The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-10-30 00:00:00

The man had sense to see that it was not drink
which had drawn the poor pale face into such pitiful
lines, and made the feeble limbs strive so helplessly to
get along.
"What's wrang wi' ye ?" he asked. "Where are ye
gaun ?"
"Home, I'm trying to, but it's dark, and my arm's
gone cold and heavy, and-"
"All right," said the policeman, promptly. "Here,
cabby I"
"A passing cab drew up, and the officer helped the
old man in.

"I'd better come with you," he said; "and now
where do you live ?"
John Jarvis gave his address with some difficulty,
and told the policemanhe had money for his fare; and
before they reached Davidson's-court, G. 55 had ex-
tracted from him such a curious story of his fright
and its cause, as made him resolve to improve his ac-
quaintance with the old man, and find out all about
it if he could.
Mrs. Jarvis was thrown into a terrible state of con-
sternation by the arrival of a troop of boys, who in-
formed her that "her good man had been ta'en up
by the pollis, and was at the close-held in a cab." It
was reassuring to find that he was safe, and the
policeman orp a friendly escort; but she was terribly
alarmed at his appearance and helplessness.
The policeman triep to be as comforting as pos-
sible.
"I daresay there isn't much the matter with him,"
he said. "But he's frail and auld, and I wadna let him
gang aboot his lane. Guid day, my man; I'll come
and see ye when I'm nae on duty."
"Do, and thank you kindly," the old woman said;
and the officer went on his stay ruminating on what
he had heard, and made up his mind to keep his eye
on John Jarvis and the -hotel he had visited, and to
see the lady he spoke of when he could get a chance.
He saw Beryl the next day, looking very pale, but ex-
tremely beautiful, and learned from a hanger-on at
the hotel a good deal about what had happened the
day before. Miss Atherstone had been very ill after
the gentleman had gone away, but she would get up
and go out; and a good deal more gossip which he
treasured up in his own mind, thinking it might prove
useful some day.
The doctor whom Mrs. Jarvis had called in to see
her husband could get at nothing about the cause of
the slight shock of paralysis from which be was suf-
fering, though he tried very hard; he was not nearly
so successful as the policeman had been.
Mrs. Jarvis could not understand it at all. She had
the purse that Beryl had sent, and the kind message,
and the story the old man told her seemed so wildly
improbable that she set it down as being caused by
his approaching illness.
"It was coming on, John," she said, 'Sand it made
your eyes dim and uncertain. You know how illness
will affect people."
"Yes, I know; but it's not that. I was as well as
ever I was in my life when I bade that girl look me
in the face. And she did, wife, with big blue eyes
like her father's; and you know she had her mother's
brown eyes, and hair like her, too."
"Yes, I know, John. I have a bit of her hair to
this day, but that won't go for much, for actresses
dye their hair all sorts of colours."
"When did you get it?" he asked, elgerly, ignoring
the latter part of her speech entirely. "Where is it?
Let me see it!"
"I got it one day when her mother was cutting it.
I put it in an old pocket-book, with a little picture of
her. It has been there ever since, if I haven't lost it.
I have net often looked at it.

"Don't talk about losing it," her husband said,
eagerly. "Find it and take care of it. You don't
know what may come of it. Let me see it."
He tossed restlessly in bed while his wife searched
for what she wanted, and presently produced from
an old leather case a picture and a bit of hair,
folded in a worn and yellow piece of paper. The
portrait was faded and deadened with ago: but
enough remained in the colouring of the old-fashiored
daguerrotype to show very clearly indeed what the
little Beryl had been like.
"That's her, bless her pretty face !" she said, laying
them before her husband. "Poor Mrs. Atherstone
said it was unlucky to give hair—that people never
met again after they had exchanged locks of hair ;
but I would have it."
"It's true, wife—we shall n,,ver see the head that
hair was cut from in this wor,d again. I tell you the
girl who looked me in the face and asked me whether
I remembered Poor old maids' had bright golden
hair and blue eyes-- eyes with an evil gleam in them,
and yet so like her father's. She may have dyed her
hair, but she could not change her eyes; but you'll
see her. She said she'd come here, and I think she
will."
"But I know the purse, John; it was her mother's;
and then, the way she talked, the things she re-
membered."
"Yes, I know; and the ladies who were with her
—nice ladies they were, too—seemed to know all
about me, and served me with wine as if I was a
gentleman. They said they had often heard her talk
about you and me."
"It makes me feel stupid when I think of it," Mr.
Jarvis said, after a pause. "If this golden-haired
lady is not Miss Beryl, where is she? and who is this
that knows all her friends, and remembers all that
happened to her when she was a little child."
• "Maybe the Father of Lies can tell," continued
—John Jarvis, gravely; "I can'i,;"
Beryl kept her word, and made her appearance in
Davidson's-close the next morning, and expressed her-
self much concerned at the state of prostration to
which she found her old friend reduced. She wanted
to drive off there and then to hunt up the best
medical advice that Edinburgh could furnish, but he
assured her he had everything he could possibly need,
and would accept nothing at her hands.
Mrs. Jarvis was so amazed at seeing tile confirma-
tion of her husband's strange story that she could do
nothing but stare at Beryl's golden hair in speechless
bewilderment, and reply in monosylables to the
heiress's clatter about old times. There wae nothing
she did not recollect and allude to, and she seemed
rather piqued at the old woman's silence.
"I'm not seeming as thankful as I ought., I know.
Miss Beryl," she said, "for you've been very kind;
but I am a bit confused with the old man's illness,
and seeing you such a grand young lady. You've
grown up very handsome, but you're not a bit like
the picture I have of you."
"A picture of me !' exclaimed Beryl, suddenly turn-
ing away her head, and looking out of the little
window into the dingy close. "I didn't know
there was such a thing in existence—as a child, I
mean."
"There's one, Miss ; your mother gave it to me
when you went away from Birmingham."
"May I look at it? I should like to see what I was
like then."
John Jarvis gave a quick glance at his wife, and she
answered. after a moment's pause:
"You should see it if I could put my hand upon it,
miss. I was just talking to John about it before you
came in, but I can't find it."
She had a reason for her fib, doubtless best known
to herself—the portrait was under the old man's
pillow, but she did not choose that Beryl should see

it.
"Oh, you must find it," she said, with a smile and
a winning look, "and give it to me, Mrs. Jarvis, and
I'll give you another for it—the very best that can be
done for money, all framed and glazed, and ready to be
hung up."
"I should likes portrait of you as you are now, Miss
Beryl, very much indeed," said Mrs. Jarvis, with
another glance at her husband, which her visitor did
not see. "But even if I can find the one I spoke of, I
should not like to part with it. It was so like you;
and your poor dear mother gave it to me."
"And you don't think I am altered for the better,
perhaps."
"You always bid fair to be beautiful, miss, and
you have changed very much indeed, of course. You
are even more lovely than I thought you would
grow. I hope I don't offend, but I mean to keep the
picture I've got."
"Oh, of course. I ought to feel gratified that you
value it so," said Beryl, sharply, drawing her veil
over her face at the same time. It is as you please, of
course. I should have liked to have seen it all the
same."
She told her aunt and Mrs. Dalton about it when
she got home, and expressed her regret that she had
not brought the childish portrait home for them to

see.
"A very porpoise of fat. I remember I was," Elm
said. I have a very vivid recollection of the way I
used to burst out of my frocks. However, it was net
forthcoming, and the old lady seemed inclined to
guard it like a dragon."
Beryl did not go to see her cold friends again, tut
spent the two or three days that remained of their
stay in Edinburgh in making arrangements for Mrs.
Dalton's comfort at Portobello, the whim for staytug
there having seized that lady after the heiress had Re-
ceived her old acquaintance.
The next the Jarvises heard of Miss Atherstone vas
that she had gone to London, and they put the por-
trait carefully away, wondering if they should ever
hear any more about it, and half-inclined to believe
that there was some glamour or witchcraft in the
affair that they could not comprehend. Mrs. Dalton
saw the rest of her party off by the night mail, and
it was a very pale face that Beryl put up to be kissed
at the station when they parted. Mrs. Dalton's adietax
were rather singular.
"Trust me," she whispered.
"If you should fail "
"There's no such word as fail." was the low mut-
tered response. "Take a stout heart with you, my
child, and leave me to do the rest. I wont fail, believe
me."

(To be continued.)