The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-10-09 00:00:00

THE STOURBRIDGE OBSERVER.

protege, Mrs. Dalton, face to face. You will think I
me crazy, perhaps; changeable, I daresay. Perhaps
I am; but I think now you were right, Carson. I
believe that the story you told us of your detention
in Melbourne was no flight of sick fancy, but the
truth. Why I think so I cannot tell you now, but you
shall know it when I have seen Miss Atherstone. I will
see her, and that before she becomes her cousin's wife,
if I come to the church, and stand face to face with
her at the altar. Oddly enough, almost the first
words I heard on English ground were her name, and
some gossip about her. Chetwynd and I dined to-day
with an old theatrical friend of his, and a Mr.
Carnaby, who knows Miss Atherstone, and was her
father's most intimate friend. I was invited to settle
a knotty point about the colour of her eyes; one
gentleman declaring them to be brown, the other
blue. For reasons of my own I did not decide for them.
I was only supposed to have known the lady slightly,
and Chetwynd did not betray me. If all this sound
wild and mysterious, bear with me. lam well-nigh
maddened by new doubts and fears. You will un-
derstand them all when we meet. Something far
more terrible than my wounded heart and broken life
is at the bottom of this woman's infidelity. It is a
curious thing that the part I have to play in the
new piece is a terribly real resume of my own love ad-
venture. It might have been written from a know-
ledge of what has just befallen me. The hero parts
from his love in much the same manner; thinks her
grown cold to him; follows her; she evades him; he
he reaches her at last to find---. But no, I will not
tell you the denouement; the papers will let you have
it if the piece succeeds, and I think it will. They tell me
I am to have the loveliest woman on the boards for
my heroine. I hear she is a good actress also; so I
shall be well supported. I havo been running on
about things in which, I fear, you have but little in-
terest; but whatever is uppermost is sure to get into
a latter. Address me at the Minerva Theatre—l shall
be there every day for some time, I hope—and keep
me au Mi.!! to Miss Atherstone's doings. Now that I
understand things a little more clearly, I can write
her name calmly enough. lam quite cured, Carson.
I would not marry the mistress of Atherstone Grange
to-morrow, if she came to me free and heartwhole. I
shall have other questions besides any talk of love and
marriage to put to her when I sae her. Commend me
to your good father and your lady love, whom I hope
soon to see, and believe me, with best wishes,
"Yours faithfully,
"ALLAN TEMFLE.
- Graham Carson, Esq."

"He's gone crazy, I believe," was Graham's comment
on this letter. "I'm afraid there'll be a row with
him yet. Other questions besides love and marriage'
to discuss with Miss Atherstone ! What can he
mean ? Well, time will show. I'll run up and see
his first appearance, and then I shall hear all about
it."
But the fates prevented that. Some very itr portant
business of his father's sent him otherwhere, and
instead of his friend's presence a note from him was
put into his hand just before the performance:
"Leamington, April 12th, 18—
"Dear Temple,—At the last minute I am prevented
from being in town, as I meant to, to help in the con-
gratulations and triumph which I am sure will be
your portion. Here's wishing you every success, my
boy (I'm devouring a hurried lunch, before starting
off in hot haste, into Yorkshire, for my father; so
consider you health drunk in my glass of bitter) ; and
don't let the memory of Miss Atherstone's blue eyes
come between you and your success. We will meet
as soon as ever I come back, I hope; and I will read.
of your triumphs over my breakfast to-morrow morn-
ing. Good-bye, and all success to you, old fellow.
Consider my good wishes the wishes of all of us, and
believe me, "Yours, in hot haste,
"GRAHAM CARSON

"Allan Temple, Esq.,
"Minerva Theatre, London."
"Miss Atherstone's blue eyes shall stand between me
and nothing on which lam bent," said Allan, as be
put the letter carefully away in his pocket-book.
"Only a friendly note; but I may want to reter to it
some time, so I'll take care of it."
Only a week had elapsed since the young actor's
arrival in England, and yet he was ready to play his
part in the new piece. The play had been carefully
prepared and rehearsed some little time before at the
Minerva; but the sudden death of a young actor
from a terrible accident, had caused a gap which
could not be filled up satisfactorily at that time, and
it was put on one side. Allan Temple was peculiarly
fitted for the hero, and Mr. Chetwynd's telegram from
Port Said had brought everything into a complete
state of preparation by the time he reached England.
Allan studied quickly, and in two days had grasped
the word of the part, and was ab'e to give a satis-
factory idea of what he intended to do with it in the
performance. First nights at the Minerva were events
to be remembered. It was a theatre where no ex-
pense was spared, or care grudged to make things go
well. The best plays, the best dressing, and the
strictest attention to everything that goes to make up
a complete whole, were to be found at the Minerva ;
and " A Haunted Life,' which was the somewhat
lugubrious title of the piece, wont with eclat from
beginning to end.
"Miss Cara Belassys," as she called herself in the
bills, though her real name was Cara Burt, lent ef-
ficient aid to the success of the piece. She was a very
lovely girl, and, report said, as good vs she triS
beautiful; and had a look in her eyes and a tone in
her Voice which reminded him of Beryl. Every now
and then he could almost fancy he wffla back again
on the Melbourne stage with the woman he loved
by his side—to have mimic love made to her in his
acting while the reality was burning in his heart, and
transforming his stage kisses into pledges of true
affection. Perhaps Cara Belassys guessed something
of this as the piece wore on, and the young man's
impassioned acting drew down enthusiastic rounds of
applause.
" I'm not Cara Belassys, nor yet Agnes Barton,"
(the name of the heroine) "to you, Mr. Temple," she
said.
"Indeed, you are, and charming as both," he replied.
gallantly. "Any success I may make to-night is more
than half yours."
"You are very good to say so," she replied, with a
pleased look in her pretty eyes. "I am ding my
t eit, and I like the part, though Agnes Barton is such
a wicked woman. You are playing spendidly, Mr.
Temple; but you are not acting with me."
"With whom, then?"
" Ah, I don't know. Someone you have left behind,
[think. I can see it in your eyes—feel it in your
touch—hear it in your voice. It was a reel woman
you were hurling reproaches at just now, and no stage
heroine. Ah, I beg your pardon," she added, hastily.
"I am too outspoken. I have said something to grieve
you."
"No, you have not, Miss Belassys. With your
quick wit you have divined the truth„ I was far
away from here in the scene just over. Every word
I hurled at you, every bitter taunt and reproach that
I launched at your devoted head, were uttered to a
woman—one whom it is my dearest wish to see in one
of yonder boxes some times while the freshness of A
Haunted Life' lasts.l want her to hear every word ; to
see every pang; to know the retribution that stage
justice metes out to such deeds as hers—a retribution
which will come to her some day, if there is a
Heaven that judges the evil that such as she work
here below.
The girl had startled him out of himself by her
chance words, and her quick-witted guess of the state
of his heart; and she was frightened at his sudden
outbreak.
"Do forgive me," she whispered. "I did not know.
[could not guess —"
"Of course you could not," he replied, with a
smile; "and I have been very foolish to wear my
heart upon my sleeve, like this"
"I'm not a daw, and I shan't peck at it, Mr.
Temple," she answered, archly. "There's the bell,
and the public are impatient. Come and kill me with
your words and looks, and be thankful it is not
reality," she added, in a hasty whisper. "I think I
could die of such wrath as yours, if it were real and
aimed at me."
Another half-hour, and "A Haunted Life," was
stamped as a success. Cara Belassys, as the erring,
impulsive heroine, had died of the shame, sin, and
reproach Of her position; and Allan, as the hero, had
hurled his anathemas at her, and seen her sink back
lifeless, without one touch of pity; and then had
picked her up, and led her before the curtain, to have
bouquets by the dozen fall at her feet, and then be re-
called a second, and a third time himself, as though
the audience could not see enough of the new actor,
whose natural, unconstrained style had come upon
them with a freshness and suddenness they were un-
prepared for.
The success of the piece was undoubted and over-
whelming. "Every night until further notice," and
the free list entirely suspended," appeared sn all the
bills the next day, and the morning papers were full
of its praise. They had but one opinion rega.ding the
young Australian actor, and they ' predicted great
things of his future career.
Graham Carson read the reports over his hotel
breakfast, at Huddersfield, the next morning, and was
vastly pleased therewith.
"I knew he'd make a success,' he said to himself.
"I was sure of it. He's not going to lose his chances
and his wits for the sake of that deceitful hussy—for
she is one—at Atherstone. Cara Belassys, too—a
pretty girl the Belassys is. I claresay she's gone a
good way towards making the success. Perhaps
Teueple will console himself with her. They say she's
a dragon of virtue—as good as she is pretty; and she's
a little fortune in her profession. He might do a good
deal worse."
He read the criticisms to the very end. It was
about as wordy and tedious as the full decriptions of
plays and their plots usually are; but he was
interested in Allan, and, as he a thoughtful look
settled into his face.
"So that's the plot of the drama, is it ?" he mut-
tered. "Why wouldn't Allan tell me the end,l wonder?
Edgar Vandaleur parts from his sweetheart in India;
goes round the world, wondering at various evidences
of her coldness and forgetfulness from time to time ;
and final,: rejoins her in England, to find her false
and changed."
He laid down the paper, and stared at it
with a strange, perplexed look on his handsome
face.
"Chanced !" he murmured. "Yes, that's it! My
God ! I see it all now! I guess what he thinks—
what he fears! I see the motive for what I suffered,
the reason why I was not wanted back in England;
and yet what can I do? How could I
_make an

assertion that I know would be laughed at? I must
e'en bide my time, and wait till Beryl Atherstone and
Allan Temple have met face to face. The punishment
for her duplicity will be swift and sure then, or I am
much mistaken." _ _ _

While all this was going on in London, and Allan
Temple was winning "golden opinions from all sorts
of people," Beryl and her party were flitting about
hither and thither, visiting first one place of interest
and then another, under the influence of bright skies
and bright weather—for April, contrary to its custom,
was very fine that year. The heiress seemed to be
possessed with a restless fever—a desire to fly from
place to place, and to see everything there was to be
keen, as persistently as the most inveterate tourist
that ever travelled.
She didn't care for letters, and would not read
newspapers, and was almost recklessly gay and high-
spirited. Instead of going to B:rmingham first, as
she had proposed and intended, she went off north-
ward; and, as Mrs. Dalton dcelared, nearly killed
them all by visiting Edinburgh while the east winds,
which make the old city such a place of dread in the
spring, were in full force.
In several places she met old acquaintances—at
least, people who had known her when a child, and
who sought her out, and recalled themselves t 3 her
remembrance. She was courteous and winning to
them all, showing a wonderful memory for trifles, as
though every detail of her childish career was strongly
impressed upon her memory.
"I don't know that it's so very disagreeable, after
all," she said, one day, after an old w oman, who
declared she had been Mrs. Atherstone's dresser in
by-gone days, had called, and introduced herself, and
had humbly offered a big bunch of flowers. "I re-
member the old lady very well. We were at Leeds
when she waited on us. To think she should remember
the name, after all these years, and come to see me in
Chester."
"I'm getting quite resigned to having those grod
old Jarvises in Birmingham weep over me, as I know
they will. That sort of people always have such
floods of tears at command."
Beryl would have wept at the meeting, too, maybe,
had she been the same artless girl she was before
money spoiled her. The Jarvises had befriended her
and her mother at the time when they wanted it most,
and succoured her sick father; but Beryl had no
memories for such times now—her thoughts were
all in the glittering present and the golden future.

(To be continued.)

YR! GLADSTONE AND THE IRISH
DEPUTATION,
Mr. Gladstone on Monday received at Hawarden
Castle the Irish deputations who came to offer him
the freedom of Cork and other towns and to present
addresses. The right hon. gentleman, in reply, spoke
for over an hour in reviewing the position of the Irish
question. It was, he said, the hope of conducing to
She settlement of that question that kept him in public
life. There never was a moment when he felt a
greater thankfulnest for the share he had had in the
enactment of his previous Irish measures, and it was
necessary that it should be made clear that the pre-
sent proposal stood within the limits of Imperial
honour, Imperial safety, and Imperial welfare. The
controversy had been sustained by them with singular
mildness and temperance of expression. Apprehensions
of civil war, of great conflict, had not proeeeded from
them. He regretted to think that there had been
others wive unhappily, had not scrupled to introduce
that sad and terrible element into the controversy.
He rejoiced to think that the cause in which his
hearers were embarked was the cause of order, the
cause of peace, the cause of legality the cause of faith
and confidence in the power of free discussion, and of
Parliamentary institutions, to the working of which
in the face of the civilised world they freely committed
all the true interests which they believed to be bound
up in this question. sCheers.) Let it not be supposed
for a moment that he was seeking their favour by
setting up the interest of Ireland in this matter, as
something distinct in any way from the interests of
England—that was to say, of Great Britain—though,
when he spoke of Great Britain in this subject he had
really no reference to the people of Scotland, because,
until the year 1832, until the epoch of the very in-
significant event of the commencement of his own
political life, the people of Scotland had practically
no more to do with the policy of this country than
the people of Kamschatka. (Laughter.) However,
it was not as a separate interest that he was speaking
of the interest of Ireland. The interest of England,
in his opinion, was quite as much involved in this
question an that of Ireland, and that in many ways.
Hear.) If he were to look at the lowest of them, to
the mere question of pecuniary economy, looking
simply at the question of money to be saved—to be
saved, he admitted, by Ireland in a very great degree,
but to be saved also largely by the Imperial
Exchequer—he knew of no prospect of securing
the redemption of expenditure now given to
mischievous uses and waste of expenditure,
both military and civil. He knew of no case in
which such prospect of real, genuine, healthy economy.
was to be made. (Cheers.) Was it not a great dis-
grace to this Empire, known for its financial genius
all over the world, that at this moment the civil
government of Ireland costs every year 16s. per head
of the population, while the civil government of Eng-
land and Scotland costs Bs. (hear, hear) ; and not only
that, but this civil government carried on an expendi-
ture to which, of course, Ireland very largely con-
tributed through her taxes, was not carried on to any
special degree of contentment and satisfaction.
(Cheers.) It was carried on without her having any
effectual control over it, without its representing in
any degree, speaking generally, the national feeling
and desire, and in such a way as to constitute in fact
one of the evils and one of the grievances of the country.
(Hear, hear.) But it was not only on account of great
economy, civil and military, to which in his opinion the
way was complete and open, but on much higher
grounds. Until Ireland and Great Britain were
thoroughly one, the authority of this country in the
councils of the world, though it might be great, would
never reach the height to which it ought to attain
(cheers), and only when the whole of the population
of the United Kingdom was one in sentiment, when
Ireland stood in the same relation to England as
Scotland and Wales stood to England—that was the
aim they hadin view. What was to become of the work
of legislation in England? For the last 15 years or
more the work had been falling into increasing arrear,
at the very same time that the popular demand and
the popular exigency required that it should be prose-
cuted with additional celerity and effect. Alluding to
the word "separation," used in some quarters, he said
it was necessary that people should look at the his-
torical position in Ireland of the question of separa-
tion. When did Ireland seriously think about separa-
tion? There was a period when it was seriously
thought of, and that was the deplorable and dis-
astrous period between 1795 and 1800, and the period
of the rebellion of 1798. There was no doubt then,
owing to causes that he would speak of again,
that separation was an idea that presented
itself to many, very many Irish minds. But let
them observe this extraordinary fact that, if there
was a name associated with me more than any other
it was that of Wolfe Tone. (Hear, hear). But in the
year 1791, at or very near the foundation of the
United Irish League, Wolfe Tone declared that he
was not favourable to separation, or not favourable
to separation from the British Crown. He declared
then, as O'Connell declared afterwards in very clear
terms, that the two countries were, in his opinion,
and ought to be, united by the golden link of the
Crown. (Cheers.) In fact, this idea of separation
was never used; he did not wish, if he could avoid it,
to use the sharper language of controversy, but it was
now somewhat unscrupulously used by their opponents.
(Hear, hear.) He thought they must know that
separation was not in the minds of the promoters of
this bill; that it is not in your minds on your side of
the Channel, and it is not in our minds on this side
of the Channel. (Cheers.) it was perfectly open
to them to argue upon the consequences of this or any
other measure, but it was a monstrous misuse of
terms only indicating the extraordinary weak-
ness of the cause when it required a resort to
weapons unknown in ordinary controversy. (Cheers.)
He wished to say a few words upon what was called,
and well called, the Grattan Parliament, because it
must come up in the minds of every Englishman and
Scotchrnan who considered this question. He had
endeavoured as well as he could to make himself
master of the spirit and meaning of Irish history,
especially in the last century, and he owned that it
was exceedingly difficult to arrive at a clear and also
a simple view of the state of Ireland under the Grattan
Parliament. Ireland was at that time sharply and
variously divided. Just let them consider the multi-
tude of various and powerful interests that wcrked
upon her destinies and fortunes. First, there was a
section—a small section—of the population, who con-
ducted the Government mainly with a view to
jobbing, and to personal interests; a very important
section on account of the power which they not
uniformly, but frequently exercised upon the Eng-
lish Government with regard to its policy in Ireland.
(Hear, hear.) Then there was the 'Presbyterian
party, who really had little or nothing to do
with the conduct of the Government. They,
en the contrary, had at that period a very strong
inclination to Republicanism. Then there was the
Executive Government, concentrated at Dublin, which
had ever since, or at any rate recently, become a pro-
verbial expression, conveying but little to the minds of
Englishmen, but conveying a great deal to the minds
of Irishmen. (Laughter and cheers.) That influence
was a great and powerful influence. Then there was
the Roman Catholic majority; but the Roman
Catholic majority of that day and of the present were
not to be regarded as one. It was quite plain that
the Roman Catholic aristocracy and the Roman
Catholic prelates of that day stood in a position dis-
tinct from the mass of the Roman Catholics, and
were liable to be acted upon by inducements held out
to them from this side of the water, which prevented
them from acting with that influence which as regards
the ministers of religion, and the greater of the popu-
lation of Ireland, now not unnaturally prevails.
(Hear, hear.) Then, of course, there was the great
interest of the landlords. The Irish landlord of
the time was a character not entirely devoid of
certain attractive features. (Laughter.) He was
hospitable, he was high-spirited. he was hold,
but still he had his interests as a landlord, and he
worked for them pretty generally, although not with
that rigour of severity in all cases towards the tenants,
f r which he (Mr. Gladstone) was inclined to think
the nineteenth century has been, on the whole, more
distinguished than the eighteenth century. (Hear.
hear.) Then there was the body of Irish patriots, and
by that he meant the body which supported Grattan
on their side of the water, and the greatest probably
of their countrymen, Edmund Burke, on this side of
the water. (Cheers.) It was difficult to get at the
truth of history. With regard to that Irish Parlia-
ment, it was lamentably corrupt and it was liable to
sinister influences, but there were certain things to be
said in its favour. (Hear, hear.) It made great and
beneficial changes in the laws of their country. A.
distinction was to be drawn between the Irish Par-
liament before 1795 and the Irish Parliament after
that date, when a period of what might be called
ferocious alarmism was installed by the British Govern-
ment and by the jobbing clique who called themselves
Protestants—that was Episcopalian—took possession
the main of that Parliament. But that Parlia-
ment, such as it was, did many good things for Ire-
land. It never refused to do any good act for Ireland
which the British Government or Executive was
desirous that it should do; and whatever vices it had,
it, possessed this great virtue —that of a true and
genuine settlement of nationality. (Cheers.) Theloss
of a spirit of nationality was the heaviest and most
deplorable, and most degrading loos that any country
tould undergo. (Loud cheers.) From the condition
of Ireland, under the Grattan Parliament, they
might indulge a favourable view of what would have
teen its present condition had the Home Rule Bill
been passed. (Applause.) Unquestionably the
moderation of Ireland in the present crisis had re-
lieved England from Lenny difficulties, and he wished
t) say to them that Ireland had lost nothing by that
moderation. (cheers.) The right hon. gentleman pro-
ceeded to compare the advantages which would have
accrued to Ireland under the Home Rule Bill, limited
and safeguarded as it wee compared to those
:•nidysii under Grattan's Pas Hair ent, and said that
with r forenee to the intervention of Ireland in
Imperial and, foreiga affairs his opinion was that, do
what you will when Ireland comes to have a local
Parliament—arrange matters as you may, her
influence with regard to these affairs will be
rather indirect and through the medium of
public opinion than through Parliamentary action.
He was surprised at the great progress that the Irish
question had made. He believed there were still a few
dreamers on this side of the Channel who thought the
Irish question depended upon his poor, individual
existence but he did not believe so. He had said
before and he still repeated that he had never known
a question taken up with the greater conviction, and
with a warmer and livelier enthusiasm. (Cheers). Did