The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-09-24 00:00:00

SATURDAY, SEPT. 24, 1887.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
NOBLER THAN REVENGE.

BY MB
Author of "The Heiress of Atherstom Grange."_

CHAPTER XXIX.
TILE FEVER CALLED LIVING.
'l'm sick at heart—the eye of day,
The insistent summer noon seems pitiless,
Shining in all the barren crevices
Of weary life—leaving no shade, no dark,
Where I may dream that hidden waters lie.'
—ANON.
MRS. CHURCHILL had her idea—she had told Mr.
Jarvis as much—and sitting by the bed where the
Wan, weary face lay so till and white upon the
pillows, she told herself that she was right. Cuthbert
Ingram had been the obstacle that had come between
Helen and her engagement to Frank Hatherleigh.
She understood now the look that had come into
the girl's face when she was told that Cuthbert was
going away—the sadness that was in her eyes as she
bade him farewell. She comprehended the few words
she had heard, and wondered at, as their hands touched
at parting and Cuthbert had lifted the one he held to
his lips.
Loyal and true, both of them,' she said to herself,
'and what an ending to it all. Did you speak, my
dear?' for Helen had stirred and murmured some-
thing in her sleep.
'Cuthbert, my darling The words came distinct
and clear, and with such loving emphasis. 'Come
back. It is all over now—there is nothing to come
between us.'
'I was sure of it,' the listener said. 'Quite sure.
Poor girl, it was hard to give her heart to the keeping
of the treacherous sea. Poor Cuthbert, and he was
coming home for her. Shall I tell her that I have
surprised her secret? I think not; she will tell me
herself, some day, perhaps. How I wish Mr. Jarvis
Would come. I am alarmed about her—sweet and
gentle as she always is—but going down hill so fast,
poor child, ikseems to me as though we should not
keep her with us, unless some stronger arm than
ours gripped her and gave her a motive for living.'
The lady's alarm was not altogether unwarranted,
though it was doubtless a little exaggerated. She
Was alone with the three girls, far away from home
or anyone to whom she could appeal for advice and
assistance. Helen had done so much for Madge, and
had sacrificed herself in so many ways which no one
thought of, that when they found her stretched on
the floor of her room, in a fainting fit that was like
death itself, and from which they had much trouble
to rouse her, they laid it to over-fatigue and anxiety,
and never fancied that the shock of the dreadful
news they had heard had anything more to do with
It than in being a kind of last straw on a heavy load.
They had put her to bed and brought her tea,
and striven to do all they could, but she only begged
to be let alone—she had a headache, which would be
better in the morning, that was all; and they had left
her till the morning, and found her tossing and half
delirious. And from that time she had seemed to
sink and grow worse without any assignable cause.
The doctor talked learnedly about her constitution
baying been weakened by all she had endergone, &c.,
&c., and prescribed gentle physic and careful treat-
ment—that would have about as much effect on
Helen's heart agony as a tract on the hunger of a
starving man—and then wondered that his remedies
were not successful.
Alarmed beyond measure, Mrs. Churchill wrote to
Mr. Jarvis. There was nothing dangerous, as she told
him, but she was anxious, and begged him to come.
There had been plenty of time now for him to have
arrived at Biarritz, and she was wondering a little
that he had not wired to her, either that he was coming
or that he was prevented, as she began to fear was
the case. While she was thinking Helen awoke, and
fixed a pair of &tattled eyes on her—as if she were
not quite sure who was sitting by her or where she
was.
Have I been talking?' she asked, hurriedly and
excitedly. What have I been saying?'
Nothing, my dear; you have been sleeping very
quietly.'
Have I? I was dreaming. I thought— Are
you sure I did not say anything. I--
, My dear, why shauld I keep it from you if you
had said anything of importance in your sleep. You
have muttered a good deal since you have been ill,
but feverish folks are apt to do that, and I have paid
no attention to it. How are you? Ready for some
tea?'
'Ready for nothing but my grave, I think,' Helen
said, with a sudden light in her eyes that was
startling. Mrs. Churchill had never seen it there
before. 'Do you think lam gong to die?'
My dear child, what a dreadful idea. What has
put it into your head?'
Nothing. I have felt like it sometimes. What is
there to live for now?'
There was a pitiful emphasis on the word 'now'
that went to Mrs. Churchill's heart. It did indeed
seem as if all of brightness and happiness had gone
out of poor Helen's life—as if the bright waters had
all passed her by and left her stranded and alone on
a very barren shore.
My dear, there is something for us all to live for,
she replied, gently stroking the thin band that lay on
the soft.do`wn guilt. 'We all have something to do in
the world, and oftenest when we think our work is
done and life is all over with us, new opportunities
and new aims arise to mnke life seem precious again.
You will get well and be happy yet, Helen. Try and
believe that. What should we all do without you?'
'Happy Helen echoed, in a saddened tone. Vi'hen
have I been happy, I wonder. Never since Frank—
Ah, where is Frank, Mrs. Churchill? I dream of him
and see him a hundred times a day. Why don't they
find him and bury him?' Is he to haunt us for ever,
till they have laid him to rest in consecrated earth?
Does it signify, I wonder, where we lie after we are
dead. I should lil,e to be burned, I think, and then
there could have been no cold damp earth— no horrors
of the charnel house. Will they let you burn me, do
you think, sc hen I am gone?'
'My dear child, what horrible ideas—you are not
going. I hope you are going to get well and be my
clear daughter again. We cannot spare you, Helen.'
'lt is nice to hear you say that,' Helen said feebly,
the excitement of the moment wearing off and leaving
her paler than before. It is something to take out of
life—the knowledge that there will be a vacant place
when we are gone. What's that?'
It was only the sound of a step on the gravel below,
but Helen's feverish ears had recognised it is her
guardian's. Mr. Jarvis had come, and was even then
entering the house. am glad I shall see him once
more,' she said; and there were tears in her eyes as
Mrs. Churchill went downstairs to welcome her guest.
'How is she?' he asked, after the first greeting.
Is she well enough to see me?'
Oh, yes,' Mrs. Churchill said as she ushered the
lawyer into their pretty morning room. 'She is more
weak than ill. She has a persistent notion that she is
going to die, and you know how difficult that is to
combat.'
Aye, worse than actual disease. We will cure it,
please heaven. I could not come before, as I wieed to
you.'
We have had no message. When should:it have
arrived?'

'Some hours ago, at least.'
It has gone astray, I suppose,' Mrs. Churchill re-
marked. The season is really over here, you know,
and the people are so careless. This is "Ardennes"
Villa, and there is an " Arline" Villa, a little further
along the esplanade. The post people look at the first
syllable of the addresses and deliver letters and
messages indiscriminately; we may get your telegram
just as you are leaving, perhaps—perhaps, not at
all.'
The former came to pass. Mr. Jarvis's message
reached the house as he was leaving it, but, as Norah
(*served, her mother's wrath was all thrown away; if
the messenger understood it it was as much, and it
certainly made no manner of impression en him. Her
guardian's arrival seemed to be the fillip that Helen
wanted to rouse her into getting better. With him by
her side the ebbing strength seemed to come back a
little, and she was even persuaded to indicate a
preference in the matter of food. Hith.3rto every-
thing they had placed before her had seemed alike
flavourless and insipid. A word from the outside
world had been the piquant sauce necessary to enable
her to relish anything.
She had a better night —not troubled with the hideous
dreams that were the usual accompaniments of her
fitful sleep, and in the morning she was curious and
eagor to hear all about her Milford friends, and her
special protege Barney Grubb.
Barney is doing very well,' Mr. Jarvis said. He
and his mothsr make a very respectable family; you
will not know the ferry house when you come back,
' it looks quite nice and very pretty. The old lady has
a gift of beautifying, and business has come to Barney
in a fashion that has astonished everybody, and him-
self most of all, I think.'
Thf nhe is still 6' Barney?"' Helen said. He will
always he that, I suppose.'
lie will never be anything else. No one will b 3
more glad to hear that you are well and strong again
than he will; be is one of your staunchest admirers.'
He is a good fellow. Did you ever hear anything
more of the boy—Jack, I mean; the one you thought
you saw?'
The one I did see. It was Jack.'
Then he is found?'
Yes.'
' How ? Where?'
'ln London.'

Tell me all about it,' said Helen eagerly. Does ha
know anythirg ? What did he tell you?'
Mr. Jarvis laid his hands on her arm, and quieted
her with a look.
Don't get excited, or I shall go away,' he said.
'There is nothing to tell. Jack knows no more than
I do. Be has nothing more to disclose than he had
at the time, and we heard all that he could say
then.'
' Put why did he run away?' Helen asked, her
chrek flushing. I thought it was because he could
tel and wouldn't. Did you question him?'
'hid I not? Ile only ran away because he was a
little fool. He thought he had done Barney a mortal
injury, and he was afraid of his father. That worthy
gentleman had promised lrm a healing that would
have pretty nearly ended his career if it bad come off,
and Jack ran away and hid himself. That's the
story of Jack's mysterious disappearance in a nut-
shell.'
'And I had been building so on his being found,'

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