The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-03-27 00:00:00

CHAPTER 111.

LOVE.
When the gods,
• Wettried of this world's woes flew to the skies,
With all their richest gifts, Love stayed behind,
Self-exiled for man's sake.—Mns. LoVELL.
LEONARD Anit.RSTONE was conscious that the play
Went on, and that the other performers went in and
out in their respective parts, but he saw no one but
the girl who had so strangely fascinated him. le,
heard his friend's voice speaking to him now and then ,
as we hear voices in a dream, and answered mechani-
cally, without knowing what he said, save when the
fair face of Beryl Joyce was absent, and Mr. Whiffin
law and marked the effect his protege had produced.
"Smitten," he said to himself, as he saw the young
Man's eyes following Pauline about with an eager
craving expression. "I've seen it before and I know
the signs. Beryl must not have her head turned.
Forewarned forearmed, Mr. Atherstone. You shan't
see much of Miss Joyce, if I can help it."
"Well that's over, thank goodness," said Bruce
Carnaby, as the characters bowed and retired at the
end of the "Lady of Lyons," the audience clamouring
loudly for the reappearance of Pauline. "I'm off.
You don't want to see any more, do you ?"
Leonard looked at the bill he held in his hand, and
read—
" To be followed by a favourite farce; characters by
kessrs. Boys, Smith, and Barlow, Mesdames Boys and
Beryl Joyce."
"Yes, I shall stay," he said. "I don't want a cigar
Tet."
"Well, I do, so I shall mizzle. Ta, ta, old boy. By
Jove! that girl is pretty and distinguished-looking.
Brava, brava!"
And he clapped and applauded vigorously as Beryl,
with her fair hair tumbling about her shoulders, was
led forward by her bewigged and berouged Claude to
receive the congratulations of the company.
, "Leonard, I do believe you have fallen in love with
nets"
But Leonard was obstinately silent, and Bruce ,
Carnaby went his way to indulge in a cigar, and a fire
Of unlimited chaff with all and sundry whom he met
outside. The favourite farce went on, and Beryl
enacted a servant girl, in a cotton dress and a smart
Cap, and looked even more bewitching in that costume
than as the sentimental Pauline.
The performance over, Leonard went his way, and
found that his friend had ordered a supper, to which
tha company were bidden, special invitations having
been sent behind the scenes to the three ladies, who I
'Were doing their best to furbish up their poor
garments to do honour to their hosts.
"Put on the blue silk, Beryl," said Mrs. Whiffin to
her adopted daughter. "It looks quite nice."
"Stagy, mammy, dear, stagy," replied the girl
'With a laugh. "No, I'll wear my street dress; it's
Shabby, but it's whole, and I didn't (Yet a bit muddy.
I'll borrow just this bit of stage finery though, to
brighten me up a little."
It was only a neck ruffle, with a blue bow attached
to it ; but it gave a finish to her poor dress, and
formed an admirable setting to the jaunty I;ttle head,
With its bright coils of hair and the white delicately.
rounded throat.
"It's my belief it's all because of Beryl that these
Wells have asked us to supper," said Mrs. Boys from
her corner.
"Because of me ?"
"Yes."
"Why ?a
• Why, you've made a conquest, child—that's all."
"A conquest! Which of them ?" asked the girl,
'laughing. "The long, lazy-looking one, that wore
s horrid eye-glass all the time, and stared so.
4ra not proud of him if it's that one—not a bit."
"No, I don't mean him—the other one. He was
• ry quiet, but he never took his eyes off you. Hunt
ehn up, my girl, if you've smitten him. He's a catch,
I can tell you."
"Don't you put suchtrash into the girl's head, Ruth
,1303114" said Mrs. Whiffin sharply. "Beryl isn't going
to hunt up any man. The right one will come along
at the proper time, without her looking after him."
"It wouldn't be a bad spec to look after this one,"
Was the retort. "He's rolling in money—at least his
'father is—and he's an only son. They own the biggest
Mill here, and all sorts of property besides. 'Twould
be a lucky catch for any girl."
"Well, any girl may have him for me," said Beryl,
trying„ to twist round so as to see her back. "I don't
mink I noticed him particularly. Is ha handsome as
Well as rich, Boys, dear ?"
That he is; but you'll see him close to directly.
les, We're ready, Mr. Whiffin," she went on, as that
gentleman's voice was heard hurrying them on. "Go
On, Beryl, you are a perfect picture."
A, A very fair, pretty picture indeed, as she emerged
• her dressing room and found herself in the
Presence of the gentleman of whom they had just been
talking. Mr. Whiffin introduced her to him rather
Ceremoniously.
"Mr. Atherstone—my daughter, Miss Beryl Joyce."
Leonard Atherstone took the little white hand Beryl
held out to him, and muttered something about, " con-
gratulate—happy to have the honour—wonderful
talent," and sundry incoherent phrases, and Beryl
blushed and trembled, and wondered why her heart
heat so wildly as she looked at the handsome, high-bred
Youth before her. Handsome Leonard certaialy was,
'With dark curling hair, blue eyes, and features of un-
deniable beauty; but he was a glorified angel in the
eyes of the young heart-whole actress, whose hand he
'night have felt tremble as it rested timidly upon his
arm.
The supper was a dream of bliss to Beryl, who
scarcely understood what was passing in her own
bosom; and Leonard was fairly intoxicated. All the
Others could see it. Mr. Boys whispered to Mr. Whiffin
that it was a clear case of "spoons," and would have
expressed his sentiments aloud, but that gentleman
frowned at him severely, and hit his favourite corn
Sharply with the heel of his boot.
Bruce Carnaby saw it, and smiled pityingly, as one
-Whose early experiences of that sort were over.
"If Len is going to take to spooning actresses and
that sort of thing," he said to himself, "the sooner
he marries Flora Bickerstaff the better. The old man
'Would cut up rough at anything of this sort."
The supper came to an end at last, and the brief
dream of bliss was over, and Leonard Atherstone
found himself hoping, in the very coherent and clumsy
-Words that he should have "the pleasure of seeing Miss
Joyce in the morning."
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Whiffin. "We shall
be off pretty early. Say good night—or rather good
Morning—to Mr. Atherstone, child. It's nearly two
o'clock".
Which it was—an unheard-of hour for Drizzleton,
Where the Cock and Bottle rarely saw a customer after
ten o'clock at night; but the landlord had been well
Paid, and everybody was in high good humour. Late
as it was, Mr. Whiffin followed Leonard Atherstone to
his room for a word.
"No offence if I send my girl away without your seeing
her again, sir," he said. "I see how it is; you're
Smitten; and she's a little fool, and let's everybody
see it. I must stop it at once."
"I assure you, Mr. Whiffin," began Leonard, blush-
ing furiously, while Bruce Carnaby puffed away at
his cigar, and seemed to concentrate all his energies
in sending out perfect rings of smoke; but the
Manager stopped whatever explanation was about to
be made.
"I know how about these things begin," he said.
and how they end, too. Either the girl is made a
Plaything of and then left to sink into despair, or the
callous shamelessness, that make the stage a bye-word
and a reproach, or—and, mind, I think this would be
Your way, Mr. Atherstone—the gentleman marries
her."
"Yes, that would be my way, Mr. Whiffin—the way
of every honest man."
"And would not lead to happiness any more than
the other. I have seen it, and I know. A young man
gets infatuated with a girl—good, and honest, and true
as nay Beryl here—and marries her, thinking that
their love will make up for everything else, which he
loses to gain her. And he does lose, Mr. Atherstone—
say he is a minor and his father or guardians refuse to
sanction the marriage, or countenance his wife, disin-
herit him, perhaps, and then, after a year or two they
sink into misery that only those who have been rich
end become poor can know. The wife goes back to
the stage, shorn of half her attractions, her beauty and
freshness gone, her heart full of care and disappoint-
ment; and the husband—well, I could tell you what
I have seen noble, high-minded gentlemen sink into
after a mesalliance; but I won't, and I nope you'li
never find it out. Leave my girl alone. Mr. Ather.
atone—she's a gooci honest girl, but she's a poor
actor's daughter, and no mate for you."
Leonard Atherstone was silent. He hardly knew
how to answer such a straightforward appeal to his
Coed sense. This bewildering love had come upon
him so suddenly, with such overpowering force, that
he was dumb. Bruce Carnaby took the cigar from
his mouth and held out his hand to the actor.
"Look here, Mr. Whiffin," he said, "you've spoken
in an honest, manly way, and I like you for it. Len
here (Iles too, though he's knocked a little out of time,
and can't tell you so. He is struck by Miss Joyce,
there's no doubt of that, and she's a charming girl and
a lady, and as good as she is charming, I am sure;
btat you are right in wishing her out of the way. Any
'eve between them could only end the one way, for
the Atherstones are not men who make playthings of
.....Wornen, and then fling them aside like broken toys.
lae'd marry your girl, and then there'd be the deuce to
at home, for he's an only son, Mr. Whiffin, and
the hope of the house of Atherstone. It wouldn't
. "Speak for yourself, Bruce," said Leonard, recover-
ing his wits and his voice, and hardly knowing
rhather to be angry with his friend or not. "But he
.„13.,l'ight, Mr. Whiffin. I forgot my position for the
moment. lam the son of a rich man tis true, with a
12rincely allowance, which a scratch dray father's pen
tat withdraw at any moment. He can disinherit me
With a word, and he would if—"
, If you married anyone he disapproved of—l
understand. Well there's no harm done; but you
tnustn't see my cirl again, sir."