The herald., 1896-08-16

ent course But these sums were of neces-
sity small, and apparently, after paying for
his bare livelihood and the few little lux
uries that he felt he could fancy, they left
no margin for the adoption Of the quite
different course. In addition to this, his
sister had entirely ceased to believe in him
or respect him. His conduct was not it is
true, of kind to make one think that he
| respected himself, but it was always quite
obvious that he liked others to respect
him, and would do anything to secure that
respect except deserve it. When appeared
on the scene, l was fortunately able to
change his circumstances. l wrote him
cheques. As l became richer l wrote him
larger cheques. l cannot claim that have
ever been able to write him cheques so large
as to make him feel justified in the adop-
| ton Of the quite different course. But 1
have enabled him to live in comparative
| affluence without working for 1t. The only
thing that he was required to do for it was
to abstain from seeing my wife or daughter.
and to see me only on payday when he
called for his cheque. l do not say that
respected him or believed in him, as he
| would have liked. But paid him to keep
away, which he seemed to like still better.
|
rather more than three years ago. He had
! called to suggest that he had been put to
| great personal inconvenience and expense
| by my move to England and that the
| price of his passage both ways should be
! added to the customary amount Of his
| cheque. 1t struck me at the time that he
! gave every promise that he would die OF
| drink in the course of the year. But did
- :
| les Portland rarely stuck to one thing for
long. Since then I have not seen him, and
| am quite sure he is dead. If he had been
alive, he would have been to me for money:
and the absence of any demands from him
| is equivalent to his certificate Of death.
| It was, l confess, always amazing to me
| that he and Wilmay Forland were brother
| and sister, children of the same parents.
| But such things happen. He has never seen
my daughter Wimay since she was a baby,
| by the way and Wilmay neither recollects
| him nor knows of his existence. She had
| better not be told about him. Should he
| turn UP agan-but he will not. AS say,
! | have the equivalent of his death-certifi-
| cate But do not let me imply that Charles
| Portland had no good points. He blackmail-
| ed me for having married his sister, and he
! would do no kind of work, and later in life
| he seems to have become excessively in
temperate. But he was a handsome man,
| a good talker, and occasionally a vita
| man by no means without charm"
| read the whole of that letter with great
| interest-twice over. l glanced through
| some Of the other papers. At five o'clock
I heard footsteps overhead and then DR..
Ingwold came down and entered the library
to take my place, sending me up to bed
at once.
! CHAPTER VI
| I had not expected to sleep, but fell as
| leep at once, l suppose | was about tired
| out. For rather over two hours l slept
| soundly, and then woke suddenly, with
start, with the idea that had just heard
| Wilmay call me loudly by my name. 1t
| was of course a delusion-I had been dream
ing But though I recognized that l was
unable TO go to sleep again, and rose.
joined the doctor at breakfast. Wilmay
| had not returned. For the first time the
| doctor looked little hesitating, little less
as if he knew exactly the right thing to do
| and was perfectly able to do 1t. We sent
| for Mrs. Blayd, and had long talk with
| her. She told US of two or three places
near, where Wlmay had always been fond
| of going, and where she might possibly
| be found now. l decided that we would try
| those places first, and that then If we did
| not find her, there was no help for it and
| a regular search would have to be Instituted
| with all the assistance that we could get
! To this Mrs. Blayd quite agreed-like the
! doctor, she was beginning to get nervous
| The poor woman had, 1t appeared, herself
been up most of the night and looked worn
| and i'll.
| The morning was glorious--a cool wind,
| brilliant sun, and the country as beauti-
| full as il no one had ever died or been unhap-
| py. The doctor and / decided to go frst
| to a plantation standing on the ridge of
| low hill about mile away from Sinden.
| He went up the plantation on one side OF
| this ridge and l on the other We were
| out Of sight Of each other but within call.
| Ones footsteps were absolutely noiseless
on the soft white sand Of the narrow wind
ing path At the first turn in this path, my
search was over Wilmay was coming
down the path towards me. She carried a
great bunch of wild roses tied together
with the riband that she had taken from hes