The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-10-02 00:00:00

fate again with such a heartless girl—she isn't worth
it. lam puzzled by her. What the mystery is I
cannot understand, but there is one; she is afraid of
something or someone. I don t think it is you, and
she greeted me with the most perfect composure. As
for the estimable old lady whom I believed, and shall
ever believe, to have been possessed with a desire to
send me out of the world, she bewilders me even more
than the heiress. She is here an honoured guest,
evidently, though a humble one; dressed like a
duchess, and treated by everyone with respect, as Miss
A thers tone's friend. I should liked to have met her face to
face, without her having any idea of my approach, or
knowledge that I waa alive, and then I think I should
have read the truth in her face; but the Fates were
against me. She was expecting me, and my father
had told her the story of what he, like you, thinks my
faney (the old boy grows garrulous in his old years) ;
and she met me with a smile and a few careless words
about my thinking she wanted to murder me! I'm
baffled for the present, but I mean to watch and wait;
the solution of what is puzzling me now will crop up
some time when I least expect it, lam sure. I have
told you all I know now. Let me have a letter
as to what you are going to do. I will come to you
wherever you like to meet me; but be a wise man,
and keep out of Beryl Atherstone's way. To see her
would do you no good, unless you mean to expose her
falsehood, and hold her up to the scorn and contempt
of the man she is to marry. Honestly, I don't think
it would be much use; he is blindly besotted as ev, r
was one of Circe's victims. Tear her out of our
heart, dear old boy, and try to forget her; and don't
think ill of all womankind because one has proved
faithless. I wish you could see my Lilly flower; but
then I am a brute to hint at my own happiness with
such news on my pen for you. Will you come to
us if you come to England? We shall be very glad
to have you, and there will be no one at the Grange.
The young lady is going off on a sort of duty tour, to
see the friLnds among whomher childhood was passed,
and I hear she does not care much about it—turns up
her aristocratic nose in fact at everyone connected
with those humble days. lam sending this letter off
on a wild goose chase, in the hope of it meeting you;
if it does not turn you back, it will prepare you for
what is before you here. My father joins me in beg-
ging you to corns straight to us: he owes the life of
his only son to you, dear boy, and he wants to thank
you as he ought for the gift. Once more, my dear
Allan, try to keep up your heart, and heaven send you
safe to us, if you decide to come on.
"Ever faithfully yours,
"GRAHAM CARSON."

The blue water of the canal heaved and danced
before Allan Temple's eyes when he came to the end
of his friend's letter, and the bank on either side was
bleared into an indistinct haze, as his eyes rested
listlessly on them.
All was ended now— the hope, and the fear, and
the sorrow.
Beryl was false; the " Semper Fidelis " had no
meaning to her frivolous heart; and scalding tears,
that seemed to burn and sear the flesh they touched,
sprang to the young man's eyes. He was none the
less a brave, true-hearted man that he could weep for
his lost love. He had believed in her sp thoroughly,
trusted her so utterly, that to be thus wakened from
his dream was like a heart stab.
"I will go back," he said to himself. "Why should
I present myself like a death's head, to mar the
pleasure of their marriage feast? Her husband will
sup sorrow soon enough, without my putting the cup
to his lips. I will go back from Port Said to the oki
life, the old work. I ought to be a successful actor
after this. They say a man must feel, to depict feel-
ing truthfully. Heaven help me! I have felt and
know the sting."
He announced his intention to the captain, and
asked to have his luggage got up from the hold.
Luckily it was near the top, so that there was not so
much grumbling as there might have been over the
operation, and by the time Port Said was reached the
young actor was ready to step ashore. But the
"Providence that shapes our ends" decreed other-
wise. There was considerable excitement in Ihe un-
sheltered little harbour; a home-bound steamer from
Bombay had broken down in some way, which wou'd
necessitate two or three days' delay, and one or two
of her passengers, to whom time was more valuable
than money, were going to transfer themselves and
their goods and chattels to the first ship that offered.
The Cupid could take them, and in the very first that
came aboard Allan Temple recognised an old friend, an
actor whose name was known wherever the English
tongue was spoken, and whose fame will be re-
membered for many a day after the grass has grown
over his grave and those of his collaborateurs. He
walked straight up to Allan and took his hand.
"My dear Temple," he exclaimed; "this is an un-
expected pleasure. So you have decided to give
England a trial at last ?"
"No. lam going back."
"Back where?"
"To Melbourne."
"But the Cupid is bound for Southampton.
" Yes ; but lam going ashore here. There is my
luggage."
"I don't understand. Have you not come from
Melbourne now ?"
_ Yes : and with the full intention of going to
-itn- gland. -My_ passage is paid."
"Then don't waste it."
"I have had a letter which "
The gay face of the celebrated actor clouded over
in a moment. He had a sympathising, feeling heart,
and he marked tte young man's face.
"Nothing wrong with the old man, I hope, my boy?"
. he said.
"No ; my father is quite well, thank you, Mr.
Chetwynd,' he replied. "My news was from
England. You will think me a great coward; but
I am turning back because the woman I love is
'alse."