The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-10-23 00:00:00

mountains. Lay your head in my lap—it won't be
the first time by a good many—and tell me all about
it."
Beryl obeyed, and sat down on a low stool at the
old lady's feet, as though the action was natural to
her.
"Well, there's Allan Temple," she said, "to begin
with;" and her eyes blazed with a very different
light from the soft lovebeams with which she had
whispered, " Semper Fidelis " into his ear when they
parted. "He's one trouble. Here's here in England,
acting as he used to do out yonder, and turning
everybody's head. I'm a wicked girl, I know; but
his coining has made me feel as though the seven
devils of the Bible story had entered into me and taken
possession of me. I never wished for anything in my
life, as I wished that the Cupid might find her way to
the bottom of the sea, and All her passengers with

her."
"I'm afraid my wishes went side by side with
yours, child," said Mrs. Dalton, grimly; "but our
prayers were of no avail, it seems. I don't, think you
need be afraid of him."

" Why not ?"
"If he has the spirit of a mouse (and he used to be
a fine young fellow) he won't seek to come near you,
when he knows you are going to be married; and you
may depend upon it, he knows that agreeable fact by
this time.
"Who is to tell him ?"

"Who ? Why, his bosom friend, the young lawyer.
You overrate the annoyance he is likely to be to you.
We have got over a far greater one in meeting young
Carson."
"There was no difficulty over that," said Beryl,
absently. "He knew me at once."
"Of course he did. He knew what you were
coming home to, and expected to see a stylish young
lady. Mr. Allan Temple does not know, and may
probably look for the fac simile of the Miss Atherstone
he knew in Melbourne. I sincerely hope you won't
meet him, child. It would be very disagreeable."
" I am afraid of meeting him by accident some-
where."
"We must try and be on our guard. Avoid the
profession, and don't see strangers. Anyway, there's
no present danger, that I can see."
"Then there are the people at Birmingham. I
can't refuse to go there. It would look so strange."
"Of course it would, and you mustn't. Put a bold
face on it, and it will all go off well."
"I wish it was over; but I have so many old ac-
quaintances there," Beryl said, with a peculiar smile
on her face. "I 921/cBt stop and see them all, and be
amiable; and I dread it. I hate recalling those old
times. It sickens me to think of them."
"My dear girl, you think of them too much. You
were such a child when you were there, you won't be
expected to remember anyone; besides, consider how
everything is changed—all the old companions are
gone, and the theatre is in other hands. You didn't
know a great many people either."
"No, not many,' replied Beryl. "There was Mr.
Masters; but I know he has gone away, and his com-
pany—they are all scattered; and a few neighbours
round where he used to live. Of course I must find
out John Jarvis and his wife. We lived with them
when we first went there; and be's the man! promised
to remember."
"Well, and you do remember him. I don't think
your reason for worry amounts to much as yet."
"There are two other people whom I fear—dread
—as I can never make you understand. It gives me
a cold shudder whenever I think of them."
"Who are they ?"
"Dr. Twist. I know he's roaming about the world
somewhere. I may meet him at any time.'
_

" Awl if you do ?"
"He'll ruin me."
"Not he. Who is the other ?"
"That boy at the Rookery, and the man he calls his
uncle."
" Ah, now you come to a real worry. The boy is
an evil, I admit: but he is a passive one at present.
I would not meet trouble half-way."
"I don't want to; but the passive evil may become
an active one. I can't sleep at night for picturing
what may be happening at the Grange through
him !"

"Nothing that you do not hear of, depend upon it.
The boy shall be silenced when the time comes, never
fear. If he speaks, shut him up in a madhouse; put
him in prison ! or in his grave, if it comes to that—
and he'll be silent enough, never fear."
"Oh, don't l" said Beryl, with a shiver. "You
make me wish I had never seen the Grange, or
inherited this fortune. I wish I had never left Mel-
bourne."
" Bah ! Don't talk nonsense! Doesn't the Grange
compensate you for all the misery of the past—for all
the weary fight with poverty which was the curse of
your childhood? That boy need be nothing more
than a fly in your path, which you can brush away
with scarce the trouble of a thought! There's some-
one calling you, child. You had better go down, and
don't tltink. it's the worst thing in the world. You
used to be strong of nerve, quick to think, and prompt
to execute. Give me a kiss, and run away to your
cousins."
Beryl kissed her lovingly, and seemingly shut all
her troubles into her old friend's room, for she was
never gayer or more tenderly affectionate than she
was on that evening. And yet, had she known what
was in store for her the next day, she might not have
been so blythe. They had just lunched, and Beryl
was lounging in a low chair by the window, looking
out at the ever-varying throng that moved up and
&ran Princess-street, and at the picturesque beauty
of the view beyond, when a waiter entered,
and announced that a man was downstairs, waiting to
see Miss Atherstone.
" What sort of a man ?" asked the heiress, with
apparent anconcern, though her heart was beating
quickly, with a strange, nervous dread.
"A. poor man, miss; old, but very clean and tidy.
He's English, and says his name is Jarvis, and that
he knew you in Birmingham, when you was a very
little girl. I shouldn't have come up with such a
message, miss, but that he said he was sure you would
remember him, and be glad to see him."
For one brief moment the room seemed to darken
and whirl with Beryl Atherstone, and the Castle Rock
opposite the window to heave and swell before her
dazzled eyes, as if an earthquake shook it to its
foundations. She turned deathly pale, and then
flushed scarlet; but whatever might have caused her
emotion, it passed in a moment, and left her calm and
collected as before.
"Old John Jarvis here !" she exclaimed. "How
odd. He must be a very old man by this time. Of
course, I remember him very well. Where shall I see
him, auntie?"
"Here, my dear, if you don't mind," said Mrs.
Atherstone. "We should all like to see him."
'Of course. Bring him up, waiter."
" Yes, miss."
Beryl stood by her chair waiting while the man
went to summon John Jarvis. Mrs. Atherstone
noticed nothing; but Mrs. Dalton could see that she
was trembling till every bit of lace about her pretty
dress was shaking, and she sent a warning glance
across the room, which made the young lady strive
for more self-command before the heavy foot of the
old man was heard coming upstairs. He came in
rather awkwardly, as though somewhat scared at the
grandeur of the room, holding a large bunch of
flowers in his hand. He was very neat and clean,
but looked as though times were much harder with
him than in the old Birmingham days. His hair and
beard were white as snow, but he looked hale and
healthy enough. He seemed doubtful of his recep-
tion, but Beryl sprang forward, and laid her little
hands on his arm.
" l'm so glad to see you r she said. "I was sure
you would remember me, if ever you heard my name.
I'm the little Beryl you used to carry to the theatre
You know me, don't you?'
(To be continued.)