind
by any reference to the hopes he entertained—a
eontingeney he took good care to guard against by
allowing no opportunities to be given the youth to
forget his promise—though in consideration of the
cqlg parting that was so soon to take place he threw
no obitacles in the way of their daily intercourse,
;2'llY contriving that they were never left alone,
lest passion should overcome honour, and Leonzird
break the silence imposed upon him.
"Of course I don't suppose for a moment that he
7ould do so deliberately, my dear fellor," he said
1/1 answer to a remonstrance from Deztor Sampson.

iihe:—moto tiustful of his nattn—saw Only a system
of petty ervionage in the precautions taken by the
worldly-wise lawyer, "But, at lovers' perjuries
Jove laughs,' you know, and the long and the short
of it is this-1 won't ruu the least risk of having
Eve made miserable."

In persuasion of which determination be kept a
constant though unobstrusive watch upon the young
couple.
Mr. Sartoris might, however, have shown more
confidence for hard as was the struggle to restrain
the avowal of his passion, Leonard was strong
enough to withstand the temptation, and honour-
able enough to have no thought of forfeiting his
pledged word, and so the days passed until the
evening preceding that on which he was to sail.
He was going with a heavy heart, for not even
the hope that his journey might end in proving his
right to fortune, and—what he most desired—an
honourable name, could altogether divest him of a
foreboding of evil, which, try as he would to shake
off, persistently obtruded itself into his thoughts.
"You will think of me sometimes when I am
gone, won't you Eve ?" he said to the fair, win-
some girl who stood beside him.
They were virtually alone; for once the vigilance
Of Mr. Sartoris was relaxed, and he had allowed
himself to be entrapped into a warm argument by
the doctor at the other end of the drawing-room,
unobservant of the fact that his ward had left the
piano, at which she had been playing to them after
dinner, and was standing in the deep shadowy
embrasure of a window from which she was I-ooking
out with Leonard for her companion.
"You will not quite forget me ?" said the young
man again, looking down at her with a tender light
in his eyes, a sad longing, that might have told one
more conversant with their language than Eve
Trenchard the story that his lips were forbidden to
speak.
But Eve was no adept at reading faces, and even
had she been more experienced in such matters her
gaze was so persistently fixed upon the moon-lit
garden without that she could not see the longing,
hungering expression with which she was being
regarded.
Forget 3...5a1" she said, and her voice sounded
cold and constrained to her hearer, who did not know

the cameo, that wao only by o.n. offorb of ecirii.h
pride that she contrived to suppress the quiver that
must otherwise have broken her utterance. "Of
course not, Leonard. Do you think my memory is
such a bad one

" o, but you will be making fresh friends
soon, many of them, no doubt, and it is not always
easy to retain an interest in those who are out of
sight."
" New friends are not the same as old ones,
Leonard," answered the girl, in a low tone. "You
need not fear that any will make me forget my old
playmate—unless you stay away toolong youknow,"
she added, with an attempt at archness, which was
so far successful as to make her hearer torture him-
self with the belief that it was genuine, and that
in very truth she felt little grief at his departure.
"In that case I can't say what might happen. How
long do you really think you shall be away F"
" Oh ! twelve months—perhaps a couple of years,"
he answered, with an affectation of careless in-
difference designed to show her how little the
prospect of so long a separation affected him, wherein,
unfortunately, he succeeded only too well. " There
is no definite time fixed for my return."
"But I—l thought you were coining back in the
same ship she said, timidly.
"Most probably I shall. The HespernP, however,
is not going to return at once, as she will not reach
Melbourne in time for the passage season, and she
will be employed till it comes round again in carry-
ing cargo between that part and others."
"And you P'
"Oh, I shall not be wanted for such service, of
course, and shall re-vain on shore. The doctor has
given me an introduction to an old friend of his
who is in practice out there; possibly if I saw an
opening, I might stay in the colony for good."
Five minutes before, not the remotest idea of
such a coursr had presented itself to Leonard
Grant's mind; but now, stung by Eve's apparent
indifference and knowing nothing of what it cost her
to assume the light heartedness of manner which
angered him, he began seriously to entertain the new-
born pro ect as one not only feasible in itself, but
actually the best he could pursue.
Eve could not trust herself to speak for some
moments. Tnnocent as she was, unversed in the
snbtlety of passion, there had at times been a
fervour in Leonard's accents when addressing her,
an ardour in his gaze, that stirred even her inex-
perience into knowledge, and she had hoped—alas!
it seemed vainly—that ere long she might be called
upon to listen to an avowal which would chance her
hope to certainty.
But he should not see her grief, of that she was
determined. Though her heart broke in the
attempt she would not let one who evidently cared
so little for her, perceive the feelings that were at
w;tr within her.

"That is rather a sudden fancy, is it not ?" she
asked quietly, when at length she could command
her trembling voice sufficiently to speak without
breaking into a sob of pain and wounded affection.
"If you really carried it out, I suppose that we
should—never— see each other any more ?"
" No, I suppose not," slowly replied Leonard,
his heart full of wrathful bitterness, his senses ob-
scured, or he must have noted the quiver in Eve's
voice, despite the bravery with which she tried to
conceal it. "Not, at any rate, before we have
grown older and wiser —if years, indeed, bring
wisdom."

And now, sick at heart with the imaginary dis-
appointment he had conjured up, too readily
accepting the outward and visible signs which were
all his blinded vision could see, as symbolising an
indLYerent mind, he turned to join the two gentle-
men who, engrossed in conversation, were happily
uw onscious of the little drama that was being
enacted in their presence.
What was it suddenly made him stay his steps?
Tears! Were they really tears that dimmed the
brightness of Eveline Trenchard's eyes? Was that
look of piteous entreaty that he saw caused by his
unkindness?

Leonard paused, stricken with remorse. Ah, if
he only dared to take her in his arms and kiss those
pearly drops away—to assure her of his love and
faithfulness!

_
And for a moment, forgetful of his obligations,
words trembled on his lips that would have given
her the assurance that she craved. Her little hand,
half outstretched, met his, and at the contact all
considerations gave way to the one maddening im-
pulse, when—fortunately, perhaps, for Leonard's
character, but unfortunately in other respects—Mr.
Sartoris happened to cast his eyes in the direction
of the window, and what he saw there was enough
to make him cut short the discussion in which he
had been so busily engaged with very little ceremony,
and walk towards the young couple, who drew a
little apart at his approach.
No doubt his reasoning was sound and dictated by
common sense, but it might have been as well,
perhaps, if his vigilance had slumbered yet a little
longer, and some sort of explanation—even the
slightest —taken place between the lovers.
So little, after all, would have satisfied them, and
sufficed to render their parting less painful and hard
to bear.
But that little was dened them. Not indeed
maliciously, for Mr. Sartoris meant well, and con-
sidered that he was only acting the part of a careful
and conscientious guardian by nipping in the bud
any premature disclosure of their mutual attachment,
for that it was reciprocal Mr. Sartoris did not deny
to himself, though he chose to dispute the certainty
of its being so; and, having made up his mind to
the present wisdom of not sanctioning any open
re ognition of the fact, only acted in accordance
with this view in putting a stop to a scene which ho
saw was verging dangerously on the sentimental.
"Come, Evy, my dear,' he said, approaching them
with a well-put-on air of unconsciousness that he
was interrupting a t:te-a-t "you've got over all
your good-byes with Mr. Grant, I suppose, and as
he starts so early in the morning he will hardly
thank you for keeping him longer. The doctor is
quite ready to start."
" I—l shall not see you again, then F" s&d Eve,
contriving to speak with so much steadiness as
might have further deceived Leonard as to her
real feelings but for that brief betrayal of them so
shortly before which had dispelled his jealous doubts
and fears.

"No, Eve. By this time to-morrow evening I
shall be going down the Channel, and taking my
last look for some time to come at the white cliffs—
unless I am prostrate in my berth," he added, with
an effort at cheerfulness his quivering voice sadly
belied. "Dr. Sampson is going to Southampton
with me, and will bring you back my very latest
farewell; and I—l will write during the passage, if
there is any chance of forwarding the letter home.
I suppose I may, sir ?"
This with an appealing glance to Mr. Sartoris,
who answered readily in the affirmative' as though
it was a matter of perfect unconcern to him.
"Certainly, certainly! By all means write as
often as you can, my boy," he said. "I am sure
that Eve will always be glad to hear of you, and I
also."

otwithstanding wilich assurance Mr. Sartoris
made a mental resolve that he would read all such
communications first, and exercise his own judg-
ment about passing them on to their proper re-
cipient, to guard against accidents.
And now the actual hour, the moment, of parting
was at hand. It was harder to sever so, with only a
pressure of hands. Not so very long since—a very
few months back indeed—when Eve returned from
school, she had offered her lips to receive the kiss
that Leonard pressed upon them. But that was
the last time a like caress was suffered by Mr.
Sartoris, who put a summary stop to such freedon
at once and for good.
"Jam sure it never struck me I was doing wrong,"
Leonard had answered him, on being quietly taken
to task; "Eve and I are almost like brother and
sister, you know, sir.'
But even as he made the apology his face burned
with a hot blush for he knew that the days were
pmt and gone for ever in which ho regarded Eveline
'frenchard with no deeper feeling than
_brotherly
regard, and Mr. Sartoris detecting his confusion,
guessed
directly that his prohibition was even more
requisite than he had imagined.
t' Whit was allowable between boy and girl can

hardly - continue now, Mr. urant,•• ne answered
drily, with just the slightest emphasis on the Mr.
" I quite understand that the force of habit made
you forget how yews alter circumstances, but now
that I have pointed it out to you, you will of course
see that your intercourse with Miss Trenchard must
shape itself by more formal rules."
To which Leonard had no choice but to submit.
Indeed no inclination it may be said, since Mr.
ts'artoris's words served to reveal to him plainly
that in very truth he could no longer give or re-
ceive the salute that gentleman objected to in the
sun° spirit as heretofore; and even now, when
bidding Eve adieu for a time longer than they had
ever yet been parted since they had known each
other—bound, too, upon a voyage from which he
might never return—he dared not attempt to break
the embargo that had been laid upon him.
"Good bye dear Eve,' he murmured.
Not if a whole host of guardians had been stand-
ing by could he have refrained from that one term
of endearment; but it was so lowly spoken that
Eve heard it not, and, fearful lest the youth's feel-
ings should lead him to some warmer utterance, Mr.
Sartoris stepped between them and hurried him out
of the room.

Eve, almost heart-broken at the fancied coldness
and unconcern which he had shown, saw Leonard
depart, watching him from the window till the
darkness hid him from her sight; and then, hear-
ing Mr. Sartoris's footsteps returning from the
door, fled to her own room, there to indulge the
sorrow pride forbade her giving way to before a
witness. _ _ ._ _ _

"Oh, it is cruel, cruel of him!" she moaned,
burying her sobs in the pillow on which her little
head was laid, "To leave me so! He cares
nothing for me—he cannot—and I—l hate him!
No, no, not hate—l can't do that; but I will forget
him, since he thinks so little of me."
A resolve which Eve Trenchard found easier to
make than put in force, for not till the morning
broke, with its cold, grey light, did she fall into an
uneasy slumber, and then only to dream of him
whom she had vowed to forget.
(To be continued.)