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

[ALL BIGHTS BEBIIRTHD4
THE HEIRESS

ATHERSTONE GRANGE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

N Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," " Leonard's Legacy," 4-o,

CHAPTER XLIII.
A GLAMOUR.
Pray, do not mock,
I am a very foolish, fond old man,
Fourscore and upwards; and, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind,
I should know you.—SHAKESPEARE.
ACCIDENT had brought John Jarvis and his wife to
Edinburgh some years before Beryl's return to
England. They had done pretty well there, and their
children had married and gone out into the world;
but their old age had come on, and their circumstances
were by no means flourishing. They lived in a little
room in the top flat of a house in the Canougate ; and
everyone who knows Edinburgh knows what sort of
rooms they are. It was scrupulDusly clean, and the
old people were very happy. They had come to Scot-
land in some capacity about the theatre, and frcm
some theatrical acquaintance they had heard of Beryl'z
arrival.
The heiress was a person of mark in the profession;
those who did not remember her mother, had heard of
ber, and she was pointed out to everybody, and by
everybody, in a way she little dreamed of, wherever
she went. Mrs. Jarvis had hurried off to a market.
woman of her acquaintance, and bought a great
bunch of spring flowers, with whieh she despatched
her old man, as she called him, to visit the young
lady.
"Dear child! how I should like to see her;' she
said. "Mind you ask her to let me call on her,
John."
"She'll call on you, if she has grown up what she
promised to be as a child," he said. She won't be too
proud to know her old friends.'
It did not seem so—indeed, from the warmth of
Beryl's welcome, she seemed all frank delight and
girlish joy.
"What lovely flowers !" she exclaimed. "Did you
bring them for me ?"
"I did, Miss; but I'm almost ashamed to offer
them. They seem poor things here; but they're
fresh."
"Poor things! They are lovely. Dear Mrs.
Jarvis! I know it was her thought. And how is she?
I must come and see her. Auntie, this is Mrs. Jarvis,
who used to be so kind to me when I was a little girl.
This is my dear aunt, Er. Jarvis ; and no wyou must sit
down and have a glass of wine, and tell me how you
have been getting on all this while.'
"Thank you, miss, I'm sure," said the old man,
visibly moved by her cordiality. "I'm very glad to
see you with your friends. I'm a bit dazed like,
marm,' he said, turning apologetically to Mrs. Ather-
stone, "at seeing her grown into such a beautiful
lady. She was always pretty, bless her! and a good
child to her poor father and mother. I beg pardon, I
should not have spoken of them, maybe—they are
dead and gone."
"Oh. yes. Beryl loves her father's memory very
dearly," said Mrs. Atherstene kindly, pouring out a
glass of wine, while Beryl busied herselt with her
flowers, which were filling the room with their sweet,
fresh fragrance. Though she had been so affectionate
in her welcome to her old friend, she had never once
looked in his face; and there was something of
bewilderment in the way he looked at her golden hair,
In which the spring sunlight fell, making it look
like

Threads of living gold_
But he was evidently delighted beyond measure at
his reception. Beryl took the wine-glass from her

aunt's land.
"Let me give Mr. Jarvis his wine," she said. "He
gave me many a good thing in days gone by. I'll serve
him now."
She put some biscuits on a salver, and went to the
old man's side. She was evidently bent on making
much of him, but there was a curious hurry in her
manner, and a sort of feverish agitation upon her that
was odd; the meeting with an old friend would hardly
cause so much emotion, even in the most sensitive
person. Mrs. Dalton followed her with her eyes as
she went about, as though she were as deeply in-
terested as the heiress in old John Jarvis.
"So you've never forgotten me, Mr. .Jarvis ?" Beryl
said; nor how I used to tease you? Ah, I was a sad

plague."
"You were never a plague to me," he said; "nor
to anyone else either that I know of. Do you mind
how I used to carry you to the theatre at night, and
the kiss you gave me ?"
"Yes, I gave you more than a kisi. I gave you a
promise that I would never forget you, and I never
have, you see."
"And I've wronged you many a time, for I've said
to the old woman that you were a grand lady now,
and would forget us. She knew you better. She
said you •wouldn't, and that we should he sure to see
you again some time. She'll be proud and happy
when She bears of your kindness to me to-day."
"She shall do more than hear of me," said Beryl.
seating herself on a low stool by the old man's side as
she spoke. "She shall see me to-morrow."
"God bless you!" said John Jarvis, laying his hand
upon her head. "I bade God bless you when you
went away from my house, a little child. I say it
again now. You're not too proud to take an old
man's blessing. Lift up your face and let me look at
the bonny eyes that were so like your mother's.
I—"
• He stopped short. The words froze upon his lips,
as it were, by some sudden emotion. Beryl lifted
her head at his bidding, and was looking full into his
face, with tenderness in her eyes, and a soft smile
upon her lips.
''What is this ?" gasped the old man.
" Whatever further he would have said died away in
an inarticulate murmur, and his ruddy, healthy face
turned white, even to the lips. He lifted his band
from Beryl's hair, and passed it over his eyes, as
though he would clear away some mist which had
gathered there, staring at the girl by his side the
while, as though he had seen a spectre.
"What is it?" he said win, in a dazed, bewildered
sort of way. "What does it mean?"
Beryl started to her feet in aiarm,n.nd the two other
ladies, terrified at his strange looks, come hastily to
his side.
"What is the matter? Are you ill 'l' they asked,
hurriedly.
"No," he replied, and his words came in gasps
from his white lips. "Not ill—frightened. I'll go
home, if you please. I should never have come
here.'
" Frightened !" Mrs. Atherstone said. "What has
frightened you? Take a little wine? Here, Beryl.
Why, where is she gone ?"
"Here I am, auntie," said Beryl, from the adjoining
room. "I'm only looking for something to send Mrs.
Jarvis."
She came back with a little old purse in her hand,.
into which she was thrusting some not s, and which
she offered to the old man, who was recovering him-
self a little, though he still trembled violently, and
gazed at her with something like terror.
"I must be going mad," he said, half to himself.
"It can be nothing else. My dear," be went on, sud-
denly taking her hand, "I'm grown old since the time
you speak of, and, maybe, l'm doting; but tell me, are
you the little child that I used to play with so long
ago. There's a glamour over my old eyes, if you
are."
"if lam !" she said, with a laugh. "Of course I
am! I've grown out of knowledge—that's all. Who
do you think I am? Who else did you carry about
and play with? Do you remember the old song you
used to sing me?

' Fourscore and ten of us,
Poor old maids.'

and how concerned I was about the fate of the ancient
spinsters? I don't believe I've ever heard a song since
that I liked so well."
"Yes, I used to sing that, sure enough," John
Jarvis said, with a bewild,red air.
"Of course you dsd, and lots of others. You'll re-
member me better when you see me again. Give th s
to Mrs. Jarvis, please—it was my mother's purse;
and tell her, with my love. that she's to use what's in
it for the sake of old times. Where do you live ?"
"71, Davidson's-close," replied the old man. "It's
down the Canongate. If you please, I'll go now. rm
not well."
"You had better have a cab," Mrs. Dalton said.
"You do look ill."
"No, thank you. I can walk," he replied, "steadily
enough. I shall be better when I get out into the
air."
He wished them all good-bye, and walked away,
and Beryl went up into her own room, singing o
stanza of the quaint old ditty which she had recalled
to his remembrance. Once in her room, the song
ceased, and she sat down to think—sick and thiver-
ing. How long she sat she did not know. A light tap
at the door roused her, and she started up to greet
the intruder with as unconcerned a ftvle as she could.
It was a great relief to her to find it was Mrs Dalt on,
and not her aunt—though her friend looked angry and

disturbed.
"Are you going mad?" she asked, sharply. 'that
you sit moping here, when you ought to be dressing
for dinner. There's nothing to be feared from that
doting old fool. Anyone can see he's harmless
enough. Look at your face! For heaven's sake put
some colour into it, and come downstairs. You've
got another visitor to see to-night, of far more im-
portance than that old workman."
"Who?"

"Mr. Masters."
"Is he here?"
"Yes. It seems he called while old Jarvis was
here, and wouldn't come up. He left his card, and a
message that if you wouldn't mind seeing him after
dinner, he would call then, as he iaonly here for to-
night."
"I thought he was in Loudon. I won't see him. I
can't. Tell him I have a head-ache—anything. Indeed,
I am not well."
The hand that she laid on her friend's, to enforce
her words, was hot and burning; and her eyes were
dim, as if with intense head-ache—but there was no
answering sympathy in the stern, hard face that bent
over her.