Page:Mysteries of Melbourne Life.djvu/12

8 Hugh was not the only one who was rendered unhappy. Harry's face grew graver, notwithstanding the pleasant smile Linda gave him, and after a few trifling observations, he said quietly—"I must go as far as the Athenasum Club, Bob; Linda, I am sure, will excuse me."

They knew why he did not stay, and their hearts thrilled as they each thought of his noble self-sacrifice. No one of the three had loved Linda so truly so nobly, so passionately, as quiet Harry, but nevertheless he resigned her calmly to his more fortunate friend. He bowed his head to the stroke of fate, and no one could guess what agony that manly heart had suffered in the still hours of the night, mourning over its lost love, and lost life. Now, with all the force of his strong nature, he strove to drive that hopeless love out of his heart, to make it but a sweet memory of the past, and he knew he could not do it while under the magic influence of that dear face. So he went on his way, seeking solitude, to forget the beautiful vision which once had been his. How differently had Hugh acted!

As he stood in the lane he heard the silvery voice he had loved so well.

"But you must come home with us, Bobs. How dare you refuse me, you saucy fellow? If you go on in that way, I'll pull out some of your curls."

"Time enough for that when they are yours," said Robert, tossing his head until his curls shook again. "Well, if I must, I must; but I protest against your exercising authority before the time."

And he took his seat in the next carriage side by side with Linda, whose face beamed with delight, manifesting her deep affection for dear "Bobs." Yet a slight shade passed over his countenance as he thought remorsefully of poor Harry, away in the lonely suite of rooms they occupied together, poring over some heavy work on banking, science, or philosophy, striving to beat down the rebellious passion that had desolated his young life.

"I wish I were dead; I wish I were dead!" cried Hugh, as the carriage drove away. "I know I will go mad; I feel it, I feel it. What is this""

The exclamation was elicited by the glimpse of the face of a lady who was passing by. She was splendidly dressed—after a fashion—wore gorgeous jewellery, a hoop of gold encircling her throat, and she looked handsome indeed in her black velvet dress, relieved by costly trimmings. Her face was very beautiful, the contour rounded faultlessly, but there was too much in it of the heartless siren to please the pure of heart. It was a fatal and fearful face, and just then there was an expression upon it that justified calling it that of a beautiful demon. She had been watching Robert spring into the carriage, and drive away with Linda nestling close to him. After all, her face and that of Hugh bore the same expression of disappointed love and hate.

She turned round abruptly when she heard Hugh's exclamation.

"You, you"—she said in an amazed tone. "And you, you have seen this."

"Yes," he replied quietly.

She glanced at his shabby garb, or rather no garb, and intuitively understood the whole. Taking out her purse, she handed to him a ten pound note, and then wrote on a card a few words, and gave it to him.

As a landscape hitherto concealed in the shadow of heavy clouds bursts out into brightness and beauty, when the sun shines through a rift, so did Hugh's gloomy face change when that money was placed in his hand. Ah me! Gold is the true sunshine of this world.

"Come to that address," said she quietly; and then gathering up her dress, she walked away.

Again he glanced at that talisman with the eagerness of a madman, joyously clutched it, turned it over and over, grasped it with both hands, as if afraid some one would take it from him; then, with an exultant chuckle, rushed away to the back bar of an hotel close by, where he poured down glass after glass of brandy, until his face grew flushed, his eyes flashed wildly with excitement, and he became a changed being.

Tempus Fugit! Six months have passed since the events last narrated. The turn of the wheel has changed the position of all the parties in our little drama. "Bobs" is now a fast prisoner in the chains of Hymen, forged by beautiful Linda, Harry Robertson has experienced a great alteration in fortune. An aged relative who had never, to all appearances, taken the slightest notice of Harry, died and bequeathed all his property to him. Something very large it was, too, for he had been one of the oldest colonists, and had been very saving. The following in his will, however, showed the old