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Show TEMPTED By E. BURROWES IT was the best Idea he had ever had. He was quite sure of it; and Herlot knew a good thing when it came to him, which was not too often. Heavens! how long ho had waited for this! How long he had dreamed and worked, too for the fame he knew ought to be his Borne day. Ho could write; he knew it. He felt tho divine fire within him. Given his chance, given the necessary time, and an opportunity to cease writing pot-boilers stories and articles that provided his root, his daily bread the boots on his feet, and the coat on his back he would show the world, and particularly those skeptical skepti-cal relatives of his, that his choice ot life was justified. Hi srelatives knew nothing of the secret delights, the hopes and fears, the wild ambitions ambi-tions of a would-be author! So he had cut himself loose from the old ties, and was engaged in a fight with Kate. He left bricks and mortar far behind him, and strayed quite by accident lo a fishing village on the south coast of Devon. There, within sight nd sound of the waves that broke on great rocks and against red. towering tow-ering cliffs, he set to work. But money was scarce, and pot-boilers took up nearly all his time, and he took to burning too much midnight oil. Headaches came on. followed by insomnia and loss of appetite. On a fine Spring day he flung aside his pen and papers, and went out to see what sunshine and fresh air would do for him. His head ached intolerably, everything spun before him as he staggered along the cliff path, but he went on doggedly as the queer faintness passed. The air was so keen and exhilarating, and tile sky so blue. But Heriot paid small attention to Nature's beauties. He was obessed by his Great Idea the idea that was to bring him fame and fortune he had worked for hitherto in vain, the fame for which he longed as a thirsty man longs for water. He must prove himself him-self to those thick-headed kinsfolk of his; he must show what he could do. Me would do it! The brightness of the day faded, and still he pressed on, taking no thought of time or distance, so fiercely did that hidden flame burn within him. He could see the whole sequence of the story sketched plainly plain-ly before him; he panted to get at paper and pen to set down the seething, seeth-ing, red-hot words that poured into his brain. He turned to retrace his steps. Why. he could write far into the night now no more halting for the right word. He must fling aside prudence and pot-boilers; nothing mattered but this Great Idea. Then It was that something seemed to rise from the ground and strike him a crashing blow. Everything Every-thing was black before him. He flung out his arms with a stifled cry, and fell down down into oblivion. obli-vion. Rachel Ferrar, writing against time with now and then an anxious eye on the tall grandfather clock ticking solemnly in the corner, suddenly sud-denly put down her pen and listened. What was that sound? Not wind-tor wind-tor it was a calm, windless night. It was like a hoarse voice crying for help! There it was again, and this time accompanied by a heavy thud like that of a body falling just outside out-side the window. She flew to the door and flung it open. The sweet Spring night, calm and fair, alone met her eyes stars twinkled. She heard the voice of the sea just below the cliff, on the side of which the cottage was perched, but nothing else. "Is any one there?" she called, and stepped out A cry escaped her lips. A man was lying almost across the little garden path, just beneath the window of the room in which she had been working. The light, streaming stream-ing out from window and door, showed her his face, set in a white unconsciousness. Once he groaned. She called the stout, buxom maid who was her only companion In her loneliness, and between them they lifted the senseless man up and carried car-ried him into the warm room and laid him on a wide, roomy sofa. "Run as fast as you can, Esther, to the village, and ask Dr. Simpson to come at once. We can do nothing till he arrives. You can take my bicycle bi-cycle if you like." "Very well, miss. But you'll be alone, and he might be a thief for all you know and" "Nonsense! The man Is senseless. Were he a thief even, I could easily tackle him. Don't waste a moment." Esther hurried away, whHe Rachel Ferrar quickly sought brandy and smelling salts, and after applying the one and administering a few drops of the other she was relieved to see the man's eyelids quiver and then unclose, and to hear a weak voice whisper: "Where am I? I don't know. What on earth has happened?" "You fell. You are quite safe here. Don't worry. I have sent for the doctor." The stranger's eyes closed again he said no more: and Rachel stood for a moment and looked down at him. In her quiet, uneventful life such a happening made an extraordinary break. She often wondered why nothing ever happened to her beyond be-yond the dull daily round which consisted in working away at writing stories to supplement her insufficient income, and taking solitary walks, or going to tea with an occasional friend. "If I send in a nurse you know Nurse Allen is very competent " would it be possible for you to give him houseroom, Miss Ferrar? I know it's asking a great deal, but I won't answer for the consequences if he is moved. He does not know anything that has happened as yet, but in a few days I hope it will be possible to get him back to his lodging. lodg-ing. In the meantime, he must be kept perfectly quiet. I imagine that overwork or some worry has brought on this collapse." "Of course he can stay here, and I will gladly look after him with Nurse Allen's help; I know something some-thing about nursing. Poor fellow, he appears quite conscious, and yet" '"Some things will probably be only a blank in his mind. I'll send up the nurse at once, and call again tonight." to-night." So Andrew Heriot was helped up to a charming white-papered room, looking out on the sea, and a quiet- ' voice nurse arrived and took charge of him. He felt so weak and so tired that he gladly submitted to her ministrations, falling into a sound sleep, and dreaming persistently of a woman with grave brown eyes and the sweetest voice the ideal woman, she seemed to him. He vaguely wondered where he was, and what had happened, but his mind was too weary to be troubled with questions. And while he slept the owner of those grave brown eyes stole into the quiet room. There was a whispered whis-pered consultation between her and the nurse, when the letter withdrew to snatch a few hours' rest, while Rachel mounted guard over the sick man in her place. Rachel lifted her head from the notebook in which she had been writing in fits and snatches for the last hour as a low voice spoke near her. She started, then realized that it was Heriot, who was talking in a monotonous voice. She only caught a few disconnected words, and then, with a sigh, and he turned over and closed his eyes. The room w-as very quiet: only a light from a carefully shaded reading lamp fell on her paper pa-per and pencil. The rest of the room was in shadow, and somewhere Copyright, 1514. t downstairs a deep-toned clock struck twelve. She could hear the murmur of an incoming tide breaking against the rocks, and the soft p'urr of the fire. On just such a night as this she had often sat up very late writing, but something had of late- disturbed the even tenor of her thoughts driven Imagination from her, and made her writing poor and weak. Sometimes she thought, with a wild fear, that she was losing the power to write; and, if that happened, what would become of her? New ideas seemed to be so far away that she could not get hold of them. Several Sev-eral stories had been sent back to her by editors for whom she had done a good deal of work, with the comment that they were not up to her usual standard, and they regretted re-gretted their inability to make use of them. And she felt powerless to improve im-prove them. That was what frightened fright-ened her. A long illness the previous Winter had made a terrible drain on her savings. Things looked very black, as she sat there trying to grasp an elusive idea that would not allow itself it-self to be caught, finding it impossible impossi-ble to write anything that would be worth publication. As days passed, and Heriot slowly recovered from the collapse Into which hard w:ork and feverish anx-, anx-, iety to succeed had flung him, he spoke much of gratitude to his hostess. host-ess. The doctor sang the same song. But Rachel could have told them that ' whatever debt of gratitude was owing her was already amply repaid. For she was writing every day for hours writing as she had never written before. And just when Heriot was convalescent, and back in his own lodgings, the work was completed and dispatched to the publishers. "I shall never be able to thank you for all you did for me," said Heriot. He-riot. The mild Spring sunshine fell on the sheltered corner overhanging a sea of incredible blue, where Heriot had established himself with Rachel. Below them the sea broke with a 6low murmur against the rock3. gulls sailed past them like bits of blown paper in the breeze, and hedge and tree were covered with their fresh Spring livery. Heriot looked and felt a different man; but one strange thing was that his memory had not quite recovered. re-covered. He could not write; he could recall little of what he had been doing before the black collap'se fell upon him. But somehow nothing noth-ing mattered, as long as he had Rachel beside him. Nothing because be-cause he had fouud the ideal wo-jy wo-jy the Star Company. Great Britain Hi man, and could ask her now to share whatever fortunes fate had in store for him; for that very morning morn-ing good news had reached him from his family lawyers, who conveyed con-veyed to him the gratifying intelligence intelli-gence that his old uncle, who had died very suddenly in, Australia, had left him the substantial sum of twenty thousand pounds. No longer need he fear the wolf at the door. Only one thing vaguely worried him. His Great Idea was gone. He knew he had one; he knew something some-thing had come to him before his illness, and now it had vanished lost, strayed somehow. ,s Perhaps with returning strength it, too, would come back. He dismissed it from his mind, forgetting everything every-thing in the happiness of the moment. mo-ment. And it was happiness! The future looked very alluringly rose-colored. rose-colored. ' Sunshine, pleasant Spring weather, the murmuring sea, beauty all about him and Rachel at his side. As she sat silent, he spoke again. "I shall never be able to thank you, but I'm going to try if you'll give me the chance. Will you, Rachel? You saved my life, I believe be-lieve will you take It and do with it what you will? I love you! Be my wife, and finish the good work you've begun. Can you care for me a little, when I care so much?" She turned and looked at him 'with mingled rapture, and incredulity incredul-ity shining in her beautiful eyes. "You care for me? But I am getting get-ting old. I never thought of marriage mar-riage no one ever wanted me." "Everything has changed, dear heart, for me and you. You are not old; you are just the right age for the man who loves you. It is not too late for you to think of marriage, mar-riage, and I want you so much. Will you come to me? We can be so happy together we can help one another; and I'm no longer a pauper pau-per grinding out things at a penny a line" "You did that?" The words were torn from her. "Did what?" "You wrrote?" "Yes, I had ambitions. I have them still, only somehow they seem to have been blotted out by that illness. ill-ness. But they will come back. I don't need any longer to. turn out pot-boilers; I can give up" my time to better things and to you. Rachel, Ra-chel, you will say 'Yes,' won't you?" A cold fear touched her with an icy finger, even as she realized that the greatest thing in the world was hers if she chose to take it the love of which she had dreamed i Slits Reserved. read and written for so long, but which had till now never come within with-in her grasp. And she cared so much. She knew there would never be anyone else, but What had she done? Filched away the work of his brain stolen his ideas while he slept. That' was what frightened her. What could she do? Get back the manuscript? After all, it might not be taken,' and and "Rachel! Why don't you speak? Don't you care? Is there someone else?" "No, nof There never was there never could be anyone but you!" she cried hoarsely. "And I do care ! " 4 There was nothing to wait for. Heriot said, so the wedding was to take place . In a month's time. Heriot was full of plans and happiness; happi-ness; they were to tour leisurely abroad just as the fancy took them, before settling down Into a charming charm-ing house quite near the sea coast where Rachel's home had been for so long. And she was to keep her cottage; it could be lent to a poor overworked author, or some one of -that kind, now and then; she loved it too well to give it up. And Heriot loved the place too he had reason for so doing. "It's funny," he said, as they looked over some wedding presents that had arrived that day, "that though I feel so well, and my memory mem-ory has quite recovered, I feel as if there were something still lost. I believe I wTas on the verge of doing do-ing some Important work when that illness struck me down. I can't recall re-call it, ' but the idea floats about vaguely sometimes and w7orries me. I dare say itH come back when I can get to work again. I had an idea it was a good one, too a plot for a book, but every vestige of it has gone! Rachel, this is the second sec-ond butter-dish; let us pray that no more of them are sent. There are three more parcels; you open that one it's suggestively heavy while I tackle this one." He cut the spring of a brown-paper brown-paper parcel, while Rachel busied herself In the unpacking of a box of china. "This parcel must be something In the book line, Rachael, I believe and Hallo, proof sheets, by Jove! What does this mean?" Rachel started violently. "Rachel, you've written a book?" "Yes yes and" "And never told me! Was It to be a surprise?" "Yes." "Who's taken it, dearest heart? Why, I am going to marry a celeb-rity, celeb-rity, I believe." "Elkln & Fotherlngham bave accepted ac-cepted it." "You don't say so? That's good they're a first-class firm. A thou- , sand congratulations, my darling! I had no Idea that you had this up your sleeve. Why, Rachel, what Is the matter?" "Nothing. Only take those proofs and read them read part of the book and then I'll tell you what Is the matter. Read It now Immediately, Immedi-ately, Andrew, to please me!" Such entreaty in her voice and eyes! Heriot was puzzled, but he took the proofs, and sat down in an armchair near the sunny window. , "If I can be of any help to you I shall be only too glad, Rachel," he said, and began to read. Rachel watched him for a moment, then turned resolutely away and went on with her unpacking. He hands shook so that sho could scarcely undo un-do string or open paper. She heard the faint rustle as each page of proof was turned. But Heriot said nothing. The blood beat in her head so that sho felt nearly suffocated. suf-focated. When he knew tlje truth if ha found it out, or if she told him, as . she must do presently what would he say? What would he do? What would he think of her? She was nothing better than a thief! Page after page was turned and still Heriot read on. The room was quite silent, sava for the rustle of the pages and Rachel's Ra-chel's quiet. movement as she folded up string and put away boxes and paper. Then With an inarticulate cry Heriot sprang to his feet; the proofs fell to the ground. Rachel turned and faced him; his face was white and strained, and there was a light as of sudden recognition in his eyes. "It's come back!'' he cried. "I remember re-member it all now. I was about to write a book I had the whole thing worked out when I was taken 111. And the story is what I read here! What does it mean, Rachel?" She faced him, white and trem- bling. "I stole It!" .she said. "You stole it? Whaf do you mean?" "Forgive? There Is no such word between you and me, Rachael. Why, you wonderful woman, you Baved my Idea for me you've given It to the world in a form I am more than proud of. It's a happy augury that our first work should be so good; we'll do even better . things in tho future together, my wife." , |
