|Newspaper Title||The Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 - 1950)|
|Trove Title||Money Or Wife ?|
Uvil «£ la OB MIL ^ I yo I
V-JMoiiey ov Wife? . . ~«~ ? .»?— ? k CHAPTER XVJ.~(Continued.)
. ? She tvas horribly hurt; the eugges ? tion was so ugly, so humiliating, yet iiot even for this would; she speak the truth, To put herself right In the eyes 0/ these .people would be to de trade him, and Julian's honor was
Btill a treasure to her. Moreover, If %he ' were to have told the truth, who .would have believed her? ?Some ih-ours later she was seated In a four- wheeler with her modest . luggage on the seat in $front of her, and as she drove down the -street she felt that everyone was looking at her, and everyone was passing harsh re marks about her. : She told the man to go to some lodg- ? Ings, the address of which1, by mere chance, had .been given her' by the toarltoneof the little touring party Literally shedid not know where she .would find -the money to pay for the , iodfffngs at tho week's end, for all she had left were a few shillings, and these tho oafr fare* would practically exhaust, jet the relief at leaving Mrs. Chaplin's. house was so groat that, though she ?was ill, she felt almost happy as she ?«rove away. .
wnen the new lodgings were reach ed, she had the sood fortune- to find . one, and only one,' room vacant. Sho ', gave th© name of the singer who had .; recommended her, j and the. .landlady ) spoke of. this one room deprecatlngly1 but when-osnid had cllmtied up and had -l--l6oked. at it, she decided to take it. , 'I shall be out all day at my work,' ]*ho said; 'and this will do splendidly.' 1 The price was very modest, and after teho had unpacked her few things,. she j-went out and walked in search of a Ijmusicshop. ? ; . '. Apparently there was not such a; commodity in the neighborhood, but in the window of one of the local stores she caught sight of music, and, enter ing baldly, she made' her way to' this department and asked .to apeak to -the .manager , ' i ,''. With feverish nervousness she de. 'tailed her various qualifications. Sh
coma copy music, transpose; she' could Play, she could sing, she could teach. ?MAH.she wanted was to earn a little (money. She-did not receive much encourage.1 Jjnent. The manager told her that the gramophone and mechanical instru ments had practically wiped out the va.lue of a pianist's services; but he . took down her name and address, and promised that if ho heard of any thing he would let her knowj and after ?she had gone ho said to one of his as* eistants, with a shrug of- his shoulders, ???More flt^for the hdspital than for any. thing else.' . As a matter of 'fact, as she walked through to another department, scarce ly (knowing whore she wont, a sort of Windness came over T5nld. Suddenly : «he staggered to a scat, and as 'she
dropped on to the chair she lost con sciousness for u.,.few seconds, A young woman who was shopping close by noticed her, and went at once to her assistance. She exclaimed when she saw Enid.
'Why, it's Enid Sinclair! ' she said, 'Don't you remember me? 'I was .Mary Pearson. Let's go, and sit over t'here. I'll get /you some' water. You do .look ill.' ' !? She was very kind, and^Httle by Httie Enid camo hack to tho knowledge of .what was passing with her. ?'I've often thought of you,' said the ' D Ell PI?. '' Vftli TV Alt A tV*\\ v» rw 4-rt Ar\- Mil rtl*
wonders at tho Academy, do you re member? And then, - of course, tho usual story—you married, didn't you? and everything was ended. Are you living up in this neighborhood?' 'Tes,' said 'Enid feebly/ 'I've— I've just come near here, a'm all alone now, anfl I must work to keep myself. I came to this shop to see if they could put me in the way of anything. I- don't care what I do.' ' 'Where are you staying?' ? Enid gave her address. She spoke of having toured, and she said that Miss Manon Laurie would be a reference for her if such were necessary, \ 'I ' know Manon Laurie,' said the
young woman, 'i don't want any re ference: You must let me help you. I'm married to a doctor, and he is do ing very well. My name is Hughes now. I always liked you, Enid; you were s^uch a pretty creature,, and so jolly, I can't bear to seo you' aav you are now. Look here, my dear, forgive me if I am very plain, but do 'you want a IHt'le money?' Enid grew crimson, and then said in a low voice: 'Yes.' 'I'm going to drive you home,' said Mrs. Hughes, and- yo6 must 'let 'my husband come and see you.' ? ' 'Oh, no; oh, no,' Enid answered hur.
rJedly. 'Thank you very, very much. I'm not really ill, only worried, and it has been so hot.' 'Oh, my dear,' youlve got to be taken care of,' the other young .woman said earnestly. 'You're simply not fit even to ibo out alone.' Don't you realise that?' , , '\l shall be all right if I can get work. Help me to. get some work,' said Enid, 'evorlshly, 'I must earn something, If— if. I can only get through this win ter, then .I'll go back to Canada,' ' Mrs. Hughes did . not answer or press her views any further. She saw that Enid was really, ill; .In fact, she half supported her friend as they, walk- ed out of the shop. ' Outside she hailed a cab, and when they were driving awaj\ she 'said to Enid: 'You are married, are you not, dear? I heard that was why you left the Academy; but I never heard your new name.' Enid paused just an instant, and then she said In a very' low voice —
'Please call me Mrs. Sinclair.' Mary Hughes said nothing, but a little mist came over, her eyes. She was an Impulsive, kind-hearted young woman, and .something about Enid touched her very painfully.' Tho landlady at the lodgings was openly Impressed by the fact that Mrs. Hughes was a friend of nor new lodger. The doctor's wife insisted on^helplng Enid to climb the stairs to that one little room, and when they were there slio opened her purse and poured all the money in it on to the tab.le. ^ 'Look here, this Is all I have with me, Enid; but I'm going to take care
of you.. Yes; I'll try and get you some work; but, first of ail, you have to get a little better; and if you won't see my husband— well, you shall see some one else, who is quite as good as a doc* tor, She is a great friend of mine; such a nice woman! She does a good' deal of nursing In this neighborhood. My husband finds her invaluable. I think I, shall 'ask her to come and see you
this evening. Her name la Norah Fowls, and I know you and she. will be great friends.' Mrs. Hughes did not leave until she had seen that Enid had various little comforts.' Further, she insisted that her frknd should undresB and get into bed, 1 'I'll send you round some books and a few flowers, and I'll call on my way home and tell Miss Powls to come and see you this afternoon.'1 ? Words were impossible to Enid. 'She was overwhelmed with this kindness; also her physical weakness, 'her sense of exhaustion, was so great that she could do nothing but lie still, and seemingly accept ull that was done for her in silence. Mrs. Hughes was bs good as her word. .An hour or so later she called again, with ?flowers and books and fruit. She had given her husband a little account of Enid. 'I had such a shock when I wns in Cox's Stores this morning. I saw a woman very 111, and I went to help her, and It was 0110 of the old Academy girls, a Canadian. I don't know what
?has. happened to her, bu,t she is very of-anged, and I am afraid she. is In great, great trouble. Jack, one thing 13 sum, she is very ill.' 'Where i» she living? I'll go and see her,' said Dr. Hughes. But his wlfp. cheeked him. 'No; she 'begged me not to send ycu, ho I scribbled a few lines to Mtss Powls, and asked her to go in late to day, instead. 1 can't tell you how upset I feel about this. Why, I be lieve you must have met Enid Sin clsilr. Don't you remember when I sang1 atono of the Academy concerts I Introduced you to an awful pretty' fair girl, quite beautiful, in fact?' 'Yes, of course, I remember her quite well. You must look after her, Mary.' 'Yes, I'm going to,' said Mrs. Hugnes. 'She won't .talk about her husband; in fact,' I'm-I'm, half afraid, Jack, that there is- something wrong but that doesn't make any difference, bhe was brilliant, Jack; the student of the moment, when ,I- left, ' Now she wants to work, to teach; but she won't bo fit to do anything for 'a long while.' i(inat same evening -Xorah^Powto pnmbed the many stairs to the little room where Mrs. Sinclair lay, and In He fifj, t meeting Enld'a heart went out 0 her. She wa«. kind and womanly, as Mrs. Oreaham had , been; but there* was more than this about 'her. sho had strength, she had sympathy, Life nuu given her an understanding which made an Instant and magnetic bond between them; and in the duya that followed, when Enid was very, very m, it was extraordinary how this fragile mid unhappy creature crept into the very heart of Norah Powis. The doctor's wife was practical, womanly, thoughtful; but it was really .Norah Powls who actually fought for the life of this- younji creature. She dragged J3nld back, from the grave-she ana Dr. Hughes' between them; and on tnis late December afternoon, after Wdy Ellen had left her, »he was ' making her way, to that little room at the top of tho tall lodging-houses. As she walked her thoughts slipped quick- ' ly away from Ellen Crooper and her julure. Ludy Ellen at least had '?lends; she was &-afe In a material SS0- 5'. the- futuro whloh stretched bolorejEnld Sinclair was one that had grown to bo a great trouble .to Miss Powig and she did not know how she ' Sy ^dhelP th* eM' whom 8he .